Listening to Isaiah: A Shoot from a Stump




Isaiah 11:1-5
December 18, 2011

A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins.

2500 years ago, the prophet Isaiah set a tone for the Jewish, and later the Christian, faith that ever since has been foundational to our beliefs.  He used a poetic image to describe the nature of our faith.  He said, “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.”

Quiz time.  What did he mean by this?  Who was Jesse, and why would a shoot come out of his stump?  You may not know it, but you do remember Jesse.  Jesse was King David’s father.  And if you remember the story of the prophet Samuel in the Old Testament, Samuel was led to Jesse in Bethlehem to find the next king, and he found David among Jesse’s sons.  Isaiah was speaking to Jews after the kingdom of Judea had been conquered by the Babylonians, and all the artisans, scholars, and anyone with a skill, had been transported 700 miles to serve as slaves in Babylon.  Everything was dark and seemed hopeless. Isaiah was saying that even though the lineage of David, and therefore Jesse, had seemed to have been wiped out, there was still hope.

He was comparing Israel to a mighty tree that had been cut down, but had the potential for new life will grow out of it.  Israel had been a mighty tree, much like an oak, that had been cut down by the Babylonians.  But new life was already emerging.  It was small, and barely perceptible by the Israelites, but it was growing.  They needed to have faith and hope. 

Christian scholars have debated for centuries what Isaiah meant by our passage.  Was he actually prophesying Jesus’ coming?  Was he simply telling the Jews something about their fate after their exile to Babylon?  Was it something else?  Regardless of what he was referring to back then, one thing is undeniable.  He was describing the nature of Jewish and Christian faith then and now, which is that with God nothing is ever dead.  God is always working to renew life, and to resurrect out of death something new.  With any death begins the process of new life.

Ultimately he was saying that our faith, and the Jewish faith that it is built upon, is a Cinderella faith.  Embedded in our faith is the idea that no matter how bad things get, no matter how desperate they seem, God is always there to redeem us, restore us, renew us, and resurrect us. 

Christianity, at its core, is always looking for something new to come out of even the worst situations.  The post-World War II pastor, Dietrich, understood this facet of Christian faith.  At the end of World War II, he helped many devastated and hopeless Germans deal with the terrible things they had done during the war.  Pastor Dietrich was instrumental in helping them heal their wounds.  He was one of them.  He had done terrible things himself, and like them he was complicit in all the terrible things the Nazis had done prior to and during the war.  Yet after the war he preached a consistent message of God’s grace, love, and forgiveness, all of which he had experienced during the war.  God had transformed him from a Nazi animal to a man of love.  How did he become such a caring presence?  It all started in the early years of the war when he had been part of the infantry in the German army as they battled the Russians. 

It was the winter of 1941.  Terrible battles were being waged as the Germans penetrated further and further into Russia.  If you know anything about the German army’s attack against the Russians, you know that they were incredibly naïve in how they did it.  They attacked in mid-summer, giving themselves little time before winter, and the Russian winter was one of Russia’s greatest defenses.  Winter came and the German army became bogged down. 

Also, the Russian army had a particular defensive strategy that worked perfectly against the Germans, albeit a defense that was grounded on a massive disregard for Russian casualties.  The Germans had perfected the blitzkrieg strategy in which they would mobilize their air force, infantry, and tank cavalry to quickly break through enemy lines, thus taking over lands before the defenders knew what was happening.  The Russian army didn’t react the way other armies did, by putting up a massive wall of resistance, forcing the Germans to break through, and then caving quickly once the Russians did break through.  Instead, they deployed their army into successive wide and narrow defensive lines that could be easily broken through, each line about ½ a mile apart, forming ten or twelve lines. 

