Isaiah 54: 1-10

Several recent e-mails have jump-started me back into the writing business.

So, let me catch you up since the last time I wrote about where we are right now in the Bible study. We are in Isaiah chapter 54 and it is a complicated time for the Jews. After many years of living under the growing menace of the Babylonians, the city of Jerusalem was finally sacked in 587 B.C. The invading army burned the temple, they captured and blinded the king, and then they deported the “best and brightest” of the Jewish people to a foreign city and land. In 539 B.C., Cyrus the Persian defeated the Babylonians and then told the exiled peoples that he found in Babylon that they could return home. That is the good news that we read about in Isaiah 40, when the prophet says, “Comfort, O comfort my people…”

In chapter 54 most of the exiled Jews are still in Babylon. They are trying to pack their bags but it is hard work—some of them have become used to Babylon, some of them are not looking forward to the dangerous trek across the desert, and some of them are fearful and anxious about what they will find once they arrive back in Jerusalem. Will their home still be there? Might there be someone, a protective foreigner, who has settled into it? Is there anything to return to at all? They have heard good news that they can go home, but they have not yet assimilated the good news into their lives.

Into this mixed situation Isaiah writes, “Sing O barren one who did not bear; burst into song and shout, you who have not been in labor! For the children of the desolate woman will be more than the children of her that is married, say the Lord.” In the midst of this grim and daunting time the prophet tells them to sing and shout and dance. Odd news, really, when you think about the outward circumstances of their lives, but this is exactly when we need good news, sometimes even bracing and challenging news of hope to move us ahead.

And then in verse two the prophet says, “Enlarge the site of your tent, and let the curtains of your habitations be stretched out; do not hold back; lengthen your cords and strengthen your stakes.” I know that I have read those words before, but somehow I didn’t read them, didn’t get them, didn’t see the implications of and the applications to them. Enlarge your tent. It is a metaphor, of course. The Jews were not then living in tents. They were living in reduced circumstances certainly, but not in tents. I think what the prophet is trying to tell them is that just at a time when they want to close up, batten up, God is calling them to enlarge their tents—their minds, their hearts, their trust. During times of duress and stress and displacement and loss, we humans tend to “circle the wagons,” and get safe and pull back; but no, says God—don’t do that to your selves or to each other. Enlarge the tent. Make it bigger. Lean into love, not fear.

We didn’t need any more material this morning to work through and discuss. I simply asked the gentlemen how these words could be speaking to them individually and to us as a country right now. Yes, times are difficult; and yes, people—maybe even many of us—are tempted to shrink our tents, close down our borders, put up walls and barriers, withdraw our support, and suppress our dreams and hopes. But, again, God says, “My people, please don’t. Please trust. Please breathe. Please know that I am with you. Enlarge your tents—for your sake, for My sake, for the world’s sake.” That is what I hear in these words. What do you hear?