The Lord speaks of Assyria as "the rod of my anger" (10:5), and cripples the Assyrians with a "wasting sickness" (:16) when they claim the fall of Israel as a result of their own might. In total contrast to this, the people of the Lord are given a "rod" from the root of Jesse, one whose "delight shall be in the fear of the Lord" (11:3). The Book of Matthew begins in explanation of the fulfilment of this prophecy that Jesus is a son of David and of Abraham; and I can't help remembering in Paul's letter to the Philippians how Christ "emptied himself, taking the form of a slave [...] he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death--even death on a cross" (2:7-8).Isaiah talks about Christ's reign being one in which he "shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear" (11:3) but presumably will not need to; everything he is rests on righteousness and faithfulness. If you have ever fought temptation, you know the worth of faithfulness, and that strength with "the spirit of the Lord resting upon him" in holy righteousness . . . my mind struggles with trying to imagine what it would be like to be ruled by such a king.
I tried to get around the idea that a little child would lead the untamed dangers of the world, and somehow came up with C.S. Lewis saying "he's not a tame lion" in my ear: it seems to me that God is untamed, and his love is wild--that sometimes it is so hard to let myself be loved by such a powerful God, knowing that he to whom I am so vulnerable is so numinous and awesome in power and strength. The idea of surrendering everything is still difficult for me to bear, mostly because I can't fathom being totally dependent on something I don't understand; that the Lord says "if you do not stand firm in faith, you shall not stand at all" I think applies not only to the battle Ahaz was about to fight.
4 comments:
Inspiring post! I also thought of C.S. Lewis, and the fact that he is not tame is not always comforting. When it says in 10:24-25, "O my people, who dwell in Zion, do not fear the Assyrian, though he strikes you with a rod, and raises his staff against you. for only a brief moment more, and my anger shall be over; but them I will destroy in wrath." Most times, I think we'd rather skip to the part where he destroys our enemies. We do not like the idea of witnessing God's wrath ourselves or even being in the vicinity. Mostly, we'd rather think of him as exceedingly gentle and patient to us and then (naturally) just and quick to respond to our tormentors. That's not how God works though. Some of the syrupy sweet music supposedly sung as praise music really bothers me for this reason. Yes God is love, but is cloying sentiment really love? Wouldn't we rather have a true king than a half-blind benefactor? While we're waiting for the Son to come, I think it is good to remember how awe-some (and untamed) the Father is.
I think it is hard for us to see, as well, because we are so much in danger of sinning when we are angry. We all feel righteous anger but often we don't know the right paths to justice, and most of the time it is not our place or ability to interrupt the situation (I would very much like to see the wrath of God come down--in the form of me with a baseball bat--upon the deliberately ignorant school admin. of my friend's autistic child).
It is right to be angry about some things, and that anger should not be downplayed, but to finally see that anger doing the right thing--whether it hurts us or not--is hard to accept. But I want it. I want to see justice done--and I know that is not necessarily a good thing either; God shows me mercy: shouldn't I want to see mercy given? Perhaps it has to do with knowledge of men and trust in God. Gah.
I suppose the righteous anger has one immediate purpose even when we aren't able to intervene, and that is it forces you to pray right away. When someone casually mentions, oh please pray for my sister for this reason, and we promise to do so, we might not pray immediately, but wait until evening prayers or when we next remember. If something angers us, we might first say, "God, why let this happen?!" but then start praying for the people in need. Hopefully for the intentionally ignorant or malicious too.
My mother says that anger usually hides emotions that are less socially acceptable; like shame, cowardice, or guilt. I suppose in the case of a human experiencing righteous anger it might be a reminder of our distance from God.
(Maybe?)
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