Hear Ye
Commentary
Church announcements are an uphill battle. We print them in bulletins and newsletters. We put them on our website and on television screens in our church building. We send out emails. And we share them aloud during our Sunday morning worship services. And yet, for all that communication, still some people don’t get the message.
In some instances, I suppose, they don’t get the message because they are not very attentive. They skim at best the printed information, and they have other things on their mind when the announcements are made in worship. In other instances, however, the problem is more subtle and more challenging: namely, some folks don’t get the message because they don’t realize that the message is for them.
So many of our announcements, after all, are only for a select group of people. This thing is important for the parents of youth to know. This other thing, meanwhile, is a matter for our active seniors. Then there is the announcement that only pertains to folks interested in our music ministry. Next comes a word specifically for the women of the church. Then a reminder for the people involved in such-and-such a class or small group. And then a word about a new program for young families.
On and on it goes. And in the process, it’s easy for people to filter out much of what they hear or read because, at some subconscious level, they have concluded that most of it is not for them. This is especially true for the Sunday-only folks, for they typically feel that, unless the service times are being changed, they already know all that they need to know.
Amid all of that, then, it can be particularly challenging to get folks to recognize and to hear the announcements that are truly meant for everyone. Here is a program that I genuinely want everyone to attend. Here is a piece of information that all the members of the church family need to know and care about. Here is an opportunity that is not limited to a certain demographic or interest.
And here is a gospel message — indeed, here is a Lord and Savior — that is for everyone. This is not just for a select group, not just a few interested parties, not only those who have participated in the past. No, this is — he is — for everyone.
The gospel message is for everyone. The Lord Jesus is for everyone. That is a truth that percolates through our assigned passages for this Sunday. And that is the ultimate challenge in our communication as churches, as preachers, and as individual Christians.
Isaiah 40:21-31
Imagine that this familiar passage from Isaiah 40 were a play — a performance that we were watching on a stage. Broadly speaking, we would observe two characters: the Lord and humanity. Some specific subgroups of humanity will emerge to be highlighted in one verse or another, but overall the play features just two characters.
In the first act, it becomes apparent that there is a significant difference between these two characters. The Lord sits high above all, dwarfing humanity in terms of both time and space. They are puny — mere “grasshoppers” — while he presides over all the vastness of the cosmic creation. And he abides, while the frail human creatures come and go, rise and fall, live and die.
Theologians sometimes speak of the transcendence of God. Act 1 reveals the Lord as transcendent. He is completely above, apart, and other. The notion of any meaningful relationship between this immense and eternal Creator, on the one hand, and these transient grasshoppers, on the other, seems preposterous.
Act 1 can be titled, “Transcendent.” For the sake of the audience, it helps to put both the characters in their place. The Lord is on high; humanity is frail and fleeting.
Meanwhile, theologians also will talk about the immanence of God. Such a trait may seem at first blush to be a contradiction to his transcendence. We understand, however, that grace makes both truths possible at the same time.
Act 2 might be titled, “Immanent.”
Both acts begin the same way (vs. 21 and vs. 28). But while Act 1 focused on the Lord as high above humanity, Act 2 shows him condescending to be tenderly engaged with humanity. While he does not grow weary (vs. 28), human beings do (vs. 29). And so, while his strength and human weakness were well-established in Act 1, Act 2 reveals a God who offers his strength to humanity’s weakness. He strengthens, refreshes, empowers, and elevates them.
But of course, it’s not just “them,” it’s us.
There is a third character in this performance, but it is not explicitly a character on the stage. It is the audience. Multiple times in the passage, the audience is addressed. Verse 21 puts a series of questions before us. The Lord asks another question of us in verse 25. We are called upon to pay special attention in verse 26, and then another series of questions are asked of us in verses 27 and 28.
It turns out, you see, that what is being portrayed on the stage is very much for the edification of those of us in the audience. We are not meant to be mere spectators. On the contrary, there are things we are supposed to know. Powerful and beautiful things that we are supposed to know about our God, about ourselves, and about his relationship to us.