The Germans would easily break through the first line, and then attack the following line.  But each time the line that had been broken through would fall back and fortify the line behind them.  As the Germans penetrated further, they not only found each line becoming stronger with the support of the previous lines, but the previous lines falling back could also attack the sides and back of the German army, thus surrounding them and cutting them off.  Typically the Germans would penetrate through to the fifth or sixth line and then find themselves bogged down and encircled.  What seemed like a successful thrust towards victory could easily leave German troops caught behind enemy lines with little hope for support as the Russian Army surged forward. 

During one particular battle the Russian army fell back time and time again, and suddenly they surged forward in a massive counterattack.  As a result, a Nazi soldier, Dietrich, found himself stranded behind enemy lines.  He was confused, frozen, and terrified.  He knew that the Russians treated their prisoners horribly.  So he scrambled through the forest, anxiously trying to make it back to the German lines.  Exhausted and cold, he eventually came across a small hut with a wisp of smoke escaping from its chimney. 

He burst through the door only to find a tiny, poor, old Russian woman eating her dinner.  He angrily pushed her aside as he ransacked the house, looking for hidden dangers.  As he turned back toward the woman, he was surprised to find her holding out a dish of food for him.  Dietrich grabbed the plate out of her hands and greedily slurped down the food.  Much to his surprise, the old woman gave him more, and she took care of him for the next three days.  No matter how harshly he treated her, she responded with warmth and love.  Why was she doing this?  What made it even more puzzling was that if caught, she was certain to be shot for hiding a German soldier.  Why would she do this for an enemy?

Finally, Dietrich decided that it was time to try and reach the German lines.  Before he left, though, he had to know why she treated him so well when he had treated her so badly.  Though they did not understand a word of each other’s language, he finally was able to communicate his question:  “Why have you taken care of me when I have treated you so poorly?”  Her answer was simple and direct.  She pointed to a crucifix on the wall.  She had treated him this way because she loved God, and she knew that God loved Dietrich.  Her vision was so God-bathed that she did not see in Dietrich as an enemy.  She saw in him a child of God who was scared, hungry, and helpless.  And it was God’s love in her that called her to treat Dietrich with love, forgiveness, and compassion.

This woman’s love for God had a profound effect on Dietrich.  For the rest of the war, he reflected on the woman’s kindness and her faith.  He wanted something like that in his life.  How could he get it?  He decided that turning his life over to Christ was the only answer.  Her love for God allowed him to love God also.  And so after the war he pursued God, and eventually became a Lutheran pastor so that he could serve God in providing the German people with the same kind of love, forgiveness, and compassion that the Russian woman had given him.  Dietrich had been resurrected and renewed, and he helped the German people become resurrected and renewed, too. 

We are a resurrection people in more ways than one.  We follow a faith that says that nothing is ever hopeless, nothing is ever a lost cause, if we have faith in God.  This is a stump faith, a faith that says that no matter how dead things seem to be, God can always bring new life. 

Do you have a stump faith?  A faith that believes in God no matter what, that hopes no matter what, and that is prepared for new life no matter what?  Through Death? Divorce? Unemployment?  Illness?  Depression?  Struggle?  The thing you need to hold onto is that a shoot can grow out of the stump of your life, but you have believe.  Amen. 

Listening to Isaiah: Making All Things Right


Isaiah 61:1-11
December 11, 2011


The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to provide for those who mourn in Zion— to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit. They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.
They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations. Strangers shall stand and feed your flocks, foreigners shall till your land and dress your vines; but you shall be called priests of the Lord, you shall be named ministers of our God; you shall enjoy the wealth of the nations, and in their riches you shall glory. Because their shame was double, and dishonor was proclaimed as their lot, therefore they shall possess a double portion; everlasting joy shall be theirs. For I the Lord love justice, I hate robbery and wrongdoing; I will faithfully give them their recompense, and I will make an everlasting covenant with them. Their descendants shall be known among the nations, and their offspring among the peoples; all who see them shall acknowledge that they are a people whom the Lord has blessed.
I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my whole being shall exult in my God; for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations.

