we sing the nightmare of the lies that you speak

of the lies that you speak

A sermon on Isaiah:

Once a month, around noon, on a Wednesday; a few of us do a very brave thing. We. Choose. A. New. Hymn(!)…

Of which, worry not, I inevitable hear about…

Now it used to drive me bonkers! ‘Lighten up, you old sticks in the mud,’ I’d think. I’ve come to learn, though, that your apprehension to new hymns is actually faithful.

Now look, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m not about to use the sermon to commend the likes of you.

In scripture today we hear about the prophet, Isaiah going to church. 

Now, when we hear the word “prophet,” we imagine the likes of John the Baptist, unkept, living out in the desert.
Isaiah, though, was probably far more ordinary. 

He’s from a good family. His great-grandfather’s name was undoubtedly on the church-charter. His mom was the Shabbat-school superintendent. In confirmation his attendance was perfect. His rabbi, more than likely, had the boy pegged for seminary. Even after confirmation his attendance didn’t drop off. Instead he made it a priority to get to church. Memorizing the liturgy, even.

So that Sunday morning we hear about in our passage today, we can assume was just like any other. Imagine Isaiah finding his regular pew. Saying “good morning” to the usuals. Settling in for worship.
Only this day, instead of seeing his rabbi, Isaiah saw something else…

On this day, Isaiah sees things, not from his expectations, but from God’s.

And let me tell you, it was anything but familiar or comfortable.

Because on this day, when Isaiah looks around, he doesn’t see the usual faces. Instead he sees the terrifying, and terrified, seraphs. A frightening serpent-angel.

And instead of hitting all the right notes of the sanctus, these angels scream the “holy, holy, holy.” Their voices so loud, the foundations of the temple shake. Smoke is everywhere, all he can make out a hem of a robe that fills the temple…

Isaiah came to worship that day, after hearing the surprisingly herald of new king, expecting to be comforted with the old hymns he knew so well. To have his most deeply held convictions reinforced. 

This day, though, he is decidedly unsettled.
The words of the hymns are the same, but the tenor is altogether terrifying. The pews may be filled, but the company is frightening. 

The liturgy Isaiah sung too many times to count, ‘And so, with all the choirs of angels / with the church on earth and the host of heaven / we praise your name / and join their unending hymn,’ is actually fulfilled. 

Only now, as it turns out, Isaiah’s not so sure he wants that anymore… 

In a moment, everything Isaiah thought he knew, flies out the window.

Because, and here’s the thing, true worship isn’t distraction or novocain for our lives. 

Rather, true worship puts us face to face with The Truth. With God and all the glory thereof. With the way everything looks next to God, and that includes us, our soul. 

It isn’t the fearsome angels that terrifies Isaiah. Neither is it the intensity of their hymn. Or even the smoke. What’s so unsettling to Isaiah is that now he finds himself in the presence of God’s glory, power and might; God’s holiness.

It’s taken me years, but I’ve finally come to realize that’s the reason you all get so uptight when we sing a new hymn!

It isn’t that your fuddy-duddies. Boring. Or unwilling to take risks. 

It’s that your chickens! 

That’s all…

Now don’t feel bad. Who among us who have heard the call to worship the living God isn't a coward compared to the task? 

You are. I am. And Isaiah certainly was, too. At least we’re in good company…

Our apprehension to new hymns, it comes from this deep-seated knowledge that in worship we’re all too likely to bump up against, not our expectations, but God. So we try and protect ourselves by making worship familiar, predictable and manageable if at all possible.
Because as the writer of Hebrews aptly puts it, ‘it’s a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.’

God, however, refuses to leave us to our own machinations. 

Just like Isaiah, God is always interrupting our polite and organized worship services. 

For Isaiah, it happened in the blink of an eye. 

As the congregation began the “holy, holy, holy,” he closed his eyes and sang the familiar tune. Only what he heard, wasn’t what he expected. When he opened his eyes, the temple was filled with smoke, angels, smoke and trimming of a robe. 

Of course it scared Isaiah witless. 

Seeing everything, not as he expected, but as God would have it, Isaiah saw the truth.

That what he had said to pass confirmation, ‘no one can look upon the glory of God and live,’ was true after all.

Compared to God’s glory, Isaiah couldn’t stand. He confesses the only reasonable thing, “woe is me, I am lost. I am unclean; and what’s more, I come from an unclean people,” Isaiah trembles

Confronted by God’s holiness he sees his life flash before his eyes.

Instead of consuming Isaiah, though, the angel touches something to his lips. Before he can say anything, the seraph says now that he has tasted what was taken from the altar, his guilt has departed and his sin has been blotted out.

Isaiah thought God’s holiness was something to fear; and in a way it is. What he learned that moment, though, was God’s holiness ultimately is, is what cleanses us. 

Cleansed, from his fear, from his sin, Isaiah overhears God considering who to send. Made new, Isaiah can’t keep quiet. He raises his hand in the air like a schoolboy, “Here I am, Lord! Choose me! Send me!”

In the end, finding himself in the presence of God wasn’t his death, but rather his rebirth.

Well, maybe we’ve been doing you all a favor by assigning different hymns. Hymns that shake us up. Hymns that remind us we don’t know God as well as we imagine. Hymns that have half of chance of putting us in the presence of God we fear as mightily as we need…

The truth is, what we need isn’t the right hymns; be they new or old. What we need is what God is always up to, even in this humble worship. Even with the hymns we chose this week.

What makes us acceptable to God. Why we would dare to come to church and sing the old hymns, the songs only the seraphs ought to sing, is very thing we’re terrified by: God’s holiness. 

None of us are any match for God’s unvarnished, holiness. In the presence of God, we’re no different than Isaiah. And I don’t just mean having to beg for our lives. 

I mean finding that God has sent a messenger with something to put to our lips, something that will cleanse us, something that might have us shouting, ‘here I am, send me!’

Soon you will sing the “holy, holy, holy.” In no time, you be called to the holy table. Then, something will be put to you lips; the full revelation of God’s holiness: the body and blood of Jesus Christ. 

Once that living fire touches your lips your guilt will depart too. Your sin will be blotted out as well.

What you’ve been trying to run from, has caught up with you. No hymns. No amount of familiarity can protect you. It’s too late. You can’t escape. 

Do not fear, though. The glory of God will not consume you. It will cleanse. 

Now I know why they seraphs cried, “Holy. Holy. Holy.”