1 Corinthians 9:16-23
In this excerpt from his Corinthian correspondence, the Apostle Paul offers us a priceless glimpse into his understanding of his calling. He references it so many times in his various letters. In this passage, however, we are given a kind of behind-the-scenes peek into the apostle’s psyche, if you will, with respect to that calling.
His calling is to preach the gospel. Elsewhere, we read a good deal about Paul’s understanding of the content of that gospel. Here, however, his focus is on the preaching of it. And what he shares is an example to us all.
First, he affirms the necessity of his preaching. He says that he is under compulsion. That raises an interesting question for you and me as preachers, of course. Are we under compulsion? Do we feel such a sense of divine calling that we have almost no choice about doing what we do? And, if not, what is our motivation? What prompts us to do what we do?
At a minimum, the apostle’s example and words invite us to consider these questions for ourselves. Better still, we will talk about these questions and our answers with the Lord. And perhaps we will find, as Paul did, that our answers are important for us to share with our congregations.
Next, Paul goes on to reference the fact that he does not seek remuneration for his ministry. He clearly believes that financial support is justified for those who minister, yet he is deliberate and proud about the fact that he has chosen not to accept compensation. In our own personal contexts, Paul’s approach is probably not plausible. Yet the basic mode of operation is still a helpful example to us. Lest we fall into an unwholesome trap of trying to squeeze every last penny out of our services, or lest we feel ill-used by modest compensation, Paul models for us the beauty of giving freely and serving gladly.
Then, in the next section, Paul articulates a different level of serving. The money thing is frankly a pretty superficial level. But now he turns to the profound service that is required to meet people where they are at. It is often tempting in the ministry to ask (or expect) people to meet us where we are at, but Paul’s heart and habit are just the opposite.
Over the course of several verses, Paul expresses several applications of the principle. We are reminded of the various kinds of people with whom he had contact and the variety of audiences he endeavored to reach. And, once again, his example becomes a model and invitation to you and to me in doing what we do.
And not just to us. Questions of professional ministry may not be applicable for the folks in our pews, but meeting people where they are with the gospel certainly is. Indeed, the reality is that the lay members of my congregation and yours have routine contact with folks who will not likely walk through the doors of our churches. They will not sit under our preaching, but they will be in conversations every day with the people who do sit under our preaching. And so, the ministers that we send out into the world each week would do well to take their cue from Paul and his method of “all things to all people” evangelism. In this respect, the apostle’s example truly is an example to us all.
Mark 1:29-39
Our assigned Gospel lection is not a long one, yet it features four distinct stories or episodes. That sort of pace is typical of Mark. Often referred to as “the gospel in a hurry,” Mark moves through the story of Jesus’ life and ministry with an economy of words and little “red letter” material.
The first episode in the passage features the healing of Simon’s mother-in-law. It has a sweet and personal quality to it, for we feel that we know a little about the people involved. So many of the miracle stories in the gospels are impersonal — to us, at least — but Simon is marvelously familiar as arguably the most prominent of the disciples. Furthermore, the fact that he has a mother-in-law helps to take him out of the stained glass and put him back into the flesh and blood that we recognize and relate to. Furthermore, we are reminded that the family members of even Jesus’ disciples were not somehow immune from the ordinary stuff of life, like fevers; and we are shown, too, that Jesus cared for those closest to those who were closest to him, not only for the great nameless multitudes.
The second episode, then, features those nameless multitudes.
On a recent hospital call, I was struck by the sheer size of the facility and the vast number of cars in the adjacent parking garage. “That’s a lot of sick people,” I thought, and this was not even the only hospital in that town. It’s easy for us to imagine, therefore, that as the news of Jesus’ power to heal spread, great crowds of people would flock to him. That is the evening scene at Simon’s house, and so a tremendous healing scene followed. Meanwhile, Mark makes a point here, and again at the end of the passage, of mentioning demons. Demon-possession was a real and recognized part of life for the people of that time and place, and it’s clear that freeing people from such demonic power. He came “to save us all from Satan’s power,” as the Christmas carol sings, and Mark makes it clear that Jesus had authority over the demons.
