Meditation On Isaiah

My leather chair squeaks a bit as I try to get comfortable and put my legs up on the footstool. The leather feels good against the skin on my arms and neck. The volume on my music is just loud enough for my failing hearing to distinguish the notes. I don't need to hear the words, those I have memorized years ago. In fact, the words to that hymn have done so much in my soul I could never calculate the impact.

The movement of the music begins my meditation, "Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty."  Words echoed by millions of human beings and untold numbers of heavenly beings. Cherubim and Seraphim's, each in unison proclaiming the unreachable depth of the truth of His Holiness. But, hearts and spirits only have words to try express that which is not fully understandable. Many times we sing with voices that try and express the experience of God's visitation with us. At times there are tears, at times silence as ears listen to others attempt at real expression.

As I listen to the music the story of the prophet and his vision of the Most High comes to mind. Isaiah, a priest, a man dedicated  to serving God, has a vision that is beyond words and human understanding. Oh, if only I could sense the movement of celestial air from the wings of fiery angelic servants. Feel the air move past my face, hear the movement from ears to soul. What did their voices sound like? Even the prophets attempt to describe them must have seemed trite or impotent. How would you describe the anthem that heavenly creatures put voice too? At that moment the prophet must weep for the very weakness of his expression.

The prophet reacts to the scene before him, not in praise, song, worship, nor some noble sounding prayer. He cries out to the host and the endless universe, "Woe is me, For I am undone. My eyes have seen the Lord of Glory." His confession continues and every self-righteous motive in my heart must be consumed. My spirit knows the story so well. The fiery hosts brings the coal from the altar and sears the lips of the prophet. The heat of the coal destroyes every unclean word and intent.

The prophet again must try and describe the voice above all voices, using impotent words that will never be able to describe the scene and sounds. How do you describe the voice of God, His voice that is filled with such power that stars, planets, galaxies to the edge of the ever increasing universe, are brought into present simply at His command. The prophet understands the message from the Almighty. His response indicates that he did not contemplate the message, think of the impact upon his life, he voiced in human terms what the divine revealed to him. "Here Iam Lord, Send me".

In my soft leather chair my soul longs to feel the brush of the angelic wing, the movement of celestial air. My ear longs, strains, yearns to hear that voice. Oh, I have felt the coal and heard the voice many times and I hope my prayer will always be, Lord, let me feel the wing and air and experience the coal till I die.