He touched me and we talked
Commentary
"The prophet of holiness" is the title often given to Isaiah. He might also be called "the prophet of contrasts" -- the contrasts being the absolute holiness of God and the absolute sinfulness of humanity. Isaiah's understanding of these contrasts comes out of his own encounter with God, described here in chapter 6. The book might well have begun with this chapter since nearly all that follows stems from the experience of his call to be a prophet.
As for sin, Isaiah sees it from many perspectives and uses several terms to describe its nature and its effect. In some places sin is described as "missing the mark," referring to specific ways in which one fails to be all that God expects of us. In other places it is a matter of "crossing the line," carelessly wandering into places one should not be. Sin becomes more serious when it refers to wrong done to others, and especially those who are weak and defenseless. Finally, the worst sin of all is to rebel against the God who has made a covenant of love and responsibility with us. This kind of sin denies that there are any standards or anyone to whom we are responsible.
In contrast to all of this is a holy God before whom we stand in awe and fear. "Woe is me!" is as much as we can say once we come into this presence. Like all the prophets, Isaiah sees sin and holiness as two sides of the same coin. Because we do not see or acknowledge the depth and seriousness of sin, we do not understand the height and awesomeness of the holiness of God. Because he knew the nature of his own sin -- that he was "the chief of sinners" -- Paul could say, "How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!" (Romans 11:33).
Out of this meeting with God there come to Isaiah two gifts of grace -- a word of forgiveness and a call to service. Again, as with sin and holiness, they are closely linked. How can we preach sin and grace unless we have experienced it ourselves? Isaiah's word -- and ours -- will only ring true if those who hear us are convinced that we have had our own time of wrestling with the God who calls us first to accountability and then to witness and service.
Romans 8:12-17
If Isaiah leaves us with the sense that God is so high and holy that we dare not even approach that presence, then Paul's word to the believers in Rome comes as great comfort and reassurance. Yes, God is indeed so awesome that we do not deserve to come near. But Paul has come to see God in the face of Jesus Christ and that makes all the difference in the world. Jesus had taught the disciples to pray, "Our Father...." He said that "no one comes to the Father except through me" (John 14:6). The idea is direct and unconventional. That we could use such an intimate term to refer to God was nothing short of revolutionary for a people who had been conditioned not to even pronounce the name of God.
Paul may have known that Jesus used the term "Abba" when he prayed in Gethsemane (Mark 14:36). Now he encourages believers to do the same, to use this most intimate of terms, "Abba!" or "Daddy!" This is not liturgical language. This is the everyday, colloquial way a child would address a loving father -- "Abba! Daddy!"
We will lose the impact of this idea, however, if we think that it is natural for us to come to God in this familial way. Paul knows the minds of Isaiah and Amos and the prophets. Therefore he has already clearly established in the opening chapters that we are by nature alien to God. "There is no one who is righteous, not even one" (Romans 3:10). Because of this we "have no excuse" (Romans 2:1). How then do we come into this kind of personal relationship where we can call God "Abba!"? It is by adoption. "You have received the spirit of adoption." And how is adoption brought about? It is by the Spirit. "All who are led by the Spirit are children of God." Or as he puts it to the Galatians, "God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, 'Abba! Father!' " (Galatians 4:6).
The paragraph ends with a note we would as soon Paul had left out -- "if, in fact, we suffer with him." We like the intimacy of love; we recoil from the price we may have to pay for such a relationship. "Jesus has many," wrote Thomas ... Kempis, "who desire comfort, but few who desire suffering. He finds many to share his feast, but few his fasting. All desire to rejoice with him, but few are willing to suffer for his sake. Many love Jesus as long as no hardship touches them. They who love Jesus for his own sake, and ... bless him in every trial and anguish of heart ... would still always praise him and give him thanks." (Thomas Kempis, Imitation of Christ, Baltimore: Penguin, 1952, p. 83).
John 3:1-17
Nicodemus appears only in John's gospel and always in a somewhat secretive and hesitant role. Here in John 3 he comes to Jesus by night. In chapter 7 he makes a tentative move to defend Jesus. In chapter 19 he is linked to Joseph of Arimathea, who is described as a "secret" disciple of Jesus. As a well-known Pharisee -- "a leader of the Jews" -- he must have been reluctant to identify himself openly with Christ.
