Pleasure has a way of owning us. We spend our lives in its pursuit.  A good meal, a good drink, a good party, a good experience — however we define it.  Such pleasures consume our senses, focus our mind, tickle our bodies.  Immersed in pleasure it is hard to believe anything could be more important, more fulfilling, more enriching.

Pleasure however can become dangerous as an end in itself.  Short-term indulgence can become the source of long-term pain.  Lives devastated by substance abuse and addictive behaviors make this point all too easily.  Many pleasures demand a steep price for engagement. So we humans are poised on an exciting but dangerous slide, between pleasure on one hand and destruction on the other.  How will we survive this ride?  How can we enjoy the pleasure that our bodies crave without falling prey to the dangers that such pleasures can introduce?

The prophet here points to the problem.  The people have pursued their pleasures, but have “have no regard for the deeds of the LORD, no respect for the work of his hands.” (Isaiah 5:12) Pleasure takes it disastrous turn when it disengages from God.  We forget of course that pleasure has its origin in God.  He created the world and called it “good”.  He created us and called us “very good”.  God told us to “be fruitful and multiply”, so sex was His idea.  He tells us to “fill the earth,” to “subdue” it and to “rule over” it.  (Genesis 1:28)  The earth is created for us.  God gives it to us for our enjoyment.

Since pleasure has its origin in God, it must also have its end in God.  Pleasure that ends somewhere else, outside of God’s will and God’s ways, will not end well.  It may, for a time, have the look and feel of pleasure, but it is really pain in disguise.  Ultimately only pain awaits us outside of God, the eternal pain that we know as “hell”.  According to the prophet, judgment awaits those who enjoy their pleasure while disregarding God.  They are soon to be a branch removed from their root and their vine.  The analogy could not be clearer.  Pleasure removed from its source will cause us to shrivel and die.

God is not the enemy of pleasure. We are our own enemies in this regard.  We seem literally hell-bent to enjoy our pleasure apart from God.  God’s grace, however, promises a different end.  His Spirit can create in us new passions and desires for His beauty and His truth.  Grace therefore makes true pleasure possible.  So, in my own life I pray that God would keep my pleasures tied to their true source, so that “my soul will rejoice in the LORD and delight in His salvation” (Psalm 35:9)

Throughout the centuries, God has not been without His detractors, even among those to whom He has been most gracious.  Over and over again He must listen to the ungrateful cries of His people, who protest that they do not receive His fair judgment, His promised deliverance, or His abundant provision.  Nor are we immune from this disease.  I must honestly confess that I have too often questioned the wisdom of God’s plan and the genuineness of His love.

I imagine that the people were surprised by Isaiah’s question. “What more could have been done for my vineyard than I have done for it?” (Isaiah 5:4)  The answer might seem obvious.  The stories of Israel’s oppression were well known among the people.  Even at that moment, their enemy constantly circled its prey.  There was no lasting peace, and abundance only applied to a few.  I can imagine the obvious response, “Yes, God, you could have done so much more for us.”

We are certainly tempted to this same response.  We also want a different world, one less painful and more rewarding.  We want to enjoy our families and our relationships without abuse and brokenness. We want enough provision to enjoy life without fear of poverty and loss.  We want “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”  Why won’t God just make this happen?  Why won’t He go this extra mile for us?

We may doubt that God truly desires our good, until we remember that it was His idea to create a Garden of Eden, and He has always wanted us to live there.  Despite our sin, God has sought to bring us there again.  In the story of Abraham and his descendents, we see God’s merciful and gracious hand leading us back to His holy land, the beautiful place of His presence.

Assuming then that both God and we desire the same end, to dwell peacefully and abundantly in His holy presence, perhaps we should acknowledge that God knows best how to get us there.  While we might imagine a more streamlined path, one without the pain and disappointment of this life, God has apparently decided that we need to walk through this moral wasteland that we and our ancestors have created.  He has not allowed His people to escape entirely the layers of corruption and brokenness that our repeated disobedience has secreted.  In some sense, we must own and accept the consequences of our own collective rebellion.

