From Isaiah 43:1-7 (shared at First Presbyterian Church of Oakland on January 12, 2025)

I have, on more than one occasion, been accused of being too academic when I preach. The comments sound something like “a little less lecture, a little more passion.” Which is fair; I can get deep into theological nerd-dom very quickly. But for me that “academic” material is some of the really interesting stuff, the things I get really passionate about – the history, the factual circumstance because it reveals to me the shared humanity that becomes revelatory of God working in our lives thousands of years later. I love this stuff and I think it is so important to understand the “academic” elements of what we are studying because understanding that just creates a greater sense of awe in seeing how applicable the lessons continue to be. It is both as Walter Brueggeman would say, ‘the scandal of the particular’ and the magnificent wonder of a creative God binding us to the past as a reminder that we are not experiencing something unknown, we are not alone, and we are never abandoned. 

Okay that’s my argument for getting academic with the lesson today, at least for part of it; I hope it’s compelling enough to keep you awake for the next few minutes and I promise we will get into some exciting stuff in the text itself even if you aren’t a theology nerd like me .

But now to the topic at hand: today we are reading from Isaiah which is probably my favorite book in the scriptures, and fun fact was also a favorite book of the Jewish communities in Jesus’ time. As you read Isaiah you will notice as well the familiarity of the language because of how often Jesus quotes from the scripture. If you have never read Isaiah all the way through I would recommend it and that is not just me being a theology nerd, it’s actually just very good reading. 

In Isaiah we really have three books in one; for a long time academics thought it was two writers, the pre and post Babylonian exile but more recently scholars see three distinct writers and periods in the book. Proto-Isaiah which is chapters 1-39 from roughly the 8th century bce, this would be pre-exile; deutero-Isaiah, chapters 40-55 from the 6th century bce, during the exile; and finally chapters 56-66 trito-Isaiah, the post exilic writings. The understanding of the book as three distinct periods rather than two is important because we are not just hearing the experience of pre and post exile, it means we are also hearing the experience of the exiled state itself – we are in it with the writer, which allows us to experience this lesson on a deeply empathetic level. When we read the middle portion of of Isaiah we too are the exiled, and what we learn about God, what we learn about faith in the darkest of moments, what we learn about how to trust that God is with us always is the very foundation of being a person who walks with God throughout our lives. 

Let’s start though with what the Babylonian exile was for those who aren’t familiar with this; it is that period of time from roughly 597-538 bce where the first temple, Solomon’s temple, is destroyed; the ruling class of Judea, the Southern part of what we would understand to be Israel, are taken to Mesopotamia, to Babylon, and there is a lot of political strife in the larger middle eastern region. Israel as a nation is not terribly influential but you have Assyria, Egypt, Mesopotamia, Greece to a lesser extent, and other states all vying for political influence and control in the region; control of Israel and Judah (the northern and southern kingdoms) goes back and forth among these larger nation states. Prior to and during the exile Mesopotamia controlled the Southern kingdom of Judah as a ruling body – the people were exiled because they refused to pay taxes and cede to political control; the exile ended when regional control was lost to Assyria and the exiled Jews were allowed to go back to Jerusalem. 

This is a very brief summary and gross oversimplification but I don’t actually want everyone to fall asleep so it’s enough for our purposes in understanding the text today. 

So for roughly three generations the ruling classes of Jerusalem are living as displaced persons in Babylon. And that is who is writing this portion of Isaiah, someone who was removed from comfort, power, influence, privilege: this is deutero-Isaiah, also known as The Book of Consolation. I think that’s really interesting: in the midst of exile someone is writing a book not of lament, not of anger, but of consolation. 

Before we even get into the text from today’s lesson I want to pause on that. The name of the Book or the section from which our lesson is pulled is understood as the Book of Consolation. The people are exiled. Depending on when this was written they are either the direct exiles or at the youngest end the grandchildren of the exiles. This is not distant history being recollected, we don’t know that everything is going to turn out okay, and yet we are already calling the message of this time a Consolation. That is remarkable, that is powerful theology to understand that in the midst of pain you are being consoled. That is at the most basic level what this passage is about, and that is fundamentally what God is all about. And that is so often the hardest time to believe that God is actually with us, that moment when we are pain. 

Now let’s get into the text itself. 

