Isaiah 35:10 And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away. (KJV)
Isaiah was a prophet who foresaw that in just a few generations, Babylon would come to destroy Jerusalem and topple the temple. And, in truth, Isaiah felt it was about time. The temple had been opened and closed and robbed and humiliated. The rich people were taking advantage of the poor people and then showing up to the temple to be forgiven instead of making things right.
And so maybe it was a good thing that the city was going to be destroyed and the temple was going to be torn down. Because in a way, it already was. To Isaiah, the temple was a pile of rubble long before the Babylonian army would ever arrive. It was no longer the palace of justice or an anchor of humility or a pillar of community that it had once been.
But as he was taking one last look and getting ready to say goodbye, he noticed a small light. There was still something, a remaining beauty. Like the embers of a fire. And Isaiah wanted to grab the ember, to feel if it was hot, to understand how it remained after all this time and through all this wickedness. As he looked at it, it seemed to burn brighter and hotter. Brighter than he could have ever believed possible.
And then he understood. The corruption, the selfishness, and pride, everything that is ugly and vile and bad about people, only made the goodness of God burn brighter, like night uncovering the stars. The worse the people became, the more marvelous God’s generosity shone. And Isaiah understood that while the building was doomed to become a rubble pile, that didn’t mean the temple would be totally destroyed. God had existed here all this time, through all their mistakes and selfishness, and he’d continue to exist after Babylon.
And so Isaiah took the charcoal and opened a notebook, and used the charcoal like a pencil to write about the amazing persistence of God. He wrote about his charity and grace and forgiveness that burned brighter and brighter, even as the people became worse and worse. He wrote about God’s commitment and promises. And he wrote about a future day when Jerusalem would return.
Because Jerusalem was not just a city they called home. It was supposed to be the City of God, which was more than a city. It was a piece of heaven on earth. A place where people lived together in love and mercy and justice. Where there was no crime and no reason for crime. Where people who became poor were raised out of poverty. Where women who lost their husbands were cared for. Where people who got sick were healed. Where children were loved and cherished. Where people didn’t fight, or steal, or hate. Where people worked and laughed and lived together in a community that really was a community.
It was a big idea. Maybe an impossibly big idea. But Isaiah still believed in it. Because it was also more than an idea. It was a mission, given to them from God. It was the project of making a place where God and his people could be together. And at the center of the city was the temple, the place where heaven and earth touched. And God could come down and live with them there. And they would be his people, and he would be their God.
And Isaiah wrote about God’s temple, his kindness, his persistence, and everything else he could think of. And he wrote as beautifully and powerfully as he could, filling his pages with poetry and promises and descriptions of God. And some people read his writings, and the words were so beautiful that the people began to cry.
And they thought, “Maybe Isaiah is right. Maybe the city and the temple were about to be destroyed. But maybe that didn’t have to be the end. Maybe,” they thought, “God can stay even after everything is burnt and ruined and destroyed. Even when we don’t have a tent or a temple, maybe God can still live in our stories. Maybe we can keep a sliver of God with us the same way we keep a flower, pressed between the pages of a book.”
And so before the Babylonians came, Isaiah’s readers gathered all his writings and all the other prophets’ sermons and the family histories. They called it Project Emmanuel, which means “God with us.” And they put all the sermons and stories together in a book, and they left blank pages at the end for more. And when the Babylonians came and destroyed the city, when they toppled the temple and carried the people away into new towns and new civilizations, the people took the book with them.
And they would read the stories together at night. And the characters created constellations in their minds so that wherever they traveled, they could know where they were and who they were and whose they were. And this is how they carried God with them. They heard echoes of God in their stories. And they learned from their stories how to be God’s people.
When they were hungry, they read about manna. When they were thirsty, they read about Rebekah at the well. When they were angry, they read about Jacob and Esau. When they were lonely and thought God had forgotten all about them, they read about Hagar. When they were weak and insecure, they read about Moses and Aaron. And whatever they read, they read about God.
And this is how they persisted. This is how their embers continued to burn. This is how they remained a people and maintained their mission.
And the mission was a new Jerusalem. Someday they would return. They’d rebuild the city and its temple, and God could come out from the pages of their stories and live in his temple once more. And the people would try again to create the City of God. But they’d do it better this time, armed with experience and everything they had learned from the book.
And when they had done it, when they finally created a city where everyone was free, and kind, and cared for, and happy, the people would call the city Zion. Because Zion is the city where God lives. And it’s always under renovation. A new neighborhood here, a new road there. It is growing, expanding, reaching outwards towards the entire world. And one day, the oceans will be its highways, and all ports will be its entrances, and every person everywhere will live and thrive in the city Zion. And on that day, earth and heaven will come together. And God will walk out from his temple and breathe the fresh air. And his breath will bless the flowers and bushes and cheeks of the people. And his shoulders will hold up parliaments. And his feet will walk the streets.
Which is to say, the temple will no longer be on Zion or in Zion. But Zion will be the temple. And on that day, the stars will be its vaulted ceilings and the forests and the mountains its rooms. And angels and people will sing new songs. And everyone, everywhere, angels, people, and even God, will call it home.
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