Vision

Isaiah 6:1-8

6 In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. 2 Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. 3 And one called to another and said:

“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts;

the whole earth is full of his glory.”

4 The pivots[a] on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke. 5 And I said: “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”

6 Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. 7 The seraph[b] touched my mouth with it and said: “Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.” 8 Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I; send me!”

I would say that our family is fairly outdoorsy.  We’re not extreme off-the-grid backcountry adventurers, at least not all of us, not all the time...yet...but we do enjoy and seek out extended time in nature. We ride bikes, we go camping, and occasionally I can convince my crew to go on a little hike. Over time, we’ve all developed a sort of role in the process.  I pack the day bag with snacks, first aid, water bottles, bug spray, and maps. I’ll carry the pack for a little ways, until my husband Mark ends up carrying it most of the trip. While my mind is still unwinding from things I might have forgotten or what needs to be done when we get back to camp, or what text or e-mail I need to send and what trail I hope to convince them of tomorrow...our daughter Marley will spot some glorious wonder of creation before any of us would have even been close to noticing.  We say that she has the sharpest trail eye. She always finds the camouflage turtle that I was about to step on and the tiny frog hidden in the mud. She’s our scout that sees the glimmering spider web we’re about to run into and the curious mushroom tucked among the forest floor  leaves. Somehow I’m always the one that sees a snake first. I guess we all have our gifts.

But every once in a while, our eye level elevation as grown-ups gives us an advantage to see something she hasn’t yet. And then we do that thing where we try to point to it through the trees, describe how it’s to the right of that one branch and just above that more yellow-y looking leaf...But our sightlines just aren’t matching up.  So then you do that thing where you put their head right in front of yours to try and align your pointing arm with their angle of vision and will them to see what you’ve seen.  Sometimes it works, sometimes she pretends it worked, and sometimes we just have to move on knowing that we’ll have different experiences throughout the day. 

Isaiah has already had visions of what is happening to the people of God, what will happen as a result, and what comes after. He has seen them devolve into a lost people who have forgotten God’s ways of justice and care as they strive after power and security as defined by economic dominance and military might. He can foresee and has prophesied the imminent consequences of collapse. Even good kings like Uziah do not last forever. And yet, he can also see that God’s commitment and care for the people still persists and  life continues and is refreshed even from the dry stumps left behind. 

Here, Isaiah also sees Godself. Isaiah sees God’s glory filling up the holy temple, but also seemingly extending beyond it. God’s hem is spilling over the edges, and holy smoke spreads throughout. It’s an element you can try to contain for a time, but ultimately seeps into and beyond all confines.  God’s presence is fullness, bursting at the seam. God’s winged seraphs surround with a cry of “holy, holy, holy,” giving voice to God’s resounding holiness and the boundless nature of God’s glory that fills every nook and cranny to the whole of the earth. 

Seeing God like this, so completely and clearly, doesn’t put a jig in Isaiah’s step but brings forth woe from his lips. Isaiah sees how different this is from what he sees in the world around him. God’s infinite goodness undoes Isaiah as a flawed and finite human. He laments himself as a man of unclean clean lips, which is not unique to him, but a condition of the whole people. His final response declares, and yet…”I have seen the King. I have seen the Lord.” The same words that will come from the mouths of those who have been healed by Jesus, and the women who come running from the empty tomb of resurrection.

And yet...In seeing God, Isaiah begins to see himself differently. Where Isaiah sees brokenness, God sees belovedness. Where Isaiah sees destruction, God sees possibility. When Isaiah says unclean, God says these lips will go and speak for me. And so when God asks, who will go...Isaiah is both charred and capable, a conduit of the holy. God sees Isaiah, fully and clearly, and dwells there.

It’s been a long couple of weeks on the heels of a long couple of weeks following a long couple of weeks. I’m tired and often cranky. As I envisioned this weekend, I pictured my Saturday sitting on the couch and moving only to refill my bowl of ice cream. But we ended up going out to Camp Lutherhill, our synod’s camp and retreat center, for a socially distant day retreat. We picked up my favorite donuts on our way out to one of my favorite places to be among some of my favorite people. Even as we talked of Psalms of joy, playfully pursued scavenger hunts, and clapped our hands in sacred silliness...my mind’s eye was still stuck on what’s wrong and broken, and annoying, and woeful. I found myself longing for liberation from these feelings and for Godself, but still feeling stuck with scales over my eyes. It seemed like my most pressing longing was to see God in the midst of it. It was harder for me to recognize my longing to be seen - for God to see me and my mess, have mercy, and still want me. 

I love seeing God in the glory of hillside sunsets and cherished smiles, as golden hour light trickles through the oak trees.  It’s harder for me to see God in the skinned knees and cluttered sinks. And yet…

Today is 5 years to the day that I was ordained as a pastor, actually at that holy dwelling place called Lutherhill. And at milestones like these people will ask me if ministry and if +KINDRED looks the way I envisioned it would. Yes and no. I had seen enough to know that this would be a simultaneously messy and beautiful life, but honestly I couldn’t see much farther than the next step along the way...if that. As someone who’s been hooked on the impossible hope of God for most of my life, I still get frustrated and fogged up by the ways in which things are broken and not yet what they could be. And yet, the presence and prophets of God point to holiness which resides not only in grandeur but in the profane, holding together a vision of what is and what is becoming. God calls and sends the scarred and scared.

I wonder where you may have seen this confounding God today. Where, in looking back, you might notice something holy.

I wonder how this vision impacts your view of yourself? Your people?

I wonder what it shows you about what God has ahead?

The sacred story of Isaiah is the prophet most referenced in the New Testament as God Among Us, Immanuel, is revealed in the paradox of an infant eternal suffering king. I don’t always see it, at least not fully or clearly. And yet….here we are...and here we go. Amen.