Interestingly, it is also clear that the demons know who Jesus is. While the human population in Palestine would be filled with speculation and divided over his identity, the demons knew all along. And, in response, Jesus forbade them from revealing his identity. This pattern has often been subsumed under the theme of the “messianic secret,” but I believe this is a different issue. For even when Jesus stops forbidding human beings to tell about him and, instead, commands them to be his witnesses, there’s no evidence that he ever encouraged demons to be his spokesmen.
Since there was a separate healing event where Jesus referred to feeling the power go out of him, I don’t imagine that any of us can imagine how exhausting the multitudes of healing might have been for him. Yet, rather than finding his refreshment primarily in sleep, Jesus found his in prayer. Early in the morning, evidently before anyone else was up, Jesus went off to pray. Then, when the rest of the household awakened, they looked for him but didn’t know where he was. And, just as when Mary and Joseph were trying to find twelve-year-old Jesus, he was with his Father.
Finally, the element in the passage is not a detailed story so much as a summary statement. Jesus chose to go from that place and minister in many places. And Mark identifies that ministry in terms of two actions: preaching and casting out demons. Thus, we have succinct evidence of the power and importance of the word, on the one hand, and the fundamental nature of the enemy, the mission, and the battle, on the other.
Application
Near the end of our Gospel lection, we witness a fascinating moment between Jesus and his disciples. Much to their surprise, he was not at hand when morning came, and they all awakened. Naturally, they began to look for him. And when they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is looking for you.”
In our present culture, where we see so much of both disinterest in and antagonism toward religious faith, it is hard to believe that the disciples’ statement remains true. Can we, with a straight face, still make the claim in our day that everyone is looking for Jesus?
On the other hand, I wonder how many generations of peoples walked with disinterest — even disdain — across ancient middle eastern deserts, with no appreciation for the treasure of oil that lay beneath. It is hardly an uncommon human phenomenon to pass over a thing without recognizing its value. The fact that a person doesn’t appreciate the value, or the importance of a thing does not diminish the value or alter the importance.
When it comes to Jesus, this phenomenon is nothing new, is it? Most of Bethlehem ignored his birth in their midst, as did the scribes who directed the wise men to him without going themselves. The critical Pharisees, the fickle crowds, the mocking soldiers — so many multitudes did not realize the value of the one who was among them. “We esteemed him not.”
Perhaps, therefore, the persistent and probing questions from Isaiah 40 are appropriate for our day, as well. Do you not know? Haven’t you heard? Don’t you understand? He is there for everyone, but so many just don’t seem to have any recognition of who they are dealing with.
While we may not see explicit evidence that everyone is looking for Jesus, what we do see all around us is evidence that people are looking for something. They do not all look in the same places, but there is an undeniable hunger or emptiness that people are struggling to fill. To the extent that we understand both the human condition and the gospel, therefore, I expect we will say that, yes, everyone is looking for Jesus. Deep down inside, and often without realizing it, everyone is looking for Jesus.
It is for that reason, then, that it is incumbent upon those of us who have found him, who know him, to direct others to him. We take our cue in this from the Apostle Paul in the New Testament lection. He knew that this good news — this Jesus — was for everyone. Whether Jew or Gentile, whether weak or strong, whether under the law or not, he aspired to meet each person where he or she was at. He wanted, as best he could, to speak everyone’s language in order that he might help them find the one that they — that everyone! — is looking for.
Alternative Application(s)
Isaiah 40:21-31 — All Ye Who Are Weary
The Christmas angel famously declared that he had good news of great joy which was for all people. I am reminded of that declaration as I read the second half of our Old Testament passage. There is a theme there that certainly applies to all people, and the Lord’s message about that theme is good news, indeed!
The theme is weariness. In verse 28, we read that the Lord does not become weary. That affirmation about him is set in dramatic contrast to us, for in verse 29 he gives strength to the weary, and in verse 30 even youths become weary. And, as we shall see, weariness is mentioned again in the concluding verse of the passage.
