The Lord is righteous. He has cut the ropes of the wicked. (Verse 4)
"See, My Servant will act wisely. He will be raised and lifted up and greatly exalted. Just as many were appalled at You--His appearance was so disfigured that He did not look like a man and His form did not resemble a human being--so He will sprinkle many nations." God.
Isaiah 52
Ever felt like the enemy of our souls has you by the hair of the head and is jerking you from one place to another. Actually, I hope not. I have, and it was horrific. To feel that you don't have a choice anymore. That you are a slave to someone or something else and must follow the dictates of your captor's wishes even to the extent that you are thrown into circumstances that are no longer of your making. The ropes of the wicked. Snared by the fowler. Shot through the heart. Trapped in the cords that have caught your feet in a tangled web. What to do. What to do.
I know to the world it matters how we got in our messes in the first place. I mean, did we of our own volition do the first slam of meth? Did we toy with the idea of an affair for so long we plunged headlong into it? How many bars did we frequent before alcohol became the medication of choice? So why should God save us? We made our own choices and we should just have to live with them. That is what I love about my God. He sees my predicament and me struggling in the skeins of the spider's treacherous web. And God waits. Watching the scene. Hovering over me in it. Teary-eyed in the empathy of His great heart. There is a thing God needs to hear before He reaches out to me. Before He cuts the ropes of my entrapment. It is this: "Jesus, help me!"
It might seem cruel that God looks on for so long. But the necessary plea of our hearts comes from a point of great sacrifice. Not ours. His. Our delivery from bondage has been bought and paid for. Our "sprinkling" was with the blood of His Son. He Himself bore our sicknesses, and He carried away our pains. But we in turn regarded Him stricken, struck down by God and afflicted. But He was pierced because of our sins, crushed because of our iniquities. Punishment for our peace was put on Him and by His stripes, we are healed (Isaiah 53).
When I'm caught in the throes of sin, beaten with the ropes of the evil one, tied down in my addictions or cast into hell by the demons wishing to destroy my life, I must remember Whose I am. Only that is my salvation. The wicked can never decimate a life that is free from their control. God waits for the acknowledgment that, yes, I am His. Because? Because in His disfigurement and hellish death, Jesus took my place. Because in His resurrection, Jesus set His Spirit free to live in me. Christ is now the preeminent power everywhere. But if I choose to struggle on my own, it means I choose not to acknowledge Him.
There is the story of trappers who go into the jungle to catch monkeys. What they know about this species is that they love shiny objects. Because the hunters know the weakness of the monkeys, they don't need anything more than a mirror in a cage. They wait for the animal to approach and reach into the cage to fetch the glistening mirror, curious to hold it. Once the monkey grasps the mirror in its fist, he can't retrieve the prize because his hand is now stuck in the cage, too big to pass back out of it. But the monkey loves the thing he's grasped. Won't drop it! Won't let go! Captured on the outside of the cage.
If we love our sin--the shiny object, if our entrapment has become our identity, if we won't look to the help that has been bought and paid for, we will languish. If the monkey dropped the thing he loved, the thing he stubbornly held onto that led to his capture, he'd run into the jungle and be free. The thing that captivates us to destruction is what God waits for us to surrender. Those who call upon the name of the Lord will be saved (Romans 10).
If we are trapped by disease or affliction that is not of our own making, we can still be free. For the enemy has no power over those whose lives belong to God. In the midst of every storm, every trial and ordeal, if you've experienced the interior freedom Christ brings, there is literally nothing man can do to you. "I assure you: Everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. A slave doesn't remain in a household forever, but a son does remain forever. Therefore, if the Son sets you free, you will really be free (John 8). That's why we call on Him, the One Who freed us forever, frees us in this temporal world as well. The only name under heaven whereby we are saved--now and forever. The stripes left on our Savior's back from the scourging He received bought us out of slavery. Made peace with God. Set us free! The name, which is above every name, has severed our ties with our slave master! Jesus! Say it! Our Father waits to hear it echo throughout heaven.
