Isaiah 2:9-10 – Our Freeze-Framed Bow
From Isaiah 2 – 8 Their land is also full of idols; they worship the work of their own hands, that which their own fingers have made. 9 People bow down, and each man humbles himself; therefore do not forgive them. 10 Enter into the rock, and hide in the dust, from the terror of the Lord and the glory of His majesty.
Bob Dylan famously sang, "You gotta serve somebody." Isaiah 2:9-10 offers proof of this that predates the Nobel laureate, but also an indication that not all service and subjugation is equal.
Inveterate do-gooders by our own oft convenient and shifting definition of oft convenient good, we want to cry foul to God's verdict in verse nine. People who bow down, we reason, people who go through such motions actually do humble themselves, don't they OBLIGE God to forgive them? His vantage point, however, is wider than a verse nine snapshot carefully cropped to human advantage. Backing up only as far as verse eight, He shows Isaiah and his readers more than bowed humility.
To what or whom is Isaiah's indicted penitent actually bowing? The bow looks nice. It may be from the waist. It may land him on his face, and that face may be wet with real tears. Nevertheless, the perspective of God and His Word enlightens more than a moving moment. Our figurehead for whom we would question the fairness of God is actually bowing to the work of his own hands. This bow is a play for which the supposedly sorry has written the script. Sympathetic as his solitary act may look, it is a flagrant rebellion against God. I'll take, says this apt representative of our flesh the rights and motions which God has prescribed and use them for my own means.
And to what is this mawkish, mocking bow compared? He who follows real repentance into verse 10 isn't putting on a play before man and God. He is hiding in a rock. He cares that God sees and is indifferent to the eyes of man. He hides in dust. His figurative return to the basic material from which his God made him is a striking contrast to the rebelling worshiper who would craft a whole idol for himself. The person truly desperate enough for God's forgiveness doesn't need impressive props in order to seek it. He uses what he has to signify his defenselessness and unworthiness. He knows that just as God first made man from the dust, God can, by His grace, entirely remake this truly sorry creature.
Do we genuflect with verse nine, or verse 10? Do we script religion for the eyes of men, co-opt God's words and the motions He elsewhere sanctifies for our own purposes? Or do we, lost to self and human audience, completely sublimate ourselves inside this dirty righteousness of Christ our Rock? Outside, the wind can blow fiercely. Inside, the gentlest breath from Him can bring life from nonlife. Begin again, Creator God, as we take desperate refuge in You!
Bob Dylan famously sang, "You gotta serve somebody." Isaiah 2:9-10 offers proof of this that predates the Nobel laureate, but also an indication that not all service and subjugation is equal.
Inveterate do-gooders by our own oft convenient and shifting definition of oft convenient good, we want to cry foul to God's verdict in verse nine. People who bow down, we reason, people who go through such motions actually do humble themselves, don't they OBLIGE God to forgive them? His vantage point, however, is wider than a verse nine snapshot carefully cropped to human advantage. Backing up only as far as verse eight, He shows Isaiah and his readers more than bowed humility.
To what or whom is Isaiah's indicted penitent actually bowing? The bow looks nice. It may be from the waist. It may land him on his face, and that face may be wet with real tears. Nevertheless, the perspective of God and His Word enlightens more than a moving moment. Our figurehead for whom we would question the fairness of God is actually bowing to the work of his own hands. This bow is a play for which the supposedly sorry has written the script. Sympathetic as his solitary act may look, it is a flagrant rebellion against God. I'll take, says this apt representative of our flesh the rights and motions which God has prescribed and use them for my own means.
And to what is this mawkish, mocking bow compared? He who follows real repentance into verse 10 isn't putting on a play before man and God. He is hiding in a rock. He cares that God sees and is indifferent to the eyes of man. He hides in dust. His figurative return to the basic material from which his God made him is a striking contrast to the rebelling worshiper who would craft a whole idol for himself. The person truly desperate enough for God's forgiveness doesn't need impressive props in order to seek it. He uses what he has to signify his defenselessness and unworthiness. He knows that just as God first made man from the dust, God can, by His grace, entirely remake this truly sorry creature.
Do we genuflect with verse nine, or verse 10? Do we script religion for the eyes of men, co-opt God's words and the motions He elsewhere sanctifies for our own purposes? Or do we, lost to self and human audience, completely sublimate ourselves inside this dirty righteousness of Christ our Rock? Outside, the wind can blow fiercely. Inside, the gentlest breath from Him can bring life from nonlife. Begin again, Creator God, as we take desperate refuge in You!
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