Margie Quinn
I want you to close your eyes for a minute and imagine this scene from Isaiah 6 as if you are him. You park in the Vine Street parking lot this morning and walk into the sanctuary like it’s any other Sunday. You have arrived first, and you are alone. As soon as you enter the sanctuary, you see the Lord sitting on a high and lofty throne, about 15-feet high, and there are cherubin with outstretched wings that form a throne on which the Lord sits. All you see of God is the hem of God’s robe. It fills up the entire room. God is too gigantic to be contained in this place of worship, an all-encompassing presence.
Then, you take in these seraphim who are singing and calling out to God. These seraphim are not little white babies with wings; they are fiery, winged serpents who cover themselves, protecting themselves from the glory of God because they know that no one can appear naked before the Lord or see God directly and live, not even these supernatural beings that guard the throne.
They call to one another, singing “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord of hosts, the whole earth is full off his glory!” You stand there, watching the pews shake at the sound of these voices. You watch the whole sanctuary fill with smoke.
Open your eyes. This is Isaiah’s Sunday morning. He arrives at the temple, perhaps he was dragged there that day by his parents, maybe he wanted to be there as a familiar ritual. He enters this temple filled with smoke and fire and singing and he says, “Uh oh, woe is me. I’m lost. I’m actually a man of unclean lips and I hang out with a lot of people of unclean lips and I know from what I’ve heard that I’m not supposed to see God directly.” This was actually a life-threatening situation for Isaiah to be in. As soon as he sees the hem of the robe of God fill up the temple and glimpses the majesty and the grandeur of God, he thinks, “I’m unworthy. I am the embodiment of human frailty and this is a very vast and unfathomable deity.
Then, a fiery, winged serpent flies over to him after picking up a piece of coal from the altar with tongs and brings it to Isaiah, places it on his mouth and in doing so, releases Isaiah of all of this guilt and sin, which he admits he carries. Here, we see God’s grace and forgiveness cleansing Isaiah’s impurity, wiping away all of this guilt and sin that he feels and preparing him for the divine call.
Interestingly, God never speaks directly to Isaiah. God speaks to the seraphim and asks them, “Who am I gonna send? Who is gonna go for us?”
God needs someone to address these people with unclean lips because God is angry. In the previous chapter, we begin to understand the source of God’s anger. Scripture tells us that God’s people have amassed property–houses and fields and have hoarded wealth. They only have room for themselves; some own tens of acres of fields and do not share them with anyone else, not even with the poor and vulnerable who have no land. These people call evil good, and good evil. They put darkness for light and light for darkness and they put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter. They deprive the innocent of their rights, they acquit the guilty for a bribe. So yeah, the anger of the Lord is kindled against his people. The longstanding King Uzziah has died which leaves a whole lot of political instability. This is where we arrive in our passive this morning–smoky, fiery, angry God. We cannot even look up and take in God’s grandness because all we get is a glimpse of God’s robe.
So when God asks, “Whom shall I send, who will go for us?” God is sincerely wondering who can get the people back on track, who can serve as the mouthpiece of God, urging the people to turn from their evil ways, from hoarding wealth and property, from dealing corruptly and follow God’s word? Who can convince them, as chapter 1, verse 17 says, to “cease doing evil, learn to do good, to seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow?”
This deity, who is so vast and lofty, so majestic and holy, and also heartbroken and angry, needs help.
And a voice squeaks out, “Here am I; send me!”
“Here am I, send me!” Isaiah says this only seconds after admitting his inadequacies. Here am I…with a lot of imposter syndrome and misgivings! But you can send me.
Isaiah really isn’t alone in his initial response of admitting all of his wrongdoings before he gets to the “yes.” You can probably think of some other guys in scripture who are reluctant to answer God’s call. Moses, at the burning bush, says, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh? I can’t speak on behalf of God’s people…I have a speech impediment. You’re lookin at the wrong guy.” God sends him anyway.
Jeremiah, when called, says, “I really can’t speak for you, I’m ten years old.” God sends him anyway.
Jonah is asked by God to go to Nineveh and call out the injustice there. Instead, Jonah immediately flees from his assignment, ends up in the belly of a while for three days. Yet, God calls him anyway.
Even Jesus, God enfleshed, looks toward his heavenly parent and says, “What if you just let this cup pass from me? I don’t want to drink from it.” God calls him anyway.
I’ve been thinking about imposter syndrome and feeling unworthy or resistant to God’s call on my life. What I’m learning is that I’m in pretty good company with these guys. In fact, I might be, and you might be, in the exact place that God wants me to be.
My question for you and me this morning is, like the prophets, can I actually trust the glory of God enough, the sheer, unknowable, vast majesty of God to resist, disagree with or even challenge a God whose glory fills the whole earth? Do I trust God enough to actually push back and say, “I don’t think I’m ready. I think I’m too young. I haven’t seen a lot of women do this ministry thing. I’ve got a lot of guilt and sin that I don’t know how to blot out.”
And then, like the prophets, like Isaiah, am I willing and are you willing to be receptive to God’s call anyway? Are you willing to volunteer, even if you’ve never picked up a hammer before? To speak truth to power, even when your voice shakes? To show up to protests and pray by marching with others? To denounce oppressive systems, even in awkward conversation where you’re scared to speak up? To take that leadership position at church or work or school….even if you stutter like Moses, or feel too young, like Jeremiah, or feel guilty for all of your wrongdoings, or question your own worthiness, like Isaiah?
Then, once you’ve been receptive to the call, are you willing to do the hard work? Because it’s gonna be hard. All of the prophets, after answering God’s call, step into a lifetime of ministry in which the people refuse to listen; people who continue to serve the false Gods of domination and exploitation and to think the prophets are crazy. Isaiah’s refrain throughout his life is to name what is: the earth is utterly broken, he says in 24:19, the hungry dream of eating and yet still wake up hungry (29: 8), the poor and needy seek water and there is none (41:17). He doesn’t back down from naming what is, despite being that guy back in that smoky sanctuary who said, “I don’t have what it takes.” This scared, reluctant man goes from panicked to prophetic simply with the touch of a coal on his lips, purifying him from all of the imposter syndrome he feels. In doing so, he continues to show up for God and say, “Here am I.” Here am I, with unclean lips. Here am I, carrying guilt and sin. Here am I, feeling lost. Here am I, send me.
May it be so.