and Beulah

Isaiah 62: 1-12

Where do you go when the lights go out?

Where do you go when the rock on which you stand crumbles beneath your feet?

Where do you go when you feel lost, alone, maybe even abandoned?

Where do you when you hurt so bad that you think you might never feel better again?

Where do you go?

You go to the promises God has made to us.

You go to where He offers hope and peace and His presence.

You go to the one place where our souls can find healing.

To the one who changes our names from Deserted and Desolate to Hephzibah and Beulah.

Now, you are probably wondering what those two names mean.

Well, Hephzibah means: My delight is in her. And Beulah means married.

Which both refer to the promise of a brand new relationship with God, a brand new understanding of how He will provide for us and treat us, a brand new life He offers to us that lifts us up out of the darkness that so often envelopes us.

God will take delight in the relationship we have with Him. And will unite with us as a husband unites with his wife. Both images that are repeated over and over in the . Or to make it incredibly simple, God loves us.

Oh, I now we say that all the time. We have heard it thousands of times in our lives.

But let’s be honest – on those days stopped when the desolation and deserted feelings arise, God’s love seems far away.

We walk in the darkness, in the pain – the soul pain, in the fears, in the hunger for hope and perhaps cry out to God, asking where His love really us.

Likely the Hebrews, reading these words from 62 were thinking the same thing. They had returned from the exile, from long years alone, deserted in their souls and desolate in their spirits, and have found life in and not all they had expected to be.

But Isaiah brings them this great news of God’s love.

For God will make His people a crown of splendor, a royal diadem.

When we visited Scotland nine years ago, the city I enjoyed the most was Edinburgh. Dottie had been there twice before and assured me that it was a magical city. She was right. The history and the culture and the excitement exuded from the very pavements – not to mention it was the home of John Knox, who, after John Calvin, is our most important Presbyterian forefather.

While there, we visited Edinburgh Castle, which looms large over the city. And in the castle are displayed the crown jewels of Scotland. Years ago, the crown had been taken by the English in one of the numerous wars fought when they were two nations.

But in a gesture of good will, once the nations were united, the crown was returned.

True, England and Scotland are still one nation – have been for centuries – but to the Scots, the crown is a symbol of their proud heritage, a symbol that they are not a defeated people, a symbol that they have dignity and are owed respect. That they matter.

And when Isaiah tells God’s people that they are part of His crown, that they are in the diadem in His very hands, he is holding out the promise that they matter; that their hungers mean something to God; that their struggles are not ignored by the Lord; that their fears are not forgotten by the Almighty who loves them dearly, who delights in them and considers Himself a spiritual husband.

A crown of splendor; a royal diadem. And not on God’s head – which is where you would expect a crown to be – but in His hand. In His hand to protect and care for and treasure.

When the lights go out – and they will; when the walls of life crumble before us – and they will; when we feel as if we are standing on sinking sand instead of the solid rock – and we will; when nothing makes sense – this one truth does – we are part of the crown in God’s own hands, and He will not let us go.

While the English were able to take the crown from Scotland, who is strong enough to take God’s crown out of His hands?

Hephzibah. Beulah. That’s us.

But Isaiah promises even more.

For the Hebrews are told that watchmen are on the walls, making sure that no enemies are approaching. And the One who positioned the watchmen will never rest until His people are safe.

Now watchmen were common in the days of walled cities - even into the Middle Ages. But Isaiah is not talking about ordinary watchmen. He’s talking about angelic watchmen.

One of the great hymns of praise begins with these words: Ye Watchers and Ye Holy Ones, bright seraphs, cherubim, and thrones…

Which suggests to me that there is a whole class of angels, a whole category of angels, whose whole responsibility is to be on watch, to stand guard, to make sure that if the enemy is on his, her, its way, God will know about it.

That’s how much God loves us! How much He delights in us! How much He chooses to take care of us. Which is why He sends angelic watchers – we might call them our guardian angels – to make sure He doesn’t miss a single moment when the darkness is threatening us.

