Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might… Isaiah 6:3
Do you hear a song, or maybe a multitude of songs, when you read the words above? We know these words in hymnody – in traditional songs, in praise songs, as part of the Eucharistic liturgy, and more. These words are deep in the bones of the Church. Of course, like so many lyrics that we sing in church, they weren’t created out of thin air. We first hear these words from seraphs during the strange and grand vision that Isaiah had when he entered the holiest of holy places in the Temple – the place that housed the ark of God, the place revered as God’s earthly throne, the place where God was simultaneously present in the heavenly realm and within the fabric of the world. We hear these words in Isaiah’s call story in Isaiah 6:1-8. (Go ahead … read the Isaiah story now before reading the rest of this article.)
As Isaiah enters into the Holy of Holies, God grants Isaiah a glimpse into God’s celestial throne room. God is so magnificent and big that the hem of God’s robe fills the temple. God is attended by fierce and fiery creatures – scary flying snakes with six wings called seraphim. These were not the cute cherubs holding flutes and harps. These were sea serpent-sized creatures singing (shrieking, screaming) in loud, ear-piercing voices, “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God almighty…”
Isaiah is overcome. He falls on his knees and cries, “Woe is me!” Isaiah knows, in that moment, who the Creator of the universe is and what this Creator can do. Isaiah knows he could be destroyed in the flash of a second.
It needs to be said, of course, that Isaiah’s vision didn’t happen in a vacuum. Isaiah entered the holy of holies when the Assyrians were attacking and the people of Jerusalem were trying to barricade themselves against this most formidable army. Outside of the Temple it was a dark and scary time. For Isaiah, and the rest of the Judeans, the world felt frightening and terrifying and out-of-control.
Do you know this feeling? This feeling of being so small and powerless in a world that seems so big and overwhelming. This feeling of the world being topsy turvy and unpredictable. This feeling of not knowing what to do next because everything seems like too much to bear.
For Isaiah, the next thing that happens in his vision is that a huge seraph comes at him with a piece of burning coal and presses it to his lips. The pain must have been brutal. But when the coal touches Isaiah’s lips, things are clarified for him – he is cleansed and he is prepared for what is coming next and he instantly pledges to God, “Here I am. Send me.” And Isaiah becomes God’s prophet. (If only things could be made this clear for all of us.)
In any case, what do we do with this strange and beautiful story? What does Isaiah’s call story mean for us today? Please know that I cannot wrap this story up in a tidy bow – nor do I want to – because this isn’t how life works. (Also, Isaiah couldn’t either … as much as Isaiah pledged to follow God, if you read Isaiah 6:9-11 you’ll hear Isaiah crying out, “How long, O Lord?”). But this is where I seize hope.
Above all things, God is God and we are not. God is wholly other. We cannot know the mind of God. And yet, in this extraordinary story, there are glimpses beyond majesty and awe. God is fearful to behold and God holds us as a mother holds a child to her breast. The touch of God burns and yet it is with life-giving fire. God towers above and God embraces us in inexplicable and earth-shattering tenderness and forgiveness. The One who creates all things also lives in the dirt and muck of life.
Dear Beloveds, may you always know and trust through all things: God is God. Almighty and Always. The One who shepherds you in life also tenderly holds you into death and beyond. The One who created the universe is as close as your next breath. For God gave you life, named you, and holds you near. Forever. Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might.
Amen.
+Bishop Shelley Bryan Wee | bishop@lutheransnw.org
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