Some of you many know this already, many may not, but I have the privilege of being an adjunct faculty member at Pittsburgh Theological seminary, teaching classes at the master and doctoral levels.  In the classes I teach, the grades are always based on a final, 20-25 page paper.  The requirements of my papers are a bit different from most college or graduate school academic papers.  Those are academic papers in which the students must assert a theory or idea, and then cite material backing up their idea.  I ask my students to write a paper reflecting on a time in their lives when they felt God clearly transforming them in some way.  They are still academic papers because they have to apply what they’ve read and heard in lectures on their reflections, but the heart of their papers is a transforming experience of God.

As a result, I get to read some truly inspiring and amazing papers.  None was more inspiring than what Pastor Sarah wrote in her paper (Sarah’s not her real name, but I did get permission to share her story) for a class I did over the past year.

Sarah is an associate pastor of a large church.  She wrote that on a grey October day a number of years ago she stood on the front steps of her church pondering her fate.  Looking down the street to the left she thought to herself that if she started walking right then, in fifteen minutes she would be in the emergency room of the city hospital, where she could then check herself into the psychiatric ward.  Looking to her right, she saw her car and thought to herself she was just a fifteen-minute ride from home, where a kitchen knife was waiting for her, one that she could use take her own life.  Her husband was away for the weekend, so there would be no one there to stop her.  She stood on the step, paralyzed, not knowing what to do. 

She thought about the hospital option, and realized that if she chose it she would be committing career suicide.  What church would want a pastor suffering from mental problems?  People expect their pastors to have it together and to be free of problems.  Who wants a pastor with problems, especially a suicidal pastor?  

On the other hand, if she went home she would be committing physical suicide.  It wouldn’t be too hard.  She had already been a cutter for years.  All it would mean is cutting deeper.  If you don’t know what “cutting” is, it’s a condition that many people have struggled with, especially teens and young adults.  The best understanding of it is that people cut themselves with razors and knives in hidden places as a way of creating a small crisis that they can handle, which takes their minds away from large crises that they feel helpless against.  Sarah felt helpless against her large crisis, so cutting helped her deal with it.  But cutting was no longer working.

Sarah’s dark secret?  She suffered from perfectionism.  She had been striving for perfection her whole life.  In high school, college, and seminary she had always gotten top grades.  In fact, she had won several awards in seminary for her achievements.  As an associate pastor, she was constantly complimented on how hard she worked, how much she devoted herself to the church, and how great she was.  What they didn’t know was that to accomplish all this she had to put in 80 to 90 hour weeks.  It didn’t matter that her husband kept pleading with her to take time for their marriage, or at least for herself.  She was serving God, and that didn’t leave much time for anything else. 

Being that perfect had a cost.  The price she was paying was the growing sense that she was a shell, a fraud, trying to make up for her broken interior with a perfect exterior—perfect in behavior and appearance.  She felt hollow inside.  She couldn’t pray to God or read the Bible because she was just too busy.  Prayer was for people with time on their hands, and she was too busy cultivating an ideal to pray.

As she struggled on the steps, she caught something of a vision.  For some reason she began to think about Jesus suffering on the cross, and as she did she recognized that she was being crucified, too.  Jesus had been crucified by the Romans and the Jews.  She was being crucified by her desire for perfection.  She had been serving a false god, and it was now all falling apart.  She realized that she needed a resurrection, a transformation into a whole new way of living.  She walked to her car, and sitting behind the wheel she wept.  Amidst the tears were prayers for God to help her find a new way, a way without perfection, but a way of trust, compassion, and balance.  She could no longer live life the way she had, and she was giving to God her imperfect “perfect” life, asking God to transform her.

The next day she called the chaplain at the hospital and asked to meet with him.  Thus began a several year span in which she met with him weekly, pouring out her heart and soul.  Through this process she discovered a new way of being a pastor, a person, and a wife.  She discovered that there was no perfection in ministry or life.  Instead, there was a way of serving in which we can become available to God in everything.  So instead of keeping detailed lists of everything she had to do, she immersed herself in prayer.  She’d come to work, asking God, “What would you have me do today.”  If she prayed and had a sense that this or that person should be visited, that’s what she would do.  She took time for herself and for her marriage.  She spent time praying and reading.  And slowly her life got better.