Too often we attribute the impediments of this life to God’s failure to act, when in fact they are linked entirely to our own human choices.  The true miracle is that God still acts at all, that He has not rejected us entirely, but has invested Himself wholly in our lives, to ensure our inheritance in a blessed future.  The testimony that He has left in Scripture, to His faithfulness and to His eternal covenant with His people, should silence all of our objections concerning His commitment to us.  He has in fact gone the extra mile for us.  Time and time again, He has forgiven us, so that He might fellowship with us.  We draw breath entirely because of His long-suffering mercy.

No, we must not second-guess the God who leads us.  His provision by definition must be more than  sufficient for us. If we are ever to reach His presence and the abundance of His garden, we are always best served to follow His path.  Left to our own plans and devices, we will never find our way out of this desert!

Branches live an important but tenuous life.  Each serves a dual purpose.  Its leaves spread out to gather water and light, providing nourishment to the entire plant.  In return the plant pours nourishment back into the branch, producing fruit that becomes the new seed. But many branches will not achieve their end.  The ravages of nature cripple their growth.  They may wither rather than flourish.

The prophet now sees this powerful “branch” image.  At first the context confuses us.  We have been hearing of God’s coming judgment, recompense for an arrogant and rebellious people. Then suddenly we read of a glorious and fruitful Branch. The transition is abrupt.  We might be tempted to think that the prophet is changing topics entirely, except that he deliberately links the two subjects together.  Both the judgment and the blessing occur “in that day” (Isaiah 4:2).

What lies beneath this study in contrast? Perhaps the answer lies in the nature of the analogy itself. Having focused upon a branch of people who were withering away, the prophet now sees the branch that flourishes. For centuries, God had been cultivating His people, that one branch of humanity that He elected for special attention, who would receive the grace of His special revelation, who would know him more intimately than any other nation.  Yet, despite this wealth of spiritual nourishment, they had not produced fruit.  They consumed all that was given to them for themselves, and now, because of their selfish foolishness, they are about to be torn from their tree, and discarded to the fire.

However God would not allow the failure of this branch to endanger the entire plant.  He would grow a new Branch, into whom He would pour new nourishment.  This new Branch would not fail to produce fruit.  This new fruit will be “will be the pride and glory of the survivors in Israel.” (Isaiah 4:2)  Unlike the current branch, destined for destruction, the new Branch would not glory in its own pride.  It would glory in the fruit that God Himself produces, the fruit of true righteousness and holiness.   “Those who are left in Zion, who remain in Jerusalem, will be called holy, all who are recorded among the living in Jerusalem.” (Isaiah 4:3)

Because there are survivors, “this day” of judgment is also a day of promise.  The severity of God’s judgment will not eclipse His grace.  After the withering branches are pruned, seemingly small and significant twigs can grow into full maturity.  The faithful few, those who will not abandon their God, those who continue to worship and trust, will in the end realize their fruitful destiny.

This message of hope and promise should resonate with us as well.  As we look around us, we are well aware that humanity has fallen far short of its potential.  Everywhere we see dry branches that have detached from their living source, and are quickly withering in the heat of an evil world.  Each day we see the judgment of God revealed at some level and in some degree.  In the same day, however, we also see those few fruitful branches who, despite the ravages of this world, cling to God for their life, who blossom with abundant fruit, and feed many with the fruit of their devotion.  May we by God’s grace always cling to our life-giving source and be numbered among these branches of promise!

Poverty in Scripture is not merely a social problem. It is a sign of immorality, a witness to human corruption.  Poverty is the evil byproduct of oppression.  No wonder then that the prophet must pronounce God’s judgment upon leaders who have presided over a society that had declined to such moral depths.

The presence of the poor points to a fundamental brokenness in our soul.  Our time-bound bodies are quickly addicted to amusement.  When we move into positions of power, we are too easily tempted to use our authority to increase our amusement.  But this increase of our amusement often comes at a cost.  We must take from others the pleasure due to them, so that our pleasure can be maximized.

This robbery of others is quite often subtle.  Few of us openly break into homes and walk away with stolen goods.  However, we steal in smaller measure.  We detract from another person’s reputation, cutting and demeaning, so that we look bright by comparison.  We manipulate spouses and friends, so that they cater to and flatter us as often as possible.  We barter our favor for theirs. We cannot resist taking advantage of our employees, making them do work that we are no longer willing to do.  We leverage our power to build our own accounts, rather than to fill the need of others.

