Dreams from The Holy: A Dream Born (Is. 9:2-7)

Darkness is my closest friend (Ps. 88:18 TNIV).  This line comes from the most painful poem in the Bible.  It is written by someone who feels he is in the presence of the absence of God.  “Day and night” the poet cries out to God.  But day and night heaven is silent.  So, the poet laments: Darkness is my closest friend.  When the authors of the Bible describe what it’s like to experience the presence of the absence of God, they use the metaphor of darkness.

 

 

It may surprise you, therefore, to find that same metaphor in a text traditionally associated with Christmas.  Is. 9:2-7 begins with darkness: The people walking in darkness and those living in the land of deep darkness (Is. 9:2 TNIV).  As Isaiah, the author of this book, looks at his readers, he sees they are in darkness.  God seems absent.

 

The darkness Isaiah’s describing came from the missteps of their king, King Ahaz.  Israel was facing threats from other nations.  So King Ahaz turned to the Assyrians for help.  Assyria, in turn, overran the land.[1]  In the words of vs. 4 Assyria was now the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor.  It might be like the United States asking Russia for help and Russia taking over the United States.  Assyria was oppressing Israel.  That oppression felt like an imprisoning darkness.

 

Many years later, Matthew used these same words to describe the people of his day.  Matthew describes them as living in darkness (Matt. 4:16 TNIV).  He is quoting Is. 9.  The darkness Matthew’s describing came from the Roman government who now ruled Israel.  Specifically, Matthew precedes this description of darkness with the news of John the Baptist being imprisoned by the Roman-appointed king, King Herod.  It was a dark time. 

 

Can you relate to that image of darkness?  Sometimes we experience imprisoning darkness, don’t we?  A few months ago a woman emailed me.  She described how the death of someone very close to her months earlier was still a heavy weight on her heart.  She felt like she was living in a dark storm.  And she was emailing because she wanted to hear some storm-dispelling good news.  Did I have any storm-dispelling words?  Sometimes we walk in an imprisoning darkness.

 

Isaiah 9:1-7 begins with darkness.  But listen to the way it ends: The zeal of the LORD Almighty (Is. 9:7).  This word “zeal” is a cousin to the word “jealous”—not the kind of petty jealousy we often think of but a jealousy that involves a consuming concern for someone and a desire that nothing would hurt them.[2]  Despite times when God seems absent, Isaiah says there is something always present—the zeal of the LORD Almighty; a God with a consuming concern for people walking in darkness.  In Is. 9:2 Isaiah likens this zealous God to a light: The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.  Even in the darkness, God’s zealous love is a light. Even when God seems absent, his zealous love is present.

Isaiah wants the people to know: even in the darkness created by King Ahaz and the rough Assyrians there is a light—a LORD Almighty who is moved by a zealous love for them.   

 

Similarly, Matthew wants his readers to know: even in the darkness created by King Herod and the rough Romans there is a light—a LORD Almighty who is moved by a zealous love for them. 

 

I’ve been emailing a friend of mine who has been living in darkness—darkness of his own doing.  He had an affair and is now trying to stitch life back together.  When we writes he is often in a valley.  He is in despair.  But every time he writes, he also mentions ways in which God still seems present.  He writes about how God is still there, still loving.  Even in the darkness God is present.  God’s zealous love is a light.

 

In Isaiah’s vision, however, this enlightening love takes a specific form.  Isaiah promises that God’s zealous love will now come in the form of a person who will end the darkness: 4 For as in the day of Midian’s defeat, you have shattered the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor. 5 Every warrior’s boot used in battle and every garment rolled in blood will be destined for burning, will be fuel for the fire. 6 For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 7 Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever.  The zeal of the LORD Almighty will accomplish this. (Is. 9:4-7 TNIV) 

 

First, Isaiah reminds us of another time when God’s zealous love appeared in the form of a person who ended the darkness.  He recalls the day of Midian’s defeat (vs. 4).  The Midianites were such tyrants that most of the Jews hid in caves.  They literally lived in darkness.  But God sent a man named Gideon to battle the Midianites.  Gideon was an unlikely choice.  He was from the weakest clan in Israel and he was the lowliest member of his family.  But God used Gideon, in the middle of the night, with a handful of torches, to completely defeat the Midianites.  Through this unlikely person God brought about an unimaginable victory. 

