THE LIGHT OF MAJESTY
The people who walk in darkness
Will see a great light;
Those who live in a dark land,
The light will shine on them.
You shall multiply the nation,
You shall increase their gladness;
They will be glad in Your presence
As with the gladness of harvest,
As men rejoice when they divide the spoil.
For you shall break the yoke of their burden and the staff on their shoulders,
The rod of their oppressor, as at the battle of Midian,
For every boot of the booted warrior in the battle tumult,
And cloak rolled in blood, will be for burning, fuel for the fire.
For a child will be born to us, a son will be given to us;
And the government will rest on His shoulders;
And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.
There will be no end to the increase of His government or of peace,
On the throne of David and over his kingdom,
To establish it and to uphold it with justice and righteousness
From then on and forevermore,
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will accomplish this.
(Isaiah 9: 2-7)
As humans, we have a very strong positive reaction to the appearance of light in the middle of darkness. It's very dramatic, of course. The very nature of darkness isolates us. We cannot see. We cannot see the space around us, we cannot see each other, we cannot even see ourselves.
Light changes all that, no matter the size of the light. A little candle in a huge space of darkness is still a spot of hope, and we are drawn to it. When we sit in a darkened theatre and the lights come up on the stage or on the movie screen, all our attention become focuses on where the light is. When we are outside in the dark, we set our course to the nearest light we can see. We have an desire to move from the darkness into the light.
At Christmas time, we play with light. We string strands of small lights around trees, around windows, across the surface of our homes, so that once darkness falls we can turn on those lights for delightful displays.
Near my apartment, there is a neighborhood high up on the hills that has a clear view out over the Los Angeles basin. I like to go up there at night when the air is clear, and spend a few moments looking out over the city. The grid of lights on the busy streets, the clusters of light around businesses and high-rise buildings, all glitters in the darkness, as if a star-field had settled on the surface of the planet.
All these things are small compared to the Great Light Isaiah refers to. The light of the presence of God is promised to the people: they shall see a great light. But it isn't "just" light. The light is only part of the manifestation of the glory of God.
I think this is something we overlook sometimes. We celebrate the coming of Christ as a metaphorical coming of light (of knownowledge and peace) with this season. But Isaiah promises even more. The prophet tells us that this coming presence will break the oppressors, that war-boots and cloaks will be burned away, the rods of the oppressors broken.
These days, when we see the word "government" we automatically think of the organization of our civil social structures. City management, county rules, state laws, federal authority; we have many layers of government around us, ordering our lives and activities. But when Isaiah says "the government will rest on His shoulders," he is talking about something that also encompasses more immediate things.
To train a young ox in the work of pulling a plow, the ancients used a special yoke. Because the team pulling the plow for the training would be uneven - the youngling paired with a more experienced work-ox -- the older animal would be doing most of the work. The pressure of the yoke would be on the older ox's shoulders. The younger animal would be learning the feel of the yoke, how it sits on the shoulders, the sense of the pressure on the chest when pulling the plow. But the training yoke also kept the youngling from wandering away, kept it focused on the task at hand. It obliged the younger ox to keep pace with the older as they went down the row. So, although the young ox was not yet doing any of the hard work of actually pulling the plow, it learned the feel of the yoke, the pace of the work, how to respond to the directions from the farmer. The government, the management, of the younger ox rested on the shoulders of the older one.
That is the "government" that Christ brings to us. It's personal.
Yet, even the people of Israel looked for a civil Savior, someone who would overthrow the worldly rulers that oppressed them. There were those among Jesus' followers who expected him to take up the sword, take up the rod of rulership, to throw the Romans out of their land, dismiss the Hasmonean kings and establish a "godly kingdom." And, even now, there are those who continue to expect that of the Lord.
I don't think that God is displeased with the rulers of nations comply with God's design, ruling justly and wisely, keeping in mind the good of the governed. What would there be to be displeased in that? But I think that is a pleasing consequence of what God considers His primary concern, and not the end purpose of it.
We are the subjects of Christ's government. We are the youngling oxen being trained, trained to walk straight in the furrow, trained to move at the proper pace and not race ahead or linger behind, trained to do the work, trained to know the pressure of the yoke so that we do not injure ourselves by settling it wrongly.
There is a peace that comes from doing our work well and smoothly, with grace and ease. It is far more durable than the pauses for breath that we snatch when rushing about.
The majesty of the Lord brings us great light, a beauty spread out before us that shows us all things around us. The majesty of the Lord crushes the oppressors, removing those who hinder us. And the majesty of the Lord governs us, teaches us to work with Him, lightly, without stress, giving us peace and joy in the accomplishment of the work.
Our God is not an inactive God, sitting in splendor only, doing nothing. He brings His light down among us, setting His feet into the broken earth of the field, training us to work with Him.
Now there's a thought: to be partners in majesty with God? Isn't that breathtaking? And it comes to us because a Child is born to us.
