During this year, Banu
and I have quite deliberately entered into a state of transition. (That’s aside from the transition which is
part of life itself.) We are ordained
ministers, who for the first time in our ministry are not pastoring a
parish. (Perhaps we can better
appreciate John Wesley’s quote, “I look upon all the world as my parish.”) To be sure, we now have a different take on
the future. There’s a sense of
adventure—with a dash of unsureness!
In any event, all of
us are presented with versions of the future—some cynical and hopeless, others
confident and hope-filled. There are two
images found in the scriptures which have quite different visions of the
future.
In Isaiah 39, King
Hezekiah of Judah welcomes envoys from Babylon.
Wanting to show that he’s no minor leaguer, he gives them a grand tour;
he shows the wealth that he commands.
The prophet Isaiah hears about the visit, and when he finds out that
they’re from Babylon, he is alarmed. He
warns the king that these boys will not be content to leave Judah alone. In the not too distant future, the
Babylonians will be back, and it won’t be a friendly visit! To underline his point, the prophet says, “Some of your own sons who are born to you shall be taken away” (v.
7).
One
would think the king might take that a bit seriously. However, here’s how the chapter ends: “Then Hezekiah said to Isaiah, ‘The word of
the Lord that you have spoken is good.’ For he thought, ‘There will be peace and
security in my days’” (v. 8).
I
once used this story in a high school baccalaureate service. The message was basically how not to approach the future. Don’t imitate Hezekiah. The king is okay with what Isaiah tells
him. As long as things don’t fall apart
while I’m still breathing, that’s fine!
Let future generations clean up after me.
There
is always the temptation to lose faith in the future, whether we think of it as
our own contribution and responsibility, our trust in promises of God, or
perhaps our collaboration with the unfolding evolution of the cosmos.
If
Hezekiah’s version of the future is unfaithful, we can see a very different
version in the book of Jeremiah. The day
that Isaiah feared has arrived. The tiny
land of Judah has been swept up in the expanding Babylonian Empire. The prophet Jeremiah has warned his people
that fighting the Babylonians is useless.
However, they can still mend their corrupt ways, but that’s not something
many people want to hear. With war, the
destruction of the temple, and people being sent into exile, the future seems
bleak indeed.
His
highly unpopular message has seen Jeremiah forced to endure mocking,
ill-treatment, arrest, and even torture.
More than once, he succumbs to despair.
Nonetheless, he manages to retain a thread of hope.
Nowhere
is that better exemplified than when he sends a letter to the exiles in
Babylon. Though they might
understandably become locked in bitterness, the prophet has a word from God to
inspire confidence in the future. In
chapter 29, the people there are encouraged to embrace what could be called “the
new normal.” The word is to “seek the
welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord
on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare” (v. 7). In a verse whose context is sometimes
forgotten, we hear, “For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord,
plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope” (v.
11).
So
while Hezekiah’s vision of the future may euphemistically be called “blind,”
Jeremiah’s vision is flooded with the burning fire that he says is “shut up
within [his] bones” (20:9).
How
is our vision of the future? Are we
heading toward a dead end? Are we
running on a treadmill? Do we wonder
what we will leave to generations to come?
Do we even think about it?
Do we
greet the new day with joy? (Please note
that I’m not referring to joy as simply an emotional state, but as a spiritual
and deeply aware state.)
Do we long for the future, understanding that the
future begins right now?