It would be tempting to get caught up with this interesting man Nicodemus. He was a big shot in the Jerusalem religious structure. He and his colleague Pharisees were in control of much of the ecclesiastical framework of Judaism. He probably had a good deal of power in that group. In our text he comes through as one of the best of Israel and as such we identify him with all honest seekers after God. As "a teacher of Israel" he also reminds us of people of brilliance and ability who do not dismiss the Gospel until they have taken a careful look at it.
But it would be a mistake to spend too much time with Nicodemus. This is a story of how the Spirit of God works in the hearts of those who seek after light. That makes it an appropriate text for the season of Pentecost. If he had any ideas in mind that he should be given special treatment because of his station in life, Jesus quickly puts such notions to rest. Like everyone else, his only means of entrance into the Kingdom is to be "born of water and the Spirit." Like Isaiah, Nicodemus must come to see himself, no matter what his status may be in the community, as one who is sinful and unclean and in need of grace and washing.
It is good to remember that John writes this word long after the event -- possibly sixty years. By now he has seen the Gospel run to the ends of the known world. By now tens of thousands had been converted. By now thousands, including most if not all of his colleague disciples, had died as martyrs for the faith. How did all this come about? By the brilliance of followers like Nicodemus? No, it was the Spirit. The same Spirit that called the twelve, and the seventy, and Paul and Timothy and Priscilla and Junia and many, many others. The Spirit had given all of these a disarmingly simple but dynamically profound message: "For God so loved the world...."
Suggestions For Preaching
Recently my wife Corinne and I attended a luncheon in honor of the king and queen of Sweden. Our letter of invitation made it clear that we must be in the dining hall and seated at least fifteen minutes before the royal couple's arrival. There we were given instructions on how to conduct ourselves in the presence of their majesties. Among other things, we were told that it is never proper to extend one's hand to the royal couple unless they first extend a hand to touch, and that one must never initiate a conversation with them. They must speak first. Only then should one open one's mouth. We never shook hands with them or spoke to them. But some did, and it was a moment they will treasure as long as they live.
If we can learn to have such awe and respect for human royalty, what of our relationship with God? Have we become too "familiar" with God, failing to think about our unworthiness to be in that holy presence? But have we also lost sight of what is even more important: namely, that God has indeed reached out to us -- like Isaiah, touched our lips and made us clean -- and invited us into intimate conversation?
What a Sunday to preach sin and grace!
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Isaiah 6:1-8
If guilt has a way of cycling up to attack the person, the good Lord has a way of radicalizing forgiveness to make it synonymous with freedom.
Garrison Keillor, disc jockey and theologian, once called guilt "the gift that keeps on giving." It has a way of multiplying. Focusing on a specific offense or failure, the self circles it, examining the factors involved, trying to explain, to understand, resolving never to let it happen again, until -- still circling -- it loses sight of the specifics and can only see itself as the problem. It isn't just that I did wrong or failed to do right; I, as person, am wrong. And then it is just a short cycle to still another stage. Having moved from act to person, guilt moves to past and future: I have always been wrong; it will never be right. At the end is despair.
This move from act to person can happen another way. Someone else can appear so beautiful or gifted, so powerful or gracious, that the person observing begins to feel utterly inadequate, unredeemably stuck, such an ugly duckling that there can be no possibility. Self-consciousness, it is often called -- a freezing, immobilizing sense of inadequacy brought on not by anything the sufferer has done or failed to do but by the presence of the other.
This second level of guilt, a woeful sense of self, has grasped Isaiah, locking him in tight. "Woe is me," he cries, "I am a man of unclean lips." The vision of God's holiness and power, of God's otherness, has so overwhelmed him that in its light, all he can see of himself is acne and contamination. It's all over before it's begun.
But see how graciously God deals with Isaiah. God doesn't explain or even accept such a reaction. Instead, the good Lord deals with it for what it is, sin itself. Justifiable, understandable, reasonable as Isaiah's response may be, the paralysis of unworthiness brings into question God's judgment in giving such a vision to the prophet and God's trustworthiness in future relations. Frozen by his sense of himself, Isaiah literally can't hear or believe an external word. He has become his own world.
But God will not be denied. So, in one of the magnificent scenes in Scripture, one of the seraphim attendant to the cosmic throne comes bearing a burning coal to thaw Isaiah's lips with the holy absolution. Not only Isaiah's actual sins are consumed in the flame; his sense of inappropriateness, his inadequacy in the face of the holy, the second stage of immobilizing guilt melts down. He can move again, free in a forgiveness so broad and so deep that it transcends even guilt's attempts at self-protection.
