Isaiah 9:2-7
The people who walked in darkness
have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness—
on them light has shined.
You have multiplied the nation,
you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you
as with joy at the harvest,
as people exult when dividing plunder.
For the yoke of their burden,
and the bar across their shoulders,
the rod of their oppressor,
you have broken as on the day of Midian.
For all the boots of the tramping warriors
and all the garments rolled in blood
shall be burned as fuel for the fire.
For a child has been born for us,
a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders;
and he is named
Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
His authority shall grow continually,
and there shall be endless peace
for the throne of David and his kingdom.
He will establish and uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
from this time onwards and for evermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.
1 Chronicles 16:31-34
Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice,
and let them say among the nations, ‘The Lord is king!’
Let the sea roar, and all that fills it;
let the field exult, and everything in it.
Then shall the trees of the forest sing for joy
before the Lord, for he comes to judge the earth.
O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;
for his steadfast love endures for ever.
Joy Like the Ocean
“Deep” is one of those words that conjures up fear in me. I can’t really swim, so deep water is the thing of nightmares, the deep end of the pool a danger zone. And yet, as I read the texts for today, I started singing a surprising song:
I’ve got joy like the ocean. I’ve got joy like the ocean. I’ve got joy like the ocean in my soul.
The ocean is vast, essentially boundless, and DEEP. What does it mean, then, to have joy like the ocean, joy so limitless you can’t see the end, joy that reflects the sunrise and cradles the sunset, DEEP joy?
Naples, Florida on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, February 23, 2017.
Isaiah speaks of “deep darkness,” at least implicitly describing darkness as a fearful and joyless state in which joy comes with the light. This imagery, as beloved as it has been, is fraught with consequences in a culture that has “racialized the terms ‘white’ and ‘black.’” (Read more about this challenge here.)
The dark of the womb leads to birth; the dark of a winter’s night encourages rest. God creates, speaking life into being in the beginning, out of the darkness. Still, I often find the dark as uncomfortable as I do the deep. It’s a space that invites me to trust; to be led by the hand; to breathe deeply and float with the tide.
I don’t want to do it.
I want to make my own way, see the landscape clearly, remain on the shore where I am (in my own mind) in control. And in doing so, I forfeit the joy—the DEEP JOY—of complete reliance on the God whose steadfast love endures forever.
The sea roars its praise; the trees of the field sing for joy. A child has been born for us—wonderful counselor, prince of peace—and the longest night gives birth to untold depths of joy.
Give yourself the gift of closing your eyes, breathing deeply, and resting in the dark of God’s goodness as you listen to these gorgeous songs.