Some time ago, my little brother asked me a simple question that proved most difficult to answer: “what do you most like to do?” Nothing came to mind. I spent a long time trying to come up with an answer, but every answer I could think of seemed insufficient. I may like to do ___, but I would be fine if I couldn’t do it. But there was an answer, I just couldn’t see it. In my case, the adage was true, “you don’t know what you have until you lose it.” Today marks one year since I last preached publicly, and now I can perceive that preaching is the thing I most like to do. It satisfied my soul in ways I never realized, and was, to a large degree, the basis of my identity and self-worth. For a year, God has denied me the thing which I desire most in this world. It has been a hard year, but a trans formative year. With the three-edged sword, His Word, His Spirit, and His Providence, the Most High has taught me many things this year. I would like to share 10 truths from Isaiah 66:1-4 that God has taught me through my trials
1) God really doesn’t need my help…really
Verses 1 and 2a present a truth known to theologians as the aseity of God. His existence is sourced in himself, and he needs nothing whatsoever to sustain him. This is not a new idea: it was not new in Isaiah’s day, it is not new for me, and it is not new for you. We know the fact of it, but we rarely live with the awareness of the reality of it. In this passage, God, referring back to his own words to David, takes this truth from the theology books and to everyday life, saying in essence, “What could you ever really do to benefit me?”
I knew this fact, but the reality was far from my thoughts. I would say the right words, but in my heart, I was convinced that God needed me to do this or that. If I did not preach it, it would not be preached. If I didn’t serve in this ministry, everything would collapse. Surely God wants me to use my talents for him, why else would I have them? This year, I came to realize that God never has, and never will, derive any benefit from my service. If he allows me to serve, it is by his gracious choice, that is all. I prided myself on my selfless devotion to God: I gave up so much for his service, he must be so grateful. Oh, what a mask for my selfish conceit! I sought to serve God so that in the eyes of God, men, and myself, I might be viewed as a useful and mighty servant of God. This was the secret of my zeal, mere selfish desire. I love to serve, and pray that I will be used of God, but I now know that if he grants my desire, he does so out of grace: donkeys and rocks would serve his purposes just as well as I. This is the central lesson; all other truths will stem from this.
2) I am not spiritually sufficient, and never will be
I went to Bible college. I practically live at church. I have more knowledge of theology, scripture, and Christian practice then most others. I have denied myself for Him. I have spent nights in prayer, and memorized chunks of the Bible. Sure, I still fail, but I have achieved the pinnacle of Christianity: I am a spiritually mature Christian. The best part about this tier of life is that you no longer need to struggle like the rest. Sure, I ask for wisdom because James tells me to, but after my little formal prayer, I can just reach inside and find all the wisdom I need. Yes, I ask God to make me holy, but I really just want him to round off some of the edges; after all, I don’t really struggle with sin like the rest. All in all, it’s a rather serene and idyllic life, no need to strive and beg, I’ve got all I need. Now don’t worry, I’m not proud, I always acknowledge that all of this came from God. I’m just so blessed that God filled me with so much grace that I will always have the answers I need.
While I did not phrase things like that, that is exactly how I thought. But my illusions came crashing down when God took away my greatest love. I responded badly…very badly. I was angry with God, ran toward idols, and came face to face with my inward corruption. I did not just have a bad moment where I was not acting like myself; I was being myself, and it was ugly. I learned that I am, always have been, and always will be a spiritual beggar. I have none of the spirituality I need to be godly, and I am so poor that I see no way of ever possessing it. I would overcome one sin and God would show me 10 more that I never noticed. I would tear down one idol and see 3 more in places I never thought to look. From Isaiah, and elsewhere, I have come to understand that this should have been my outlook all along. True spiritual maturity is not sufficiency, it is a constant awareness that you have nothing, and need God for everything. God has been pouring his grace and power into my soul this past year, and I still find I am no more sufficient than I was at my lowest. I still desperately need more. Spiritual poverty is not a cold, academic acknowledgment that all things are of God. It is not some pious words added after every sentence, and it is not something just for baby Christians Spiritual poverty is a realization of the dreadful distance between who we are and who we should be, and it is something God greatly values.
