Isaiah 2:11 – The Eye as the Soul's Window
The lofty looks of man shall be humbled, the haughtiness of men shall be bowed down, and the LORD alone shall be exalted in that day. Isaiah 2:11, New King James Version
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart – these, O God, you will not despise. Psalm 51:17, New King James Version
Applying Psalm 51:17 in his book Songs of Jesus, Tim Keller pleads, "Lord, create in me true brokenness – not the counterfeit ones of discouragement, bitterness, or despair." He differentiates, "Let me know liberation from always needing to defend myself, always standing on my dignity, always smarting because I've been snubbed. Give me the quiet peace of a broken spirit."
Isaiah 2:11 takes us to that quiet place, nearly drives us there, by contrast. Isaiah's inspired word look is the same one used for the eye itself. The very organ by which we perceive is itself diseased. How can our looks, then, not be distorted? Confronted with the Divine Optometrist's grim assessment, how can we ever trust and act upon what we see without considering that we see wrongly?
As men will instinctively protect our eyes, so a problem with them or a correction to them quickly impacts the essence of who we are. As the lofty look is condemned, so the all-encompassing pride that results from self-centered tunnel vision is quickly judged lacking. When man looks loftily, he is with the Greeks in seeing himself as the measure of all things. He looks not up to Heaven to consider his debt and his gratitude to his Creator and Sustainer.
We consider the endemic impact of this eye disease on individual men, our predicament seems more profound. Not only are be part of a race swept into Satan's purposes to be at least equal with God but within that sorry insurgency, we strive with one another for primacy. More than half blind to God's glory as what really matters, we grope clumsily to get in front of fellow sons of Adam and daughters of Eve for a spotlight whose heat we only vaguely perceive. Deprived of, or divorcing ourselves from, affirmation of our God-given purpose, all we can sense is the elusive promise of the next temporary affirmation at somebody else's expense.
The final verdict on such folly is already in by the end of the verse, and we would do well to heed it. The quiet of the quiet place will be protected, but only for those who, by God's grace, humble themselves before His supremacy. The race for attention will end, and He will win. We may be famous among men for the 15 minute Andy Warhol predicted, or we may spend our lives chasing that. But the day in which the Lord will be exalted by people from every tribe and tongue, that day knows no end.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart – these, O God, you will not despise. Psalm 51:17, New King James Version
Applying Psalm 51:17 in his book Songs of Jesus, Tim Keller pleads, "Lord, create in me true brokenness – not the counterfeit ones of discouragement, bitterness, or despair." He differentiates, "Let me know liberation from always needing to defend myself, always standing on my dignity, always smarting because I've been snubbed. Give me the quiet peace of a broken spirit."
Isaiah 2:11 takes us to that quiet place, nearly drives us there, by contrast. Isaiah's inspired word look is the same one used for the eye itself. The very organ by which we perceive is itself diseased. How can our looks, then, not be distorted? Confronted with the Divine Optometrist's grim assessment, how can we ever trust and act upon what we see without considering that we see wrongly?
As men will instinctively protect our eyes, so a problem with them or a correction to them quickly impacts the essence of who we are. As the lofty look is condemned, so the all-encompassing pride that results from self-centered tunnel vision is quickly judged lacking. When man looks loftily, he is with the Greeks in seeing himself as the measure of all things. He looks not up to Heaven to consider his debt and his gratitude to his Creator and Sustainer.
We consider the endemic impact of this eye disease on individual men, our predicament seems more profound. Not only are be part of a race swept into Satan's purposes to be at least equal with God but within that sorry insurgency, we strive with one another for primacy. More than half blind to God's glory as what really matters, we grope clumsily to get in front of fellow sons of Adam and daughters of Eve for a spotlight whose heat we only vaguely perceive. Deprived of, or divorcing ourselves from, affirmation of our God-given purpose, all we can sense is the elusive promise of the next temporary affirmation at somebody else's expense.
The final verdict on such folly is already in by the end of the verse, and we would do well to heed it. The quiet of the quiet place will be protected, but only for those who, by God's grace, humble themselves before His supremacy. The race for attention will end, and He will win. We may be famous among men for the 15 minute Andy Warhol predicted, or we may spend our lives chasing that. But the day in which the Lord will be exalted by people from every tribe and tongue, that day knows no end.
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