Easily Excitable

In our Sunday School class, we’ve started with a study of Isaiah. When the suggestion came up for us to go through that book, my eyes nearly popped out of my head. 

I was initially thinking we’d study something a little easier to digest than the prophets: something like Proverbs or James. 

Not to say that those books are easy to apply: I certainly wish they were. But easier to understand? I think yes. 

The Prophets aren’t easy reading. They require background and context. 

There’s a lot of cultural figurative language we don’t get at first glance. 

And all of us are homegrown Middle Georgians: we’re not exactly drawing from a wealth of knowledge about the BC Middle East. 

And the prophet Isaiah, specifically? I struggle to even spell his name correctly.

He was also a wordsmith: no one could string together a sentence quite like he could.

It’s impressive, but also intimidating. 

I’ve been overwhelmed by what I’ve read this week, though. 

I don’t think it could have been more applicable or more convicting for me personally.

Now, granted, I’ve only gotten through chapter 1, but here is my takeaway: 

The nation of Israel was a mess. There was corruption, bribery, and wanton sin, all in the face of God, the one true Lord, who made this people who they are. 

They’ve not just survived: they’ve thrived.

Honestly, that’s a dangerous place for us humans to be, as we are a species who struggles with pride and the feelings of invincibility. 

In spite of all God’s given them, the Israelites defy Him at every turn. 

What’s taken me aback this week, though, has been that these people have simultaneously done a lot of religious stuff. 

There are sacrifices, prayers, services, and festivals being held in God’s name, for God’s sake. All of this, though, while the lowliest and most vulnerable are taken advantage of and trampled under the powerful. 

Plot twist: God isn’t pleased. 

Here’s Isaiah 1:11-15

“The multitude of your sacrifices—

    what are they to me?” says the Lord.

“I have more than enough of burnt offerings,

    of rams and the fat of fattened animals;

I have no pleasure

    in the blood of bulls and lambs and goats.

12 When you come to appear before me,

    who has asked this of you,

    this trampling of my courts?

13 Stop bringing meaningless offerings!

    Your incense is detestable to me.

New Moons, Sabbaths and convocations—

    I cannot bear your worthless assemblies.

14 Your New Moon feasts and your appointed festivals

    I hate with all my being.

They have become a burden to me;

    I am weary of bearing them.

15 When you spread out your hands in prayer,

    I hide my eyes from you;

even when you offer many prayers,

    I am not listening.

Disdain from the Holy, all-powerful God? 

That’s not a good place to be. 

And the thing about it is that these are the ‘religious’ people who’re doing this, the people who would call themselves followers of God. 

This isn’t just an Old Testament thing. Jesus Himself had much to say about this too, as He spoke to the Pharisees. 

He called out the religious leaders of His own day in Matthew 23. 

Jesus called them hypocrites, a brood of vipers. He said that, though they were clean on the outside, the inside was filthy. They were like cups, shining on the outside, yet growing mold on the inside. 

He compared them to tidy tombs: they were spotless at first glance, but inside, there was only death. 

Their issue? They didn’t know or pursue what God’s heart was (and still is) really after: a changed heart that reflects His- a transformation that shows through caring for those made in His own Image. 

But from the outside? We’d probably call them good people. 

We might even see them as influencers online. They tithed, prayed, taught, knew the Scriptures, and followed the actions down to the letter. 

But all of that was practice with no true heart: it was discipline in man’s strength alone. 

And again, I will say: these are not the lost Jesus was speaking to: these are the churchy people. 

I’ve had to do a lot of heart-searching this week. 

I’ve had to ask myself, 

Do I have a transformed heart that desires what Jesus does?

Do I do religious actions without really seeking after the heart of God? 

Am I powered by Emmie or by Jesus?

Do I care about the things of God or just looking good? 

Am I really in this or am I deceiving myself?

I think faith requires us to ask those questions. Faith is difficult like that: I don’t think it’s something to be taken lightly, if we are to take our relationship with God seriously. 

In Isaiah, God doesn’t just call out the issues of the people: 

He also says what really matters to Him- what are the true acts of worship: 

Wash and make yourselves clean.

    Take your evil deeds out of my sight;

    stop doing wrong.

Learn to do right; seek justice.

    Defend the oppressed.[a]

Take up the cause of the fatherless;

    plead the case of the widow (Isaiah 1:16).

That’s not our human-bent. 

You don’t have to look very far in our culture to see that, when given over to ourselves, we do the exact opposite. 

We are drawn to our worst instincts and inclinations to prop ourselves up, no matter who we have to clammer over to do just that. 

When leaning on our own wisdom, the right thing to do is amass all our eyes and stomach desires, despite who stands in our way. 

Our eyes will lead us to our own desires, and past the people who Jesus would have seen.

Our human smarts and wisdom cannot make sense of the Kingdom of God. 

This Kingdom of God that calls out woes on Pharisees, yet says “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

This Kingdom of God that is shut to the religious leaders, yet welcomes in a thief on a cross. 

This Kingdom of God that says our own attempts at goodness are filthy before the Holy God. 

This Kingdom of God that says faith alone can please Him. 

In a world of work and merit, that makes no sense.  

This week has been a wakeup call, a little throat punch to me, that I cannot get it right in my own strength. It has reminded me that my only hope is Jesus Christ. 

Not in a pretty-cursive-script-on-an-Instagram-feed kind of way. 

It’s been a reminder that I have nothing to offer God: every inclination of my flesh is wickedness, to defy my Creator. 

Even in my best actions, my motives can be so incredibly wrong. 

How exhausting to try to discipline myself into a half-hearted attempt to try and obey whatever Scriptures I can in a day. 

My only hope is to throw myself at the feet of Jesus- to trust that He alone did what I simply cannot do- that He did it all right and all for the right reasons. 

That He was nailed to a Cross because of my sins, and He took my sins upon Himself. 

That He rose again and defeated death. 

That He gives me a new heart and fills me with His Spirit that I may desire the things He does, and, as a result, act from a changed soul. 

There is no outward to inward transformation. 

That is discipline, not Jesus. 

Only from a new heart can truly glorifying worship spring, both in word and deed.

That’s the only way we get things right.

It turns out Isaiah was a good choice. Not an easy one, but a good one all the same.