It has been a while, but I didn’t want to not do this one, since it is around the final lines of this servant song, which is all about the servant’s perseverance – and in particular the servant’s perseverance in bringing about justice. Read these lines again:
42 “Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
Isaiah 42:1-4
my chosen one in whom I delight;
I will put my Spirit on him,
and he will bring justice to the nations.
2 He will not shout or cry out,
or raise his voice in the streets.
3 A bruised reed he will not break,
and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
In faithfulness he will bring forth justice;
4 he will not falter or be discouraged
till he establishes justice on earth.
In his teaching the islands will put their hope.”
Then we need to read these lines again:
In faithfulness he will bring forth justice;
Isaiah 42:3-4
he will not falter or be discouraged
till he establishes justice on earth
In his teaching the islands will put their hope
In v3 we read of a “bruised reed” and a “smouldering wick”. The word translated bruised in v3 is the same as the word translated “discouraged” in v4, and the word translated “smoulder” in v3 is the same as “falter” in v4. The point is that while we are very often discouraged, and very often faltering, the servant is not. He will bring forth justice and he will not be discouraged until the work is done.
In our world right now we need justice. We’ve all seen pictures of the atrocities committed by Russian soldiers in the Ukraine. We’ve seen the pain and grief etched on the face of the Ukrainian president. I’ve received emails from colleagues in the Ukraine giving personal stories behind the horrifying headlines. The horrors of the Ukraine cry out for justice.
When we lift our eyes beyond Europe we see yet more horrors across the globe. There are wars, there are brutal military dictatorships, there is persecution. We long for justice and we cry out for justice. And we wonder what God is doing. We cry out to him. At least we should cry out to him. We should cry, in the words of so many Psalms, “How long O Lord?” We should bring our protests, our questions and our tears to God. It is the only response of those who believe both that somehow God is good, and that somehow he is sovereign in this broken world.
And the answer of Isaiah 42 to the question “How long?” is “until the job is done – and it will be done”. Jesus will complete what he has started, and he will not give up. He does not run out of energy. He does not become exhausted. He stands at the side of the open graves and he weeps with those who weep. He stands as one whose hands and sides have been pierced. He stands as one who has been brutally whipped by brutalised soldiers. He has been exposed. Left naked for oppressors to taunt. He knows.
And in that knowledge he will bring forth justice. He will do it. I have no clue why it is taking so long. The answers to such questions are not given to us. I don’t know if we would comprehend. I don’t know that (as Rich Mullins pointed out in song) “it would hurt any less even if it could be explained”. But somehow we hold to the reality that he will finish what he has started. That justice will be done and seen to be done.
And in that knowledge the islands – the distant lands, the furthest parts of the earth from Isaiah – will put their hope in his teaching – in his torah. The servant will come, and his teaching will give us the hope to keep on in the midst of all that discourages and makes us falter and flicker.
In the midst of appalling suffering and utter brokenness we can come back to the one who does not flicker and falter, who never gets discouraged or broken. The one whose tears never exhaust him. The one who with utter dedication will bring about justice on this earth. This is our God. The servant King whose scars will make all things well.
In the midst of all the gruesome news that comes day by day the words of this poem come to mind, written in the midst of the horrors of World War I.
If we have never sought, we seek Thee now;
Jesus of the Scars – Edward Shillito
Thine eyes burn through the dark, our only stars;
We must have sight of thorn-pricks on Thy brow,
We must have Thee, O Jesus of the Scars.
The heavens frighten us; they are too calm;
In all the universe we have no place.
Our wounds are hurting us; where is the balm?
Lord Jesus, by Thy Scars, we claim Thy grace.
If, when the doors are shut, Thou drawest near,
Only reveal those hands, that side of Thine;
We know to-day what wounds are, have no fear,
Show us Thy Scars, we know the countersign.
The other gods were strong; but Thou wast weak;
They rode, but Thou didst stumble to a throne;
But to our wounds only God’s wounds can speak,
And not a god has wounds, but Thou alone.
Joshua's Tree Rooted 