December 10, 2012
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Scattered Thoughts on Isaiah 40
The Bible is awesome. I enjoy reading it. I find some parts more interesting, for better or for worse, than others; or more or less boring, or relevant, etc., although my opinions and views can change with time and other factors.
Lately, I keep reading Isaiah 40. There is so much other text to read, and I am stuck on Isaiah 40. I haven’t been this infatuated with a passage of scripture since I fell head-over-heels for John 1.
I do not even believe I have any especially profound, helpful, or intriguing insights on the chapter. But, for whatever reason(s), it is intractably appealing to me, and full of study-flavored goodness. I am going to, at least, try to point out some of its more unique points that may explain my fondness.
The opening, verse 1: “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.” Well, okay, this one is just sentimental, there is some nostalgia there. When I was a teenager, I got to participate in a cantata program, where I narrated portions of Scripture, carefully timed during instrumental music and between vocal sections from the choir. It went splendidly, and a great time was had by all, and we put a lot of work into it — yet I had completely forgotten about it, never even considered it, until recently coming across Isaiah 40 and it leaped back into my mind. The look of a dimly lit sanctuary, the amazement of everyone that I could read music and keep my reading in time with it yet could not play an instruments, the choir director gently chiding me with each mistake, etc. Excellent times. And this, the comfort, comfort my people line, that was the opener.
And verse 3: “A voice of one calling: “In the wilderness prepare the way for the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God.” Perhaps I tipped my hand earlier, and perhaps this is part of why I like Isaiah 40 so much now, but this is the passage that John the Baptist quotes in John 1, when he is asked who he is and what he has to say about himself. That is simply so cool to me. To have someone ask you who you are, and then to quote a centuries-old prophecy, to look the questioner straight in the eyes and reply I am the voice of one calling in the wilderness…
Verse 6 feels a little personal: “A voice says, “Cry out.” And I said, “What shall I cry?” ” You see, I have a big mouth. I like to say things. Sometimes, my problem is that I have no idea what I should say.
Then we come along to verse 8, a classic: “The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God endures forever.” It might be tough to retain the awe in this one, seeing as how often some of us have been exposed to it via various embroideries and cross-stitch patterns, but this is a fantastic sentiment. Especially so, maybe, in the context of verse 6 where, remember, human beings are compared to mere blades of grass, and their faithfulness to the flowers of the field. Fragile, indeed.
Verse 9 has a call to evangelism, verse 10 speaks of the Lord’s mighty arm (which will be referred to again in Isaiah 52:10, which itself inspired a wonderful Rich Mullins song, which is what 40:9 thus always reminds me of), verse 11 has the shepherd/lambs analogy, and verse 12 has echoes of Job in it. I love Job, by the way. I really like Job.
We then go through some superb visuals, some resonant illustrations, metaphors and powerful language, but keep a close look at the words as we run across this little ditty in verse 22: “He sits enthroned above the circle of the Earth…” A round Earth, absolutely.
Verse 26 asks us to consider the heavens and ask who created them. I am a fan of dichotomy and juxtaposition, likely to a fault, so I dig what is at work here, as Isaiah’s words beckon us not only to the very beginning of the Biblical narrative, the creation story, the origin of our planet itself, but are also, of course, speaking of the coming of Christ, God’s work for humanity yet to be done. Not only are we told of promises, but given evidence as to why we can trust those promises. We are assured of God’s healing works through his history of monumental actions.
Verse 28 refers to some names of God, some titles. The Lord. Everlasting God. The Creator. And, finally, a reminder that his mind is larger than ours, and we can never fully fathom God.
The fortieth chapter of Isaiah ends with another classic bit, verse 31: “but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” This is so great. I am sure that many have chosen this as their “life verse” of sorts.
Isaiah 40 is certainly quotable, and definitely powerful. It is one of those “Oh yeah, that’s where that verse comes from!” chapters, with several parts that remain oft-quoted throughout Christian circles, and referred to in sermons, and run across in quotations elsewhere, too.
I am stuck on it, right now, and trying to take my sweet time with it.
