Pastor Tom Johnson, February 7, 2021
The core of our reading from Isaiah is lament—the shared sorrow of the people of God. They are in exile in Babylon—marched out of their ancestral land into captivity and slavery to a foreign power. These terrible things happened to the nation of Israel whom God promised Abraham would outnumber the stars. And now it seems that God has lost sight of them. And their stars are falling out of the sky—neglected and unnoticed. Their dreams of a life in their homeland is shattered. Their hope to be set free from their bondage and return home is crushed. Their hearts and their spirits are broken. Like the Hebrew slaves in Egypt their cry goes out. They express despair and doubt. “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God.” “God does not see my suffering,” they complain. “He does not hear our cries. God the Father is neglecting his covenantal children. Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.” I admire their courage to name their sorrows and fears. They could have buried them down deep and neglected them just as they were accusing their Creator of doing. It is not only okay but it is a form of prayer—lament—collective grief and yearning for God to acknowledge our pain.
Health professionals already see a collective PTSD as we come out of this global pandemic. Today we realize perhaps more than ever that all humanity shares a common enemy. We’ve lost friends and loved ones. We’ve lost jobs, businesses, and the pleasure of gathering at museums, for concerts, or for socializing. But even before the pandemic—and, sadly, after—there were and there will be losses in this life. There will be unrealized dreams. There will be times of loneliness and feelings of abandonment. Jesus said, “In this world, you will have troubles” (Jn 16:33). As Scripture says, “We walk by faith not by sight.” There’s comfort knowing our struggle is common, if not universal. It’s normal to feel disappointment with God. It’s not new for Christians to doubt. God is not surprised when he hears our hearts ache and sees our hearts break. He is not offended by our lament that he would allow the world to disappoint us and wound us. He is not scandalized by our outcry and our feelings that he does not care or notice our struggles.
Our Psalm says, “The Lord heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Just as there must be faith and mystery in God who allows troubles. So there is faith and mystery in God who heals. God does not say how he heals the brokenhearted. He tells us that he heals the brokenhearted. Both our Psalm and our text from Isaiah give us the same vision of the assurance of God’s grace. Both begin by telling us to look at the stars. Both end with the promise of healing for those who wait for the Lord. Our passage from Isaiah is clearly a sermon based on Psalm 147. And Psalm 147 is clearly a song based Genesis 15 when God brings Abraham outside and says, “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them.” God says to Abraham, “So shall your descendants be.”
Because of light pollution, most are at a great disadvantage. Last summer, I had the privilege of being under the dark, clear skies of Baxter State Park in Maine. I was awestruck by the Milky Way, stars, planets, and meteorites. I have pictures to share. There are a mere 7.6 billion people living today. Scientists estimate between 100 and 400 billion stars in our galaxy alone. That is a pretty big range! We just don’t know! With the naked eye or with the most powerful telescopes there is no way to count the stars—let alone name them all. Just last week, scientists discovered a solar system with not one but six stars. There are three pairs of stars that orbit each other. We could not see all of them because in the first pictures they were eclipsing each other. This is unexpected. This is new for us. But not for God. This is a mystery to us. But not to God. God knows the full count of stars in our galaxy and the estimated 200 billion galaxies in the universe. He knows the unique size, color, average temperature, and age of each star. He has given each a name. He has not shared with us his alphabetical directory of billions upon billions of stars. That would be quite a read. “His understanding is” as our text says, “unsearchable.” “Great is our Lord and mighty in power; there is no limit to God’s wisdom.” He knows our billions upon billions of thoughts, worries, hurts, and broken hearts.
God has known us intimately since before creation. He knows us each by name. He knows the number of hairs on our heads and the number of our days. He takes every tear we shed and treasures it in a bottle. Just like we cannot know the stars in the heavens like God does, so we will never fully know how he heals the brokenhearted. I love how our scripture puts it to question twice: “Do you not know? Have you not heard?” Yes. We know. We have heard. He is creator of heaven and earth. For him the vast universe is like a window curtain he hangs up with ease. He assures us that “he gives power to the faint and strengthens the powerless.” “Those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,” he says, “they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, the shall walk and not faint.” “The Lord heals the brokenhearted.” He soothes our fears. He gives us a peace that transcends all understanding. It is still a mystery. But he calls us to wait—to trust. He will bring healing and wholeness to our shattered spirits. In our hymn today, we are reminded of what the prophet Jeremiah asks as a question—“is there a balm for us in Gilead?” African American slaves in the midst of their slavery and suffering put into a bold statement of faith and confidence in the Lord who heals the brokenhearted.
There is a balm in Gilead,
To make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead
To heal the sin-sick soul.
("There Is a Balm in Gilead," LSB 749, refrain)
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