As for sin, Isaiah sees it from many perspectives and uses several terms to describe its nature and its effect. In some places sin is described as "missing the mark," referring to specific ways in which one fails to be all that God expects of us. In other places it is a matter of "crossing the line," carelessly wandering into places one should not be. Sin becomes more serious when it refers to wrong done to others, and especially those who are weak and defenseless. Finally, the worst sin of all is to rebel against the God who has made a covenant of love and responsibility with us. This kind of sin denies that there are any standards or anyone to whom we are responsible.
In contrast to all of this is a holy God before whom we stand in awe and fear. "Woe is me!" is as much as we can say once we come into this presence. Like all the prophets, Isaiah sees sin and holiness as two sides of the same coin. Because we do not see or acknowledge the depth and seriousness of sin, we do not understand the height and awesomeness of the holiness of God. Because he knew the nature of his own sin -- that he was "the chief of sinners" -- Paul could say, "How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!" (Romans 11:33).
Out of this meeting with God there come to Isaiah two gifts of grace -- a word of forgiveness and a call to service. Again, as with sin and holiness, they are closely linked. How can we preach sin and grace unless we have experienced it ourselves? Isaiah's word -- and ours -- will only ring true if those who hear us are convinced that we have had our own time of wrestling with the God who calls us first to accountability and then to witness and service.
Romans 8:12-17
If Isaiah leaves us with the sense that God is so high and holy that we dare not even approach that presence, then Paul's word to the believers in Rome comes as great comfort and reassurance. Yes, God is indeed so awesome that we do not deserve to come near. But Paul has come to see God in the face of Jesus Christ and that makes all the difference in the world. Jesus had taught the disciples to pray, "Our Father...." He said that "no one comes to the Father except through me" (John 14:6). The idea is direct and unconventional. That we could use such an intimate term to refer to God was nothing short of revolutionary for a people who had been conditioned not to even pronounce the name of God.
Paul may have known that Jesus used the term "Abba" when he prayed in Gethsemane (Mark 14:36). Now he encourages believers to do the same, to use this most intimate of terms, "Abba!" or "Daddy!" This is not liturgical language. This is the everyday, colloquial way a child would address a loving father -- "Abba! Daddy!"
We will lose the impact of this idea, however, if we think that it is natural for us to come to God in this familial way. Paul knows the minds of Isaiah and Amos and the prophets. Therefore he has already clearly established in the opening chapters that we are by nature alien to God. "There is no one who is righteous, not even one" (Romans 3:10). Because of this we "have no excuse" (Romans 2:1). How then do we come into this kind of personal relationship where we can call God "Abba!"? It is by adoption. "You have received the spirit of adoption." And how is adoption brought about? It is by the Spirit. "All who are led by the Spirit are children of God." Or as he puts it to the Galatians, "God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, 'Abba! Father!' " (Galatians 4:6).
The paragraph ends with a note we would as soon Paul had left out -- "if, in fact, we suffer with him." We like the intimacy of love; we recoil from the price we may have to pay for such a relationship. "Jesus has many," wrote Thomas ... Kempis, "who desire comfort, but few who desire suffering. He finds many to share his feast, but few his fasting. All desire to rejoice with him, but few are willing to suffer for his sake. Many love Jesus as long as no hardship touches them. They who love Jesus for his own sake, and ... bless him in every trial and anguish of heart ... would still always praise him and give him thanks." (Thomas Kempis, Imitation of Christ, Baltimore: Penguin, 1952, p. 83).
John 3:1-17
Nicodemus appears only in John's gospel and always in a somewhat secretive and hesitant role. Here in John 3 he comes to Jesus by night. In chapter 7 he makes a tentative move to defend Jesus. In chapter 19 he is linked to Joseph of Arimathea, who is described as a "secret" disciple of Jesus. As a well-known Pharisee -- "a leader of the Jews" -- he must have been reluctant to identify himself openly with Christ.
It would be tempting to get caught up with this interesting man Nicodemus. He was a big shot in the Jerusalem religious structure. He and his colleague Pharisees were in control of much of the ecclesiastical framework of Judaism. He probably had a good deal of power in that group. In our text he comes through as one of the best of Israel and as such we identify him with all honest seekers after God. As "a teacher of Israel" he also reminds us of people of brilliance and ability who do not dismiss the Gospel until they have taken a careful look at it.
