“He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.”
-Isaiah 2:4

When I was in the hospital with pneumonia in February 2019, my laptop died(!) and I was bored out of my mind. I started channel-surfing on the TV in my room and found a TV show where they were throwing homemade knives against a wall to see if they survived. It was a TV show on the History Channel called “Forged in Fire” and contestants competed to make knives and swords for a $10,000 prize. It was fascinating to me because of the need to understand the composition of the steel they were using, the culture and history behind the knives and swords contestants were told to make, and the way they were fashioning the blade was interesting to watch. (Seeing men working in utili-kilts was also pretty fun.)

This particular verse from Isaiah 2 caught my eye when I was looking at verses to use for this devotional book because I could now understand all the work involved in “beating swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.” This was before the time of the gas-powered forges that many metalsmiths now enjoy, so smiths would have to heat their metal in coal-powered forges and hammer it out on anvils. The process of beating spears into pruning hooks would involve heating the metal and shaping it into a hook by beating it around the horn of an anvil with a hammer. Beating the swords into plowshares would involve broadening the tip and sharpening it.

The thing that makes this image so amazing is the idea of repurposing an instrument of war into something useful for peacetime. Israel was usually at war with somebody, and it would be ludicrous to repurpose a sword or spear this way. However, things are changing. The Messiah is coming, and the ways of the world are being turned upside down. Things meant for war are now only going to be used for peaceful purposes. Change is coming.

Mold our hearts, Lord, and change them as a metalsmith changes the swords and spears into something more useful for Your world. Amen.
-Jen McCabe

“For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations.”
-Isaiah 61:11

As an aspiring gardener, this verse really speaks to me. In the darkest times of winter, the catalogs arrive, and I spend hours pouring over the beautiful illustrations and descriptions and thinking about and planning for spring planting season. As the weather warms, the earth brings forth all kinds of shoots, some desirable and some not so much. (Bindweed and buttercup, really?!) I wait eagerly for the carefully planted seeds and tubers to spring up and rejoice as they grow and produce. Then comes the challenge of weeding, feeding, and watering to make sure the plants can produce. The earth and the garden may cause the springing forth, but the gardener’s skill, knowledge, and hard work are necessary to ensure the harvest.

I look at God, as the creator of the Garden of Eden, as a true Master Gardener! How God must rejoice when righteousness and praise spring up before all the nations. As a part of His creation, I believe our responsibility is to foster the development of righteousness and praise through our thoughts, conversations, and actions. As St. Teresa of Ávila so beautifully writes: “Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which he looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.”

Gracious God, we thank you for giving wonderful examples to help us follow you. Help us to live and grow in your love. In Jesus’s name, we pray. Amen.
-Cathey Frederick

“I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my whole being shall exult in my God; for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.”
– Isaiah 61:10

I may be an old crotchety dude, but I still remember the births of my children. I still remember the absolute delight of holding each of those bundles of joy for the first time. They may have cried immediately upon delivery as they saw bright lights for the first time and felt the shock of a room that was well under the 98.6° they had experienced consistently for nine months. But once they were scrubbed down, weighed, and evaluated (a.k.a. fingers and toes counted), they were wrapped in warm soft blankets and handed over to Mom or Dad to be embraced for the first time ex-utero, and they relaxed and rested comfortably in arms that enveloped them in love and care.

One of the most amazing and amusing things I noted about my children when they were young, is when they were delighted (or not) by something, they showed their delight with their whole bodies. They didn’t just smile or scowl with their lips. Their whole bodies got involved in manifesting their ‘tude.

“My whole being shall exult in my God …” says Isaiah. As a Scandinavian, I tend to be pretty stoic about most things. As I’ve gotten older, my Viking blood has dripped away, and I’ve begun to feel those weird things … I think they’re called “emotions.” Blech! Nonetheless, Isaiah reminds me I need to learn to let go and allow my whole body to embrace God every bit as unabashedly as a child embraces life – indeed, allows life to embrace them. I might give it a shot this year.

I was taken out of a warm, damp, and dark space in which I had every comfort. You brought me out into the light; you washed me clean; you gave me to others to love and from whom to be loved. I doubt I’ll ever understand completely, but I hope you’ll help me revel in your love and learn to play with your beads. Amen.
-The Rev. Keith Axberg

“They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.”
-Isaiah 61:4

I wish you could have seen Beirut and Aleppo when we did. Carol and I were in our early twenties when work and wanderlust took us to the Middle East. We lived in Iran for several years, and our travels throughout the Islamic world between Turkey and Afghanistan took us as well to Lebanon and Syria.

Our time in Beirut, back when it was still referred to as “the Paris of the Middle East,” was memorable. We had hardly been there a few weeks, visiting friends who lived just south of Lebanon’s capital, when the sectarian tensions we had sensed almost on first arriving spilled over into violence. I doubt we’ll ever forget the anxious taxi ride that took us safely out of Beirut as the fighting raged. Beirut had rebuilt to a point perhaps rivaling its more carefree days before the plight of Palestinian refugees brought the Arab/Israeli war to its palm-lined streets and Mediterranean shore, only to be devastated by a pandemic and a chemical fertilizer explosion with the power of a small nuclear device.

Our favorite city in the Middle East (next to our hometown of Isfahan, Iran) was Aleppo. Its architecture spanned a millennium, from Alexander the Great to the Ottoman Empire. Its souk (or, as we would say in Farsi, “bazaar”) was a feast for the senses, including taste — thanks to a profusion of bakeries, kebab and falafel vendors, and coffee houses. But what we remember above all else was the friendliness and urbanity of a society that prided itself on hospitality and friendship. Pictures of Aleppo today do more than break my heart — they make me fearful of what our underlying prejudices can do when distorted, amplified, and bent to the will of an authoritarian ruler.

While I despair that I will ever see Beirut and Aleppo restored, if not to their former glory, then at least to places of safety and civility where hospitality once again reigns, I do believe it will happen…because it has happened before. This is ultimately something I leave in God’s hands, but with the awareness that if we are going to be recipients of and participants in the healing and restoration of the world, then we need to give God some help.

Lord, remind us of our gospel obligation to shelter the refugee, and our country’s obligation to be an advocate of peace, justice, and mercy throughout the world. Guide us toward opportunities to live into the gospel through our generosity and shared humanity. Amen.
-Michael Boss

“…to provide for those who mourn in Zion – to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit. They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.”
-Isaiah 61.3

When I was a kid, when you saw a woman wearing all black or a man with a black armband, you knew: these people mourn a terrible loss in their lives. A former foster son of ours, Native American, once appeared with his luxurious black hair trimmed way back. He explained that he had lost a close relative, and this was a traditional sign of grieving. We know that our Mexican friends celebrate reunions with the departed on the Day of the Dead. Sometimes our culture helps us through that most difficult time of grief.

But sometimes it does not. It’s a common problem: what do we say to a friend in grief? Well, we are told often these days what not to say: “Here’s what you ought to do…” Oh, please no! Everyone grieves in their own way. Be a listener, affirm as valid the person’s real needs, be ready in your heart to pray.

As Christians, we trust passages like Isaiah’s as best as we can. We know we are called to expect healing, the oil of gladness instead of mourning. We may doubt that we will ever be whole again. But God wants to restore us, and God is patient. We need to be patient as well. It might be a longer walk than I am capable of now to get to be among the “oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.” But God walks with me: it’s God’s road.

Almighty God, look with pity upon the sorrows of your servants. Remember them, Lord, in mercy, nourish them with patience, comfort them with a sense of your goodness, lift up your countenance upon them, and give them peace, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (BCP p.467)
-Tom Worrell