With vivid imagery, the prophet Isaiah describes the contrast between frail humanity and our everlasting Creator. You can read his poetic prophecy for yourself in Isaiah 40…or settle for my meditations from the chapter below…or both.
Fragile blades,
Dew dripping
At sunrise.
By the time
Sun climbs
Mid-sky,
Withered clippings.
A million slender strands,
Cut off without thought,
Scattered by slightest breeze,
To decay, to rot,
Return to dust.
The place they just
Were severed…
Refilled next dawn
With new wisps of green,
Like they were never gone.
A field aflame
With hues of red,
Speckled yellow,
Spots of blue.
Summer plains
Attract, invite,
Inspire, impress,
Until most inglorious
Whirling blades invade.
Cut off beauty,
Colors fade,
Petals shrivel,
Absorbed again
By earth that birthed them,
A season of beauty
Replaced by barren dirt.
Fragile man.
We think ourselves
Core of our world.
We are fixed.
We foolishly expect
To chart the orbits
Of our universe,
Settled at the center of history,
Surely
We are,
Each of us,
Irreplaceable,
Indispensable,
Within the sphere of our domain.
Not so.
We grow
And wither in a day,
Refilling space
Occupied by
Others before,
Our moment replaced
By others behind,
Millennia’s line,
Like blades of grass.
But we create –
We build, cultivate, innovate.
We change the world
With new ideas,
Miracles and marvels,
Cities and civilizations –
Those endure.
Until they don’t.
Scythe of time passes by,
Reducing glory to ruin.
Revolutionary Roman aqueducts
Become artifacts,
Employing archeologists
But globally replaced
By the new wonder
Of spinning motor
And plastic pipes.
Why do we think
Our empires will last forever?
History is littered
With the rubble
Of crumbled conquerors,
Conquered and cut off
Like wildflowers.
Only One stands forever,
Indispensable, the center,
Origin, and destination of history.
The ground from which our lives grow,
The sun, the dew, the wind that blows.
The Master, meticulously placing
Every blade of grass within His cosmos,
Unconquerable Conqueror.
Behold, your God.
With strength He comes,
And shepherd’s rod
To guide and gather
Scattered flock:
Fragile man,
Once dispersed at His breath,
But carried home upon His breast.
Deep oceans measured in His hand,
The vast expanse of sky
Marked off with one span.
All the dust of earth –
Man’s substance too,
To which we soon return –
He knows its volume
And its weight.
Himalayan, Andes, Pamir ranges
Monolithic arid peaks
Hold up the sky, it seems,
And bid fragile man beware.
All who seek a summit in the clouds
Find beauty, glory, danger there.
Muddy jungle mountains
At a distance, masquerade
As softer rolling hills of green,
But all who walk those trails have seen
The might of mountains
Mocking fragile man.
But God?
He weighs every mountain and hill
Together in His scale.
Nations that rage and rise today
Will not remain.
All empires combined
Are like one drop of water
To the One Who holds
All oceans in His hand.
No dimension, no amount
Of measure can define
The Spirit of no limit.
All the wisdom of the sages
Adds no value
To his counsel –
Just, Discerner of the ages.
Incomparable his might,
The timeless reach
Of his eternal life,
No beginning and no end.
Our lives, planted, sown,
And taking root to grow,
Quickly faint and fade
Within that span
Of His Almighty hand.
We have not known,
We have not heard,
The grace and wonder
Of this word:
The crumbled ruin
Of our best inventions
Holds a promise for some good
Within the working
Of His wise intentions.
We fall,
Hearts and bodies weary
With the weight
Of our weakness.
He calls,
Summons us to wait
For Him.
The everlasting God, the Lord,
Creator of heaven and earth –
Treasures the weak,
Empowers the faint,
Reaches with might
For exhausted, fragile man.
Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard,
That the everlasting God, the LORD,
The Creator of the ends of the earth,
Fainteth not, neither is weary?
There is no searching of his understanding.
He giveth power to the faint;
And to them that have no might
He increaseth strength.Even the youths shall faint and be weary,
Isaiah 40:28-31
And the young men shall utterly fall:
But they that wait upon the LORD
Shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings as eagles;
They shall run, and not be weary;
And they shall walk, and not faint.