"See, My Servant will act wisely. He will be raised and lifted up and greatly exalted. Just as many were appalled at You--His appearance was so disfigured that He did not look like a man and His form did not resemble a human being--so He will sprinkle many nations." God.
Isaiah 52
Ever felt like the enemy of our souls has you by the hair of the head and is jerking you from one place to another. Actually, I hope not. I have, and it was horrific. To feel that you don't have a choice anymore. That you are a slave to someone or something else and must follow the dictates of your captor's wishes even to the extent that you are thrown into circumstances that are no longer of your making. The ropes of the wicked. Snared by the fowler. Shot through the heart. Trapped in the cords that have caught your feet in a tangled web. What to do. What to do.
I know to the world it matters how we got in our messes in the first place. I mean, did we of our own volition do the first slam of meth? Did we toy with the idea of an affair for so long we plunged headlong into it? How many bars did we frequent before alcohol became the medication of choice? So why should God save us? We made our own choices and we should just have to live with them. That is what I love about my God. He sees my predicament and me struggling in the skeins of the spider's treacherous web. And God waits. Watching the scene. Hovering over me in it. Teary-eyed in the empathy of His great heart. There is a thing God needs to hear before He reaches out to me. Before He cuts the ropes of my entrapment. It is this: "Jesus, help me!"
It might seem cruel that God looks on for so long. But the necessary plea of our hearts comes from a point of great sacrifice. Not ours. His. Our delivery from bondage has been bought and paid for. Our "sprinkling" was with the blood of His Son. He Himself bore our sicknesses, and He carried away our pains. But we in turn regarded Him stricken, struck down by God and afflicted. But He was pierced because of our sins, crushed because of our iniquities. Punishment for our peace was put on Him and by His stripes, we are healed (Isaiah 53).
When I'm caught in the throes of sin, beaten with the ropes of the evil one, tied down in my addictions or cast into hell by the demons wishing to destroy my life, I must remember Whose I am. Only that is my salvation. The wicked can never decimate a life that is free from their control. God waits for the acknowledgment that, yes, I am His. Because? Because in His disfigurement and hellish death, Jesus took my place. Because in His resurrection, Jesus set His Spirit free to live in me. Christ is now the preeminent power everywhere. But if I choose to struggle on my own, it means I choose not to acknowledge Him.
There is the story of trappers who go into the jungle to catch monkeys. What they know about this species is that they love shiny objects. Because the hunters know the weakness of the monkeys, they don't need anything more than a mirror in a cage. They wait for the animal to approach and reach into the cage to fetch the glistening mirror, curious to hold it. Once the monkey grasps the mirror in its fist, he can't retrieve the prize because his hand is now stuck in the cage, too big to pass back out of it. But the monkey loves the thing he's grasped. Won't drop it! Won't let go! Captured on the outside of the cage.
If we love our sin--the shiny object, if our entrapment has become our identity, if we won't look to the help that has been bought and paid for, we will languish. If the monkey dropped the thing he loved, the thing he stubbornly held onto that led to his capture, he'd run into the jungle and be free. The thing that captivates us to destruction is what God waits for us to surrender. Those who call upon the name of the Lord will be saved (Romans 10).
If we are trapped by disease or affliction that is not of our own making, we can still be free. For the enemy has no power over those whose lives belong to God. In the midst of every storm, every trial and ordeal, if you've experienced the interior freedom Christ brings, there is literally nothing man can do to you. "I assure you: Everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. A slave doesn't remain in a household forever, but a son does remain forever. Therefore, if the Son sets you free, you will really be free (John 8). That's why we call on Him, the One Who freed us forever, frees us in this temporal world as well. The only name under heaven whereby we are saved--now and forever. The stripes left on our Savior's back from the scourging He received bought us out of slavery. Made peace with God. Set us free! The name, which is above every name, has severed our ties with our slave master! Jesus! Say it! Our Father waits to hear it echo throughout heaven.
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