For a while, society may succeed in keeping its greed wrapped within this subtle garb.  Over time, however,  our desires can easily overflow these boundaries of conscience, until we no longer need to pretend.  Very quickly, we freely flaunt our mastery over others, veiling it with the only barest mist of concern for those in need.  Before too long, we openly boast of our conquests, of others depending upon us for their daily bread.

How far are we in our time removed from these proud statements?  To what extent do we ‘haves’ complement ourselves because we are not among the “have nots”?  We have risen above them.  Clearly we have poor among us, and they bear witness to some level oppression here in our own back yard.  When we look for the source of that oppression, it is easy to blame the wealthy, the corporate moguls or the government.  But perhaps we should find the source of oppression much closer to home, also within our own back yard.  Perhaps our own sin has given rise to the class division among us.  All of our individual sinful decisions, to demean the other and glorify ourselves, have conspired together to produce an unholy culture of oppression.  Our own sins have given rise to leaders who become the public voice of the oppression, while secretly, we desire to be in their place.  Perhaps we covet their authority, we want their power so that we may enrich ourselves.

The prophet brought a word from the LORD.  God looks upon the land and hears the cry of the poor, the victims of oppression.  He is angered and troubled,  They bear witness against the leadership of His people.  They have failed to provide the moral leadership that would exterminate oppression, and thus liberate the poor.  He had no choice but to judge their failure of trust.  When God looks upon us, how I wish we would not force Him to judgement. How I wish He would find that each of us has already judged our own acts of oppression, that we have already championed the cause of the poor, and come to the aid of the oppressed.  May our own ears hear intensely the cries of the victims, before their accusations reach our heavenly Father, and force Him to rescue them by judging our land.  In that day of judgment, we will no longer be numbered among the ‘haves’.  Rather we just might be among the victims of other oppressors, and perhaps then we will humble ourselves enough to cry out to our Father to rescue us again.

Does it matter at all whether God is present among us?  Apparently in Isaiah’s day, it did not matter enough.  In the early days of this people, God’s presence meant everything.  The first man and woman hid from God’s presence when they disobeyed. (Gen. 3:8; Heb. lit, hid from the “face “or “presence” of God, reflected in the ESV).  Even Cain feared that “I will be hidden from your presence; I will be a restless wanderer on the earth, and whoever finds me will kill me.” (Gen. 4:14, NIV)  God commanded Abram to walk “before me” (Heb. lit, “before my face”), to be “blameless” in His presence, in order that God might bless him, that he might become “Abraham”, a father of many nations. (Gen. 17:1-6)

The cloud of God’s presence meant everything to the children of Israel as they were delivered from Egypt.  The LORD promises Moses, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” (Exodus 33:14)  The pillar of cloud and fire went “before them” (Heb. lit, “before their face, in their presence”) (Exodus 3:20-21)  This same cloud filled the tabernacle, “and the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle,” so that even Moses could not enter it. (Exodus 40:34-35)  This scene was later repeated, when, under King Solomon, tabernacle became temple.  “When the priests withdrew from the Holy Place, the cloud filled the temple of the LORD. And the priests could not perform their service because of the cloud, for the glory of the LORD filled his temple. Then Solomon said, “The LORD has said that he would dwell in a dark cloud; I have indeed built a magnificent temple for you, a place for you to dwell forever.” (1 Kings 8:10-12)

Some 200 years after that glorious moment, the prophet Isaiah must observe that the people no longer marveled at the presence of God.  They had grown used to it.  The temple no longer inspired sacred fear.  And, because of this indifference to God’s presence, the people were poised for destruction.  The seeing prophet had just cause for alarm.  Yet, in just a short while, God will give to Isaiah a reassuring sign that His presence will not depart, “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel;” i.e, “God with us” (Isaiah 7:14)

In this Christmas season, I am reminded that the story of God’s presence continues. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14)  Unfortunately, we too have often failed to honor this Glory who dwells among us.  Immanuel has come to us.  Let us truly feel the significance of this event.  May it cause us to re-evaluate and realign our lives.  Forgive us Father, for we too often defy your glorious presence.  Instead, may we continually allow your presence to define us.

