Our Sunday Message

A Vision for the Future: Isaiah 6:1-8
Rev. Dr. Kenneth A. Corr
February 4, 2007
Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany

  It was “the year that King Uzziah died,” one of those times in life that is shrouded by the darkness of grief. We’ve all be there at some point in our lives.
  John was not prepared for Mary’s death. She had never had health problems. He could not even remember the last time that she was sick. They had not really talked about it, but he always expected that he would go first. The doctor called it a saccular aneurysm; a congenital malformation, he said. John didn’t even know what that meant. The ones who tried their best to explain it thought it would somehow help him to know. All he knew was that Mary was gone. How could he possibly face the future without her?
  It was “the year that King Uzziah died,” one of those times in life that is marked by anxious uncertainty. We’ve all be there at some point in our lives.
  Management promised that there would be outplacement training, job interview skill development, resource networking. The future was promising for those who were willing to invest the time and effort, they said. But Tom was not sure how much time or effort he had left. This was the only job that he ever wanted and now they were saying that there was no place for him. What about all those years of training that he had already invested? What about the skills and network that he had already developed? Weren’t they worth something any more? Tom wasn’t sure he even wanted to be in the new workplace. He wanted what he had always known. If only he was old enough to retire right now. What kind of future was there for people like him?
  It was “the year that King Uzziah died,” one of those times in life that is shadowed by nagging worry. We’ve all be there at some point in our lives.
  Jeremy had done well in school: an athlete, scholar, campus leader, fraternity president, Mr. Popularity. It had been a great four years and he had loved every minute of it. But now, he was graduating and everyone told him that his future was very bright. Everyone, that is, except Jeremy. He had this nagging feeling of doubt. He worried that he could not meet the expectations that everyone had for him. He worried that he would not be able to compete in the real world. His first two interviews had not gone well and he wondered if he could impress an employer. Did he undermine his own effort or did he just not have the right stuff? Maybe he would stay in graduate school. Maybe he could get a job around campus. Jeremy had this nagging worry that he just couldn’t make it.
  It was “the year that King Uzziah died.” We have been there at some point in our lives: grief, disappointment, failure, transition, and we are never quite prepared for it.
  Susan was devastated when her parents announced that they were getting a divorce after 43 years of marriage.
  Ted was shocked when his wife told him that she was leaving him.
Dan never imagined that the diagnosis would be cancer.
  It was “the year that King Uzziah died” and life would never be the same. My guess is that some of you may be there today. What do you do? The story of Isaiah’s vision in the temple provides encouragement for those who are having a hard time imagining a bright future. Look at the story with me.
  It was “the year that King Uzziah died.” Uzziah ruled for about forty-two years and was a strong leader. He had provided the southern kingdom of Judah with a period of political, military, and economic stability. He enlarged the borders and made peace with his neighbors. According one commentary, “Uzziah’s reign was exceeded in glory only by Solomon’s. This period marked the zenith of Judah’s power.”1
  But now, Uzziah was dead. Isaiah had never known anything but life under Uzziah’s rule. Our two oldest children were 11 years and 8 years when we moved from Sugarland, Texas to Memphis. They had only known one house, one school, one neighborhood, one church, and suddenly their lives were totally disrupted by the move to Memphis.
  Life never stays the same. What is that famous verse of Scripture, “A new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph”?2 It happens. The familiar, the comfortable, the regular rhythms of life are interrupted. Political parties change; leaders come and go; markets fluctuate and economic systems shift; workplace skills vary; educational demands modify; children grow up, move away, and sometimes come back home; loved ones die; and if we are fortunate enough to live a long life, we lose some of our physical abilities. For better or worse, life changes and with it comes anxiety and uncertainty.
  It was “the year that King Uzziah died.” What do you do? Isaiah came to the temple to pray. It was his custom. But this day was going to be uncustomary. In her commentary, Renita Weems says, “. . . most of our most memorable encounters are those that erupt into the daily details of mundane, ordinary life.”3
  Isn’t that the way it is? It was a very ordinary day when Moses was herding sheep on the back side of the wilderness. Was he seeing things? Was it the tuna fish that he ate for lunch, or was there really a bush that was burning and not burned up?
  The boy Samuel had gone to bed at his usual time and was drifting off to sleep when he heard a voice calling out of the dark.
  Peter was taking a nap before lunch in the cool of the porch when he had his vision of a sheet lowered from heaven.
  What was Mary doing that morning when the angel knocked on the back door? Ironing, cooking, sweeping, mending? Ordinary, ordinary.
Gideon was threshing wheat. Elisha was plowing his father’s field. Shepherds were in the fields keeping watch over their sheep by night. Ordinary, ordinary. You don’t have to come to church to have a revelatory experience, but it could happen. But it always happens when we least expect it.
  Isaiah was customarily at worship when suddenly, he said, “I saw the Lord sitting on a throne.” Think about this particular vision that God gave to Isaiah. God could have given any image in a vision, but look at this particular image. It was “the year that King Uzziah died.” The king was dead; life had shifted; chaos was threatening; structures had given way; the future was uncertain. But God was still on the throne!
And, “The hem of his robe filled the temple.” Apparently, Isaiah was face down, prostrate on the floor, because this vision rises no higher than the hem of God’s robe. But it was enough. One day, a woman reached out and touched the hem of Jesus’ robe. It was just the hem, but it was enough.
  The seraphs were singing, “Holy, Holy, Holy,” and their song was so thunderous that the foundations were shaking. As they sang, the room filled with smoke. And then, as though he suddenly awoke, Isaiah cried out, “Woe is me! I am a man of unclean lips and I live among people of unclean lips. Yet my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts.” It was as though Isaiah had seen something that he should not have seen.
  His cry was not a plea for forgiveness. It was a moment of recognition of his sinfulness. Every sinful word, every negative word, every word of complaint and criticism, every word of doubt and distrust that had ever come out of his mouth came to his mind and judged him.
  Without warning, a fiery seraph flew right at him holding a fiery coal with golden tongs and thrust it into his mouth. But Isaiah did not die. Instead, he heard these words of grace, “Your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.” Wow!
  Then he heard, or maybe I should say, he overheard, God ask, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” It seems to be a question that was addressed to the heavenly court. But Isaiah was so full of grace that he can’t help but answer, “Here am I; send me!”
  This unusual experience, this revelatory experience, this numinous experience seems to have had a very specific purpose. It was “the year that King Uzziah died.” In other words, this event came when Isaiah’s life was shrouded by the darkness of grief, marked by anxious uncertainty, and shadowed by nagging worry. It came when Isaiah could not imagine a bright future. Just when he needed it the most, this experience came to remind Isaiah that God was still in control and needed his service.
  You don’t have to come to church to have a revelatory experience, but it could happen. When you least expect it, it could happen. I don’t know what you are experiencing this morning, but just maybe what you need to hear is that God is on God’s throne and you are needed for service.
  “O Lord, in the year that king Uzziah died, you knew exactly what Isaiah needed. Lord you know what we need today. Give it by your grace.”

1 H. B. MacLean, “Uzziah,” The Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, p. 743.
2 Exodus 1:8.
3 Renita Weems, New Proclamation: Year C, 2000-2001, p. 113.