What are your expectations when you come to church? Do you ever come, expecting something marvelous? Perhaps an overwhelming, life-changing encounter with God?
Probably you come expecting to see old friends, your brothers and sisters in Christ. Perhaps you come expecting to sing some old hymns, and maybe a new one or two. It may be that you come expecting to hear an old, familiar story, and possibly a way to apply that story’s meaning to your life.
Certainly, you come to offer your praise to God, and to seek guidance as you follow the way of Jesus.
But do you ever come, expecting to have an amazing, life-changing encounter with God?
I wonder what expectations Isaiah, the son of Amoz, had when he went to worship in the temple. Some who read the book of Isaiah think that he may have been a priest, which means that going to the temple was a regular occurrence for him. It was his routine, to go to the temple, to hear the old stories, stories about God’s interactions with Abraham and Moses and David.
But did Isaiah ever go, expecting to have an amazing, life-changing encounter with God?
One day, Isaiah entered the temple, and behold: there was the Lord sitting on a throne! Around him were a bunch of six-winged seraphs (or seraphim), unnatural serpent-like flying creatures. Creatures that could talk.
Encountering God like that is an awesome and overwhelming experience, I’m sure. Even the seraphim were covering their faces in God’s presence. They called out to one another: “Holy, holy, holy, is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of God’s glory.” The sound of their chant shook the temple, and the whole building filled with smoke.
Most people go through life trying to do the best they can. Pretty much everyone wants to be known as a good person, a good man, a good woman.
And yet, no one is perfect. We go through life, meeting people, developing relationships, and within each relationship, we decide how much of our selves we want to reveal. As relationships grow, as we become more intimate, we make the decision to reveal more and more of ourselves. As trust develops, we become willing to risk sharing; we allow ourselves to become more vulnerable.
All the while, we wonder: If I reveal everything, will I still be loved? Could anyone still love me if they knew every thought, every desire that dwells within? Would they still love me if I confessed to them every fear, every insecurity, every jealousy?
We want to be known—known for who we are—but we also fear the judgment that comes with being known… and so, usually, something is held back. Some part of who we are is kept hidden.
When Isaiah encountered God in the temple, Isaiah was overcome with the knowledge that there was no hiding from God. God is acquainted with all our ways, as the psalmist said. God searches us and knows us. After all, it was God who created us, who knit us together in our mother’s womb. God knows when we sit down and when we rise up; and even from far away, God discerns our thoughts.
Isaiah was well aware of his own imperfections, his own sins; standing there in the presence of the One who is perfect, Isaiah feared the judgment which he believed was sure to come. How could his own imperfections exist side-by-side with the perfection of God?
He cried out: “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!”
The secret was out; all had been revealed. Isaiah thought for sure that he was a goner.
But then, one of the seraphim flew over to Isaiah, touched his lips with a hot coal from the altar, and said: “Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed. Your sin is blotted out.” Apparently, God knew what was in Isaiah’s heart, and in Isaiah’s mind; and God decided that it didn’t matter. God had heard Isaiah’s confession, and yet, God withheld judgment. God still wanted to be in relationship with Isaiah.
If you’ve ever had a dark, secret part of yourself revealed to someone else—whether you intended for it to be revealed or not—and that person continued to love and accept you, then you know how wonderful that is. Isaiah discovered just how wonderful God’s love is. Nothing can separate us from that love.
Then Isaiah heard the voice of the Lord. God’s voice, the same voice that created the universe simply by saying the word, now spoke to Isaiah: “Whom shall I send? Who will go?
And Isaiah said: “Here I am! Send me!”
That’s where the lectionary ends the scripture reading; and the message is clear: When you know God’s love, you want to live for God. That’s what happened to Isaiah: He received God’s mercy and forgiveness, and he answered the call to be a prophet to God’s people.
A pretty amazing, life-changing encounter with God. In fact, it’s sort of like … a graduation. Isaiah had been studying and worshiping in the temple for most, if not all, his life. Then, in this little ceremony, in which God himself was the speaker, Isaiah entered a new stage in his life, a stage in which everything had changed.
The lectionary ends this reading at verse eight, but God still had one more word to say; literally, one more word. It comes at the beginning of verse nine…. In verse eight, Isaiah said, “Here I am; send me!” and in verse nine, God said: “Go.”