So, weariness is a prominent theme in the latter half of the Old Testament passage. And perhaps we find that it is a familiar theme. For weariness may also play a prominent role in our own lives.
Jesus famously called to himself those who are weary (Matthew 11:28). The Greek word used in that passage is the same word that appears in the Greek translation of this selection from Isaiah. And when we hear Jesus extending that invitation to those who are weary, I imagine that many of us — and many of the people in our pews — recognize their own name on that invitation.
Weariness, it seems, is a universal human experience. We are finite beings — our energy (whether physical or emotional) is not limitless. And so, the good news of Isaiah 40 is truly good news for all people.
And what is that good news?
It begins with the affirmation that the Lord does not grow weary. That is crucial, for he cannot be a resource for us if he is also exhaustible. What good is the filling station to me if they run out of gas? But the Lord does not become weary, and so he is able to give strength to the weary. He increases their power. It is the sort of guarantee that must lie behind the recurring testimony of God’s saints that the Lord is their strength (see, for example, Exodus 15:2, Psalm 28:7, Psalm 140:7, Isaiah 49:5, Habakkuk 3:19).
What, then, is the key to this divine resource? How can the weary man or woman in your congregation this Sunday find renewed strength? How might we add our own names to the list of saints who were able to call the Lord their strength?
The final verse of our passage reveals the secret. The old King James Version rendered it: “They that wait upon the Lord...” And still today, several translations retain that image of ‘waiting’ on the Lord (e.g., NKJV, ESV, NASB). Some other translations choose “hope” or “trust.” And we can see how waiting and hoping go together. Furthermore, if we trust the person for whom we are waiting, then the hope is confident, not merely finger-crossing or wishful thinking.
Perhaps another usage of that same underlying Hebrew verb might be helpful. Job (7:20) refers to a hired hand who eagerly awaits his wages. That conveys a happy certainty, does it not? The worker knows this thing is coming, and surely, he is rejuvenated by that hope.
The weary are happily encouraged, therefore, to wait upon the Lord. We put our confident hope and trust in him. And he, who does not grow weary, becomes our resource in all our human weariness.
In some instances, I suppose, they don’t get the message because they are not very attentive. They skim at best the printed information, and they have other things on their mind when the announcements are made in worship. In other instances, however, the problem is more subtle and more challenging: namely, some folks don’t get the message because they don’t realize that the message is for them.
So many of our announcements, after all, are only for a select group of people. This thing is important for the parents of youth to know. This other thing, meanwhile, is a matter for our active seniors. Then there is the announcement that only pertains to folks interested in our music ministry. Next comes a word specifically for the women of the church. Then a reminder for the people involved in such-and-such a class or small group. And then a word about a new program for young families.
On and on it goes. And in the process, it’s easy for people to filter out much of what they hear or read because, at some subconscious level, they have concluded that most of it is not for them. This is especially true for the Sunday-only folks, for they typically feel that, unless the service times are being changed, they already know all that they need to know.
Amid all of that, then, it can be particularly challenging to get folks to recognize and to hear the announcements that are truly meant for everyone. Here is a program that I genuinely want everyone to attend. Here is a piece of information that all the members of the church family need to know and care about. Here is an opportunity that is not limited to a certain demographic or interest.
And here is a gospel message — indeed, here is a Lord and Savior — that is for everyone. This is not just for a select group, not just a few interested parties, not only those who have participated in the past. No, this is — he is — for everyone.
The gospel message is for everyone. The Lord Jesus is for everyone. That is a truth that percolates through our assigned passages for this Sunday. And that is the ultimate challenge in our communication as churches, as preachers, and as individual Christians.
Isaiah 40:21-31
Imagine that this familiar passage from Isaiah 40 were a play — a performance that we were watching on a stage. Broadly speaking, we would observe two characters: the Lord and humanity. Some specific subgroups of humanity will emerge to be highlighted in one verse or another, but overall the play features just two characters.
