Signs of Life--August 5, 2020

Signs of Life—August 5, 2020

“See, you shall call nations that you do not know,
and nations that do not know you shall run to you,
because of the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel,
for he has glorified you.” [Isaiah 55:4-5]

Quick—look! A bunch of strangers and foreigners from other countries are making a run toward you—what do you do? 

Well... I guess it depends. Are we living in a medieval castle somewhere staring down an invading army? Well, then sure, let’s batten down the hatches and hunker down for a siege. In a setting like that, fear is the right response, I suppose. 

But if you’re the prophet here in what we call Isaiah 55, the image of throngs of people from many foreign nations coming near is a sign of life. It’s an image of hope. It’s a vision of God’s goodness spilling out beyond whatever container you try and put it in, like a cup running over. When the prophet dreamed of the nations coming to Israel and Judah, “running to you” as it were, it was the most beautiful and hopeful image he could think of. He isn’t issuing a warning (as in, “Look out—here come those foreigners!”), and he isn’t trying to stir up the people to cry out to their king for more troops to keep out the riff-raff on the horizon. In fact, it’s just the opposite. He's saying, "Look--how wonderful!  God is drawing people from all over the world to witness the wonders of God. We will have room for all of them!" For the prophet, it’s a hopeful sign when others want to come close and see what God is up to among you. 

Funny how we can have these gut reactions of fear and hostility toward something—an image, a story, a verse from the Scripture—when it was originally meant to give hope. For the people coming back from exile, the idea that one day anybody would want to darken their doorsteps again was preposterous! They didn’t even have a homeland to go to, they thought, and even if they ever got home, it would surely look like a pile of rubble—that’s all the Babylonians had left behind when they ransacked their cities and took the best and the brightest away into captivity. Who would ever want to come to visit that? What could they ever have to offer that would make people want to run to them from far away? 

Well, of course, that’s part of the promise—that there would come a day again when the exiles came home, when their homes were rebuilt, and when God’s abundance would be there for all. These verses follow immediately on the image of God giving away water to all who are thirsty, and bread, milk, and wine to everybody without price—those are hopeful images for folks who have been through the hell of exile and don’t know where their next meal will come from. And then here in these verses, the prophet doubles down and says, “Not only will you be all right, but you will be able to share with people from far away, who will be drawn by the goodness of God in your midst.” It’s a hopeful vision that the nations will want to come—and find welcome—it’s not something to sound alarms or lock gates over. 

I’ve been hearing these words from Isaiah 55 in the back of my head a lot this week, not only because they were part of our Old Testament reading in worship (as they were for many who use the same lectionary pattern we do), but also because this past Sunday marked the one-year anniversary of the massacre in an El Paso Wal-Mart, where a gunman who, in his own words, was afraid of “invaders” from other countries becoming an “infestation,” took more than lives on his shooting spree.  It was an unspeakable act of cowardice and fear-induced hatred, and it's not ancient history--it was twelve months ago. 

There are still so many insidious voices around us teaching us to fear the "other"--to be afraid of "those poor people" moving in down the street and ruining our "suburban lifestyle dream" by bringing down property values... or to be afraid of "those dangerous refugees" seeking a safe place to live when their homes are troubled... or to be afraid of people whose skin is darker than yours because someone in your family once told you not to mix with "those people."  This isn't some ancient past we have moved on from (as much as we might like to tell ourselves we have)--these are the conversations in the air every day right now.  These are the conversations I hear, and that you do, too; they are the kind of thing floating in the air all the time, not to mention scrolling through your social media feed as well.

And yet, here in Isaiah is a prophetic voice of hope teaching us to be hopeful at the thought of a streaming crowd of "those people" coming and receiving God's good gifts right alongside you and me.  Isaiah 55, like all the words of the genuine prophets, is meant to teach us how to hope properly--that is, how to see the gathering of strangers, foreigners, refugees, outcasts, and all sorts of people we would label "other" as a sign of life and as evidence that God is moving among us still. When Isaiah envisions the foreigners from all the nations coming to the land of Israel and Judah in search of welcome, he smiles proudly, knowing this is how God glorifies them.  The "other" isn't someone to be turned away--these are people who have seen God's light in you and want to catch another glimpse in you by coming closer.  That's an honor, not a burden! 

Maybe being afraid at the thought of other "nations running to you" is a sign that something has gone wrong inside our hearts; maybe it's evidence there is something dead in us that is in need of resurrection.  And maybe, just maybe, God is also sending all those people to awaken us out of our graves like Lazarus.  Maybe the presence of those who are different from me are just the signs of life I needed.

Lord God, turn us from the voices that teach us to be afraid of others, and give us your vision of glorious joy as you gather all nations to yourself.