Songs of the Servant

I wrote these poetic intrepretations of Isaiah's servant songs some time ago.  Since I'll be preaching from the first of those songs (Isaiah 42: 1 - 9) on Sunday, I thought I'd share them with you.

Songs of the Servant

The First Song

It’s time, now, to reveal something of my greater plan,
it’s time to show you someone I hold fast.

He’s not like the others
        Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!
clamoring for attention,
shouting from televised church pulpits,
desperate for public authority.

Nor is he like those who
impose their self serving views
with violent coercion:
         Submit or die! Submit or die!
This one will hold the smoldering wick carefully
till it burns bright once more.

I’ve formed you to be a light,
I’ve formed you to be a vow,
to open closed disinterested eyes
and to open death-row doors.
I’ve told you what will come.

The Second Song

My mouth is Yahweh’s sharpened sword,
he fires my words like swift and polished arrows.
He declares me his servant to win him glory.
But all my strength is spent:
the quiver is empty;
the blade is chipped and dull.

This mission is too small for you, he says,
to lift up just one race in an isolated corner of the globe.
Instead you’ll shine for all nations
the saving light of justice.

They despise you. They abhor you
but they will kneel – kings and princes
presidents and premiers,
all in my good time.

The expanse of space rings with joy
and the earth echoes back:
the Lord of the Universe has comforted his people;
the Lord of the Universe has nursed the wounded.

The Third Song

I’ve been given the disciples tongue,
         a well taught tongue,
ready to share the right word
of comfort for the weary.
And my ears have been opened;
awakened every morning
by the voice of Yahweh my LORD.

I know the stroke of the lash
on the bound slave’s back.
I’ve been whipped and scarred,
and whipped again.
And these children that you spit on
can look to me – I did not hide
from your contempt and insult.

I’ll be waiting on the courthouse steps.
I’ll hear your accusations; I’ll beat your charge.
Who is it that could declare me guilty?

The Fourth Song

Speechless: What could we say to rationalize?
                   How could we justify?
                   His disfigurement was inhuman.

Who would have believed us, anyhow?
He was nothing from first to last:
a dirty-yard weed
        put down like a junkyard dog.

But he carried away the weight of shame that crippled us,
that man of sorrows, that man of pain.
There is only one brow that this crown of thorns will fit.

Yahweh chose to crush him beneath
the weight of that great plan,
but he gave himself in silent surrender for me.