Divine Glory and Human Weakness: A Reflection on Isaiah 6.1-8

When I was in my late teens, and was at the peak of my interest in the charismatic movement, I had an experience of being ‘slain in the Spirit.’ While I don’t know what to make of that experience looking back, still there’s nothing quite like being pinned to the floor for a half hour to get one’s youthful attention. I knew without a doubt that there was something in the world that was greater than my mere mortal self. So, if nothing else it was an unforgettable lesson in humility. I often think of this when I read Isaiah 6.1-8, which recounts Isaiah’s powerful prophetic calling in the form of a theophanic vision. In terms of humility-inducing experiences, it’s of the most intense in the Scriptures (rivaled only by Paul’s ‘Damascus Road’ experience). And I think that’s important, not only for Isaiah’s ministry and legacy, but also for Jesus’s, and therefore our own.

The passage starts like this: In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the LORD sitting on a throne, high and lofty.” I have never given too much thought to this beyond it being place-setting, but I wonder if it may actually be more instructive than that. It’s always interesting to me just how badly monarchy worked out for Israel and Judah. God had warned them it was a bad idea, but relented when they insisted on having a king. But it was a bit of a disaster from start to finish. Even the kings of great renown messed up significantly — David’s reign was marked by perpetual civil war, and his own predatory behaviour towards a loyal man’s wife left him without permission to build the Temple; and Solomon let his pursuit of wisdom and culture get the best of him, with bad results by the end of his reign. And these were the good kings! King Uzziah was no exception to this rule of royal disappointment. As told in 2 Chronicles 26, he was a capable ruler, particularly astute in matters of national security. But he let his arrogance get the best of him. He stormed into the Temple insisting on making a sacrifice that was the purview of the priests alone. So great was the offense that he was immediately struck with leprosy and forced into retirement away from the palace and temple. No matter what good he might have done during his reign, by his death Uzziah had become a symbol of the willful, entitled, arrogance known as hubris.

There is little as frightening or damaging in the world as someone with real power and no humility, who has, as the expression puts it, ‘no shame’ — no sense of their fallibility, no awareness of their weaknesses, and dead set on accomplishing their goals no matter the cost to others. For David it was his lust for Bathsheba. For Solomon it was an insatiable lust for more — not being satisfied with his military strength, wealth, and concubines, he kept expanding them, and lost sight of his primary commitments in the process. And here, centuries later, Uzziah refuses to acknowledge the limits of his authority. Where there is no humility in the face of power, bad things follow.

So, I think it’s telling that it’s when this earthly king who had been struck down for his lack of humility dies that Isaiah sees a vision of the heavenly King enthroned in all God’s glory. The false king (as though any human could deserve the title!) who pretended to unlimited power is dead. The real heavenly King then appears to Isaiah. The text continues:

… and the hem of his robe filled the temple. Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. And one called to another and said: “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.” The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke.

And I said: “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” (Isaiah 6.1-5)

Where Uzziah had burst into the Temple resting on his own inflated sense of self-importance, here Isaiah is invited into the heavenly Temple and responds with the appropriate awe and fear of God. Encountering the transcendent God made him completely aware of his sins and those of his people. I’m more and more convinced that this is no small thing. When we see real power, are we humbled by it and duly recognize the necessity of using it cautiously, knowing it can do as much evil as good? Or do we see it as an opportunity to re-create the world in our own image, in accordance with our own whims?

The story continues with this famous interaction:

Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. The seraph touched my mouth with it and said: “Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.”

Then I heard the voice of the LORD saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?”

And I said, “Here am I; send me!” (6.6-8)

At that critical juncture in Judah’s history, God needed a trustworthy voice on the ground. And seeing that Isaiah’s first response to all this is to see, accept, and acknowledge the truth of his and Judah’s situations — that is, to repent —  God has found the man for this thankless job. God asks for a volunteer (in this crowd of one) to go and be the divine emissary to God’s people. Isaiah responds with those most faithful of all words, “Here I am. Send me.”

I think it’s safe to say that no one reading this will be given the opportunity to rule over a kingdom, or will be asked to become a prophet. But none of us are powerless in our lives. And we all know that a petty tyrant in middle management or gatekeeping information can do a lot of damage too. Power is not a bad thing — far from it. But we must approach it with all due humility, and commit ourselves to wielding whatever power we are given gently, recognizing that it is not ours to use as we please.