But it would be a mistake to spend too much time with Nicodemus. This is a story of how the Spirit of God works in the hearts of those who seek after light. That makes it an appropriate text for the season of Pentecost. If he had any ideas in mind that he should be given special treatment because of his station in life, Jesus quickly puts such notions to rest. Like everyone else, his only means of entrance into the Kingdom is to be "born of water and the Spirit." Like Isaiah, Nicodemus must come to see himself, no matter what his status may be in the community, as one who is sinful and unclean and in need of grace and washing.
It is good to remember that John writes this word long after the event -- possibly sixty years. By now he has seen the Gospel run to the ends of the known world. By now tens of thousands had been converted. By now thousands, including most if not all of his colleague disciples, had died as martyrs for the faith. How did all this come about? By the brilliance of followers like Nicodemus? No, it was the Spirit. The same Spirit that called the twelve, and the seventy, and Paul and Timothy and Priscilla and Junia and many, many others. The Spirit had given all of these a disarmingly simple but dynamically profound message: "For God so loved the world...."
Suggestions For Preaching
Recently my wife Corinne and I attended a luncheon in honor of the king and queen of Sweden. Our letter of invitation made it clear that we must be in the dining hall and seated at least fifteen minutes before the royal couple's arrival. There we were given instructions on how to conduct ourselves in the presence of their majesties. Among other things, we were told that it is never proper to extend one's hand to the royal couple unless they first extend a hand to touch, and that one must never initiate a conversation with them. They must speak first. Only then should one open one's mouth. We never shook hands with them or spoke to them. But some did, and it was a moment they will treasure as long as they live.
If we can learn to have such awe and respect for human royalty, what of our relationship with God? Have we become too "familiar" with God, failing to think about our unworthiness to be in that holy presence? But have we also lost sight of what is even more important: namely, that God has indeed reached out to us -- like Isaiah, touched our lips and made us clean -- and invited us into intimate conversation?
What a Sunday to preach sin and grace!
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Isaiah 6:1-8
If guilt has a way of cycling up to attack the person, the good Lord has a way of radicalizing forgiveness to make it synonymous with freedom.
Garrison Keillor, disc jockey and theologian, once called guilt "the gift that keeps on giving." It has a way of multiplying. Focusing on a specific offense or failure, the self circles it, examining the factors involved, trying to explain, to understand, resolving never to let it happen again, until -- still circling -- it loses sight of the specifics and can only see itself as the problem. It isn't just that I did wrong or failed to do right; I, as person, am wrong. And then it is just a short cycle to still another stage. Having moved from act to person, guilt moves to past and future: I have always been wrong; it will never be right. At the end is despair.
This move from act to person can happen another way. Someone else can appear so beautiful or gifted, so powerful or gracious, that the person observing begins to feel utterly inadequate, unredeemably stuck, such an ugly duckling that there can be no possibility. Self-consciousness, it is often called -- a freezing, immobilizing sense of inadequacy brought on not by anything the sufferer has done or failed to do but by the presence of the other.
This second level of guilt, a woeful sense of self, has grasped Isaiah, locking him in tight. "Woe is me," he cries, "I am a man of unclean lips." The vision of God's holiness and power, of God's otherness, has so overwhelmed him that in its light, all he can see of himself is acne and contamination. It's all over before it's begun.
But see how graciously God deals with Isaiah. God doesn't explain or even accept such a reaction. Instead, the good Lord deals with it for what it is, sin itself. Justifiable, understandable, reasonable as Isaiah's response may be, the paralysis of unworthiness brings into question God's judgment in giving such a vision to the prophet and God's trustworthiness in future relations. Frozen by his sense of himself, Isaiah literally can't hear or believe an external word. He has become his own world.
But God will not be denied. So, in one of the magnificent scenes in Scripture, one of the seraphim attendant to the cosmic throne comes bearing a burning coal to thaw Isaiah's lips with the holy absolution. Not only Isaiah's actual sins are consumed in the flame; his sense of inappropriateness, his inadequacy in the face of the holy, the second stage of immobilizing guilt melts down. He can move again, free in a forgiveness so broad and so deep that it transcends even guilt's attempts at self-protection.