3) Brokenness is a lifestyle, not a phase
I had heard of brokenness before; yea, I had experienced it. I knew that in order to be the mighty servant of God I desired to be, I would have to endure the trials of brokenness God would sometimes break me, like he has to countless others. I viewed brokenness as simply a phase in the cycle of growth. Like a body-builder, your muscles tear and break, but are built up even stronger. Thus, there was always light at the end of the tunnel: if I could endure this momentary trial, I will be stronger afterward One of the hardest parts of this past year is the realization that there is no light at the end of the tunnel. Like Lamentations 3:18, I came to the conclusion that all my hopes for restoration had no basis in God. I could endure cyclical brokenness, looking forward to the strength that would be bestowed afterward, but perpetual brokenness was too much to bear. Every time I would assemble a few pieces of my broken life, God would smash it again. Cannot I have just two stones connected?
I came to realize that this cyclical brokenness is not God’s design, but the result of our foolish attempts to reassemble what God has broken. He doesn’t break us so that we can build ourselves back better, he breaks us because we are supposed to be broken. In our brokenness, his glory shines ever brighter. This is how Paul described the ministry in 2 Corinthians 4. It was not merely that he went through those testing times to make him stronger, but “always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body (2 Cor 4:10).” There is no end in sight, nor should there be. God values the broken spirit, and will manifest his power through it. It was a hard lesson to learn, but I am glad I finally learned it; even though my education came from His hammer.
4) God’s word is not an academic text, it is a fire
Exegesis is a passion of mine, and I have attained a fair degree of skill in it. It is also a very useful and helpful tool in discerning the truth of God. But it can be a dangerous thing, for it can distract us from the primary response God expects from our exposure to his word: fear. I always smiled at the childlike fear of a new believer who begins reading God’s word. He will find something he never knew, realize that he has been wrong, and will drop to his knees asking God to change him. For me, however, that was largely a thing of the past. Sure, I was challenged, encouraged, reproved and corrected by God’s word, but only in minor way. Ironically, the more I learned of the word, the less I trembled at it. Before this past year, I can’t remember the last time I read God’s word and literally shook in fear when I realized that I have been doing, believing, or saying something wrong all my life. I outgrew that.
God has taught me that trembling at his word is supposed to be constant. This is a natural outgrowth of the previous three lessons: When God is so big, I am so poor, and my self-confidence is shattered, I cannot read the Word with academic distance or complacent disinterest. I have studied the sermon on the mount in depth, but I cannot read it now without trembling over the fact that the beatitudes do not describe me. I have exegeted Galatians 5, but I cannot read the fruits of the Spirit now without begging God to give me what I lack. It is no longer enough for me to read or study the Word, I must tremble before it.
5) Religious works don’t impress God
Isaiah 66:3 is a rather shocking verse, especially to a Jewish mind. All those sacrificial offerings that God himself instituted and upon which the religious life of the nation was based are described in horrific, abominable ways. God himself asked for these things, how can God not be pleased? When God’s aseity is misunderstood, it causes us to approach religious service in a wrong way. The sacrifices were not instituted to feed a hungry God, but to aid a frail people in drawing near to a holy God. My religious service was so important to me, not because I loved God so much, but because I thought doing them would appease him. I carried a pagan concept into my ministry. God is well pleased with me because I taught Sunday School. We have a morning and evening service on Sunday so God doesn’t get mad at us. My ministry became a cold duty, by which I sought to curry the favor of God.
