formation and transformation

 

I am reflecting on these verses from the prophet Isaiah 43:1,2

‘But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.’

I am reflecting on these verses in part because they (along with the following five verses) are set for this coming Sunday, and in part because they are entirely resonant for the first Monday of January, which, here where I am, is bleak.

These verses are spoken into an historical context I cannot relate to, nor could Isaiah imagine our twenty first century context, and yet ‘overwhelm’ and ‘burned’ are soul experiences we know all too well. Perhaps less familiar is the sense of being ‘created,’ ‘formed,’ and ‘redeemed.’

We experience overwhelm when we sense that life is unfolding too fast, faster than our body – our nervous system, certainly our conscious mind – can manage. We experience burn out when we lose hope – when, in contrast to life unfolding too fast, it feels stuck; when we can see no path from where we are to where we want to be.

These opposite and sometimes co-habiting emotional responses are familiar alarm bells in the complex society we have constructed that allows the few to dominate the lives of the many.

Psychologists tell us that the cure for overwhelm is play, or mindful play, which is a way of describing being absorbed, for a time, in being over doing. An activity that has no directed productive purpose (but, ironically, is essential to our longer-term direction, productivity, and sense of purpose).

Conversely, the return from burn out involves learning hope, through setting realistic goals, identifying flexible and alternative pathways, and embracing agency: our ability to change our circumstances, over time, one small step at a time.

We see both overwhelm and burning out addressed in Isaiah 43:1-7, with an understanding that we might be equipped to face such possibilities (indeed, likely scenarios) even if we cannot reliably predict and avoid the circumstances that are beyond our control – the waters rising, through which we must pass; the fires we walk through.

And what Isaiah imagines God might do with a people, we, who are called to participate in the divine nature in embodied ways, might well attend to doing in our own flesh.

The cure to overwhelm is play, and in these verses Isaiah imagines God, who has not only created a people but who has formed them as a potter gives form to clay. This is a creative process, one in which the potter brings their skill, yes, but the clay brings its unique properties, which are discovered through a playful interaction between the two, wet fingers exploring, imagining, nothing set (by fire) as yet, clay yielding, folding in on itself, taking one form and then another. There is both absent-mindedness and focus here, not in a self-contradictory way, but in being present to this moment alone, to creaturely embodiment, to the inchoate desire from which form will take shape. Daydreaming is part of the creative process, as is getting caught up in flow. And this can be scary, at first, especially if we like to be in control, if we want to master a skill – or our own self-expression, identity – without being willing to surrender to being a novice, an amateur, at being ourselves. Yet in such deep waters, God may be found with us.

The way back from burn out is hope, hope that tomorrow might be different from today. That we might know a little more freedom than yesterday and grasp it and put it to good use. That we might see a way forward – even if the path disappears into bright fog, for there is, at least, a path out from here; and if there is a path from here, and that path is blocked, there may yet be another path from there. And to those who have been burned, and those who might yet pass through fire (and who does not?) Isaiah imagines God calling on the compass points to surrender their captives, the sons and daughters who have been carried off into some distant exile, far from home, far from their own lives. That is powerful imagery. God has a plan, a redemption plan, that does not settle for what is but can imagine powerful societies overthrown that a new generation might be raised up. Not one path but four, from east and west, north and south. That the experience of exile is transformed from hopelessness – this will never change – into something to push against and grow strong.

What playfulness might you set apart time for this week?

What small step might you make on a path to a goal?

Where might you rediscover God with you in your life, however it looks at present?