 

In the same way, Isaiah promises, God will once again come in the form of a person who will end this present darkness.  Like Gideon, this new person will achieve an unimaginable victory—the yoke of the oppressors will be shattered.  And like Gideon, this person will be an unlikely choice: this person will be a child.  According to vs. 6 – to us a child is born. 

 

Isaiah may have meant this specifically as a reference to the arrival of a new king like Hezekiah whose reign would be marked with far greater peace and godliness than the reign of Ahaz.[3]  But Isaiah clearly means much more.  God’s zealous love is going to appear in the form of a child.  And this child will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace.  Where human wisdom is often limited, his will not be – he will be the Wonderful Counselor who knows the way out of the darkness.  He will be the Mighty God—the one in whom dwells the same power that made the universe.  He will be the Everlasting Father.  Unlike kings who claim to be a “father” to the people but then abused them or were unable to protect or provide for them, this child will be a true father.  And, he will be the Prince of Peace.  He will bring and end to the powers that create the darkness and inaugurate a reign of peace.  That light which Isaiah sees is not merely a human king.  That light he sees is Jesus himself.  Taken at their ultimate meaning, there is no way these words could apply to a mere human.  That seems to be why Matthew clung to this text as he wrote about Jesus.  These words could only be fulfilled in a human who was God himself.  These words could only be fulfilled in Jesus.  Isaiah is dreaming of the time when God would come in the form of a child.  He is dreaming of Jesus.   Through a very unlikely person—a vulnerable child, God would now bring an unimaginable end to darkness.

 

A few weeks ago Kendra and I took our trip to New York City—a trip generously given to us by you (Highland church).  One of the things we enjoyed was riding the New York subways.  It was quite an adventure.  We also enjoyed seeing, at most of the subway stations, individuals and groups playing instruments to earn money.  Some of them were quite good.  Large crowds would gather around the best and drop coins and bills into the musicians’ hats and instrument cases.  When we returned from New York I read a story about one musician in a similar setting.  In 2007 The Washington Post conducted an experiment which involved a man named Joshua playing a violin in a Metro station in Washington, D. C.[4]  Positioning himself against a wall near a trashcan, Bell started playing a violin.  He was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.  He placed the open violin case at his feet, hoping to encourage travelers to drop in some money.  He played for 45 minutes.  Over 1,000 people passed by.  He earned a total of $32.  Three days earlier Joshua had played that same violin at another location.  He had played to a sell-out crowd at the Boston Symphony Hall.  The average seat cost $100.  It turns out that Joshua was a world-renowned violinist playing a $3 million Stradivarius violin.  But when people looked at him in that Metro station, that’s not what they saw.

 

What do you see when you look at that child—lying there that manger, his mother so young she’d still be a student in our middle schools or high schools, stories circulating that he was conceived illegitimately, rumors told that his father isn’t going through with the marriage?  What do you see when you look at that child who is born?  Seems like nothing better than a poor, unemployed man in a Metro station trying to earn a few bucks on a violin.  But could it be that there is more than what we see?  Could it be that the violinist in the Metro station is one of the world’s renowned musicians?  Could it be that this baby in the manger really is the Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, and the Prince of Peace?  Could it be that this child born to us can overcome everything in our lives that brings darkness?

 

Brian Wren writes this poem:[5]

And can this newborn mystery; an infant learning how to feed; defeat the grim and chilling powers; of domination, death, and sin? 

The One whose tiny hands and eyes; suspend our breath and tug our heart; awakens some to joyful praise; while others whisper “Is it true?” 

For sin infects, deceives, ensnares; and domination towers and gleams; and death, dispatched to foreign lands; will turn again, and find us all. 

This child, full-grown, shall shine with love; for outcast, righteous, rich and poor; withstand the powers with healing words; and then be crushed, betrayed, destroyed. 

And some will feel the Spirit’s power; and some will doubt, or cling to faith; and some will hope but never know; and some will joyfully believe. 

