Isaiah 6:1-8
In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. And one called to another and said:
“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts;
the whole earth is full of his glory.”
The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke. And I said: “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”
Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. The seraph touched my mouth with it and said: “Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.” Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I; send me!”
John 3:1-17
Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” Jesus answered him, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?
“Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.
“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”
—
Do you know the difference between ice cream and frozen custard?
This question came up on a long car ride a couple weeks ago. It sparked quite the lively debate between a certain preacher (who shall remain nameless) and a certain youth and family director (who shall also remain nameless).
“Frozen custard doesn’t have air added.” That’s how the debate started.
“Of course it has air in it. You couldn’t scoop it otherwise.”
“But they don’t add air. That’s why it is denser and creamier.”
“But it has to have air. Or the mix would just freeze into a big ice cube made of milk.”
Thank goodness for smartphones, data plans, and and Google.
So, in case you were wondering...frozen custard is defined by three things:
- How much egg yolk is added to the mix (at least 1.4%)
- The quantity of air in the frozen product (which is a smaller percentage than in ice cream), and
- The process by which that air gets into the mix. Which is the misunderstanding that led to our argument.
Anyway. I think that we declared a draw in our argument. Or at least that’s the story I’m telling.
Whether you are eating ice cream or frozen custard, the point remains: you need the air You need the space between each milky ice crystal. It’s the only way that you’ll be able to dip your spoon in for a soft, sweet, creamy bite.
The space is important.
It’s like that with ice cream. And frozen custard. And God, too.
(Back to that in a moment.)
* * *
In some ways our Old Testament and Gospel readings today are a study in contrasts.
God comes to Isaiah, but Nicodemus has to seek out Jesus.
Isaiah sees the presence of God unlimited and filling the temple, but Nicodemus sees the presence of God limited in human form and human mortality.
Isaiah is treated to visions of Seraphs and smoke and burning coals as otherworldly signs and proofs of God’s presence, but Nicodemus struggles to see God in something as seemingly ordinary and this-worldly as a Rabbi speaking confusing words about being born anew.
Isaiah wonders if his unmediated encounter with God will result in his death, but Nicodemus wonders about how an unmediated encounter with Jesus could result in eternal life.
Isaiah is overwhelmed with the glory of God. Nicodemus is underwhelmed and confused with the ordinary presence of God.
Isaiah sees God and thinks, “Wow, God is big!” Nicodemus looks at Jesus and says, “Wow, God is small…”
***
How many of us, when we are looking for God to speak to us, desire an encounter with Isaiah’s God, who dazzles us with visions, whose voice and call are earth-shaking and unmistakable?
How many of us, when we are looking for God to transform our world with love and peace, plead for Isaiah’s God, who swoops in dramatically to cover all things with the hem of his robe?
And how many of us, in our day to day lives, have to settle instead for Nicodemus’s Jesus, who seems limited, ordinary, and vulnerable?
How many of us, like Nicodemus, struggle to see eternal life lurking in small acts of conversation and kindness?
How many of us, like Nicodemus, feel infuriated by a God who doesn’t give us answers, but instead replies to our questions with further questions?
Like Nicodemus, we know Isaiah’s vision. We expect God to be big and powerful and to fill the room with smoke.
Nicodemus wanted to see a big God, but instead had to settle for Jesus. There in the dark, his eyes weren’t yet able to see that it is because God took on the limitation of flesh and mortality in Christ that God was actually making space for more love, more forgiveness, and more life for the world.
Nicodemus couldn’t yet understand that the space around Jesus is as holy as the man himself. And he couldn’t yet appreciate that the space between him and Jesus was holy space for the Spirit to blow through, stirring up new creation all around.
Nicodemus couldn’t yet understand that Jesus was the light of the world, able, like a light bulb in a dark room, to fill the whole earth with light and life.
Nicodemus wanted a big God. He just wasn’t yet ready to see God in the space as well as in the substance.
***
In the rabbinical tradition, there is a Hebrew word, “tzimtzum,” which means contraction, or constriction, or condensation. This word is used to describe how God could create the world. The idea is that God is so big, so all-encompassing, so “filling the temple,” as it were, that in order for God to create the world, God first had to make space for something other than God to exist. Christian theologians call this the “self-limiting” nature of God.
The way that God expands God’s presence in the world is by creating space.
For God to create the heavens and the earth,
for God to be Jesus Christ, Word-made-flesh,
for God to turn death to resurrection,
for God to be the Spirit rushing around and transforming hearts,
for God’s glory to cover the face of the earth
for God to be the fullness of all in all,
for God to create a new heavens and a new earth,
for God to be Alpha and Omega, beginning and end…
God cannot just be big. God needs to create space.
God cannot just be big. God has to be roomy.
There have to be air bubbles.
***
And so we talk about a God who is Father and Son and Spirit. We have a creating God and a human-divine Jesus. We have a redemptive and challenging and creative Spirit blowing restlessly over the waters.
I love that God is so very big that God spills over into three. And I love the idea that in order to be three, God has to create space between each part of God’s self. God is our model of community. God leaves himself space to be God in different ways. And God leaves space for us to be a part of it all, too. That’s just how big God is.
***
So there’s the question, right?
How big is your God?
Or, better put, how roomy is your God?
What of your understandings of faith, scripture, and morality are being expanded by the imagination of the Spirit?
What space are you being called to make at the table, and for whom?
What are you sending out there into the space between you and others? Are you sending forgiveness? Patience? Understanding? Compassion? Hope? Love?
There is so much fear in our world. We don’t like making space when we feel uncertain or threatened. We don’t like leaving room for people or ideas that might cause us the grief of having to change.
But if we truly trust that our God is as big as Isaiah’s vision of smoke and seraphs; if we truly trust that Jesus is not a limited version of God, but a God who embraces limits for the sake of bringing love and not condemnation to the whole world, then our calling, as people of the Spirit, is to keep making room. To keep creating holy space. To keep expanding our vision of who God loves. To keep inviting others into the work of love. To keep following the Spirit, who loves to fall upon the unlikeliest of people and who loves to work through the unlikeliest of situations.
God is truer, faith is deeper, and we are better when we understand and value the space as much as the substance.
The space is what makes God God.
And what makes ice cream delicious.
May you know deeply the blessings of both of these things, today, tomorrow, and always.
Amen.
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