A few years ago I watched the movie “The Apostle.” It’s about a Southern Pentecostal/holiness preacher who seems to be sincere–he’s definitely not a con artist–but who is plagued by gross inconsistencies. Both he and his wife are guilty of long-term adulterous relationships. In a fit of anger, he kills his wife’s lover with a baseball bat. He then leaves the area and begins preaching somewhere else as The Apostle. His new church grows very quickly, but his life continues in the same pattern. He tries to seduce a woman who is separated from her husband, and he beats up a man who tries to disrupt one of his church services. In the end, the police catch up with him and he is arrested for murder. The movie closes with him on a chain gang, preaching to the other prisoners.
What is wrong with this man? He sincerely believes in Jesus Christ. He prays all the time and believes he is called by God to preach the gospel. But none of this has any effect on the way he orders his life. The same is true of others in the story. They have great, exhilarating times of worship and prayer together, but their lives remain unchanged. They talk about God’s power. They think they feel His power among them when they worship and pray, but there’s no evidence of it in their daily lives. This is a common problem, although the inconsistencies usually aren’t as blatant as those in the movie. But this problem raises a question: how does the reality of God’s sovereign power connect with our weakness? We worship the Lord of the Universe, the One who possesses all power in heaven and on earth. How does this make a difference in our daily lives?
The first thing we need to realize is that God’s sovereign power doesn’t necessarily make us feel stronger. The people in “The Apostle” wanted to feel God’s power surging through them, lifting them up and carrying them along. So they worked themselves up by repeating the same words over and over, producing an emotional state where they felt like God was among them. But He wasn’t. It was nothing but a counterfeit, produced by their own efforts. God’s presence transforms us, and these people were not transformed.
In the fall of 1977, I was part of a group traveling overland to India from Belgium. We had been working with Operation Mobilization in Europe since the early summer, and were now committed to working with OM India for the next two years. Because we had several drivers, we were able to travel through the night much of the time, but that wasn’t safe in Afghanistan (because of the danger of bandits). In Afghanistan, we had to travel all day to get to a large town, where we would spend the night in a walled compound. On one of our nights there we were entertained by two sufis. Sufis are Islamic mystics. One of them played the harmonium, which is an instrument with a small keyboard and bellows on the back (like an accordion). A harmonium player uses one hand for the bellows and the other for playing notes on the keyboard. The other man was playing the tablas, a set of two bongo-like drums. Their music was highly repetitive, and it slowly built in intensity and speed. It was very powerful, and I quickly realized that if I allowed myself to get pulled in I would end up in a trance-like state. This is what sufis do. They have spiritual experiences by using the right techniques to achieve the kind of mental state they want.
About a year later I was in Kathmandu, Nepal, and a friend and I visited a Buddhist temple. There were monks sitting on the floor all around us as we walked in; someone was playing a gong and another person was playing a drum. I don’t think any of the monks even saw us walk in, as they were completely caught up in a trance. And I felt the same thing I had felt in Afghanistan. As the music built in speed and intensity, I realized that I had to consciously resist to avoid getting pulled in myself. My friend and I left after a very short time.
The thing that is clear in both these cases is that it’s possible to have spiritual experiences that are not brought about by the work of the Holy Spirit. That’s what the people in “The Apostle” were doing. They were using techniques very similar to those used by Sufis and other mystics. They thought the power of God was among them, and they had great experiences. But their lives were unaffected. The problem with counterfeit experiences like this is that they satisfy us with something less than the real thing. They’re addictive. They become idols, which keep us from seeking God. And they deceive us into thinking we have something which we don’t have.
When God is at work among us, or within us, we don’t necessarily feel stronger. We may be intensely aware of our own weakness and frailty; we may even be unaware of what God is doing at the time. In Isaiah 40, we find the people of Israel complaining: “My way is hidden from the Lord; my cause is disregarded by my God.” In many ways, this whole chapter is an answer to that complaint. Their complaint has two parts: 1) there’s a theological dimension to their problem: “My way is hidden from the Lord;” God doesn’t know what is going on; He’s lost sight of me; 2) there’s also an experiential dimension: “my cause is disregarded by my God;” I’ve been crying out to Him for help and nothing has happened; He’s not answering my prayers.
The people are intensely aware of their weakness at this point. This chapter is full of the majesty of God. It’s one of the most exalted passages in the whole Bible. But the people feel nothing but their own weakness. Paul has a similar experience in 2 Corinthians 12. He’s an apostle, with a high calling and lots of responsibility. But he is plagued and hindered by a thorn in the flesh. So he cries out to God to remove it. Surely this problem has to be removed, so that he can carry on his work as an apostle. He cries out to God repeatedly about this, and after the third time he receives this answer: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).