Because He won’t rest until He makes sure that we are out of the darkness! And while we know that after six days of creation, God rested on the seventh day, well, as far as the Bible’s witness goes, that was the LAST time God rested.

From that day forward, God has not rested, is not resting, and will not rest.

Dottie has told me that, when she was growing up, she would often share a problem she had with her father. He would tell her to go to sleep and not worry about it; but then she would hear him pacing, worrying about it himself. How many parents have not had sleepless nights like that?

Well, God doesn’t worry – He knows how things are going to work out. But He will be up all night working out every moment of darkness and desolation and desertion we feel. No sleeping on the job for Him! And as someone once said: There is no panic button in Heaven.

How could He sleep on His watch? We are His delight; we are spiritually married to Him. We are His Hephzibah; we are His Beulah.

And yet a third promise Isaiah offers to us – the promise that the gates of God’s city will always be open. And an invitation: Pass through, pass through the gates. The way is prepared; the highway repaired; the stones are removed; a welcome banner is hung out.

For us.

We were vacationing in Boston some years ago and made our way to the Boston Common, the large park that dominates a section of downtown. On one side of the Common is a stairway that leads down to a place called the Bull and Finch Pub. Now the name meant little to us, but the image of the stairway was familiar. Or to anyone who ever watched the television show “Cheers.” Well, it was lunchtime so we figured we would go down and eat there. And I must admit that I was a little disappointed. Oh, I knew I wouldn’t see Sam or Woody or Diane or Cliff or Norm; but the inside of the pub – which is actually a very nice casual restaurant, looked nothing like Cheers. And while the service was good, nobody knew our name. I guess I wanted someone to sing the theme song. ‘Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came.”

Of course, that’s just a sentiment from a television show; and some clever songwriter came up with the theme.

But, you know, sometimes we do want to go where at least someone knows our name; where someone is glad we came.

And that’s the promise Isaiah is lifting up to us. He’s telling us that the gates are open; that we are welcome; that the red carpet has been laid out for us. And that banner he refers to? Well, maybe it has our name on it. And not just John or Mary or Bill or Sue. But Hephzibah and Beulah.

A place where we belong. A place where we go when the walls of our life come tumbling down. When the lights go out.

If you saw the final episode of Cheers, the bar was sold. And as Sam is cleaning up for the last time, a patron comes to the door. But it’s already locked, and Sam calls out: ‘We’re closed.’

God’s gates are never closed. Never locked. The open sign is always on display. Because where He is is where He wants us to be. Where He is is where He wants us to call home. Where He is is the place where life begins for real. In His presence.

And it is the place called: The City No Longer Deserted.

Home.

Light in the darkness. Stability in our shakiness. Peace in our frustration. Comfort in our pain. Strength in our weakness. Being found when we were lost.

That, and more, is what God offers to those He call His Hephzibah and His Beulah.

And while these are words from an prophet, well, we know that these words were sealed by One who broke the seal and burst forth from the darkness of a tomb into the eternal light – taking us with Him. Showing us the way home. No matter how far home may seem.

When the light goes out, when the rock crumbles, when we feel lost, God is there, watching and waiting.

And all we have to do is walk toward Him. We might not see Him in our darkness. But He sees us.

Worship

May 29, 2016

Call: Litany

Assurance: Litany

Children’s Message: Memorial Day – we remember those who fought and died to keep us free. Jesus did the same.

Prayer: Loving God, we come together this morning, bringing to you our pains and struggles and heartaches. And we know that when we let go of them, you will carry them away from us. For we are in your hands, part of the crown of splendor you wear. So we thank you. Loving God, we come together this morning, bringing to you our fears and frustrations and anxieties. And we know that when we place them before you, you will not rest until you have given us the victory over them. So we thank you. Loving God, we come together this morning, bringing to you our loneliness and emptiness and feelings of alienation. And we know that when we come to you, you will welcome us, comfort us, and hold us close. So we thank you. For these and all your blessings, Lord, we thank you, we praise you, and we glorify your Name. needs, etc.