Related to the first lesson listed, God has taught me that ministry alone doesn’t impress him. This is easy for us to say, but hard to accept. Going out soul-winning does not impress God, or automatically bring down his favor. Giving your offering does not appease God, and leave you free to enjoy the rest as you see fit. “Read your Bible, pray every day and you’ll grow, grow grow” is false, false, false. This is not to say that service is a bad thing. On the contrary, service is ordained of God. We are supposed to share his word, exhort his people, seek him in prayer, and countless other things. But none of these impress him, none earn his favor. He is impressed when he sees me as united to his Son, and his favor has been earned by Christ; my service does not enter in to the equation Whether he gives me great tasks or small is a non-factor to his love and favor.
6) Church Idols are at least as abominable as earthly idols
Not only is God unimpressed by outward religious service, but such service can be downright abominable in his eyes. In verse three, he compares such service to murder, blasphemy, sacrilege, and idolatry…that’s pretty strong language. One might expect such language for Baal worshipers, pagans, or rebels, but surely not for those attending to the service of the temple! Yet in God’s eyes, all idols are disgusting. If anything, using God’s own ordinances to forget him and satisfy your own desires is even more perverse then worshiping a false God.
As I said in the introduction, preaching was my great love. Does this mean I am a spiritual giant? Hardly! I used a God ordained means to satisfy myself. I took the calling of God on my life and used it to forget God. I loved the service of God more than God himself. This is heinous. I cannot say much on this topic, for shame has stopped my tongue but beware, lest you fall into my idolatry. Using the service of God to distract from God himself is just as horrible as bowing and praying to Allah in the midst of the Sunday service. Examine yourselves, lest you fall into this horrible sin, as I did.
7) Partial obedience is disobedience
God acknowledges that the people in Isaiah’s day kept the sacrifices with the proper outward forms, but then says in verse three “Yea, they have chosen their own ways.” How can these two facts co-exist? God’s law was more than just the sacrificial system. The Mosaic law was rather pervasive, and touched on every aspect of Jewish life. Yet there seems to have been a distinction made between important matters and unimportant matters. With some rare exceptions, Israel kept the essence of the sacrificial system throughout most of their history. Yet other areas of the law were either completely ignored or haphazardly obeyed. They believed the lie that as long as they obey in the big things, they can let the small things go while still being obedient. God did not share their view. Thus, while they kept the sacrificial system, God condemns them for choosing their own way in every other area of life. We do the same today, corporately and individually. As long as we get the “big things” right, the small things don’t matter. We can do whatever we want on Tuesday as long as we have proper music on Sunday, we can say whatever we want at work as long as we begin the day with our devotions. We let God regulate the important 10%, and do what we please with the other 90%
In this sin, I am chief. I obeyed God in areas that I deemed important, and looked down upon all the sinners who walked otherwise. I prided myself on my obedience and condemned the disobedience of others. I felt justified to walk in open sin or to live according to the rudiments of this world in a thousand areas if I just let God regulate the big things. Yet when this truth was impressed upon my soul, sin revived and I died. I don’t obey God like I should, and failing in that, I lose all claims to singular obedience. The sad fact is that most of the decisions I make in a day are based upon my own desires, and my identity in Adam. In short, I chose my own way constantly, and that is not OK. It is not natural, expected, or allowable. It is disobedience to my King, and it is pernicious. This has left me with a profound dissatisfaction with myself, and with the Church as a whole. I cannot be complacent in my obedience until every area of my life is submitted to Christ, and cannot rest until all my ways are His. Obedience to Christ is not achieved by a 12-step program, and then complacently enjoyed; it is a constant struggle with self that will only end in glory. As long as I know God can point to something in my life and say “you have chosen your own way,” I will never be satisfied.
8) The things that truly satisfy my soul are often not the things I would rationally claim.
If someone were to ask you the question my little brother asked me, “what do you most like to do,” how would you respond? Let’s put that question in a more academic form, “what gives you satisfaction and joy?” The theologically astute among us would answer by saying, “Well, God of course.” Those less careful might list some hobbies they enjoy, or maybe some comfort foods. Virtually no-one would answer that question with a list of sins. The problem is the deceitfulness of our hearts. While our joys and delights may seem innocent or even pious when considered rationally, Spirit-guided, Word-filtered introspection will often reveal a more sinister source of satisfaction and joy. Truly, we often delight in our abominations.
