Isaiah 1:1-31 · A Rebellious Nation
True or False?
Isaiah 1:1-31
Sermon
by John W. Wurster
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“Hear the word of the Lord, you rulers of Sodom. Listen to the teaching of our God, you people of Gomorrah” (1:10; cf. Genesis 19).

Sodom. Gomorrah. Remember? Places of wickedness, of violence, of perversity. Do you know any place like that? Places where sexuality is twisted and relationships are corrupted and social order is breaking down? Places where people seek to gratify personal desires at the expense of others, where individual pursuits take precedence over common well-being, where anything goes as long as it feels good?

Have you been to Sodom lately? I wonder if you’d recognize it. People spend lots of time and even more money pursuing pleasure. Sex has become a social craze. The most intimate of actions are widely displayed and intensely viewed. The society seems to demand a constant supply of bodies to watch and pursue. Voyeurism is rampant. Lust is a commodity. Sex pervades the marketplace, the politics, the entertainments of a culture whose indiscretions have no boundaries. That’s what Sodom has become. Can you imagine such a place?

Then there’s Gomorrah. Have you noticed what has been happening there? The violence just seems to increase, or at least it seems to be moving in a new direction. It’s taken a more public form. People now are being attacked in places where they work or where they go to school. That’s right, even children are being affected. In fact, sometimes the perpetrators are children themselves. Some say it’s because weapons are more easily obtained; others say that families are under too much pressure economically or that religion has become ineffective. It’s hard to say what it is, but Gomorrah is a place that seems much less safe than it used to be.

Do you know any place like Sodom and Gomorrah? A place where people are so busy looking out for themselves that their collective life suffers from neglect, where differences are heightened so that they become divisive, where conflict is stoked until it becomes hatred? A place where people are quickly judged and pigeon-holed, where righteousness is fine as long as it’s profitable, where justice is ignored because it might mean giving something up? Do you know that place? Have you been there? Have you been to Sodom and Gomorrah?

“What to me is the multitude of your sacrifices? says the Lord; I’ve had enough of burnt offerings ... I cannot endure solemn assemblies ... Your appointed festivals my soul hates; they have become a burden to me, I am weary of bearing them” (1:11, 13, 14).

Know anybody whose religion is like that? People going through the motions, people who worship half-heartedly, part-time, with little investment and less intentionality? Folks mindlessly wandering through the rituals, disinterested spectators of a stale drama, who come out of convenience or duty or even habit, but rarely out of expectation or need. Bludgeoned with allegedly pious words and sacred acts, God is pacified, not glorified. Rather than anticipating being swept up by something, someone bigger than themselves, worshipers assemble as if they had some place they’d rather be, as if they were marking off a checklist: God — “check.” Worship — “check.” What’s next? Know anybody whose religion is like that?

People who speak all the right words but live all the wrong lives, who make the right appearances for the wrong reasons, who think God can be bought off with a meager gift. “Kill a goat, sacrifice a lamb, give a dollar or two. That ought to be good enough.” Know anybody who thinks of God that way?

Dress up. Show up. Sit there quietly. That’s all God wants. Be sure and get there on the special days. Watch the show. Get up. Go out. Forget about it. Get on with your life. Know anybody with that approach to religion?

Mouth the words. Learn the code. Maintain the facade. Cast opinions and personal preferences in the garb of God’s will. Clutch at God like a good luck charm, something to touch superstitiously, childishly to keep bad things from happening. Pretend that outside the sanctuary God doesn’t exist. Make believe that what goes on during the week is your own business. Admit no connection between in here and out there. Just as long as you’re in your place when the service starts, who cares what happened since your last visit? Kill a goat, sacrifice a lamb, give a dollar or two — and everything else will be forgotten, right? Give God a little bit and then get on with the more important things.

All preaching, no practicing. All talk, no walk. All words, no deeds. All fluff, no stuff. All show, no go. Do you know anybody whose religion is like that?

“Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean; remove the evil of your doings from before my eyes ... Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be like snow ... If you are willing and obedient, you shall eat the good of the land” (1:16, 18).

Do you know a God who would make such an offer, a God who would do such an extraordinary thing? Do you know a God unwilling to give up, a God who offers another chance? It’s a God with high standards, to be sure. A God who is affronted by evil, who abhors unrighteousness and injustice, who stands on the side of the oppressed, the orphan, the widow (1:17). A God who cannot think of worship as separate from service, who knows that faith without works is dead, who demands continuity between what happens inside and outside the sanctuary. A God who hates sin, but won’t stop loving sinners. Do you know a God like that?

A mysterious God, above our manipulations and outside our control, a God who will not be cast in our image. Above us, before us, beyond us. Around and behind and within us. Far, yet near. Close, yet distant. Do you know a God like that?

Not a weak god. Not disinterested, nor distracted. Demanding, but not coercive. Patient, but not forgetful. A down-to-earth God. A God come right down to earth to show us, firsthand, how to live, how to love, how to laugh and cry and heal and serve and worship. A God come right down to earth to suffer and rejoice with us, to hear our cries and heal our hurts and help us in our weakness. Do you know a God like that? An awesome God, a powerful God, a God who will not let go.

Not a narrow god, not an exclusive god, not a god of tight boundaries, and silly rules. Not a god who can be tricked by pretensions or duped by appearances. Not a god of pettiness nor of politics nor of politeness. A God who will peek around the corners, who can see around the facades, who can sift out the fake and the phony from those sincerely seeking. Do you know a God like that?

A God tolerant of doubts, a God not afraid of questions, a God unthreatened by struggle and search. A God secure in identity, willing to wait for us to discover our own identities and knowing where that quest will end. A God who has prepared good things for us, who bids us to eat the good of the land, to experience the goodness of life. A bountiful God, abundant in mercy and grace. God of the ages and God of these days. Do you know a God like that?

A God of redemption, of forgiveness, of new life. A God who can take away sin, who can wash away iniquity, who can clothe us afresh and fashion us anew. A God offering a hand to hold, a path to follow, a way to go. Not always a way that is easy or lucrative or painless, but a way that is good and holy and right. A God yearning to show us that way, and guide us, befriend us, and protect us on that way. A God who is steadfast and sure, solid and strong. Do you know a God like that?

Maybe this passage of Scripture is too old, too obscure and just plain too irrelevant. But if places like Sodom and Gomorrah exist, places where perspectives are short-sighted and people are self-absorbed and immediate gratifications are all that matter; and if religion is more about paying dues than paying attention, more about convenience than conviction, more about entertainment than eternity; and if there really is a God unimpressed by our fancy words and flashy festivals, a God unrelenting in the quest for justice and righteousness, a God willing and able to cleanse and forgive — if all of that is true (and I believe it is), then what are we doing with our lives?

Why are our values so warped and our priorities so wrong? Why is our worship so half-hearted and our service so lackluster? Why do we so easily accept that the way things are is good enough? Why do we tolerate the poverty of this neighborhood not to mention the poverty of our own souls? Why don’t we take a stand against hate and bigotry in all of its ugly forms? Why do we continue to trust in ourselves when the works of our own hands only end in our destruction? Why do we expect God to do nothing but endorse our own pursuits and desires? Why do we not look to be changed, redeemed, cleansed, forgiven? Why do we not give ourselves, heart and mind and spirit, to growing in faith and hope and love?

If this passage is true, there are many things that are false. May God grant us the wisdom and the courage to discern who we are and who we might become.

CSS Publishing Company, What If What They Say Is True?, by John W. Wurster