Along with this new approach, she noticed that she was working less but accomplishing more. She discovered that when she was more balanced and grounded in God, it seemed like God was working through her.  Her ministry was no longer just her own.  She was letting God work through her, and it made all the difference in the world.  As long as she was in charge, she was crushed by her burdens, but when she let God be in charge, her burdens lightened incredibly and her life became a joy.  

Pastor Sarah discovered that when we truly place our lives in God’s hands, things work out and God makes us better.  She discovered the very message that Isaiah was preaching in our passage:  trust God, put yourself and your burdens into God’s hands, and things will work out for the better. 

Unfortunately we all excel at holding onto our struggles, or at least at putting them into God’s hands and then taking them back by keeping a tether tied to them so that as we walk away we can pull them back along with us.  The great Quaker writer, Hannah Whitall Smith, wrote about our struggle to give God our burdens.  She said that we are like a man walking from town to town, carrying a heavy burden.  And God is like another man, who pulls up in a large, horse-drawn cart, saying to him, “Oh, your burden looks so heavy, and you seem so tired.  Would you like me to give you a ride to the next town?”  The man accepts, gratefully, and climbs into the cart.  But the burden remains on his back.  The driver says, “Why don’t you place your burden in the back of the cart?”  And the burdened man says, “Oh no, it’s enough that you are willing to give me a ride.  You don’t have to carry my burden, too.” 

This is how we are with so much of life.  We have all sorts of small and large burdens we’re willing to talk with God about, but when it comes to giving them to God we hold back. I think one reason that we have such a hard time giving God our burdens is that we don’t think we know how.  Too many people assume that giving God our burdens means sitting back and doing nothing. That’s not what it means at all.  Giving God our burdens means giving God the anxiety we hold over issues we face, asking God to help us in knowing what to do about our burdens, trying our best to listen for God’s guidance, and then following what we sense God is calling us to do, doing the best we can. 

My guidance for giving God our burdens comes from Proverbs 3:5-6:  “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insights.  In all your ways acknowledge God and God will make straight your paths.”  What this passage is saying is that giving God our burdens means giving God the anxiety we hold toward our burdens, and then trying to get our thinking in line with God.  The point, though, is not necessarily being perfect in figuring out what God wants.  God cares much more about our intentions that about our actual actions.  What I mean is that God cares much more that we want to follow God’s will than about how well we actually follow God’s will.  If our heart is in the right place, and we’re really trying to rely on God’s insights, then God will make our paths straight, even if what we are doing isn’t really what God wants.  In other words, God makes straight our paths based on the depth of our desire and intent, not on the merits of our actions.

The whole idea of placing our burdens in God’s hands is central to Isaiah.  He didn’t just want to limit it to burdens.  Isaiah called on people to ground all of their thinking in God. The people of his age had a hard time doing that, and little has changed since then.  We have a hard time grounding our thinking in God, and one of the main reasons is that we have a hard time building a foundation to our thinking that is actually grounded in what God wants. 

I don’t think I understood what building a God foundation to our thinking before studying with Adrian van Kaam.  He had a model for understanding our thinking that was brilliant.  He said that much of our thinking is like a pyramid in which we place certain ideologies, philosophies, and theologies at the foundation that influence all the others built on top of them.  What we place at the foundation will then influence and trickle through all of our other thoughts.  For example, if we place being conservative or liberal at the foundation, then our Christianity will become either conservative or liberal first, Christian second.  This is true for every kind of Christianity.  Whatever adjective we place before our Christian faith demonstrates what’s at our foundations, whether that be Evangelical, Pentecostal, Catholic, Presbyterian, or any other.  So, if we are a “liberal” Christian, or an “Evangelical” Christian, it means that we are liberal or Evangelical first, Christian second.  The result is that sometimes we act in ways that aren’t truly Christian because we’ve lost our connection with an authentic Christianity.  We’re trying to be liberal or evangelical, not Christian.