The people who walk in darkness
Will see a great light;
Those who live in a dark land,
The light will shine on them.
You shall multiply the nation,
You shall increase their gladness;
They will be glad in Your presence
As with the gladness of harvest,
As men rejoice when they divide the spoil.
For you shall break the yoke of their burden and the staff on their shoulders,
The rod of their oppressor, as at the battle of Midian,
For every boot of the booted warrior in the battle tumult,
And cloak rolled in blood, will be for burning, fuel for the fire.
For a child will be born to us, a son will be given to us;
And the government will rest on His shoulders;
And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.
There will be no end to the increase of His government or of peace,
On the throne of David and over his kingdom,
To establish it and to uphold it with justice and righteousness
From then on and forevermore,
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will accomplish this.
(Isaiah 9: 2-7)
As humans, we have a very strong positive reaction to the appearance of light in the middle of darkness. It's very dramatic, of course. The very nature of darkness isolates us. We cannot see. We cannot see the space around us, we cannot see each other, we cannot even see ourselves.
Light changes all that, no matter the size of the light. A little candle in a huge space of darkness is still a spot of hope, and we are drawn to it. When we sit in a darkened theatre and the lights come up on the stage or on the movie screen, all our attention become focuses on where the light is. When we are outside in the dark, we set our course to the nearest light we can see. We have an desire to move from the darkness into the light.
At Christmas time, we play with light. We string strands of small lights around trees, around windows, across the surface of our homes, so that once darkness falls we can turn on those lights for delightful displays.
Near my apartment, there is a neighborhood high up on the hills that has a clear view out over the Los Angeles basin. I like to go up there at night when the air is clear, and spend a few moments looking out over the city. The grid of lights on the busy streets, the clusters of light around businesses and high-rise buildings, all glitters in the darkness, as if a star-field had settled on the surface of the planet.
All these things are small compared to the Great Light Isaiah refers to. The light of the presence of God is promised to the people: they shall see a great light. But it isn't "just" light. The light is only part of the manifestation of the glory of God.
I think this is something we overlook sometimes. We celebrate the coming of Christ as a metaphorical coming of light (of knownowledge and peace) with this season. But Isaiah promises even more. The prophet tells us that this coming presence will break the oppressors, that war-boots and cloaks will be burned away, the rods of the oppressors broken.
These days, when we see the word "government" we automatically think of the organization of our civil social structures. City management, county rules, state laws, federal authority; we have many layers of government around us, ordering our lives and activities. But when Isaiah says "the government will rest on His shoulders," he is talking about something that also encompasses more immediate things.
To train a young ox in the work of pulling a plow, the ancients used a special yoke. Because the team pulling the plow for the training would be uneven - the youngling paired with a more experienced work-ox -- the older animal would be doing most of the work. The pressure of the yoke would be on the older ox's shoulders. The younger animal would be learning the feel of the yoke, how it sits on the shoulders, the sense of the pressure on the chest when pulling the plow. But the training yoke also kept the youngling from wandering away, kept it focused on the task at hand. It obliged the younger ox to keep pace with the older as they went down the row. So, although the young ox was not yet doing any of the hard work of actually pulling the plow, it learned the feel of the yoke, the pace of the work, how to respond to the directions from the farmer. The government, the management, of the younger ox rested on the shoulders of the older one.
That is the "government" that Christ brings to us. It's personal.
Yet, even the people of Israel looked for a civil Savior, someone who would overthrow the worldly rulers that oppressed them. There were those among Jesus' followers who expected him to take up the sword, take up the rod of rulership, to throw the Romans out of their land, dismiss the Hasmonean kings and establish a "godly kingdom." And, even now, there are those who continue to expect that of the Lord.
I don't think that God is displeased with the rulers of nations comply with God's design, ruling justly and wisely, keeping in mind the good of the governed. What would there be to be displeased in that? But I think that is a pleasing consequence of what God considers His primary concern, and not the end purpose of it.
We are the subjects of Christ's government. We are the youngling oxen being trained, trained to walk straight in the furrow, trained to move at the proper pace and not race ahead or linger behind, trained to do the work, trained to know the pressure of the yoke so that we do not injure ourselves by settling it wrongly.
There is a peace that comes from doing our work well and smoothly, with grace and ease. It is far more durable than the pauses for breath that we snatch when rushing about.
The majesty of the Lord brings us great light, a beauty spread out before us that shows us all things around us. The majesty of the Lord crushes the oppressors, removing those who hinder us. And the majesty of the Lord governs us, teaches us to work with Him, lightly, without stress, giving us peace and joy in the accomplishment of the work.
Our God is not an inactive God, sitting in splendor only, doing nothing. He brings His light down among us, setting His feet into the broken earth of the field, training us to work with Him.
Now there's a thought: to be partners in majesty with God? Isn't that breathtaking? And it comes to us because a Child is born to us.
Labels: Advent
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