We use the word "holy" a lot. We talk about the Holy Bible or the Holy Ghost, a holy place, or a holy person. Roman Catholics call their pope "His Holiness," which is the title of a book about John Paul II. And we sense that when some things or some persons are called "holy," there is a different aura about them. Somehow they seem set apart from our profane, everyday life, and we are tempted to speak in whispers about them.

 We are not wrong in the way we treat holiness. The root meaning of the word, "to be holy," is to be set apart, to belong to the realm of the divine. A holy person or a holy place is one set apart for God's purpose. Holiness belongs to God.

 So it is that the center of this account by Isaiah of his call to be a prophet in 746 B.C. is that song of the seraphim in verse 3. "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts." In contrast to the intimate nature of God that we noted in the call of Jeremiah last Sunday, this prophetic call emphasizes God's holiness. That is, it emphasizes God's total otherness from the world of human beings, God's qualitative difference from the things of earth, God's unique divinity that belongs to him alone. The God of the Bible is no soul of nature, no spark within human beings, no familiar spirit available everywhere. No. The God of Old Testament and New is other from everything in heaven and on earth, uniquely different, uniquely holy.

 Isaiah says he saw the holy God sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up -- a fantastic statement. Isaiah, in the prophetic ecstasy given to the prophets, has entered the heavenly realm in this account, and is granted a vision of God enthroned in the heaven of heavens that is given to few others, according to the Bible (cf. Exodus 24:10; Numbers 12:8).

 We in our naive curiosity would immediately ask, "What did God look like?" But the appearance of God is never described in the Bible, just as the appearance of Jesus Christ is never described, for no one can see God and live (cf. Numbers 12:20; Deuteronomy 5:25-26). His glory and majesty are too overwhelming for sinful human beings to stand. So in every vision of God, the attention shifts, and only God's surroundings are described.

 Often that description is given in spatial terms. The greatness of God is portrayed by saying he fills everything (cf. Ephesians 1:23). Here in this passage, God's kingly robe fills the heavenly temple; the temple itself is filled with smoke (cf. Revelation 15:8); and God's glory fills the earth (cf. Exodus 40:34-35; Ezekiel 43:5). This God overwhelms everything in his greatness.

 As a result, even the seraphim, those winged serpent-like creatures of fire that are God's messengers, cannot bear to look at the Lord. They are six-winged, and with two of those wings they must cover their faces, and with two they must shield their bodies from the light of God's glory. With two, however, they hover in flight, waiting to speed off immediately at the Lord's command.

 God's otherness is contrasted with all things earthly in this vision. He is other than any earthly king, even when that human king has been as great as Judah's Uzziah. Uzziah had enlarged Judah's territory, expanded her army, and improved her agriculture. But when Uzziah died of leprosy, Isaiah saw the real King, the Lord of heaven and earth. "The King mine eyes have seen!" he cries out (in the order of the Hebrew words), "the Lord of hosts!"

 That King of the universe whom Isaiah sees is also totally other in his moral purity, and over against that absolute righteousness, Isaiah sees his own sinfulness and that of his people. "Woe is me," he exclaims, "for I am lost!" That is, "I am going to die." Measured against the pure righteousness of God, none of us deserves to live. Peter has the same reaction in the Gospel lesson of Luke 5:1-11. "Depart from me," he cries to Jesus, because Peter is sinful, and his sin and the sinless Lord cannot exist together. Is that not always the way we suddenly recognize how far short of the glory of God we have fallen, when we are given a glimpse of the pure goodness of God? And in reaction, do we just try to be rid of God? Or do we fall in repentance at his feet, pleading his mercy?

 Surely, the total otherness of God's mercy toward us is evident, too, in what happens to Isaiah. We would condemn a sinner and think he deserves only punishment, excluding ourselves from the judgment, of course. But not this God of total mercy. His seraph messenger cleanses Isaiah's lips with the burning coal of love, and Isaiah is forgiven by his God and prepared for his prophetic mission. The God who is totally other in his kingly glory over all the earth, nevertheless is totally mercy, paying heed to his individual servant.

 Only then, in the forgiveness of God, can the prophet hear God's voice, and that too is instructive for us. For when we enter into worship before this Holy God, the King of all life, the Lord of hosts, our first act when we realize God's presence in the midst of our congregation is to confess our sins. And only when God forgives our sins in the Assurance of Pardon can we then hear God speaking to us through the Holy Scripture and sermon. Cleansed, given a new beginning by the love and mercy of God, we can then hear plainly what it is that God desires of us.

 Like all the prophets, and indeed, like us, Isaiah is given a task. He is sent to announce God's Word to his people. But the awful Word he has to deliver is one of judgment on Judah's sin. In fact, Isaiah hears that his preaching to Judah will simply make Judeans more stubborn in their rebellion against God, until they deserve even more the judgments that are coming upon them. Isaiah hears from the first that his mission will result in failure! And he cries out in agony, "How long, O Lord?" How long must he preach such a Word?

 Would we undertake ministries for God if we were told from the beginning that they would be failures? Faith, it seems, is always up against opposition, and does not seem to make much difference in our world. After all, our Lord Jesus preached and healed and taught for many months, pouring himself out for God's purpose, and the only reward he seemed to get was an agonizing death on a cross. Christians who dedicate themselves to the service of God can often seem to meet the same fate, their work and words seemingly ineffectual in a world like ours full of wrong.

 But was God's purpose defeated on the cross of Calvary? Was Christ's work a failure in the on-going activity of God? The Epistle lesson tells us otherwise. Christ was raised from the dead and appeared to hundreds. Our Holy God, our majestic King, our Lord of the hosts of heaven and earth, works in a silent, mysterious way toward the establishment of his kingdom on this earth. That which seems weak is shown to be ultimate strength, and that which is failure wins the victory. And so when we hear God saying to us, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" we can with confidence give Isaiah's reply, "Here am I, Lord. Send me."