A lot of Christians don’t really place their Christianity at their foundations at all. They are Republican or Democrats first, conservative or liberal second, and Christian way down the line.  When that happens, their Christian faith becomes extremely limited because they can only see Christianity from a narrow perspective as it reflects only Republican, conservative, or Democratic, liberal thought, with a smattering of Christian. 

Van Kaam taught is that if we are truly to follow God’s guidance and thinking, we have to start by placing our Christian faith at our foundations, and let that influence everything else.  This is hard for many of us to do because we are something else at our foundations.  But this is what Isaiah was calling for:  to place God, especially our understanding of God from our deepest faith tradition, at our foundation so that this will help us to hear God and understand God’s will. 

Pastor Sarah did something very similar.  She had been placing a certain kind of perfectionism and work ethic at her foundations, but in that moment on the steps, in becoming open to God, she placed her faith at her foundation.  And it changed the whole way she say everything in her life.  It transformed her.  Because she did this, God accepted her burdens and slowly made everything all right. 

As we close, I want you to reflect on some questions:  What do you do with your burdens?  Do you give them to God or hold onto them tightly?  What’s the foundation of your thinking?  Is it God, or is it something else? 

            Amen. 

Listening to Isaiah: We Are Like Grass

Isaiah 40:1-11 December 4, 2011 Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins. A voice cries out: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.” A voice says, “Cry out!” And I said, “What shall I cry?” All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever. Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tidings; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings, lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Judah, “Here is your God!” See, the Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him, and his recompense before him. He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep. I don’t know if you are a fan of the television show, Seinfeld. I suspect that many of you are. It was a brilliant comedy that managed to stay fresh year in and year out. It was one of the few shows that actually went out on top of its game, even after airing for 11 years. The show was brilliant because it made fun of the little quirks that make us human and flawed. The characters each had their own foibles, and never seemed to grow beyond them. What made the show really hilarious was that they were like us on our bad days on steroids. Laughing at them was laughing at ourselves. Pretty much everyone who watched Seinfeld has a favorite episode. Mine was the Soup Nazi episode. In this episode, a soup stand opens up in Manhattan, and it offers amazing soup. The place is packed everyday, but the owner has a quirk. He likes order. So to buy the soup you have to stand in line in the proper way, you’re not allowed to talk in line, and you have to place your quickly and perfectly. If you didn’t do it exactly right, the owner would shout out to you, “No soup for you!” If you argued, he would say, “No soup for you,… ONE YEAR!” The idea of the Soup Nazi was actually taken from a real-life stand in Manhattan, one that still exists. When our family visited NYC last Christmas, I made everyone go to it, just so we could have the Soup Nazi experience. What I didn’t realize was that there was no place to sit, so we ended up at another soup place, conveniently situated across the street. But this isn’t the episode I want to talk about. I want to talk about the Opposite George episode, the one that reminded me so much of Isaiah. In this episode, George, a short, stocky, balding, persistently neurotic and self-destructive guy, gets an insight. He’s complaining one day to Jerry and Elaine, while sitting in their favorite corner coffee shop, that all his instincts about life are wrong, and that’s why he can’t keep a job, an apartment, or a girlfriend. Jerry tells him, “If every instinct is wrong, maybe you should just do the opposite.” George snickers at the idea, and then realizes that Jerry’s right. He should do everything the opposite. So George gets started by ordering a chicken salad sandwich on rye instead of his typical tuna salad on wheat. As he’s eating his sandwich, he notices a very attractive woman staring at him. Doing the opposite of what he’d normally do, George walks up to her and says, “I can’t help but notice you looking at me.” She says, “Yes, I noticed you ordered the same sandwich as me.” George looks at her and says, “My name is George, I’m unemployed, and I live with my parents.” Flirtatiously she smiles and says, “Who ARE you?” Later, George