The prophet in these early chapters has been warning God’s people.  They have misread their times.  They have assumed that their relative security and prosperity had chiefly to do with their own efforts.  This self-assurance had rendered God practically irrelevant.  He came a religious option, an add-on retained in case of emergency. With clear spiritual eyes, the seer must now paint a proper picture of their true state of affairs.  In this more accurate picture, these contented people stood on the brink of disaster.

Isaiah pauses his work to reflect, “Stop trusting in mere humans, who have but a breath in their nostrils. Why hold them in esteem?” (Isaiah 2:2, NIV)  The Hebrew here has an edge to it. The people must “abandon” their reliance on human support, for this support is truly worth nothing.  It will evaporate as quickly as the air that we breath.  A single breath, a single word from God will soon collapse the entire structure.

The tentative nature of human relationships repeatedly reveals itself, then and now. This should not surprise us.  Imperfect people will always form imperfect relationships. Israel had formed supportive alliances with surrounding nations, but these alliances would not ultimately protect them.  In a similar way, we move through life collecting “friends” of all sorts, ranging from intimate partners to unconnected virtual avatars.  We surround ourselves with this network of connections, and it begins to define us.  We become a product of all these interactions.  Our connections push us and pull us as the tidal shifts of relationships roll over us.  Before too long, we can begin to loose track of ourselves.  This complex network of relationships may rip us from our roots, and we discover that we are no longer grounded.

All human relationships, no matter how noble, are nonetheless tentative.  They come and they go.  They form, they change, and they end … one way or another.  The tentative nature of these relationships means then we cannot always trust them.  We know they will change.  We know they will end.  How can we then base our lives upon them?

We can only achieve certainty in any relationship if we add a third-party to it, but not just any third party.  This third Person must never change.  His faithfulness, His unfailing love, His constant river of understanding and grace must feed into the shifting tides of our relationships.  Without this sure foundation, we will not survive all the forces that seek to divide us, the collective failures that will inevitably occur when imperfect humans connect with one another.

When we get lost in the complex web of our relationships, we can lose track of the God who ultimately is the only force that can hold us together.  The prophet therefore calls us back to this center. Let’s hear his warning.  If we ignore and marginalize God in our lives,  the complex web of our relationships with one another will inevitably unravel.

Why is it that we no longer fear God, even those of us who claim to know Him?  Our views of God have obviously rendered Him more palatable to our indulgent tastes.  Too often the “god” that we have defined winks at sin, or is too soft to do anything about it. Apparently we have resigned ourselves to a world in which God is minimally involved, where evil is allowed to have its play.  Have we all essentially become practical Deists?

Fearing God is a difficult concept to grasp, especially in our time.  We have gone to great lengths to minimize threats, or at least to isolate and hide them from public view.  Fear like pain is regarded as an enemy to be eliminated from our emotional vocabulary.  Yet, fear will not disappear regardless of our efforts.  It remains a stubborn constant of post-modern life.

The random powers that seem to dominate our life threaten at any moment to render us victims,  Financial meltdowns, terrorist attacks, environmental disasters, violent and disturbed individuals, constant health threats … these dangers intermittently yet consistently raid our daily reflections.  Sane people will understand that there is reason to fear.  Rather than denying and suppressing our fears, are we not better served to face them?

In confronting our fears, we are at once aware of our limits.  We cannot control these powers that threaten to victimize us.  It is this sense of powerlessness that pushes us to deny the danger, to mask the fear, to numb the anxiety.  Facing our fears will therefore require strength that we do not seem to have.

In this context, it is no wonder that we cannot process our fear of God.  In our rush to cope with fear, we are hardly going to reflect on another Power that threatens to undo us.  So why does God dictate these words to the prophet, this “promise” that dread will accompany the splendor of His majesty?

God points to a fundamental weakness that underlies our fear.  We are naturally afraid of our potential oppressors; but we have no fear of the God who made us for Himself.  We have taken for granted His long-suffering and patience.  We sin believing that a merciful God will not judge us.  However this decision, to  fear the world and ignore God, has drastic consequences.  This decision traps us in our fear.

If we are honestly to face our fears, then we must align ourselves fully and completely with the only One powerful enough to deal with these insidious and constant threats.  Our intimate communion with God is our only hope of comfort from this dread.  If we should fear anything, let us fear separation and alienation from God.  If we lose God, we truly do have a reason to panic.