I will not speak for you, but for myself, for God has revealed to me through this year the abominable nature of my satisfactions. Being theologically astute, and rather boring, most of my abominable joys were phrased in rather pious terms. I would say “I delight to serve God.” In reality, my delight was in the prominence it brought, and the power it bestows. I would say “I love being God’s messenger.” In reality, I loved the elevation that pointing out flaw in another allows. I would say “I delight to do thy will,” but in actuality I delighted in doing his will better than others. In summary, spiritual pride was my delight. I never claimed that, and would have argued if someone pointed it out, but it was nevertheless true. I counsel you to learn from this, and examine yourself, lest your delights turn out to be abominations.
9) The biggest threat to me and the church is God
When God warns Israel of coming destruction, he doesn’t warn them of the Chaldeans, or of the effects of moral decay, he warns them that He is coming to judge them. HE will choose the manner of their destruction; HE will bring their fear upon them. If you thought this kind of chastisement is only in the Old Testament, read the first three chapters of Revelation. When Christ warns the churches, he warns them to beware of Himself. God is loving, merciful and gracious; and God is also holy, righteous, and just. He holds all his virtues completely, without one diminishing the other. His love does not temper his holiness, nor does his holiness lessen his love. And God will not allow his people, who are called by his name to be perpetually disobedient to him. He will purify his church, and he will purify his saints: both his holiness and his love demand it.
My life has been destroyed this past year, and it was God that did it. He did it for my good, and for his glory, but it was his hand that was against me. I am a paranoid person by nature, and go to great lengths to see that my life was protected against all possible dangers, except God. The same is true of the church. We fear the unbelievers, the humanists, the worldlings, the devil, and so many things. But none of those things can truly harm the church, we have Christ’s own promise. Ironically, the one person who can truly bring a sword against the church is the one person we never seem to fear, and that is Christ. He will understand, he won’t expect too much out of us, all will be fine. Beware, for the Christ of the Bible has a sword proceeding from his mouth, and it is aimed at his disobedient churches. The God of the bible chastises, and he chastises those he loves more diligently. How foolish I was to fret over every possible danger, and think so little of the only true danger. I have learned the fear of God this year. He is not a little genie contained in my little bottle, he is a great king, and a fearsome foe. It is to my hurt that I was against him, and I will not take his will so lightly again.
10) Joy and restoration are of God, and come at his decree
Isaiah 66:1-4 is terrifying, but 5-24 is simply glorious, and full of comfort. God will appear to your joy, rejoice will joy all ye that mourn for her, peace like a river; all these phrases just pour out of the text! Yet this change does not come about by human means, or in rational fashion. Verses 7 and 8 contrast this change with child birth. Where in child birth, pain and suffering are followed with joy in due course, at the expected time, the restoration of God comes when it is not looked for, and when it would be rationally impossible. God delights in working by his own hand, and in doing works only God can do, and when he sets his heart toward his people to do them good, it is done with wondrous means. This is not a truth I have learned this past year, but one I cling to by faith. I have been brought very low this year. I thank God that through it he has taught me things I would not otherwise have known, and drew me to himself; but it has been a difficult year nonetheless. I see no human means whereby my life can be of any use. I see no reasonable chance of restoration and joy. But my God is, in fact God: and there is nothing too hard for him. I do not have a God who is tied to human means, so that I must wait for a rational process to be fulfilled. Rather, I have a God who does as he pleases, and who loves to do me good. While I have not learned this directly through sorrow, my sorrow has caused me to cling to this truth in faith. Not because I excel in faith, but I simply have nothing else to cling to. You who are brought low, learn this by faith and rejoice. You who mourn over the state of the church, learn this by faith and rejoice. As I think on all that God has done through this difficult year, I am resolved to wait upon him with desperate faith, for he is all I have, and all I need.