In the first act, it becomes apparent that there is a significant difference between these two characters. The Lord sits high above all, dwarfing humanity in terms of both time and space. They are puny — mere “grasshoppers” — while he presides over all the vastness of the cosmic creation. And he abides, while the frail human creatures come and go, rise and fall, live and die.
Theologians sometimes speak of the transcendence of God. Act 1 reveals the Lord as transcendent. He is completely above, apart, and other. The notion of any meaningful relationship between this immense and eternal Creator, on the one hand, and these transient grasshoppers, on the other, seems preposterous.
Act 1 can be titled, “Transcendent.” For the sake of the audience, it helps to put both the characters in their place. The Lord is on high; humanity is frail and fleeting.
Meanwhile, theologians also will talk about the immanence of God. Such a trait may seem at first blush to be a contradiction to his transcendence. We understand, however, that grace makes both truths possible at the same time.
Act 2 might be titled, “Immanent.”
Both acts begin the same way (vs. 21 and vs. 28). But while Act 1 focused on the Lord as high above humanity, Act 2 shows him condescending to be tenderly engaged with humanity. While he does not grow weary (vs. 28), human beings do (vs. 29). And so, while his strength and human weakness were well-established in Act 1, Act 2 reveals a God who offers his strength to humanity’s weakness. He strengthens, refreshes, empowers, and elevates them.
But of course, it’s not just “them,” it’s us.
There is a third character in this performance, but it is not explicitly a character on the stage. It is the audience. Multiple times in the passage, the audience is addressed. Verse 21 puts a series of questions before us. The Lord asks another question of us in verse 25. We are called upon to pay special attention in verse 26, and then another series of questions are asked of us in verses 27 and 28.
It turns out, you see, that what is being portrayed on the stage is very much for the edification of those of us in the audience. We are not meant to be mere spectators. On the contrary, there are things we are supposed to know. Powerful and beautiful things that we are supposed to know about our God, about ourselves, and about his relationship to us.
1 Corinthians 9:16-23
In this excerpt from his Corinthian correspondence, the Apostle Paul offers us a priceless glimpse into his understanding of his calling. He references it so many times in his various letters. In this passage, however, we are given a kind of behind-the-scenes peek into the apostle’s psyche, if you will, with respect to that calling.
His calling is to preach the gospel. Elsewhere, we read a good deal about Paul’s understanding of the content of that gospel. Here, however, his focus is on the preaching of it. And what he shares is an example to us all.
First, he affirms the necessity of his preaching. He says that he is under compulsion. That raises an interesting question for you and me as preachers, of course. Are we under compulsion? Do we feel such a sense of divine calling that we have almost no choice about doing what we do? And, if not, what is our motivation? What prompts us to do what we do?
At a minimum, the apostle’s example and words invite us to consider these questions for ourselves. Better still, we will talk about these questions and our answers with the Lord. And perhaps we will find, as Paul did, that our answers are important for us to share with our congregations.
Next, Paul goes on to reference the fact that he does not seek remuneration for his ministry. He clearly believes that financial support is justified for those who minister, yet he is deliberate and proud about the fact that he has chosen not to accept compensation. In our own personal contexts, Paul’s approach is probably not plausible. Yet the basic mode of operation is still a helpful example to us. Lest we fall into an unwholesome trap of trying to squeeze every last penny out of our services, or lest we feel ill-used by modest compensation, Paul models for us the beauty of giving freely and serving gladly.
Then, in the next section, Paul articulates a different level of serving. The money thing is frankly a pretty superficial level. But now he turns to the profound service that is required to meet people where they are at. It is often tempting in the ministry to ask (or expect) people to meet us where we are at, but Paul’s heart and habit are just the opposite.
Over the course of several verses, Paul expresses several applications of the principle. We are reminded of the various kinds of people with whom he had contact and the variety of audiences he endeavored to reach. And, once again, his example becomes a model and invitation to you and to me in doing what we do.
