Then I heard the Lord asking, “Whom should I send as a messenger to this people? Who will go for us?” I said, “Here I am. Send me.” [Isaiah 6:8 (NLT)]
I, the Lord of sea and sky, I have heard my people cry
All who dwell in dark and sin My hand will save.
I, who made the stars of night, I will make their darkness bright.
Who will bear my light to them? Whom shall I send?
Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord? I have heard you calling in the night.
I will go, Lord, if you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart.
[Dan Schutte]
Last week, after singing we’d come in the opening hymn, we promised to go in the closing one: I the Lord of Sea and Sky. Originally written for a Roman Catholic ordination mass in 1981, it has found its way into many Protestant hymnals. As I sang the refrain, “Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord?” I thought of Samuel and Isaiah, both of whom were called by God and both of whom responded by saying, “Here I am.” I wonder if I would have responded as positively as did they. Like Moses, would I have protested or, like Jeremiah, say my age disqualified me? Would I simply have run away as did Jonah? Although Moses, Jeremiah, and even Jonah eventually answered God’s call, I’m not so sure I would have (although three days in the belly of a fish might have convinced me)!
Being a prophet was a little like being God’s press secretary. Acting as His spokesperson, the prophet conveyed God’s words and message to the people. Unlike a press conference, however, negative news didn’t get a positive spin and there was no quibbling about the meaning of words. Prophets didn’t speak off-the-record, dissemble, beat around the bush, or use alternative facts and half-truths. With no need to be re-elected, God never worried about approval ratings and His prophets spoke only the unadulterated and often unpopular truth.
While a bearer of glad tidings is popular and welcome, indicting people for their sins or bringing a message of judgment and destruction was no way to win a popularity contest in Judah, Israel, and the surrounding nations. As the frequent bearers of reproach, dire warnings, and sad tidings, prophets often were ignored and persecuted. Nevertheless, Isaiah and the others reported for duty and took on a task that few would want.
God’s prophets answered His call because they trusted and loved Him. They knew He didn’t bring the Israelites to the edge of the Red Sea only to have them drown in the waters or be captured by the Egyptian soldiers nor did He send them through the wilderness only to have them die from starvation or lack of water before arriving in Canaan. God didn’t put Noah and the animals on that Ark without bringing them to dry land, He didn’t have Joshua march around Jericho without giving him victory, and He didn’t send David out to meet Goliath without those five smooth stones for his sling! Confident that God would provide all they needed, those prophets answered His call.
The pastor’s choice of opening and closing hymns had us both coming and going that day. The hymns were a vivid reminder that it’s not enough just to come to Jesus; He also expects us to go out into the world for Him. He calls us to service—to be His messengers and spread His word, light, and love to the world around us. When He calls, do we answer or do we pretend we don’t hear? Do we trust God to provide whatever we need or do we doubt and reject Him? Even though God warned his prophets that most people wouldn’t listen to them, let alone heed their words, they heeded His call by saying, “Here I am. Send me.” Will we do the same?
We are not diplomats but prophets, and our message is not a compromise but an ultimatum. A.W. Tozer]
As we came together in worship, each of us bringing the Lord our own private sins, sorrows, doubts, and fears, the hymn’s words, “Just as I am… I come, I come,” seemed a fitting way to start the service. Because its heartfelt words are so relatable, Just as I Am is one of my favorite hymns. Curious about its origin, I learned that its words were written by a Victorian hymn writer named Charlotte Elliott. The daughter of an evangelist, she suffered a serious illness at the age of 32 that left her an invalid for the rest of her life. Angry about what she perceived as uselessness because of her disability, Elliott became severely depressed and spiritually lost. After a visiting minister counseled her to come to Jesus, she asked how she could come to Him when all she had was her anger, sadness, questions, and broken body. The clergyman’s response was simple: “Come to Him just as you are.” Although she gave her life to Christ at that time, she continued to be plagued by depression.
When writing about pride earlier this week, I remembered the Bible’s stories of proud men who got their comeuppance. 2 Chronicles 26 tells of Uzziah who, as long as he “sought guidance from the Lord, God gave him success.” His mighty army defeated the Philistines, Arabians, and Meunites (who then paid him an annual tribute) and, under his rule, Jerusalem’s walls were fortified, wilderness forts were established, water cisterns were dug, and something like catapults were erected on the walls to defend the city. With Uzziah as king, Judah prospered and the powerful king’s fame spread “far and wide.” Sadly, along with prosperity, power, and fame came pride. Believing he was above the law, the proud king entered the sanctuary and usurped the high priest’s role by offering incense. When priests warned him about his sacrilege, the proud king raged at them and immediately was stricken with leprosy—a disease that meant the “unclean” man lived the rest of his life in isolation and never again could enter the Temple. All the blessings, accomplishments, and prosperity of his reign were overshadowed by Uzziah’s one act of pride, insolence, and arrogance.
I enjoy stopping for a short stroll on the boardwalk of a local nature preserve that is home to well over 100 gopher tortoises (a protected species) and a wide assortment of native plants. The boardwalk is low to the ground and has no railing because it’s not there to protect people from the alligators and snakes of the swamp; it’s there to protect the animals and their dry scrub habitat from people! Several signs are posted about not stepping off it onto the fragile landscape. When I spotted an absolutely beautiful prickly pear cactus in full bloom, I was disappointed it was out of decent photo range. Since mine had been the only car in the parking lot, I was tempted to disobey the posted signs. “I really want that photo! Who’d know? What harm could I do?” I asked myself. If I’d seen someone else stepping off the boardwalk, however, I would have admonished them for their lack of environmental concern! Recognizing sin’s whisper in my ear, I stayed put. Nevertheless, I realized how tempting it is to think my desires are more important than anything or anyone else.
It is in the Talmud (a compilation of ancient Jewish teachings and history) that we find the legend of Honi ha-Ma’agel (the Circle Maker). After three years of drought in the land, the man prayed for rain. When none came, Honi drew a circle in the dirt and vowed not to leave it until God had pity on his people and sent rain. When God sent a light rain, the circle maker informed God that wasn’t the kind of rain for which he prayed and stated his desire for rain enough to fill the cisterns. When God answered with torrents of rain, Honi again complained that, “Not for such a rain I prayed.” After the circle maker informed God he wanted a “rain of goodwill, blessing, and graciousness,” God provided a rain that satisfied Honi. In fact, it rained so much that the people finally asked Honi to pray the rain away! While Honi’s behavior is a great example of chutzpah (audacity and impudence), I’m not sure it’s a good example of proper prayer.
Devotions of the Heart 