Isaiah 60:1-6
Robert Ballard, the ocean explorer who discovered deep-sea hydrothermal vents and the wreck of the Titanic, tells a harrowing story of one of his dives in a small submersible. When the sub reached its destination many thousands of feet below the surface, the ballast tank struck something and began to leak gasoline. Because gasoline is lighter than water, it provides buoyancy, and losing some of it threatened the crew’s return to the surface. Ballard recalls that the vessel had a digital readout that calculated, and frequently updated, the ratio of depth to the amount of gasoline remaining. In short, it measured the likelihood of making it back to the surface, and Ballard states that there was such a razor-thin margin of error that a pessimist would assume that the crew would die, and an optimist would expect a narrow escape. Since Ballard lived to tell the story, the glass-half-full submariners won the day.
I find Ballard’s story terrifying but gripping, and I suspect that we are all drawn to such stories of near destruction and escape. After all, that pattern is the foundation of the vast majority of Hollywood films. The action hero is a moment away from cutting the wrong wire on the nuclear device. The romantic lead has spoiled every chance with the love of their life. The team is down by three runs in the 9th inning, and the worst player on the squad, the one with little skill and no confidence, steps up to the plate. The aliens have destructive technology beyond imagining, and humanity seems to be lost.
There may be many reasons why we are so drawn to those narratives of despair and unexpected victory, and I suspect that those reasons are rooted in the deepest part of our humanity. All of us in the course of life will experience terrible depths and terrific heights. The belief that those heights are obtainable, the hope that is sometimes so dimly flickering in our souls, is one of the most vital parts of us. It keeps us in expectation of spring during the heart of winter, and it offers glimmers of light in the midst of darkness.
In Isaiah 60, the collective hope of our faith is on full display in The Message translation:
“Get out of bed, Jerusalem! Wake up. Put your face in the sunlight. God’s bright glory has risen for you. The whole earth is wrapped in darkness, all people sunk in deep darkness, But God rises on you, his sunrise glory breaks over you. Nations will come to your light, kings to your sunburst brightness.” Isaiah 60:1-3 (MSG)
In this heart of winter, when our lives can seem so complicated and our world so broken, what a gift to be reminded that God rises like the sun upon us.
Questions for Reflection:
- What do you do when darkness gets the better of you? What family, friends, physical or spiritual practices do you turn to for light?
- How would you describe the feeling of hope after a period of darkness or despair?
Prayer:
Lord of Light, we don’t understand why the darkness can be so overwhelming. In those times, please fan the spark of hope you offer, and bring us into the relief and joy of the light. Amen.
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