And not just to us. Questions of professional ministry may not be applicable for the folks in our pews, but meeting people where they are with the gospel certainly is. Indeed, the reality is that the lay members of my congregation and yours have routine contact with folks who will not likely walk through the doors of our churches. They will not sit under our preaching, but they will be in conversations every day with the people who do sit under our preaching. And so, the ministers that we send out into the world each week would do well to take their cue from Paul and his method of “all things to all people” evangelism. In this respect, the apostle’s example truly is an example to us all.
Mark 1:29-39
Our assigned Gospel lection is not a long one, yet it features four distinct stories or episodes. That sort of pace is typical of Mark. Often referred to as “the gospel in a hurry,” Mark moves through the story of Jesus’ life and ministry with an economy of words and little “red letter” material.
The first episode in the passage features the healing of Simon’s mother-in-law. It has a sweet and personal quality to it, for we feel that we know a little about the people involved. So many of the miracle stories in the gospels are impersonal — to us, at least — but Simon is marvelously familiar as arguably the most prominent of the disciples. Furthermore, the fact that he has a mother-in-law helps to take him out of the stained glass and put him back into the flesh and blood that we recognize and relate to. Furthermore, we are reminded that the family members of even Jesus’ disciples were not somehow immune from the ordinary stuff of life, like fevers; and we are shown, too, that Jesus cared for those closest to those who were closest to him, not only for the great nameless multitudes.
The second episode, then, features those nameless multitudes.
On a recent hospital call, I was struck by the sheer size of the facility and the vast number of cars in the adjacent parking garage. “That’s a lot of sick people,” I thought, and this was not even the only hospital in that town. It’s easy for us to imagine, therefore, that as the news of Jesus’ power to heal spread, great crowds of people would flock to him. That is the evening scene at Simon’s house, and so a tremendous healing scene followed. Meanwhile, Mark makes a point here, and again at the end of the passage, of mentioning demons. Demon-possession was a real and recognized part of life for the people of that time and place, and it’s clear that freeing people from such demonic power. He came “to save us all from Satan’s power,” as the Christmas carol sings, and Mark makes it clear that Jesus had authority over the demons.
Interestingly, it is also clear that the demons know who Jesus is. While the human population in Palestine would be filled with speculation and divided over his identity, the demons knew all along. And, in response, Jesus forbade them from revealing his identity. This pattern has often been subsumed under the theme of the “messianic secret,” but I believe this is a different issue. For even when Jesus stops forbidding human beings to tell about him and, instead, commands them to be his witnesses, there’s no evidence that he ever encouraged demons to be his spokesmen.
Since there was a separate healing event where Jesus referred to feeling the power go out of him, I don’t imagine that any of us can imagine how exhausting the multitudes of healing might have been for him. Yet, rather than finding his refreshment primarily in sleep, Jesus found his in prayer. Early in the morning, evidently before anyone else was up, Jesus went off to pray. Then, when the rest of the household awakened, they looked for him but didn’t know where he was. And, just as when Mary and Joseph were trying to find twelve-year-old Jesus, he was with his Father.
Finally, the element in the passage is not a detailed story so much as a summary statement. Jesus chose to go from that place and minister in many places. And Mark identifies that ministry in terms of two actions: preaching and casting out demons. Thus, we have succinct evidence of the power and importance of the word, on the one hand, and the fundamental nature of the enemy, the mission, and the battle, on the other.
Application
Near the end of our Gospel lection, we witness a fascinating moment between Jesus and his disciples. Much to their surprise, he was not at hand when morning came, and they all awakened. Naturally, they began to look for him. And when they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is looking for you.”
In our present culture, where we see so much of both disinterest in and antagonism toward religious faith, it is hard to believe that the disciples’ statement remains true. Can we, with a straight face, still make the claim in our day that everyone is looking for Jesus?
On the other hand, I wonder how many generations of peoples walked with disinterest — even disdain — across ancient middle eastern deserts, with no appreciation for the treasure of oil that lay beneath. It is hardly an uncommon human phenomenon to pass over a thing without recognizing its value. The fact that a person doesn’t appreciate the value, or the importance of a thing does not diminish the value or alter the importance.
