BLOSSOMING
READ Isaiah 44:1–5
But now hear, O Jacob my servant, Israel whom I have chosen! Thus says the LORD who made you, who formed you in the womb and will help you: Do not fear, O Jacob my servant, Jeshurun whom I have chosen. For I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground; I will pour my Spirit upon your descendants, and my blessing on your offspring. They shall spring up like a green tamarisk, like willows by flowing streams. This one will say, “I am the LORD’s,” another will be called by the name of Jacob, yet another will write on the hand, “The LORD’s,” and adopt the name of Israel.
MEDITATE
Priscilla and I went on a hike yesterday. Once we climbed through a shaded grove of pine trees, our walk was pretty level. After two miles, we had the option of climbing a steep grade and several switchbacks to the top of Mt. Sawyer. It wasn’t easy for a fifty-seven-year-old guy, but I kept on because the scenery took my mind off my sore knee and tired old bones. A wall of alpine wildflowers cascaded up the mountain to our left, the spectacular glaciers and craggy peaks of the Cascade Mountains rose to our right. My breath was labored and my steps slow, but every minute was worth the effort.
I hope you feel this way as you enter the final phase in your forty days with the Holy Spirit. Rest assured, this is no steeper than the rest, and here, at least, you have all of the resources you’ve cultivated in the first seven weeks of breathing, meditation, reflection, and prayer. And just think: this final stage is where you blossom, like the alpine wildflowers on our hike. This last phase takes us from where we began, with our deepest selves, to the world around us, which we transform as we blossom in the presence of the Holy Spirit.
For those of us who insist on identifying God’s presence in the world, God’s absence is tough to stomach. Maybe it’s not God’s absence so much as God’s withdrawal. “My way is hidden from the LORD, and my right [justice] is disregarded by my God,” Isaiah’s people lament (Isaiah 40:27). The prophet responds with a tender word that begins, not with prophetic condemnation, but with something more like, “Don’t you know? Haven’t you heard? Don’t worry! Don’t be afraid!”
Easier said than done, I know. Fear doesn’t usually evaporate simply because we tell it to. It’s more like the stubborn pimples I struggled with in junior high school; no amount of cajoling or commanding or cleansing made them disappear. Fear is contagious, too, and it can hardly be snuffed out by telling someone, “Stop worrying.”
Sometimes fear is healthy. After a car accident, drivers often navigate more cautiously. After an escape from a heart attack, men and women often stay away from bacon and beef (at least for a while). Self-preservation is not necessarily a bad tack to take in the context of crisis.
Today’s promise is full of self-preservation: the Spirit on descendants, blessing on offspring. In short, Israel will remain intact, secure, healthy. There’s no need to be afraid. Israel will survive. Their children’s children will thrive.
If we have learned anything, however, it’s that the Spirit is not just about self-preservation. Conservation. Protection.
The Spirit is about transformation. So the promise ends, not with Israel’s offspring and descendants, but with others, outsiders, immigrants. “This one will say, ‘I am the LORD’s,’ another will be called by the name of Jacob, yet another will write on the hand, ‘The LORD’s,’ and adopt the name of Israel.”
There is a beautiful inner logic in the renewal of Israel through the outpouring of the Spirit and the inpouring of new devotees to God, new citizens of Israel. Let me give you an example of what I mean: the naturalization ceremony in the United States. Watching men and women from every corner of the world standing shoulder to shoulder, reciting an oath of allegiance in order to become naturalized citizens—now that inspires hope. This ceremony renews our respect, our admiration, too, for a nation to which others want to come to share our labors and our aspirations. These immigrants, now citizens, restore our belief in the American dream.
The Spirit’s presence may allow for protection and comfort, but ultimately the Spirit is about transformation from the outside in—from outsiders who become insiders.
REFLECT
PRAY
Holy Spirit
I hanker after protection
I crave preservation
I treasure salvation
“Leave things as they are”
That’s my solemn prayer
Holy Spirit
I’m not so fond of transformation
I’m not so hungry for adaptation
I’m not so keen on modification
“Leave things as they are”
That’s my earnest prayer
But how can I ask you for this?
And how could you possibly answer this prayer?
What could I be thinking?
How little could I know you?
You’re torrential
We’re sopping, sodden, soaked
Caught in the downpour
of your craving to transform us from inside out
and also from outside in
Amen