The passage starts with the assurance that we are seen. That is so important when we are hurting. To be assured that someone sees the reality of your life, of your experience. It doesn’t necessarily assuage the pain but it becomes a comfort to know that our feelings are real, what we are living is real. “I have called you by name, you are mine.” We belong to God, not generally, not collectively, personally. God sees us, God sees you, and me and each of us deeply, completely; because we belong to God. Healing starts when we acknowledge the reality of the pain. Deep healing starts when we remember that we are the beloved children of the divine comforter who sees us and is with us in that pain.  

Eugene Peterson translates the next few lines this way: “when you are in over your head, I’ll be there with you. When you are in rough waters, you will not go down. When you’re between a rock and a hard place, it won’t be a dead end…” 

One of the things that I struggle with the most in my own relationship with God is knowing that there will be hard times; there is a lot of bad theology (yes I’m being judgmental), that wants to tell us that if we are properly faithful everything will be roses and gold all of the time. If God is God and we believe we will never hurt. But that is not true, and the nature of being human is a sermon for another day. Today what we need to hear is that in our suffering God is always there and we will not be overwhelmed, we will survive. God is with us, not to make it better, but to companion us in getting through. The way out is through and we are not alone. 

In his book “The Death of Omnipotence and the Birth of Amipotence” Thomas J Ord argues that God should not be understood to be all powerful, but instead should be understood as all loving. Think about that for a minute: God is not a god of power or control or manipulation, not a god of punishment or transaction, but a god of love, ever present, always constant love. This passage says to us, “because you are precious in my sight and honored, I love you.” We are told “do not fear, for I am with you.” God isn’t magically lifting the peoples from their exile, God is not changing the circumstance in which they find themselves. God is saying ‘look I get it, this sucks, and know that I am with you, loving you, supporting you right where you are.” And this writer understood that, they felt that. 

For the last two decades we have seen a major shift in the participation of religion in America; in the last poll in 2023 the number of people identifying as atheist or agnostic each doubled, the number affiliating with a particular denomination dropped by a third, across all denominations, and about 20% were leaving one denomination for another. There are more Presbyterian churches with fewer than 50 members than not, and churches across denominations are closing at a faster and faster rate. I would not suggest we have been exiled but the state of religious participation in this country is bleak, more so in other western, liberal parts of the world. Especially if you are a liberal or progressive Protestant. 

I know that this church has gone through some dark times of its own recently; I know there is still pain and anxiety from those struggles. I witnessed this from a distance and I know that there were people who fully expected this church to close, just like so many other physically big downtown churches across the country. But that didn’t happen and we have stepped back from that brink. “When you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flames shall not consume you.” Certainly we have been changed, but we have not been consumed. Something good is happening here. Not something magical – God is not dropping bags of money on our doorstep and dropping off busloads of people every Sunday morning – but something good, something faithful, and trusting that we have loving work yet to do. Over three hundred meals get served to the hungry from this building every week, we eat together and pray together and study together, we walk in the neighborhood seeking peace, we open these doors to artists and musicians and to a community looking for places to come together. This is a busy and vibrant place seven days a week. 

When this congregation started it was literally a tent on the shore of the bay. It grew, buildings were constructed and reconstructed and it had a day when the pews were filled. And now, two hundred years of ministry later something new is happening again, we find ourselves in anew and perhaps unfamiliar or even uncomfortable place, because that is always what is true. We will pass through rivers and walk through fires and we will not be overwhelmed or consumed. We will be changed and we will be loved, and we will keep going because God has got us and is walking with us through. Right now, right where we are. 

In a few weeks you will receive the annual “stewardship” letter. It will tell you some of what I just said, and it will ask how you plan to be a part of this thing that is happening here right now. Changed, having passed through something hard, we are strong and we are not alone. We gave enough last year to support this ministry work, the building generates the income it needs to create a fund for maintenance – we have come through and were not overwhelmed. I hope and pray that in the coming days you will consider for yourself what it feels like in the hard times to trust that God has got you, and trusting God commit to how you can show up as someone who knows you can get through and has something to share with other people who may not know that yet, like the writer from today’s scripture who felt the consoling presence of God in the midst of exile. So the letter is going to ask what you can give or your time, of your unique talents, and of your treasure because we know we will come through whatever it is, wherever it is, we have already, we will again, and we will know and will love as people who have been called, who were created for God’s glory, who were made for this, to do this, right now.