Do you think Paul, at this point, begins to feel God’s power in a different way? What he feels is his own weakness, but he’s received this assurance that as he labors in faith, God will be at work in ways that Paul can’t understand or explain. His weakness is a condition for God’s work, not a hindrance. But God’s work doesn’t make him feel any less weak. We have a picture of this working in 2 Corinthians 4: “For we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you” (vv. 7-12). What Paul experiences, what he feels, is his own weakness. And, at the same time, he sees God working in ways that he can’t explain, doing things that Paul could never accomplish himself.
Part of the problem with the people in the movie is that they were on the wrong track. They were looking for the wrong thing. They wanted God to give power to them, so that it would be theirs to use. The reality is that God uses us in our weakness. We still feel weak, because the power remains His. “We have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.”
God often gives us a strong sense of His presence at the beginning of our Christian life, to help us get started in following Him, and to help us make a strong break with our past. But I’ve known many Christians who go to great lengths trying to reproduce these feelings, who become dependent on them. Much contemporary worship, with its emphasis on creating the right kind of mood, is doing this very thing. During Lent one year I read The Dark Night of the Soul, by St. John of the Cross, a Spanish Christian who lived in the 1500's. One of his major points is that God doesn’t want us seeking a certain way of feeling; He wants us to seek Him. So, after awhile, He begins to lead us through times of dryness, when we feel nothing of His presence, to teach us to walk with Him obediently by faith. The demand for exhilarating worship experiences is not a mark of spirituality; it’s a sign of immaturity. In its worst forms, it leads to the kind of excess and inconsistency that are portrayed in “The Apostle.”
Notice how Isaiah answers their questions, in verse 28: “Do you not know?” He begins with theology, reminding them of the truth. The people in “The Apostle” began with experience, with trying to arrive at a certain way of feeling. That’s the wrong place to start. Our problem is very often that we’ve forgotten the truth. Our eyes have become clouded. Satan has sidetracked us and deceived us, and we’re no longer thinking clearly. So our first need, in this situation, is to be reminded of the truth.
What is the truth? “The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.” He’s been telling them this all through the chapter. “Who has scooped up the ocean in his two hands, or measured the sky between his thumb and little finger, Who has put all the earth’s dirt in one of his baskets, weighed each mountain and hill? Who could ever have told God what to do or taught him his business?” (vv. 12-13, The Message). God knows all about their situation, and He has the power and wisdom to come to their help. They’ve lost sight of who God is. He goes on later in the chapter: “Have you not been paying attention? Have you not been listening? Haven’t you heard these stories all your life? Don’t you understand the foundation of all things? God sits high above the round ball of earth. The people look like mere ants. He stretches out the skies like a canvas–yes, like a tent canvas to live under. He ignores what all the princes say and do. The rulers of the earth count for nothing. Princes and rulers don’t amount to much. Like seeds barely rooted, just sprouted, They shrivel when God blows on them. Like flecks of chaff, they’re gone with the wind” (vv. 21-24, The Message).
God knows everything that is going on, and He has enough power and wisdom to deal with the situation. The problem is not with their feelings, but with their understanding. They need to begin by remembering who God is. Jesus reassures His disciples in the same way: “Don’t be afraid of those who want to kill you. They can only kill your body; they cannot touch your soul. Fear only God, who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Not even a sparrow, worth only half a penny, can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to him than a whole flock of sparrows” (Matthew 10:28-31, NLT). He reminds them of the truth about God, their Father.
Having reminded the people of the truth, Isaiah now urges them, in verses 29-31, to wait on God, to hope in Him and look to Him for help. It doesn’t help to know that God is all-powerful, unless we know that He is also inclined to help His people. So Isaiah tells them, in verse 29, “He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.” Those who are weary don’t have the strength to work themselves into a frenzy that makes them feel like they’ve received God’s power. In my early Christian life, I learned to pray with lots of energy and fervor, and I believe I was often guilty of the kind of counterfeit experiences I’ve been describing. But in 1978, while I was in Nepal, I came down with hepatitis, and for a long time I just didn’t have the physical strength to pray in that way. For awhile, it destroyed my spiritual life, but eventually I had to rethink my assumptions about prayer.
