The phrase that has captured my heart for
this Christmas season is from Isaiah 64:1 – “Oh, that You would rend the
heavens and come down!” I’ve been picturing it as a ripping apart that veil that
so often stands between us and the experience of the Father’s moving amongst
us. Even though the birth of Messiah seemed to most like any other night, the
awesomeness of that event staggers the imagination – if we take the time to
contemplate just how scandalous is that sentence in John 1: “The Word became
flesh”. It was a quiet rending in a way, but the shockwaves still reverberate
through creation. During Jesus’ time on earth there were more dramatic
demonstrations that “rending the heavens” was exactly what God was doing: the
Spirit descending on Jesus at His baptism and the rending of the temple veil at
the moment of His death being the two most obvious. I’m finding it helpful to
read this verse as the culmination of chapter 63, as it is in the Hebrew text.
Or, better yet, read all of Is. 40 to 66 this Christmas. The cries for mercy
and deliverance as they acknowledge their rebellion and the consequent
destruction of Jerusalem tune the heart for a desperate call for God to act.
And He did.
But this rending of the heavens was not just
a past event: There is a future aspect to it as well. In the book of Revelation
the descent of the new Jerusalem is accompanied by the cry, “Look! God’s home
is now among His people! He will live among them and they will be His people.
God Himself will be with them!” (21:3, NLT) The question to us is, are we
hungry for God’s ultimate rending of the heavens, the permanent ripping up of
everything that separates us from Him? Are we desperate for God to make
everything right, as he intended it? Or are we just a bit too comfortable here?
I find that I am prone to a mild satisfaction with the status quo. When that happens, I know that my vision of God’s amazing purposes
is too small. My heart needs to cry out, “Oh! That you would rend the heavens
and come down!” “with eager expectation for the revealing of the sons of God”
(Rom. 8:19), when “the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to
come!" (v. 21)
But what about “until that day”? Is there
any hope of God rending the heavens and coming down in the present, today? Is
our cry only for that full, final consummation of the Kingdom, or can we have a
foretaste of that “rending” today? In a world of gun violence, of terrorism, of
people fleeing from wars and persecution, of unparalleled climate change, of economic
exploitation, of a thousand other ills, WE NEED GOD TODAY! Oh, that You would
rend the heavens and come down! But the cry for God’s presence now, for
Immanuel, is not just in the big crises, but the little things in our own lives
as well: for forgiveness and for forgiving spirits; for hearts that
automatically turn to generosity rather than anxiety over our own well-being,
to compassion rather than willful blindness to suffering; to joy rather than to
criticism; to thankfulness rather than complaining; to love rather than one-upmanship.
I need God today! And the good news is that His promise is not just for 2000
years ago, it is not just for some future return, it is for now. Jesus’
promise, “Behold, I am with you always” is the only hope for entering into the
Shalom that God has prepared for us. And he fulfills this promise through the
Holy Spirit, the deposit guaranteeing that we are not abandoned and that
transformation is possible now. The veil has been rent; the only problem is
that we are so good at rebuilding barriers even though God has broken through ‘the
heavens’ to us. Oh, that you would break through the barriers in my own heart
and come in!
Two things are necessary to live in the
reality of God’s breaking through: repentance born of humility and courage born
of faith. God’s promises will not come true for those who refuse to walk in His
ways. If we go back to the chapters leading up to Isaiah’s cry of “Oh! That you
would rend the heavens and come down!” we see clearly God’s desire for us to
turn from our rebellion and walk in His ways. Not ritual or religion: Even
empty fasting is condemned. Seek first His Kingdom and righteousness. And as
Isaiah and the people of Israel confessed their wandering and remembered how
far they had wandered, it opened the way for the promises, for the promised
breaking through of the Kingdom.
And courage. Courage that believes God’s
promises and that He has not abandoned us, that He is here with us now. Courage
to do things that seem totally foolish and idealistic to the world, to do
whatever God calls us to. To love our enemies. To feed the poor and clothe the
naked. To walk on water. O Lord, rend my heart and come down.
