A Little Here, A Little There: Ashley Palmer
“Who does the LORD think we are?” they ask.
“Why does he speak to us like this?
Are we little children,
just recently weaned?
He tells us everything over and over—
one line at a time,
one line at a time,
a little here,
and a little there!”
So now God will have to speak to his people
through foreign oppressors who speak a strange language!
God has told his people,
“Here is a place of rest;
let the weary rest here.
This is a place of quiet rest.”
But they would not listen.
So the LORD will spell out his message for them again,
one line at a time,
one line at a time,
a little here,
and a little there,
so that they will stumble and fall.
They will be injured, trapped, and captured.
Therefore, listen to this message from the LORD,
you scoffing rulers in Jerusalem.
You boast, “We have struck a bargain to cheat death
and have made a deal to dodge the grave.
The coming destruction can never touch us,
for we have built a strong refuge made of lies and deception.”
Therefore, this is what the Sovereign LORD says:
“Look! I am placing a foundation stone in Jerusalem,
a firm and tested stone.
It is a precious cornerstone that is safe to build on.
Whoever believes need never be shaken.
I will test you with the measuring line of justice
and the plumb line of righteousness.
Since your refuge is made of lies,
a hailstorm will knock it down.
Since it is made of deception,
a flood will sweep it away.
I will cancel the bargain you made to cheat death,
and I will overturn your deal to dodge the grave.
When the terrible enemy sweeps through,
you will be trampled into the ground.”
(Isaiah 28:9-18, NLT)
Indeed, God speaks to us one line at a time. A little here, a little there. We have to hear the same things over and over. The same truths about God’s love for us, and the same truths about how futile it is for us to try, every single day, to cheat death and to dodge the grave. So many things we do, though small and seemingly insignificant, are attempts at cheating death. Building up wealth so as to leave an earthly legacy. Pursuing things that will ensure we’ll be remembered after we die. Throwing ourselves into whatever keeps us busy, whatever keeps us distracted, whatever gives us momentary pleasure. Treating life as if it adds up to death, which is either something to try to ignore (to dodge) or to cheat.
When we’re tested with the measuring line of justice and the plumb line of righteousness, we individually and collectively fall short. Individually, we do small things every day that aren’t just, that aren’t right. Collectively it’s even worse—we live in an utterly unjust and fallen world. The flimsy refuges of this world won’t stand up to the flood, the hailstorm. And God Himself will cancel our bargains to cheat death. Because cheating death isn’t the way to life.
Life doesn’t add up to death. God has placed a precious cornerstone in this world: Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah of the Old Testament prophecies and the Savior we now know. Only on that cornerstone can we build a real life where we can flourish.
But that’s hard to remember. We have to hear it, one line at a time, one line at a time. A little here, a little there. And sometimes, like the Israelites, we get frustrated about that. Or I certainly do, anyway.
God repeats it three times: here is a place of rest, let the weary rest here, here is a place of quiet rest. Nobody listens though. It seems as though our modern American work-obsessed culture isn’t the only human culture to ever struggle with rest. And the fact that God cares so much about it here is really significant to me. Rest often feels unproductive, useless, frustrating. This week I’ve been forced to rest a lot because I’ve been sick and not really able to think straight. It’s been annoying, because it’s meant that I’ve not had the brainspace to think about my writing. I’ve discerned that writing novels is a calling for me, something that God wants me to do, and I also obviously enjoy doing it. But this week with my head feeling like it’s full of goo, I’ve not been able to use all this sudden free time to write, like I’d prefer, and have instead had nothing to do but a few things: Literal rest (like sleeping), playing the only video game I ever play, and sharing the Gospel with one of my writing friends.
He’s an online friend who lives in Europe. Agnostic, I think. Not much exposure to the Church. But he’s writing a Christian-coded fantasy character, and he wanted to dig into her relationship with forgiveness. He mentioned her feeling like a sinner shouldn’t be in church, and I offhandedly mentioned that, in fact, churches are for sinners because we’re all sinners, and the good news is that we’ve been forgiven. He seemed like he’d never actually heard that, and that it sounded really good, so I expanded upon it a little bit. I don’t know if he’ll ever come to faith (I’ll be praying for him and continuing to talk to him!), but talking so openly about it and him honestly accepting it as good and beautiful was really encouraging to me, especially since I’ve always struggled with really being upfront about my faith. That’s gotten better since I’ve been at The Wesley, though. It encourages me to be more bold and honest with the students this year too. I always need those reminders.
Here, then, in the midst of the busy chaos of the start of the school year, is a place of quiet rest. Let the weary rest here. And if we have to hear it over and over, again and again, a little here, a little there, then so be it. Jesus said that we have to become like the little children, after all; we could do to be a little more humble about our need for repetition. Let us then pursue truth rather than lies and deception. Let us pursue life rather than making deals to dodge the grave. Let us build our lives on the cornerstone of Jesus, for all other ground is sinking sand. Amen.