Often we aren’t aware of our own weakness, so Isaiah reminds us, in verse 30: “Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall.” Even at the height of our strength, we are weak and needy. It’s not those who feel strong, but those who hope in the Lord who experience His power. The word translated “hope,” in verse 31, includes three things: 1) a sense of expectation and certainty; 2) a willingness to wait patiently; 3) a sense of rest and trust (Alec Motyer, The Prophecy of Isaiah, p. 308). Knowing the truth enables us to hope in Him. Knowing who God is, knowing that He is all-powerful, and that He possesses all wisdom, and that He is faithful in coming to the rescue of His people, enables us to wait on His time. It’s His work, not ours. We may not feel very triumphant. But He is faithful, and He is more than able to fulfill His promises: “The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever” (v. 8). We can rest in Him and wait expectantly, because it doesn’t depend on our arriving at a triumphant state of mind. It depends on the sovereign God, the ruler of the Universe, acting on behalf of His people in faithfulness to His promises. We don’t need to work ourselves into a frenzy, like the people in “The Apostle.” Doing that will get us nowhere. We need to know and believe the truth, and then knowing and believing the truth, we wait expectantly on God.
In the end, the people in the movie were more absorbed with themselves than with God. They were more concerned with arriving at the kind of feeling they wanted than they were with God Himself. What God is calling us to, in this chapter, is to become less absorbed with ourselves and more absorbed with Him. How do we do that? First of all, by following the order Isaiah follows here: we begin with theology, with the truth about who God is. Very often our spiritual problems are the result of an inadequate view of God. J.B. Phillips, who wrote a paraphrase of the New Testament, also wrote a book entitled, Your God is Too Small. This is often the root of our spiritual problems: our God is too small. We’ve lost sight of the God of the Bible and have reduced Him to more manageable proportions. So we need to begin by reminding ourselves of who God is.
I’ve, in the past, suggested several ways to do this, but these things won’t help unless you put them into practice. Our false ideas are usually deep-seated, and they won’t die easily. We need to be willing to expend some effort in this area. Don’t be satisfied with the absolute minimum in your devotional life. If you have devotions in the morning, try getting up 15 minutes earlier, to give yourself a little more time. Sing hymns that worship God for His majesty and glory. Read slowly through Knowing God, by J.I. Packer, or The Pursuit of God, by A.W. Tozer. Just read a page or so each day, as part of your devotional time. Make use of written prayers, like those of John Baillie in A Diary of Private Prayer. Pray regularly through the Psalms. Read prayerfully and meditatively through this passage in Isaiah for the next week or two, asking God to make Himself known to you. Expend some effort, invest some time, in filling your mind with a bigger view of who God is.
Expend some effort, and be diligent, but don’t be in a hurry. God doesn’t work on our timetable. Remember that the word “hope,” in verse 31, includes the idea of patiently waiting on God’s time. Psalm 27 has this same idea. The Psalm begins with great confidence: “The Lord is my light and my salvation–so why should I be afraid? The Lord protects me from danger–so why should I tremble?” The psalmist is confident, but he’s also conscious of danger. He is surrounded by enemies who want to kill him. Here’s how the Psalm ends: “Yet I am confident that I will see the Lord’s goodness while I am here in the land of the living. Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord” (vv. 13-14, NLT). The foundation of his confidence and security is God. But God acts according to His own sovereign wisdom, so the psalmist exhorts us to wait patiently on Him. The people in “The Apostle” were in a hurry. They wanted God to act right away; they expected Him to submit to their desires at the moment. They rushed ahead and produced their own counterfeits, because they weren’t willing to wait for the real thing.
God’s sovereignty means that He is in charge. The God described in Isaiah 40 is not one who will submit to our foolish whims. We can’t command Him to do what we want, and He can’t be manipulated by our clever techniques. He calls us to bow before His Lordship, to fall on our faces in worship and awe. He calls us to exalt Him, and to conform our lives to His will. And then, He calls us to trust in His faithfulness and wisdom to come to our help in His own way and His own time. A.W. Tozer said this: “If we are true Christians this we can know, that the boundless power of our infinite God is all around us, enfolding us, preserving us in being and keeping us unto salvation ready to be revealed. Let us look trustfully to God and expect ‘the working of his mighty power, which he wrought in Christ, when he raised him from the dead, and set him at his own right hand in the heavenly places’” (“The Power of God to Usward, in Born After Midnight, p. 27).
Our feelings of weakness are not a problem. They’re not a hindrance in our spiritual lives. Our feelings of weakness are a necessary condition for learning to trust in God’s power. Acknowledge your own weakness and poverty, and cultivate the fellowship of the One who rules all things by the word of His grace, who is exalted beyond our comprehension, the One before whom every knee in heaven and on earth and under the earth will one day bow. “[His] gracious favor is all you need. [His] power works best in your weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9, NLT).
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