And so, with doubt, or hope reborn; or anxious certainty, or peace; we worship, trust, and rise to serve; an infant learning how to feed. 

 

That is Isaiah’s dream.  This child born to us, this infant learning how to feed, that tiny one in the manger, will indeed defeat the grim and chilling powers of domination, death and sin.  That newborn mystery will bring light into the darkness.  He will truly be the Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, and the Prince of Peace.  

 

During the 2008 presidential race, John McCain was asked by Time magazine to share his faith journey.  In the article McCain shared something which happened in Vietnam:[6] When I was a prisoner of war in Vietnam…my captors would tie my arms behind my back and then loop the rope around my neck and ankles so that my head was pulled down between my knees. I was often left like that throughout the night. One night a guard came into my cell. He put his finger to his lips signaling for me to be quiet and then loosened my ropes to relieve my pain. The next morning, when his shift ended, the guard returned and retightened the ropes, never saying a word to me.  A month or so later, on Christmas Day, I was standing in the dirt courtyard when I saw that same guard approach me. He walked up and stood silently next to me, not looking or smiling at me. Then he used his sandaled foot to draw a cross in the dirt. We stood wordlessly looking at the cross, remembering the true light of Christmas, even in the darkness of a Vietnamese prison camp.  That is the ironic message of Christmas, the ironic Christmas dream of Isaiah—God, in the form of a child, brings light into our darkness.

 

Charles Colson and other Christian leaders once met with the President of Ecuador.  The President told them the story of his imprisonment years earlier.  He had been involved in the struggle for democracy in Ecuador. The military cracked down, and he was arrested. Without a trial, they threw him into a prison with no lights and no windows. For three days he endured darkness.  When the situation seemed unbearable, the steel door opened, and someone crept into the cell.  The President heard the person working on something on the opposite wall. Then he heard the figure creep out and close the door.  Minutes later the room suddenly blazed with light. Someone, perhaps at risk of his own life if caught, had connected electricity to the light fixture in the cell.  Someone had risked his life to bring light to the President.  “From that moment,” the President explained, “my imprisonment had meaning because at least I could see.”  That is the message of Christmas—God, in the form of a child, risks his life, to bring light into darkness.

 

And because God appears in the form of this child to bring light into our darkness, because Jesus comes as Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace, the most appropriate response is joy.  Here is how Isaiah puts it: they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest, as soldiers rejoice when dividing the plunder. (Is. 9:3 TNIV).  The most appropriate response to this child born to us is joy.  Isaiah searches for a way to describe this joy.  He uses two circumstances common in that day.  First, the joy of harvest.  The threat of drought, the threat of flood, the threat of insects have been overcome.  The long wait is over.  The harvest is here.  It was a time of great joy.  Second, the joy of military conquest.  A threatening enemy has been overcome.  The fear of capture, the fear of enslavement, the fear of injury has been conquered.  The enemy is gone.  It was a time of great joy.  Isaiah’s point is simply that the most appropriate response to the message about a child through whom God will bring light is great and unparalleled joy.

 

A few weeks ago, as part of our trip to New York City, Kendra and I visited Liberty Island.  We listened to historians talk about the colossal Statue of Liberty as we walked around it.  They told us that the French conceived of the statue as a gift to the United States to celebrate the freedom in our country, especially the end of slavery in our country.  The statue’s torch was patterned after the idea of enlightenment.  In fact, the formal title of the statue is the “Statue of Liberty Enlightening the World.”  To the world’s people who were enslaved or yoked, this statue would shine a light, a light of freedom.  We also listened to recordings of people who travelled to America to find this freedom.  One man said, “I’ll never forget how I felt when I looked up and saw that statue…”  And he began to weep with joy.  One woman said, “When we saw the statue, we all started hugging.  People we didn’t even know on the boat we hugged and danced with.”  There was no greater joy than for those once in darkness to see this light of liberty shining in the distance.  For Isaiah, the child Jesus is that light.  From this child shines a light that pierces the greatest darkness.  And just as those immigrants on the ships to New York danced with joy upon seeing the statue’s light, so Isaiah invites us now to dance with joy as we see this child’s light.