A Cold and Broken Hallelujah

Audio Here

I mentioned at the start of this series, the most difficult aspect of Christianity is servanthood. I would prefer to dance around, shout halleluiah and amen, preaching on the life giving mercy, love, and forgiveness of Jesus, than to face the absolute, undebatable truth, those who follow Christ must be servants to others. They are to roll up their sleeves, get their work boots on, and get their hands dirty helping others get out of the muck of life. It is what Jesus requires of those who wish to follow him. They are to forsake everything and serve as he served, love as he loved, and so on and so forth.

It starts off exciting. The idea of serving others, providing care for their needs, helping others in distress, being a mentor, aiding the sick, feeding those who are hungry, giving a cup of water to the thirsty. It starts off exciting but then one thing happens and another. You realize some people cheat the system and you wonder if the person you’re helping really needs the help. The sick never get better, in fact, it seems they only get worse. There is never a ‘thank you’ or a return investment from those who you help. Slowly, with each day, you become more and more of a cynic, aided by news agencies. The service narrative gets spun into a narrative that condemns the poor and the helpers, while praising billionaires who rob their clients. It is like walking along the beach, and you see one starfish, so you pick it up and throw it back into the water. You walk a few more feet and another washes up on shore, so you pick it up and throw it back.  You walk a little further and another washes up on shore, then another, then another, and all of sudden, what seemed as a noble task has become a redundant, never-ending cycle. Weariness sets in and you just wonder if it is worth it.

Writers call this the middle. It’s the middle of the story in which the character goes through a lull in which they are taken to the edge. It is when the conflict becomes the toughest. Frodo is overtaken by the power of the ring; Superman learns what it’s like to live normal, Rocky loses Mickey, Jesus undergoes the crucifixion. The middle of the story is the most difficult to get through because the end seems so far, the conflict feels unresolvable, and hope starts to fade. It is at that moment we need the tune to change, that word of encouragement to come and raise us up to continue on with our task.

The Lord God has given me the tongue of a teacher, that I may know how to sustain the weary with a word. Morning by morning he wakens—wakens my ear to listen as those who are taught. The Lord God has opened my ear, and I was not rebellious, I did not turn backwards. I gave my back to those who struck me, and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard; I did not hide my face from insult and spitting. The Lord God helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced; therefore I have set my face like flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame; he who vindicates me is near. Who will contend with me? Let us stand up together. Who are my adversaries? Let them confront me. It is the Lord God who helps me; who will declare me guilty? All of them will wear out like a garment; the moth will eat them up. (Isaiah 50:4-9)

In our third song, we learn the chosen servant has been given the tongue of a teacher. He knows how to sustain the weary with a word. Morning by morning, he wakens with his ear to listen as those who are taught. The servant gives his back to his assailants, turning the other cheek to those who strike his face. The servant chooses not to hide. He keeps moving, even when it’s uncomfortable, even when it’s a crawl, the servant keeps moving. The servant believes the Lord God helps him. He believes the Lord God is with him and he will not be disgraced. He believes the Lord God is with him and trusts he will not be put to shame. In his speech, he calls out to those who struggle with him. He reminds the other servants, those who have accepted the call of the Lord to go forth, to be a beacon to the nations, to stand with him. To believe as he believes, to know those who claim to be adversaries will wear like garments left to the moths.

The third song offers a bit of hope. The servant struggles to be heard, he is beaten and abused; yet he holds on to the belief that God will raise him up. We are left to believe others have taken their place beside him, we think we can start to sing, “O victory in Jesus,” yet our final song reminds us that love is not a victory march. It reminds us that not all of God’s tasks end with joyful hallelujah singing, Ms. Andrews, as you cross the Austrian Alps. Sometimes, more often than not, the task of the Lord ends in a cold, broken hallelujah.

See, my servant shall prosper; he shall be exalted and lifted up, and shall be very high. Just as there were many who were astonished at him—so marred was his appearance, beyond human semblance, and his form beyond that of mortals—so he shall startle many nations; kings shall shut their mouths because of him; for that which had not been told them they shall see, and that which they had not heard they shall contemplate. Who has believed what we have heard? And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?