is on a date with her at the movies. Two tough-looking thugs are in the seat behind them, cracking jokes, kicking George’s and his date’s chairs, irritating everyone. George, who’s normally a coward, stands up, turns around, and says, “Hey, KNOCK IT OFF! If you don’t knock it off, I’m going to take you outside and show you some manners. And if you don’t believe me, try me. I would LOVE to show you what I mean. And don’t test me because I’m a dangerous man!” They immediately cower as the movie crowd gives George an ovation. His date looks at him and says, “Who ARE you, George Costanza?” The final scene takes place in the offices of the New York Yankees. George, recognizing that his normal instincts would keep him from ever applying for his dream job of working for he Yankees, decides to interview for a job. He goes to the interview dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt, and a down vest. He tells the interviewer that he has no skills for the job, and the man is close to kicking him out of his office. That’s when George Steinbrenner, owner of the Yankees, comes down the hall. The interviewer introduces George to Steinbrenner. Instead of shaking hands with Steinbrenner, George looks at him and says, “Mr. Steinbrenner, you have made a mockery of this team. Your ego has caused you to bring down this storied and once-proud organization (at the time the Yankees weren’t doing so well). You have micromanaged this organization into a shadow of it’s once-proud self. What do you have to say for yourself?” Steinbrenner pauses and says to the interviewer, “HIRE this man!” Opposite George has triumphed. So why do I bring up Opposite George? Because I couldn’t help thinking about him while thinking about our passage from Isaiah this morning. Isaiah was kind of an Opposite Guy. Actually, that’s not quite accurate. Most biblical scholars recognize that there really wasn’t one Isaiah. There were probably three, two of whom might have been apprentices—one to the original Isaiah, and one to the second Isaiah. But we don’t know for sure. What we do know is that if one prophet, Isaiah, wrote this, then He would have had to be writing for ten years prior to the Jewish exile to Babylon, then write all during the 70 years of the exile, and then be writing after the exile. Not likely. Anyway, why would I say that Isaiah is Opposite Guy? Because Isaiah never seemed to deliver the message you would expect. He always seemed to offer the opposite. Prior to the Babylonian exile, things were actually going well for Israel. Assyria, which had dominated Israel for 80 years, was weakened. Israel was becoming stronger nationally and economically. People were doing much better, but Isaiah was delivering a message of gloom and doom, earning him their scorn. Then, when the Babylonians conquered Israel, sending them into exile, they were desperate for a message of hope. But Isaiah poured salt into their wounds, saying that they were being punished for their lack of faith—for their sin. Then Isaiah, in the midst of their exile, turned around and offered words of hope, when they expected more gloom and doom. When they were set free (actually, the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of the original exiles were set free), they returned to Israel to find it a mess. They had hoped to find the Temple in it’s original condition, and Jerusalem a still-beautiful city. Instead, everything was a mess. Jerusalem looked like a slum, and most of the Temple had been torn down. They expected Isaiah to offer more words of gloom, but Isaiah told them that this was a great thing, and that they should be hopeful. God was with them, and everything would be all right. The thing about prophets like Isaiah is that they see things with a wisdom that most of us humans can’t see or won’t see. We don’t see with this kind of wisdom because we think too conventionally and commonly. We’re too wrapped up in what I call world think. We think in the ways either of the world in general, or of the groups we identify with, think. We think in terms of what we would like to see, what would seem to benefit us the most, or what seems “normal” to us. Prophets see things more from God’s perspective. Since they are passionate about what God wants, they refuse to be trapped by human perspectives. Isaiah’s connection with God led him to be what I call a hopeful realist. Like an optimist he was ever hopeful, but like a pessimist, he was rooted in the way things really were. He recognized that with God all things really do work out well in the end, but that at the same time, all things do end. He understood that with God there is always hope, but there is also a reality to life—we all die, and bad things do happen. It’s what led him to say to the Israelites both, Comfort, O comfort my people, and All people are grass. He was telling people that God was working in their lives, so live in