Do Not Fear, Beloved! (Isaiah Speaks to the Discouraged Church)
Photo by Michael Schofield on Unsplash
In Global Methodist circles, we are still rejoicing over the glory and grace that bathed our recent General Conference (GC) in Johannesburg. Even for those of us watching from afar, the beauty of holiness was palpable. The richly diverse worship of a truly global church and the Spirit-infused unity in the midst of that diversity gladdened our hearts. But post-GC, I’ve noticed an interesting little phenomenon when talking with pastors and lay people in the North American wing of our global connection. In the midst of sincere rejoicing, there comes a pause, sometimes just a momentary hesitation, often accompanied by a sigh or a brief downward look. Probing that pause reveals a common thread: a significant number of churches (and their pastors) in our neck of the woods are discouraged. There’s a hint of wistfulness as they contemplate the exuberant growth of the GMC in other parts of the world, because their own ecclesial and missional reality looks so different. And when you peel away that thin layer of wistful longing, underneath lurks anxiety about the future.
One of my seminary students has been doing a deep dive into the symptoms and causes of anxiety in our culture, pondering how Christian discipleship might respond adequately to the epidemic of fear. Our conversations prompted me to ask a question of a virtual assistant (something I do from time to time, just to familiarize myself with AI’s “voice,” in order to distinguish it from typical student writing). The prompt was simple and broad: “Why are people afraid?” The basic answer was quite interesting: we are fundamentally afraid of the unknown. The things that keep us awake at night are unpredictability, lack of control, and the possibility of social rejection. The artificial intelligence engine didn’t make that up out of thin air; its answer was the synthesis and summary of all the data that feed into it, both anecdotal and scientific.
The more I thought about it, the more this answer seems to be uncannily accurate. There are certainly concrete experiences and present-tense circumstances (“known” things) that produce high levels of anxiety—the loss of a job, natural disasters, a bad decision that leads to financial stress, the death of a loved one, a strained relationship, a drastic diagnosis, a chronic illness, or, in the case of churches, a seemingly irreversible decline. But what really ramps up our fear in response to those things is not so much the thing itself as the “what ifs” surrounding it—the unpredictability and lack of control related to that thing. What if I can’t find another job? What if our community never recovers from the flood or the fire? What if we have to work until the day we die because we lost our retirement funds? What if I never see that beloved face again? What if the relationship never gets repaired? What if this illness leads to suffering and death? What if the pain never stops? What if our declining numbers lead inexorably toward closure?
It is to a people gripped by terrible anxiety about the future that God speaks fear-banishing words in Isaiah 43:1–7. The prophet’s message comes to a people for whom things were not going well, whose primary language of prayer was lament. For individuals and churches whose prayers struggle to get beyond lament, who feel like their current reality is a wilderness or a kind of “exile,” whose hope for the future is being crowded out by anxiety, the word of the Lord through Isaiah comes to you today.
Isaiah 43:1–7 in context
The passage opens with two strong words of contrast that land with the impact of something written in all caps: “BUT NOW.” This means that we need to back up a bit, to see what was happening in Israel’s experience when they received the message, “Do not be afraid.” What was their “right here, right now” experience when the word of impending radical change arrived?
If we look back at the immediate context, Isaiah 42:14–25, we first hear God himself lamenting passionately over his people. The Lord himself sees Israel’s exile as something to lament! This is not what he desired for them. But because of their persistent rebellion and refusal to walk in covenant relationship with him, the Lord’s own faithfulness to his covenant meant that he sent them into exile in Babylon. In Isaiah 42:24, we hear Israel’s realization of this: “Who allowed Israel to be robbed and hurt? It was the LORD, against whom we sinned, for the people would not walk in his path, nor would they obey his law” (NLT). Israel chose its exile by its refusal to live faithfully within the covenant relationship. This is the message of Isaiah 42 (indeed, of much of the first 42 chapters of Isaiah) and we need to recognize it if we are to hear well the promises of Isaiah 43. Dr. John Oswalt puts it this way: “What befalls them in the Exile will not be the result of God’s failure to deliver them but precisely because he sent them there. . . Because God is the One who sent them into exile, he is fully able to take them back whenever he chooses” (Isaiah, NIV Application, 479–80).
What kinds of anxieties would have been preying on the minds and hearts of these exiles when the message of hope reached them?
Fear that they’d never get home, that exile would be their permanent condition.
Fear that things would never change for the better.
Fear that God’s discipline indicated God’s rejection of them.
Fear that their sin was just too grievous to be forgiven.
Fear that they’d lose their peculiar identity and be absorbed into Babylonian culture.
It is to this people with these anxieties that God speaks three fear-banishing words. And he speaks the same words to his people today. Exile is not the end of the story! Paul Hanson imagines the Exile as “the great Silence,” when it seems like God is no longer speaking (or at least we can’t hear him), into which Isaiah 43:1 comes as a trumpet-like word that shatters the silence and calls for our attention (Isaiah 40–66, Interpretation, 64).