For he grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by others; a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity; and as one from whom others hide their faces he was despised, and we held him of no account. Surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases; yet we accounted him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have all turned to our own way, and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. By a perversion of justice he was taken away. Who could have imagined his future? For he was cut off from the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people. They made his grave with the wicked and his tomb with the rich, although he had done no violence, and there was no deceit in his mouth. (Isaiah 52:13-53:12)

This time the servant will command our attention for much longer than third song. This fourth song is the most elaborate and poignant of them all. This emotional song creeps up on us silently and slowly; suddenly we find ourselves amidst a scene of unrelenting violence. It is as though we were in danger of forgetting, the servant steps forward and reminds us of his central presence. Yet, as when we first met him, the servant is silent. My pastoral heart breaks in the reading of the final servant song. Much like the first one, this song is solely about the servant. The adversaries the Servant spoke of in the third song have finally taken hold. They have cut the servant off from the land of the living. The servant is a cold silent, broken hallelujah.

While our hearts break as we realize the servant had no form or majesty that we should look at him, there is nothing in his appearance that we should desire him, we search for some form of hope. We look for hope in the song of one we held of no account, claiming he is stricken, struck down by God, afflicted for a crime. And it feels like there is none. We return the beach and there lined up in a row are all the starfish washed upon the shore, it feels hopeless.

You’ve been there haven’t you? We’ve all been there at some point. The darkness sets in, hope’s candle flickering, and there is no sign of life. The excitement of life, of service, has worn off. We become bogged down in the middle. It becomes uncomfortable to move, and we need to hear the servant’s words for the weary, because we are weary; yet they do not come. Instead the servant is silent. The servant is beaten, crushed by the oppressor, and all we feel able to do is to slip off our kayaks and sink to the bottom.

It is there in that moment of silence, we feel an honest connection to the servant, and we hear the prophet say, the servant’s silence isn’t overlooked by God. The servant will be exalted and lifted up. It is the kings, the powerful, who will shut their mouths because of him. The ones who are the most powerful and whose speech is most grandiose become powerless and speechless on account of this servant. Although the servant’s mission seems to be a failure, he will attain great success. The crowds turned away not to look at the servant because his appearance was beyond human resemblance. The silence of kings shows us God’s favoring of the least. It is the powerless, oppressed, loser servant who gets lifted up. Those with power are forced to recognize the greatness of someone who is not worth more than a penny.

The powerless, the voiceless are given a voice. They find their voice heard and lifted up, “I have heard the cries of my people.” The Lord says. The Lord God has chosen to lift up and exalt the weak, the broken, the lost, the abused, the hungry, the thirsty, the sick, the addict, the lonely, and the questioner. God brings them up, lays their head to his chest and calls us his own.

Through the servant, God brings the kingdom of God to earth. No longer are the wealthiest, powerful, and influential at the front of the line. No longer do they eat cake and dine at the table of excess while Lazarus sits at the gates, fighting for scrapes with the dogs. No, it the voiceless who are raised up to the front of the line. It is those whose cold and broken hallelujahs who are heard, lifted, and exalted. The ones trampled on by the greediness of life, are given new life in this kingdom. They find themselves sitting a banquet that does not end, and with a well that does not run dry. They stand before the Lord of song with nothing but hallelujah.

Let us be reminded of the voiceless as we wade through the middle. Let us remember those who are silent among their oppressors. The children victimized by our laws of greed and excess. The lost searching for a place where they are welcomed as children of God. The lonely searching for companionship. The hungry searching for food. The hurting searching for compassion. Let us look down the shoreline, and hear the servant say, “Though you may not think you are making a difference. Think of the starfish you just returned to the sea. Do you not think it is grateful?”

Earlier this week, in conversation with other ministers, I was asked to define a successful church. I answered: A successful church is one filled with members who show up to church with their boots covered in mud because they’ve been at work for the kingdom of heaven. Let us wrap the towel of service around our waist and let us get to work. Amen.