09.02.03 Steve Lift up your eyes on high Isaiah 40: 21-3
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I
wonder how you feel about the Stop the War banner outside? Perhaps you didn't
notice it. Perhaps it made you feel glad to be identifying with the voices
of protest and concern. Perhaps you thought - oh no, I can't even get away
from talk of war when I go to worship - I want to think about something
else. Perhaps it gave you a heavy heart, that there is so much that's wrong
in the world. Bits of me identify with each of those reactions, and actually
I want to make mention of them all.
Whatever our political or theological leanings, I would assume that none of us would want to argue with the sentiment that the last thing we want is for our country to be declaring war on Iraq, or anyone else. As a community of followers of Christ, we are, by definition, lovers of peace, of non-violence, of sacrificial reconciliation with our enemies (and let no one be mistaken about the demands of that high calling). That this has not always been a definition of the Christian church, tells us everything about the church and nothing about Christ. For some followers of Christ, it means a commitment of integrity to total pacifism. For others, a commitment of integrity to violence as a last resort - the application of something like St Augustine's 'Just War' theory. Either way it takes courage and commitment to stand against the vast forces of political power in this world - to have the courage not to believe everything that is spun to us by our own leaders - courage to think peacefully when we'd rather think about anything else - courage to voice our concerns and our belief in the gospel call to peacemaking - courage to believe that our prayers, puny as they may seem, are joined with those of millions in this world, and are heard as sweet music by God in whom we trust.
The lectionary today gives us the great poem of Isaiah to those in exile who had been completely devastated by the great imperial powers of their day. For them, the worst nightmare that any of us can imagine, had already happened. And the prophet, in verses of timeless glory, asks them to lift their eyes on high and see God. Because, he says, with all that is happening around you, in the face of worldy powers that seem beyond our influence - can't you see, that God and God's realm of what matters and what does not, God's realm of what is of value and what is not in the kingdom of heaven - God who made the universe shall redeem it.
40:22 It is he who sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers; who stretches out the heavens like a curtain, and spreads them like a tent to live in;
40:23 who brings princes to naught, and makes the rulers of the earth as nothing.
This, I think is how Michael was encouraging us to think a couple of weeks ago in his talk about grasping that the kingdom of heaven is already here. I think it's really about a theological truth that informs and drives us on. It's in proclaiming the idea of Christ who has conquered evil (the sacrificial self-giving, death and resurrection), that we, (as Michael puts it) 'change the world by living as if the other world is already in our midst'. This is not about worshipping God whilst ignoring what's happening in the world - but about a life of worship and service that is informed, encouraged, fueled, inspired by Christ who has promised to be among us and so we are undaunted by worldly powers.
40:26 Lift up your eyes on high and see: Who created these?
How do we lift our eyes and see? What might this mean for us? I want to change tone and muse on that now. Isaiah's answer is in the splendid vs 31:
40:31 but those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.
I think I'm right in saying it was a mythical scene in Chariots of Fire when Eric Liddell reads these verses in the Scots Kirk in Paris before his glorious run in the 1924 Olympics. But didn't it sound good with the stirring music in the background?
How do we lift up our eyes and wait on the Lord? A hundred different people will give you a hundred different answers, but one I have for today was inspired by an article I read about the spiritual discipline of giving thanks.
This was about the claim that people who are happy tend to be those who are grateful. It makes sense. But our fickle swings from gratitude to discontent show us that gratitude depends less on our circumstances than on the lens through which we view them. Sometimes, persons of great privilege lead bitter and discontented lives. Conversely, those who have suffered greatly often possess the keenest sense of gratitude.
In fact, hardship is sometimes the path to gratitude. Experience of loss and disappointment can strip us of the superficial things we cling to for meaning - allowing us finally to see the things ot beauty we had never before noticed. As a friend recently said to me, "Now that my house has burned down, I can see the moon rise."
This paradox is deeper than the simple "seeing-the-glass-half-full" optimism. Learning to give thanks is a spiritual practice that enables us to hold an empty glass and know full well just how empty it is, yet still marvel at how the solitary drop of water at the very bottom of the glass plays with the light. The gift of thanksgiving is the capacity to see beauty and hope even in our times of emptiness. It is choosing to go through life with the Doxology as our theme song - we say it each week after the Psalm as a discipline of our liturgy. Such an attitude doesn't come naturally. We usually have to cultivate it through practice. At the end of a particularly discouraging day, we are tempted to fall into bed in a bad mood. That is a key moment of spiritual discipline : to consciously call to mind all the things in the day for which we can be grateful. The mental list may begin with the obvious......
I have a warm bed, a place to live, indoor plumbing. The recitation has a snowball effect. Recalling how invigorating the rain felt on my face when I was walking home without an umbrella. Or that moment of laughter that brought levity to a difficult conversation. Or how beautiful the bare trees looked, silhouetted against the glowing western sky, as I was driving to an evening meeting I didn't really want to attend. Soon the hardness in my chest has dissipated, and I may become aware of how good it feels when the air fills my lungs as I breathe. My attitude is transformed. Some of us might have seen the BBC documentary on Wednesday night about near-death experience - about how those who had been through this were changed forever - who had upturned their priorities, from material concerns to spiritual and helping concerns. Perhaps this is how we might define how we should leave here on a Sunday morning, after the eucharist, beginning life anew with our eyes and minds reopened to what matters and what does not - discovering anew again that thanks isn't something we give. It is something that gives to us. It is the fuel that can transform our mundane lives into that which reflects something holy.
40:26 Lift up your eyes on high and see
40:28 Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable
40:31 but those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.