Go! Do the work that you’ve been called to do! Go! Speak my word to my people! Go! Go! Go!
Gee, maybe Andrew Lloyd Webber got it wrong; instead of “Go, go, go Joseph,” it should be “Go, go, go Isaiah!”
It’s important to not overlook that final word, “go.” Isaiah said, “Here I am; send me!” and God said, “Go.”
And of course, Isaiah went, and began a whole new life.
Do you think Isaiah was expecting that, when he came to the temple that day?
I don’t know how many of you came to worship today expecting to have an experience similar to the one Isaiah had. I don’t know if you came, expecting to encounter God like Isaiah encountered God.
But I do know this: if you didn’t come with that expectation—you should have.
What we experience here in worship is a lot like what Isaiah experienced. We have times of praise, during which we ascribe holiness to God, through songs sung in unison. Then we hear God’s word, in the scripture that is read.
A part of Isaiah’s experience was his admission of guilt, and admittedly, one thing that worship in Disciples congregations lacks is a formal confession of sin; although, every week we do ask God to forgive our debts as we forgive our debtors. It’s not quite the same as Isaiah’s “Woe is me!” but it still does contain at least an implicit confession of our unworthiness.
Eventually, we come to the table. There, you and I taste not the hot coals, but the body and blood of Jesus.
At the table, you are welcomed into God’s presence by the One who does indeed know all about you. The One who knows every little thought, every desire, every jealousy and fear, says to you: “It’s okay; your guilt has departed. Your sin is blotted out.”
At the table, we have an amazing, marvelous encounter with God. The Spirit is present when bread is broken and shared. And the blood of Christ—we’re not talking about blood as in “creepy, gory horror”—we’re talking about life.
For me, being a blood donor has actually enriched my understanding of communion because it has given me a greater appreciation of blood as life. That’s God’s gift to us: life. New life. A new way of living, a way that is abundant and everlasting. Certainly, receiving such a gift is a life-changing encounter.
Having encountered God, Isaiah was sent out to speak difficult words in a troubled time. They were words that people didn’t always want to hear. It wasn’t easy, and yet, Isaiah felt blessed, because his life was lived in union with God.
What are we sent out to do? Well, that depends. I am called to be a pastor, a leader in the church. I am sent out to be the best pastor I can be. Some of you are called to be elders, deacons, committee members.
I have a friend in northern California whose job involves answering phones all day long, receiving customer’s questions and complaints. I suppose her calling is to treat each customer with kindness, the way Jesus would want her to. That middle part of our congregation’s mission statement—to “love kindness”—could in fact apply to almost any circumstance.
Having encountered God, and having been shown such love and mercy, surely we are called to show love and mercy and kindness ourselves.
And surely, we are called to respond to that one-word command: “Go!” I won’t speak for any of you, I’ll just speak for myself: When a call goes out for help, I will often eagerly respond, “Here I am! Send me!” But then I close my ears to the command, “Go.” “Yes, I’ll help out with that activity; yes, I’ll volunteer at school; yes, I’ll serve on that committee. You can count on me!” How quickly that turns into, “No, sorry, I can’t make it to that meeting; no, I’m busy that day; no, sorry.”
I just finished reading the book Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller, an excellent and easy to read bestseller that contains “nonreligious thoughts on Christian spirituality.” In the book, Miller says that “the greatest trick of the devil is not to get us into some sort of evil but rather have us wasting time.” In other words, to get us to say “Here I am! Send me!”… and then have us do nothing.
It really doesn’t make sense, that we could come here, week after week, experience amazing encounters with God, and then leave here and do nothing. I’m not saying that we do that 100 percent of the time; I know that many of you do go out of here and do good work, and show remarkable love and kindness to others, and that you do so because of your encounters with God.
But I also know that sometimes I get lazy, that sometimes I waste my time with unimportant stuff, and I suspect the same is true for you. When that happens, maybe it’s the devil at work in us. Or maybe, it’s just that we didn’t set our expectations high enough when we came to worship.
What are your expectations when you come to worship? And more importantly, how does what you experience here change you, motivate you, to go into the world, and do the work that God calls you to do?
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