Fearing God is therefore entirely different than fearing the oppressor.  Our fear of God should draw us toward Him; it should not drive us away.  Unlike the oppressor, our Heavenly Father seeks only to redeem, protect and restore us. We fear God as we would fear a parent whose guidelines for us are only intended for our good.  Children who abuse their parents’ patience will only bring disaster upon themselves.  Our fear of God should therefore inspire us to love Him more, as One who knows the danger that sin produces.  The word of the prophet reminds us that God never changes His judgment of evil.  We can fear Him now, as the Father seeking to protect us from our own sinful foolishness, or we can fear Him later, as One whose patience with us has just run out.  If we choose to fear Him now, then we experience the joy of His love, and the comfort of knowing that our God is a power greater than any force that seeks to destroy us.  This type of holy fear will only result in our salvation.  This kind of fear remains indispensable to our well being.

Fullness has no inherent value.  Its meaning is always relative and subjective.  Everything depends upon the content and the context.  A full gas tank is one thing; a basement full of water … quite another thing.  A full plate in one home is not a full plate in another.  The concept seems simple enough but we are easily duped. Centuries of misunderstanding and decline have entirely confused our senses, to the point that we can no longer tell whether we are truly full or empty.

This was certainly the case in Isaiah’s day.  The people’s land is full by one definition.  They have silver and gold, horses and chariots without end.  (Isaiah 2:7)  Yet the land is also “full of idols.” (Isaiah 2:8)  Apparently the people had drawn the conclusion that all this fullness was a good thing.  Lots of wealth, lots of military power, lots of religion … an apparently happy definition of a nation.  Yet the prophet was called to spoil their paradise: “…[M]an will be brought low and mankind humbled”. (Isaiah 2:9)

How is it that this idyllic picture of a nation earns such judgement?  Why would God be so displeased with prosperity of such dimensions?  Had not the LORD Himself repeatedly promised material blessing to His people?  So the people now experienced their land flowing with milk and honey, their time of relative peace and calm.  Yes, other gods were honored, but, in the end, life was good.  Bellies were full.  Can we not just celebrate?

The prophet points to the pride that often accompanies our fullness. Our full wallets and our powerful armies lure us into a distorted view of our own importance.  We imagine that we are enriched and protected by virtue of our own wisdom and power.  Safe in our own power, our devotion turns into a tame and superficial religion.  Our heart is disengaged.  Our religious observations no longer challenge us.  They reinforce our pride.  They mistakenly convince us that our nominal practices have warranted our full, material blessing.

All of this self-delusion and pride will inevitably corrupt our sense of fullness.  Satiated by our wealth and abundance, we ignorantly starve ourselves of God’s true fullness.  We suppress any sense of our own inadequacy, our own brokenness, our own weakness, our own emptiness.  In God’s fulness, however, we do not disguise or ignore our weakness.  Rather, we learn to live on generous helpings of His grace and His hope.  We allow His healing to reach our deepest emptiness.  Apart from God’s nourishing presence, then, we can only imagine that we are full. We imagine that we are living on milk and honey when in reality we are satisfied with the leeks and onions of captivity.  Satisfied with this poor substitute, we will never experience the blessing and full deliverance that our God promises.  Given the choice, are we not wiser to go to the fuller well, the eternal spring that will forever refresh our desperate thirst?  May God heal our faulty human nature, so easily satisfied with so little, in order that we may truly experience the fullness of His promises to us.

Prophecy consistently challenges our faith, but prophecies concerning Jerusalem stretch us even farther.  In this second chapter of Isaiah we meet a familiar refrain, God will draw all nations to His holy city, “to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob….” (Isaiah 2:3)  This summons will result in world peace.  “He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore.” (Isaiah 2:4)

The tension in this city’s name elicits frequent commentary.  The ‘City of Peace’ has hardly found rest throughout its history.  Since King David first made it his capital, it has marked the rise and fall of God’s people with never-ending cycles of contention and blood-shed.  For the prophet now to see this city as a fountain of peace requires from us faith that many will no doubt interpret as foolish credulity.  How can this city, that has  polarized so many, ever draw the nations into harmony?