God speaks three fear-banishing words
One of the first things we notice about our passage is that the three words of comfort and hope are set inside the frame of verses 1 and 7. The One who speaks is the One who created, formed, and made them, and that means that his words are trustworthy and true. The words he is about to speak are also sheer grace. That giant “BUT NOW” in verse 1, signaling a radical change for Israel, is born in the heart of God. The promised rescue and restoration do not come because of anything Israel has done or will do, but only out of God’s ceaseless love for them. His commitment to his people is unchanged by circumstances, even the circumstances of our sin. Over and over he offers opportunities for his people to reenter the covenant relationship through confession and repentance.
The first word: “You are mine” (vv. 1–2.)
Could there be a word that is any more breathtaking than this? The God of the universe, the Creator of everything that exists, the King who rules the nations, says to his people: “You. Are. Mine. You belong to me!” This is expressed not in the language of transaction, but of family. To Israel and to us, the King says, “I have called you by name.” That is the language of adoption. Whatever your back story is, whatever labels life may have stamped on you, here’s your new reality: “You belong to the King; his name is stamped on you.” This is reinforced by the parallel phrase, “I have redeemed you.” Again, we should hear this as family language. Walter Brueggemann explains the meaning of redemption: “[It] refers to family intervention and solidarity whereby a stronger member of the family intervenes to assure the well-being of a weaker member” (Isaiah 40–66, WBC, 55). Adoption chooses and calls us by a new name; redemption heals us and makes us safe. Names are changed, stories are redeemed, futures are shaped in the context of love, security, and hope.
The Lord’s past actions of adoption and redemption don’t negate the need for Israel (and the church) to live according to the family likeness. (See David Watson’s recent musings on obedience as the key to church renewal.) That’s what the covenant is all about—living in a way that shapes us more and more into the Father’s likeness, being transformed more and more into the image of Christ (Rom. 8:29; 2 Cor. 3:18)! And therefore, it doesn’t eliminate the need for God’s people to pass through wilderness seasons and purifying fires when we choose to live as if we belong to some other family. But God promises his beloved children that neither the overwhelming waters nor the blazing fires will be ultimately harmful or destructive, because he will walk through them with us: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze” (v. 2, NIV). The presence of the redeeming, adopting Father doesn’t eliminate the “going through,” but it transforms both the experience itself and the outcome.
The second word: “I love you” (vv. 3–4.)
The very heart of Isaiah 43—indeed the very heart of God and the story of his relationship with his people—is found here in verse 4: “You are precious and honored in my sight,...I love you” (NIV). Again, this is sheer grace—God’s people haven’t earned it; this love flows straight from the center of who God is (1 John 4:8).
This deep, fierce love is expressed with a metaphor of exchange: “I give people in return for you, nations in exchange for your life” (v. 4b, NRSV). This metaphor focuses on the incredibly high value that the Lord places on his people. The NIV and NKJV are probably correct to translate the verbs here as future tense, “I will give,” because the ultimate exchange is the one that happens at the cross. God reveals the full depth and breadth of his love: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16, NIV). God’s love and grace reach deeper and extend further than we could ever imagine.
The third word: “Do not fear, because I am with you.” (vv. 5–7.)
Both in the present (the exile, the “known” thing) and in the unknown future, God’s presence is what cuts the rug out from under the tyranny of fear. The future gathering of God’s people is assured by God’s presence. For the exiles, that meant being gathered from far places back to the land of Israel. For those who are in Christ, that gathering extends to every corner of the globe with a destination that far exceeds a narrow strip of land on the eastern end of the Mediterranean. John’s vision of that great gathering and the abiding presence of God with his people soars with hope, using images taken from Isaiah’s prophecy (Rev. 21:1–4; Isa. 65:17–25).
Isaiah’s word to the discouraged church
There is a wonderful hymn, “How Firm a Foundation” (#46, Our Great Redeemer’s Praise) with lyrics taken directly from Isaiah 43:1–7. Contemplation of those three fear-banishing words that God speaks to his people prompts the hymn writer to ask: “What more can he say, church, than to you he has said, to you who for refuge to Jesus have fled?” Indeed, what more can he say, than what he has spoken to us through Isaiah, but even more importantly, through his own Son? The God of the universe has said to his people: “You belong to me! You are my beloved! You are not alone!” And he made the definitive declaration of those truths through the death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus and the coming of the Holy Spirit to dwell with us. If you (singular or collective) have indeed fled to Jesus for refuge, these things are true: You belong, you are beloved, you are not alone. If you (singular or collective) are still trying to navigate the fearful things of life (including church decline) on your own power and by your own understanding (a path that leads to failure every single time), if you’re still trying to be “good enough” for renewal (an impossible task!), then today is the day to flee to Jesus for refuge, redemption, and new life.
God has declared his eternal purpose for the church—to bring glory to himself (Eph. 3:21). He is able, through his mighty power at work within the church—even small, struggling, discouraged churches—to “accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think” (Eph 3:20b, NLT).
Dr. Rachel Coleman is an elder in the Global Methodist Church. She is affiliate professor of Biblical Studies at Asbury Theological Seminary, adjunct professor of NT (Spanish) at United Theological Seminary, and the regional theological education consultant (Latin America) for One Mission Society.