Oh that you would rend the heavens and come down!

Isaiah 64 is such a cool chapter.  Sometimes, when I'm having quiet time with God, I will lose myself and forget everything about my life and Scripture will basically light up on the page as I scroll down the verses.  It's equally cool that this happens immediately after some really horrible thoughts pass through my mind.  Lies from Satan, problems I keep dwelling on, lost relationships and hurt feelings I can't stop thinking about (more on the frustrating thing about friendships later) and so on and bleh bleh.  As I opened up my classy duct-taped ESV randomly (a habit I'm not entirely sure is the best way to go for all my quiet times) I came to the 64th chapter from the works of the prophet Isaiah.  Thoughts were flooding my mind that were bitter and resentful and a bit depressing.  And then, I laid my eyes on this treasure:

Oh that you would rend the heavens and come down,

that the mountains might quake at your presence -

as when fire kindles brushwood

and the fire causes water to boil -

to make your name known to your adversaries,

and that the nations might tremble at your presence!

It's sweet and heavenly poetry that Shakespeare couldn't surpass given all the time in the world.  It's a cry of the soul, really the cry of my soul - the Holy Spirit bursting through my less eloquent tendencies to speak on my behalf more perfectly than I possibly could.  Oh that God would come down!  Even though I know that really he isn't just stuck up yonder above the clouds; he is here with me, encompassing every nook and cranny of space around and within me.  But there is this illusion that I'm quick to believe, that my un-satisfaction is attributed to God's far-awayness instead of some disobedience I'm caught up in.  Maybe.  Or I just love the imagery of fully experiencing God around me; his love for me so impounding that he would leave his heavenly dwelling to come down and cause the mountains to quake.  How amazing would it be to see those mountains quake just because he is there!  But it gets better:

Behold, you were angry, and we sinned;

in our sins we have been a long time, and shall we be saved?

We have all become like one who is unclean,

and all our righteousness deeds are like a polluted garment.

We all fade like a leaf,

and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away.

There is no one who calls upon your name,

who rouses himself to take hold of you;

for you have hidden your face from us,

and have made us melt in the hand of our iniquities.

This paints a pretty good picture of the earth before the New Covenant.  Of how my life was before last summer.  All my righteous deeds, without Christ, were like a polluted garment.  And all that is not in God's name fades like a leaf.  Nice!  And here's my favorite part:

But now, O Lord, you are our Father;

we are the clay, and you are our potter;

we are all the work of your hand.

There is gloriously blinding light to be found amidst the dark cloud of my sin nature.  There's something about being fashioned by the most perfect potter in the universe that is really comforting.

- Alicia