The desert and the parched land will be glad;
the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus, 2 it will burst into bloom;
it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.
The glory of Lebanon will be given to it,
the splendor of Carmel and Sharon;
they will see the glory of the Lord,
the splendor of our God.
3 Strengthen the feeble hands,
steady the knees that give way;
4 say to those with fearful hearts,
“Be strong, do not fear;
your God will come,
he will come with vengeance;
with divine retribution
he will come to save you.”
5 Then will the eyes of the blind be opened
and the ears of the deaf unstopped.
6 Then will the lame leap like a deer,
and the mute tongue shout for joy.
Water will gush forth in the wilderness
and streams in the desert.
7 The burning sand will become a pool,
the thirsty ground bubbling springs.
In the haunts where jackals once lay,
grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.
8 And a highway will be there;
it will be called the Way of Holiness;
it will be for those who walk on that Way.
The unclean will not journey on it;
wicked fools will not go about on it.
9 No lion will be there,
nor any ravenous beast;
they will not be found there.
But only the redeemed will walk there,
10 and those the Lord has rescued will return.
They will enter Zion with singing;
everlasting joy will crown their heads.
Gladness and joy will overtake them,
and sorrow and sighing will flee away.
In sharing this, I am sensitive to the fact that for many, even the mention of “The Bible” produces a deeply defensive response – a sense of feeling judged or condemned, righteous anger regarding hypocrisy, a sense of frustration at how Christianity, in American culture, can be presented as though it is the ubiquitous belief system, and as though no other belief systems exist. For those who may fall into this camp and are still reading, I would like to say that I do not offer these words from the book of Isaiah in the above spirit. Rather, I offer these words because they, in their poetic imagery and powerful metaphor, refreshed me in a moment of deep anxiety.
What’s more, after reading and re-reading these words of Isaiah 35 yesterday, I awoke this morning to, of all things, rain in the desert. Not just any rain, but a solid hour of deeply quenching early-spring downpour after 3 straight months with scarcely a drop. My ears could not believe the sound…I laughed so that I practically cried. I threw on my flip-flops and slicker and, wearing only a skirt and short-sleeved shirt beneath, ran out into this new, wet world. To my surprise, it was barely 40 degrees out and the rain was icy-cold as it ran down my bare legs and splattered my feet. What a miraculous feeling, sound, smell…the peace, the power, the envelopment of a rainstorm.
My day has not been the same since. If it can rain in the desert after three parched, brittle, brown months, then perhaps anything is possible, including a graceful outcome to our own anxiety-inducing situation. I could not deny the synchronicity of having read those words in Isaiah just the day before, and then waking to this improbable desert shower, which the weatherman had assured us would not reach our southeastern corner of the state. I will take my levity and my hope where I can get them. They are gifts I surely did not expect, and likely do not deserve, given the way I allow worry to drag me down from time to time. But here they were – levity and hope – literally raining down on me as I rose to greet the day.
Credence Clearwater Revival: "Have You Ever Seen the Rain?"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gu2pVPWGYMQ&feature=kp