When it comes to Jesus, this phenomenon is nothing new, is it? Most of Bethlehem ignored his birth in their midst, as did the scribes who directed the wise men to him without going themselves. The critical Pharisees, the fickle crowds, the mocking soldiers — so many multitudes did not realize the value of the one who was among them. “We esteemed him not.”
Perhaps, therefore, the persistent and probing questions from Isaiah 40 are appropriate for our day, as well. Do you not know? Haven’t you heard? Don’t you understand? He is there for everyone, but so many just don’t seem to have any recognition of who they are dealing with.
While we may not see explicit evidence that everyone is looking for Jesus, what we do see all around us is evidence that people are looking for something. They do not all look in the same places, but there is an undeniable hunger or emptiness that people are struggling to fill. To the extent that we understand both the human condition and the gospel, therefore, I expect we will say that, yes, everyone is looking for Jesus. Deep down inside, and often without realizing it, everyone is looking for Jesus.
It is for that reason, then, that it is incumbent upon those of us who have found him, who know him, to direct others to him. We take our cue in this from the Apostle Paul in the New Testament lection. He knew that this good news — this Jesus — was for everyone. Whether Jew or Gentile, whether weak or strong, whether under the law or not, he aspired to meet each person where he or she was at. He wanted, as best he could, to speak everyone’s language in order that he might help them find the one that they — that everyone! — is looking for.
Alternative Application(s)
Isaiah 40:21-31 — All Ye Who Are Weary
The Christmas angel famously declared that he had good news of great joy which was for all people. I am reminded of that declaration as I read the second half of our Old Testament passage. There is a theme there that certainly applies to all people, and the Lord’s message about that theme is good news, indeed!
The theme is weariness. In verse 28, we read that the Lord does not become weary. That affirmation about him is set in dramatic contrast to us, for in verse 29 he gives strength to the weary, and in verse 30 even youths become weary. And, as we shall see, weariness is mentioned again in the concluding verse of the passage.
So, weariness is a prominent theme in the latter half of the Old Testament passage. And perhaps we find that it is a familiar theme. For weariness may also play a prominent role in our own lives.
Jesus famously called to himself those who are weary (Matthew 11:28). The Greek word used in that passage is the same word that appears in the Greek translation of this selection from Isaiah. And when we hear Jesus extending that invitation to those who are weary, I imagine that many of us — and many of the people in our pews — recognize their own name on that invitation.
Weariness, it seems, is a universal human experience. We are finite beings — our energy (whether physical or emotional) is not limitless. And so, the good news of Isaiah 40 is truly good news for all people.
And what is that good news?
It begins with the affirmation that the Lord does not grow weary. That is crucial, for he cannot be a resource for us if he is also exhaustible. What good is the filling station to me if they run out of gas? But the Lord does not become weary, and so he is able to give strength to the weary. He increases their power. It is the sort of guarantee that must lie behind the recurring testimony of God’s saints that the Lord is their strength (see, for example, Exodus 15:2, Psalm 28:7, Psalm 140:7, Isaiah 49:5, Habakkuk 3:19).
What, then, is the key to this divine resource? How can the weary man or woman in your congregation this Sunday find renewed strength? How might we add our own names to the list of saints who were able to call the Lord their strength?
The final verse of our passage reveals the secret. The old King James Version rendered it: “They that wait upon the Lord...” And still today, several translations retain that image of ‘waiting’ on the Lord (e.g., NKJV, ESV, NASB). Some other translations choose “hope” or “trust.” And we can see how waiting and hoping go together. Furthermore, if we trust the person for whom we are waiting, then the hope is confident, not merely finger-crossing or wishful thinking.
Perhaps another usage of that same underlying Hebrew verb might be helpful. Job (7:20) refers to a hired hand who eagerly awaits his wages. That conveys a happy certainty, does it not? The worker knows this thing is coming, and surely, he is rejuvenated by that hope.
The weary are happily encouraged, therefore, to wait upon the Lord. We put our confident hope and trust in him. And he, who does not grow weary, becomes our resource in all our human weariness.
