Isaiah 40

This past Advent and Christmas season, the Almond Tree Artist Collective has been engaged in creating works based on weekly prompts taken from Isaiah 40:1-5 which reads,

Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
  and cry to her
that her warfare is ended,
that her iniquity is pardoned,
  that she has received from the LORD’S hand
double for all her sins.

A voice cries:
“In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD;
  make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be lifted up,
  and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
  and the rough places a plain.
And the glory of the LORD shall be revealed,
  and all flesh shall see it together,
  for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.”
I. Comfort

When all the world has been torn down,
When all Her glory, lost,
Speak Comfort, Comfort to the town
Who to the sea was tossed.

Away in chains to Babylon
Her townsfolk, tied and led
Cast from the garden land and home
Into a living death.

We pass through sea, to foreign lands
Where accents strike our ears,
We pine by banks beached on the sand
And salt its shore with tears.

They asked of us to sing a song—
A song we sang in Zion;
We choke on words, weep for the wrongs,
The shame of Judah’s lion.

Speak, Comfort, Comfort, to my own
The Lord says, tenderly,
To Jerusalem cast down
I’ll draw her from the sea.

II. Proclaim

Proclaim to her, say it now,
Mercy comes tomorrow;
He’ll break your yoke, unhook the plough,
Wipe your tears of sorrow.

Speak Comfort, Comfort, day has come
Your ransom’s paid in full;
Your time of service is now done;
The balance paid, double.

It’s finished; Yes, there is no more—
Both debt and due are paid;
Your Hope through Achor’s valley door
Has made for you a way.

Daughter Jerusalem, my son,
Judah, come take my hand;
The blessing lost, I now have won—
Return you to the Land.

IIII. Wilderness

A desert voice, a herald cries,
Prepare, Prepare today
Come, by Him who lives yet dies
Come through the desert way.

Through death, not ‘round, your victory
Not by the coastal road—
A straight highway through desert sea,
The highway of our God.

Elijah, come and turn the hearts
Of fathers to the children;
Desire pierce with longing’s darts
Wound with love, the nations.

Make straight the way from Galilee
The land of the Gentiles,
From nations far beyond the Sea
Return from your exile.

Comfort, Comfort prepare the way—
A highway for our God;
Come by the narrow, Eastern way
Back from the land of Nod.

IV. Justice

From Euphrates’ garden banks
Pack your years of burdens
Return, Return, join with the ranks
Who take to Him their hurtings.

When you come to the desert shore
Fear not the waves of sand,
He shall level the desert floor,
Return you to the Land.

Look not to the mountain’s heights
Where others lay idle,
And give themselves to their delights,
Revelry, unbridled.

He shall bring down the proud who boast
And lift up the lowly;
He shall make of least, the most—
Make the common, holy.

But what of death’s deep, dark defile?
How can we e’er pass through?
Though our descent goes on for miles,
In life, He’ll raise unto.

The valley’s shall exalted be;
The mountains shall be lowed;
Enslaved, her captives shall be freed,
And gentle made the road.

She’ll mount on wings, shall fly amain,
Renewed, soar as eagles
The mountain way be made a plain
Those Not, now made, My People.

V. Glory

And all of them shall surely see
My Glory when revealed;
The Way that passes through the sea—
The stripes He bore that healed.

The glory I’ve to show the world
Is glory not of man,
A banquet banner, love unfurled,
Crowned head, pierced feet and hand.

Will you perceive the love I bear
Or of it be ashamed?
Shall in it boast? Cherish? Hold dear?
Lift up? Deny? Disclaim?

True, the Word the Lord has spoken,
Shall surely come to pass;
His promise shall ne’er be broken;
He shall redeem at last.

Speak Comfort, Comfort, tenderly,
Your Lord shall bring you home;
He shall not burden but gently lead
The mothers with their young.

© Randall Edwards 2023

Ordinary Prayer: Psalm 12

The psalms are ordinary prayers. They were composed by kings and prophets and sung by shepherds and fisherman. They were good for singing in the Temple, and they were good for the Galilean countryside. These are the words and word pictures of God’s people who themselves, like us, fought the fight of faith in the midst of extraordinary events and ordinary days.

Along with praying the the Psalms, I’ve undertaken, it seems, a project to paraphrase them. I have a high esteem of the imagination and recognize the value of translating metaphors through different words in order to get at the meaning. Some of the psalms can be difficult for us to translate so that they mean something to us. Once however, we get to their meaning, we find that they express the life of faith, the desires of the heart, and the needs of those who find themselves in a place where there is nothing left but to pray.

Here is my paraphrase of Psalm 12. To compare, you may read a translation of Psalm 12 HERE.

Help! I’ve no friends left.
All the good and godly have disappeared from among Adam’s kids.
Not a good one remains.

On social media, they’re all cool and chill,
But in their secret groups, they speaks hate and lies.

May the Lord unplug all your devices
And silence your streaming feeds of lies,
You who say, “With our algorithms and bots,
Who can silence our posts?”

Because they steal from the poor,
Because those who need are targets,
Because they have no words but groans,
I will help them myself, says the Lord;
I will lift their eyes from their screens
And show them the place for which they’ve longed.

The Lord speaks with a single heart.
And his posts are worth it: true and bright.
You couldn’t compose them better if you had a week.
The Lord means what he says;
He’ll defend you from the mob.

The trolls are out there around every corner,
And the filth they post is praised by Adam’s kids.

© Randall Edwards 2020. This paraphrase of Psalm 12 is for Christ’s church. If it is helpful, please feel free to copy or reprint in church bulletins, read aloud, or repost. I only ask that an attribution be cited to myself (Randall Edwards) and this blog (backwardmutters.com