As I read Isaiah, I can’t help but be frustrated and hopeful. Frustrated because its warnings and how it describes a “rebellious people” much reflects a familiar bunch.
“For this is a rebellious people, false sons, sons who refuse to listen to the instruction of the Lord; Who say to the seers, “You must not see visions”; And to the prophets, “You must not prophesy to us what is right, Speak to us pleasant words, Prophesy illusions. Get out of the way, turn aside from the path, Let us hear no more about the Holy One of Israel” (Isaiah 30:9-11).
I am in a place wherein you think you know what to do, you know because you have already proven that you could. But your advise fall into deaf ears, your helping hand unwelcomed. This comes after your hope gets rekindled by a picture of a brighter future for your community. It’s like when you’re trapped in a confined space and you wanted to get out—get everybody out. Then you discover a small opening—a gleam of hope. Then you started working your way, sincerely, to find the way out, a tunnel. But at the end of that tunnel, a dead end, nothing more, nothing less.
So I thought, what’s the use? What’s the use of hoping? Better not rally for a spark of hope that will soon disappoint after a few battles for it.
Last night in our leaders carecell we were faced again with the question: Why do you do what you do? Why in spite of lack of perceived “return of investments” by the world’s standards, you pour out yourself for a cause—pour out ourselves in serving and taking care of the youth God has entrusted to us, pour out ourselves in serving this local body of Christ? Why do we serve at the expense of the world’s ridicule? Because I believe. Though I am in a constant battle to live out a child-like faith, I believe. I want to believe. Because there is something better than this kind of apathetic acceptance of a mediocre lifestyle.
“Therefore the Lord longs to be gracious to you, And therefore He waits on high to have compassion on you. For the Lord is a God of justice; How blessed are all those who long for Him” (Isaiah 30:18).
Lord, draw us near to you, that we may draw near to you. Because I believe it is by your doing that we could draw near into your presence. May you find in us, imperfect people as we are, a pure longing for your visitation.
Lord, in my waking and lying down, may I not pursue to please anyone but only You. May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight.
(You might be wondering why the title. Besides that I can't think of any title that would sum up this post, in a sense this post is a stubborn allegience to the positive future of our community when God would visit each of us again.)
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