“Come On Down”Isaiah
64:1-9 Like
the announcer on the television game show “The Price Is Right,” Isaiah prays,
“Hey God, come on down!” Isaiah prays, “Hey, God, come on down!” Is
that what we really want, for God to come down from heaven? Not likely. We want
God safe in the heavens and away from heaven and away from everyday life until,
of course, we really need him. Isaiah
had to pray this prayer: I.
We
want God to come down. That is fine with the prophets but that is not what
we really want. We want the safety of God in the Bette Midler song “From a
Distance.” We prefer God to be at a distance and not in our midst. That’s how we feel. But then that’s what this
passage is all about, isn’t it? We are the people of this passage. But deep in our hearts we really do want God to come
on down (on our own level) so God will know what life is like. What is it like
to be human? Back in the nineties, when Bill Clinton was the
president of this country, I remember some of the comments made when Bill made
his share of mistakes, that they don’t mind his mishaps since these actions
allow them to relate to the former president. That he is also human. So as scary as it may seem we still want to see the
glory of God. And so with the prophet we call out, “Hey, God, come
on down!” II. God has already come God came down. That is what this season is all
about: The day God came down to be one of us. A story was told of a grandfather. He found his
grandson jumping up and down in his playpen, crying at the top of his voice.
When Johnnie saw his grandfather, he reached out his chubby little hands and
said, “Out, grandpa, out.” Grandpa reached down to lift his grandson out of his
predicament but as he did Johnnie’s mom stepped up and said, “No, Johnnie, you
are being punished. You have to stay in your playpen.” Grandpa didn’t know what to do. His grandson’s tears
reached deep into his heart. Mom’s firmness couldn’t be taken lightly. But love
found a way. Grandpa couldn’t take his grandson out of the
playpen; instead he climbed in with the little boy. That is exactly what Jesus did for us at Christmas.
Christ Jesus left heaven for earth and climbed in with us. This is love’s remarkable plan. An author writes: Seated at the great desk, the Author opens a large
book. It has no words. It has no words because no word exist. No word exist
because no words are needed. There are no words to hear them, no eyes to read
them. The Author is alone. And so he takes the great pen and begins to write.
Like an artist gathers his colors and a woodcarver his tools, the Author
assembles his words. There are three. Three single words. Out of these
three will pour a million thoughts. But on these three words, the story will
suspend. He takes his quill and spells the first. T-I-M-E. Time did not exist until he wrote it. He himself, is
timeless, but his story would be encased in time. The story would have a first
rising of the sun, and a first shifting of the sand. A beginning…and an end. A final chapter. He knows it
before he writes it. Time. A footspan on eternity’s trail. Slowly, tenderly, the Author writes the second word.
A name. A-d-a-m. As he writes, he sees him, the first Adam. The he
sees all others. In a thousand eras in a thousand lands, the Author sees them. Each Adam. Each child instantly loved. Permanently
loved. To each he assigns a time. To each he appoints a place. No accidents. No
coincidences. Just design. The Author makes a promise to these unborn: IN my
image, I will make you. You will be like me. You will laugh. You will create.
You will never die. And you will write. They must. For each life is a book, not to be read,
but rather a story to be written. The Author starts each life story, but each
life will write his or her own ending. What a dangerous liberty. How much safer it would
have been to finish the story for each Adam. To script every option. It would
have been simpler. It would have been safer. But it would not have been love.
Love is only love if chosen. So the Author decides to give each child a pen.
“Write carefully,” he whispers. Lovingly, deliberately, he writes a third word,
already feeling the pain. E-m-m-a-n-u-e-l. The greatest mind in the universe imagined time. The
true judge granted Adam a choice. But it was love that gave Emmanuel. God with
us. The Author would enter his own story. The Word became flesh. He, too, would be
born. He, too, would be human. He too, would have feet and hands.
He, too, would have tears and trials. And most importantly, he too, would have
a choice. Emmanuel would Stand at the crossroads of life and death
and make a choice. The Author knows well the weight of that
decision. He pauses as he writes the page of his own pain. He could
stop. Even the Author has a choice. But how can a Creator not create?
How can a writer not write? And how can Love not love? So he chooses
life, though it means death, with hope that his children will do the
same. And so the Author of Life completes the
story. He drives the spike in the flesh and rolls the stone over the grave.
Knowing the choice he will make, knowing the choice all Adams
(humanity) will make…”[1] It all happened in a moment, a most
remarkable moment that was like none other. For though that segment of
time a spectacular thing occurred. God became human. While the creatures of
the earth walked unaware, Divinity arrived. Heaven opened herself
and place her most precious one in a human womb. The Word was made flesh. God in Christ
moved in next door. God did tear open the heavens, not in a
mighty way we expected, but when the angelic chorus burst forth in
song at the birth, all heaven broke loose. We said we didn’t want it, but we
were wrong. God came down and walked as one of us.
God came down and through An infant, said, “I love you.” If this season is about anything. It’s
about a baby—God’s baby, born in a Stable, who changed the world forever.
When we come before this baby, let us be wise and remember to look for God. Let us bring Him the best we have to
offer. And let us allow him to Change the direction of our lives,
enabling us to become the great men and women of God He wants us to be. Amen [1] Max Lucado, One Incredible Moment Celebrating the Majesty of the Manger; J. Countryman, Nashville, Tennessee, pp.49-53. |