On one level tensions in Jerusalem, both past and present, surround ownership of the land, the sacred sites that define and give meaning to a people.  To the uninitiated these struggles may seem overdone, but to those immersed in the conflict, failure is not an option.  Surrender, it seems, will result in the annihilation of one party or the other.  Given these desperate assumptions, survival requires a renewed and relentless commitment to conflict.  In this incendiary environment, devoid of meaningful trust, one has little choice but to fight in order to stay alive.

How is peace restored to a region so conflicted?  According to the prophet, the answer surrounds the teaching presence of a holy God.  “He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths. The law will go out from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.” (Isaiah 2:3)  When the one True God educates His people in Truth, peace will return.

This perspective baffles us.  We are astonished that truth can have such a powerful effect.  In a relativistic world, we are conditioned to think that truth divides.  Truth becomes the problem, not the solution.  Your truth and my truth do not agree.  And, when words do not convince, we have historically taken up arms to prove that our truth is stronger than your truth.

The key, however, does not rest in truth as an abstract thing.  Peace comes because the one True God has taken up residence and acts as the arbiter of truth.  Truth will reign only when God manifests to us His True reign over all the earth.  Our peace is tied directly to His personal appearance as King of Kings.

Perhaps this is a major reason why Jesus comes to us not as a mighty warrior but as a rabbi.  He means to teach His people, before He conquers His enemies. He reflects the prophet’s directive, “Come, O house of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the Lord.” (Isaiah 2:5)  In our minds, God has already come to Jerusalem in the person of His Son.  We who believe that the King has come to His people should above all others learn to live in the light of His truth.  His truth must always reign over us, forming our thoughts and directing our actions.

In the meantime, we dare to believe that God works through our obedience to restore peace to the world.  Peace won through military conquest is by definition short-lived, for the conflicts that produce war are buried deep within the broken human soul.  Only the powerful presence of the True Word of Life can quiet a heart destroyed by doubt, fear, anger and greed.  The power of His Truth lies in its ability to heal and transform our thoughts and actions.  As people of this new Kingdom, we are ambassadors of this truth, living examples of its power.  We know that God’ presence produces peace, because He has done it for us.

Hidden behind the painful chaos of this world, the prophet announces a fundamental logic. In a context of insanity we encounter the promise of sanity.  Our journey to sane reflection, however, can only begin if we will dialog with God, the Creator, the Logos who informs our universe.  The Hebrew here suggests more than a simple discussion.  We are invited to a vigorous debate, where answers satisfy the soul as well as the mind.

In Isaiah’s day, the people of God stood at critical crossroads in their history.  They had experienced their creation and rise, culminating in the kingdoms of David and Solomon, and revisited in the prosperous reigns of Uzziah and Jotham.  Yet they had wasted this graceful provision of God in rebellion and idolatry, and were therefore to receive a harsh word of judgment.  The downward cycle was about to begin, and their sentence of oppression under a foreign king was soon to be prophetically declared.

Poised therefore between blessing and judgment the people are called out to debate.  God and His people had often talked before.  From the days of Abraham, God chose to speak to them in multiple ways and on multiple occasions.  And the people often responded … with complaint, fear, praise or even confession.  Yet somehow these repeated discussions had not achieved their end.  The One True God had not yet managed to convince His people of truth.  The dialog continued, but no resolution seemed likely.

What perpetuates this endless and apparently ineffective dialog?  Would it be our incessant need to define our own god?  Would it be our endless quest to target all of creation toward our own pleasure, to remove God from His eternal throne? We seem hopelessly committed to this argument that we cannot win.  We are not about to convince God that we should be our own gods!

Yet, while we will never win this debate, we must never cease to participate in it.  Our sinful propensities will always draw us into self-idolatry, and so our only hope lies in dialog with the true God who will challenge our feigned deity.  It is no accident, I believe, that God continues His debate with His people throughout multiple generations.  His engagement is an act of grace, an everlasting promise of salvation.  In our sinful rants, we may yet hear the God of mercy, who promises, “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.” (Isaiah 1:18)

Given the chaos of our day, replete with the deceptive voices of sin and evil, within us and within the world, let’s continue to dialog, debate and even argue with the Truth, so that, in the end, the Truth may overcome our ignorance and our defiance.  Maybe then our voices of complaint may turn to praise, and all of us together may experience blessing rather than judgment.

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