hope. But don’t lose a grasp on the way things are because like the grass and the flowers, life does fade. I think the trouble with a lot of people is that they want the first perspective without the second. They want comfort, but not reality. Isaiah understood that real wisdom comes from having faith in God, while recognizing our own finitude—while recognizing our own mortality and the reality of death. Back in the 1970s a profound, Pulitzer Prize winning book was written by Ernst Becker, called The Denial of Death. In the book, Becker wrote about how we all deny death. It’s what allows us to accomplish what we accomplish in life. He said that all of us live with the false sense that somehow we will be the exception, overcome death, and live forever. The younger we are, the more we deny death. So we treat all of our own projects and pursuits as though they have some sort of eternal significance. It’s what leads us to believe that our beliefs, our accomplishments, our achievements are SO important. This denial of death leads us to problems of self-importance, while acceptance leads to humility and being grounded. The latter is what leads to a better life, even if the process of getting there is painful as we admit our mortality. Our passage reminds me a lot of a column I read Friday by one of my favorite political pundits, David Brooks. David Brooks is a conservative columnist who writes for the New York Times. What I like about him is that while he has a conservative perspective, he refuses to be trapped in that perspective. I find that most political columnists, no matter how smart of clever they are, can’t see beyond their rigid ideologies. Brooks recognizes the limits of his perspectives, and you can tell that he is a life-long learner who is always willing to question his own thinking. In his column this past Friday, he wrote about what he learned from those over 70 who responded to his request for them to send them their "Life Reports." He asked them to write about their regrets, their perspectives, and their happiness. Here are some of the lessons he learned from them: 1. Divide your life into chapters: In other words, be able to turn the page on the past. Those who were happiest didn’t let the past capture them, leaving them stuck in what they didn’t do, or what was done to them. When they went through a bad period, they looked at it as just that. And when it was over, they turned the page and moved on, closing that chapter of their lives. In that way they were able to, in a sense, continually recreate themselves. This is what Isaiah called on the Israelites to do—recreate themselves. Begin anew. Don’t let the pain of Babylon or the challenge of ruins hold you back. God is with you, so move forward. That’s his message to us, too. 2. You can't control other people (And, I’d add, your situation): The people who were happiest understood this. They knew that people are people, and they don’t do what we want. So work with them rather than trying to control them. Where this is often hardest is as parents. We want to control our kids so that they can live life without pain and make good decisions—or just to make life easier for us. But as our kids get older, they get harder to control. Especially as teenagers they seem to excel at being Opposite Guys and Gals themselves. Isaiah understood this about his own people. Even God couldn’t control the Israelites, so God let them suffer the consequences of their actions. And then God invited them to rejoin God in recreating Israel. 3. Lean toward risk: Those who were happiest didn’t live in fear but were willing to take risks, even when they were older. They didn’t live in fear and anxiety over what they could lose. Instead, they were willing to try new things. Again, much like what Isaiah was calling the Jews to do. 4. Work within institutions, not outside them: This is an especially important lesson for today. We live in an age in which everyone distrusts institutions, whether they are the government, schools, or churches. But the happiest people were ones who worked with others within institutions to make life better for everyone. They were civic-minded, realizing that institutions, when done properly, make life better. This is a huge lesson for people today who say they are spiritual but not religious. Becoming happy means becoming spiritual and religious, because if you aren’t you end up just becoming a lone ranger who really doesn’t work with others to make the world a better place. Think of all that the church does in ministry and mission. This is what institutions do—they get people to work together. And this is what Isaiah was calling on the Israelites to do. Isaiah had a message for the Israelites and for us: Don’t live in the past and in fear, don’t try to control others, take a risk every once in awhile, and work well with others. The question is whether we’re listening to Isaiah. Amen.