Isaiah 51:12-16 “I, even I, am He who comforts you. Who are you that you should be afraid of a man who will die, and of the son of a man who will be made like grass? And you forget the Lord your Maker, who stretched out the heavens, and laid the foundations of the earth; you have feared continually every day because of the fury of the oppressor, when he has prepared to destroy. And where is the fury of the oppressor? The captive exile hasten, that he may be loosed, that he should not die in the pit, and that his bread should not fail. But I am the Lord your God, who divided the sea whose waves roared—the Lord of hosts is His name. And I have put My words in your mouth; I have covered you with the shadow of My hand, that I may plant the heavens, lay the foundations of the earth, and say to Zion, ‘You are My people.’”
Wow.
Just…wow.
Let me go over that again. (Wow.) No, that wasn’t what I wanted to go over... “I, even I, am He who comforts you. Who are you that you should be afraid of a man who will die, and of the son of a man who will be made like grass?”
That was it!
When I read this, I was in my nightgown and comfortably ensconced within my covers, just about ready to call it a night and flop down on the pillow.
Guess what? The pillow stayed unflopped. Even in my nightgown, with no slippers, in a very old, very creaky, occasionally drafty house, I still wanted to commence with that impromptu jig I mentioned in an earlier devotional, and shout at the top of my (very off-key) voice for the world to hear that I didn’t have to be afraid. Ever again. EVER AGAIN.
Let me repeat that. (I’ve never been one for redundancy, but the Bible deserves to get a little awestruck repetition once in a while.)
EVER.
AGAIN.
(And of course, as before, whether or not I actually did that nightgown-clad jig is none of your business.)
That’s one of the biggest perks in this Christianity deal. We’re His children. We’re His sons and daughters. We belong to Him. (No “unclaimed” people here!) We are the children of the God and Creator of Heaven and Earth. We have unlimited access to His protection, His grace, His love, and His comfort. WE ARE HIS.
(I know I’m going a little overboard with the caps, but cut me some slack. I can’t exactly yell for joy via cyberspace, now can I? Don’t answer that.)
And what God is saying here—for about the fifty billionth time, just as patiently as He did the second and fifteenth times—is that we, as His children, as His beloved, don’t have to be afraid. He comforts us. He watches out for us. He never slumbers or sleeps. He is the shade at our right hand.
He’s also going in for a bit of wry teasing here, too. Note the contrast.
“I, EVEN I, am He who comforts you. Who are you that you should be afraid of a man who will die, and of the son of a man who will be made like grass?”
“Hello…oh, beloved children, please pay attention…I’m here for you…I died for you...c’mon, you’re afraid of that puny guy who I made and whose father I made and whose grandfather I made and whose great-great-great grandfather I made? I know it might seem like he’s all-powerful down there, it might seem to your mortal eyes that he holds your life in his hands…BUT HE DOESN’T. I do. And I love you, I always have and always will, and I am in complete control of your situation.”
C’mon. God and Creator and Savior of Heaven and Earth vs. tiny little guy over there in the corner that He knows inside and out, backwards and forwards, who He created in the first place.
Which one are you betting on? I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna go for the obvious. At least while I still have my senses. (In a few minutes after I step away from this keyboard, I’ll be back to my thickheaded ways again…sigh. Keep reminding me, God!)
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