Embrace Your Inner Grasshopper

Isaiah 40:21-31

Have you not known? Have you not heard?
   Has it not been told you from the beginning?
   Have you not understood from the foundations of the earth?
It is he who sits above the circle of the earth,
   and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers;
who stretches out the heavens like a curtain,
   and spreads them like a tent to live in;
who brings princes to naught,
   and makes the rulers of the earth as nothing.

Scarcely are they planted, scarcely sown,
   scarcely has their stem taken root in the earth,
when he blows upon them, and they wither,
   and the tempest carries them off like stubble.

To whom then will you compare me,
   or who is my equal? says the Holy One.
Lift up your eyes on high and see:
   Who created these?
He who brings out their host and numbers them,
   calling them all by name;
because he is great in strength,
   mighty in power,
   not one is missing.

Why do you say, O Jacob,
   and speak, O Israel,
‘My way is hidden from the Lord,
   and my right is disregarded by my God’?
Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
   the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
   his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
   and strengthens the powerless.
Even youths will faint and be weary,
   and the young will fall exhausted;
but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,
   they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary,
   they shall walk and not faint.

What more is there to say, right? This scripture passage on its own is a beautiful piece of poetry, and an inspiring and life-giving sermon. Isaiah is once again preaching to a dejected and impatient people. Chapter 40, which he just heard the beginning of, probably came years and years after the last chapter in Isaiah, and so Isaiah is speaking to a people who were promised a light at the end of the tunnel; a people who were promised their promised land; a people still waiting, frustrated, impatient, confused. I’m just gonna go ahead and speak for everyone here: we can all relate. We were promised more stimulus money! We were promised vaccines! We were promised a return to some kind of normalcy! But here we are, spending more time in limbo. More time waiting. Using patience that we’re quickly running low on.

This pep talk of sorts that Isaiah is giving the people serves as a sort of reminder to them— a reminder that despite the fact that they were living in an occupied land; despite the fact that they were living under a ruler who believed in a different God than they did, that the world, no more than the world—the entire cosmos was created by and under the loving and powerful control of their God YHWH. You see, when Isaiah uses this language of “foundations of earth,” this beautiful creation language—this is all taken from Genesis, and that’s the only other time this language shows up in the Hebrew Bible. Isaiah was using this very specific language to remind an impatient and fatigued people that the God they believe in created all of creation; therefore God continues to be in control. And if God is indeed in complete control of the entire cosmos, then God is in control of the leader they were living under, King Cyrus; God is in control of everything that is going on around them. Isaiah is essentially assuring them that this is all part of the plan. And when Isaiah says “…but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength…”: in this context, wait is synonymous with trust. Trust in the Lord and the Lord shall renew your strength.

Part and parcel with this reminder that God is truly in control of everything from the sun to the planets to the oceans to the flora and fauna of this planet—is the other reminder that Isaiah gives his friends: we, the earth’s inhabitants, are like grasshoppers. God, being God of all creation has a lot of God’s plate! And here we are, just little specks on this great beautiful earth, scurrying around, just doing our best. It’s a humbling reminder; it’s a necessary reminder. In Isaiah’s time it was necessary due to the fact that there were competing gods, essentially. The Jews were under living under a king who did not believe in the same God as they did (though it should be said they were allowed to openly worship their God under Cyrus), and there were many other cultures and ethnicities around them that also believed in different gods, in multiple gods… and as they were living in an occupied land surrounded by so much, it was easy to feel like not only was their God not the only God, but it was also easy to feel like their God didn’t care about them, that God wasn’t doing enough. So Isaiah has to remind them: God is the only God, and there are a lot of moving parts here. We little grasshoppers are not the center of the universe.

And today, it’s more necessary than ever to embrace our insignificance, to embrace our inner grasshopper. This may initially sound like a tough pill to swallow. Embracing our insignificance can sound a little nihilistic, but I assure you it’s not. Church, recognizing that we’re but little scurrying grasshoppers—it’s freeing! Think about it—think about the culture we live in. It’s a culture of exceptionalism; it’s a culture of manifest destiny; it’s a culture that prizes the strongest and the loudest; a culture that is rife with meaningless affirmations on social media; a culture that makes us feel shame if our selfie gets no likes; a culture in which we’re always worrying what other people, even complete strangers, think of us; a culture in which we are always worrying, in which we are always striving to be the best, to be the strongest, the most popular, to get everything we want by any means necessary. But to what ends? What do we get by standing out the most? What do we get by beating everyone else to the punch? What do we get by thinking we’re the center of the universe, that we’re better than the rest? What happens when we live in a culture that encourages so much competition, and insinuates that if we lose, that if we’re dealt a bad hand, that if we need to ask for a little help, that we’re failures? It creates a sense of despair, it fosters environments of anger and resentment.

The people in Isaiah’s day were complaining about the lack of their long-deserved promised land, though they were actually living relatively comfortable lives at this time; King Cyrus was, by all accounts, a good and just king, and (spoiler alert) he would, sooner than later, release the Jews from their exile. But because of their impatience, because they momentarily forget that God was not just their God, they lost sight of how the world truly works. They lost sight of the fact that they were not the center of the universe. Even if, or even though they were God’s chosen people, they were not God’s only people.

Church, we know, intellectually, that we are not God’s only people. Intellectually, I think we know and we believe that God loves all people, that God is love. But it’s really hard to see that, and to feel that sometimes. When we, ourselves are going through a difficult period, as I think we all are to varying extents right now, it’s hard to feel God’s love. It’s easy to believe that God doesn’t love us enough. And it’s also easy to wonder what we did wrong, to wonder if we’re unworthy of God’s love. Maybe we get mad at God, maybe we get mad at ourselves. And this, church, as paradoxical as it may seem, this is when we can be freed by realizing our inner grasshopper. We can never truly know God’s plan, we can never truly know the future. By understanding this, and that we’re merely grasshoppers, we can stop being so hard on ourselves. We can begin to really work on our impatience, and recognize that when Isaiah tells his people to wait for God, he is telling them to trust in God. And this waiting, this trust, implies depending on those other than ourselves. It means depending on God yes, but it also means understanding that our neighbors, near and far are all part of God’s plan, are all under the umbrella of God’s love. And so, it means depending on them too. It means you should not, and cannot go it alone.

It sounds like a simple concept, and easy lesson—yes, we need to be a part of a community, we need to help our sisters and brothers, and we sometimes need to ask help of our sisters and brothers.  But living in a world that values and rewards individual successes more than the communal, collaborative, it’s really not so easy. There’s an article I read a couple years ago about the decline of church and social club membership that I haven’t been to get out of head. Now obviously, the decline in church membership is a constant concern to me, but this article showed that it’s bigger than just spiritual communities. It’s literally everything: school council, elks lodges, nature and environmental clubs, adult sports leagues. And there are a lot of reasons for this decline: one is that people are working longer and more irregular hours, both because of job insecurity and fewer workers rights and benefits, as well as this world’s constant pressure to make more money and climb the ladder of success. And when we have a culture that doesn’t cultivate and nurture these kind of extracurricular groups, it creates a new crop of people who just shrug their shoulders, and, as this Guardian article points out, people just say they aren’t “joiners.” So right now, we’re living in this world where people are no longer joining together for a greater purpose, for something greater than themselves. And so we all get stuck in our own little world, our own echo chambers and we forget. We forget that our struggles are not the only ones. We forget that our actions affect other people, and other people’s actions affect us. We forget that we are a part of something so much bigger, something unimaginably huge, something unknowable and divine. We forget that we are grasshoppers, nothing more. And so like Isaiah’s people, who grew so impatient and frustrated that they couldn’t think outside their own struggles; that they forgot that God is indeed in control; that they forgot to trust in God; so do we also forget. We forget that we are not exceptional. We forget that our own individual successes do not matter. We forget that our money, our fortunes, our things do not matter, and we grow arrogant. We forget that other people’s fortunes do not matter, and we grow envious. We forget to love and trust others, we therefore we forget to love and trust God. We forget that as little grasshoppers, we are nothing on our own, we have to depend on God, and depend on one another; we have to join together, work together to reveal the Kingdom of God to all.

So how do we reconcile this need to depend on God and one another with this competitive and individualistic world we live in? How do we allow ourselves to be humbled living within this culture that rewards strength, popularity, and individual successes above compassion, love, and community? This is where the trust comes in. Just as Jesus came and turned norms on their heads, promising that the meek will inherit the earth, so does Isaiah remind his friends, that anything is possible with God: princes brought to naught; rulers of earth as nothing; power to the faint; even youths will become weary; but those who wait, those who trust will be strengthened. This is where I find hope, church. I find hope in the eternal work of God, of Jesus to change the very fabric of society, to uplift the meek, to stand with the oppressed; I find hope here, in Isaiah’s command to recognize that we are a part of something bigger than ourselves and to trust in our loving creator. And I realize I’m preaching to the choir a little here—you are all obviously “joiners,” we’re gathered here together in order to wonder and learn, to be a part of something bigger. But as I’ve emphasized in this and previous sermons, this world makes that really hard, even when we don’t have a pandemic slowing us down.

The world is broken right now; we prioritize material successes and things that are ultimately meaningless. It’s easy to get lost in a sea of competition and shame and perceived failures. So let’s heed Isaiah’s reminder and recognize that none of it matters! We don’t matter! Not alone, we don’t. Together we matter. With God, we matter. Together, in doing the work God calls us to do, we matter. When we gather together, even virtually, to be a part of something bigger than us, we matter. And so it’s not until we recognize that we are insignificant scurrying creatures on this earth, that we can really be free of self-consciousness, that we can be free of anxieties and envy; we can be free of striving to be the “best” by this world’s standards. We can be free to ask for help when we need it and not be ashamed. We can be free to be a part of something bigger than ourselves, something that gives us support and life, and looks to give support and life to all God’s children. We can be free to let go some control and trust one another, and trust God. We can embrace our inner grasshopper and be free. Amen.