Finding New Appreciation in an Old Book by Angie Fuller
In that day, the Root of Jesse will stand as a banner for the peoples; the nations will rally to him, and his resting place will be glorious.
I’ve always loved books. As a child, books humored me with characters like Curious George, Stuart Little, and Ramona Quimby. They inspired me, like when I’d braid my hair, wrap a sheet around my waist, and become Laura Ingalls in our playhouse turned log cabin. They captivated me when I’d settle into our vinyl recliner with an ice cream bar on summer afternoons and lose track of time reading Nancy Drew’s mystery adventures.
One childhood book I saved is Walt Disney’s Story Land, an anthology of 55 stories based on original Disney films. It’s an eclectic mix, and oddly I don’t remember reading it much as a kid with the exception of a few familiar stories like “Snow White” or “Bambi.” Others, like “Perri,” I tried once but abandoned in confusion. And I completely avoided “Pinocchio” and “101 Dalmatians” with their vulnerable characters in dire peril!
The book of Isaiah, the source of today’s text, is also an anthology — a poetic mix of laments, warnings, visions of hope, and songs. At the risk of comparison, my experience with Isaiah has been similar to that of my old Disney book. I treasure a few familiar verses like “Unto us a child is born” (9:6) or “you will run and not grow weary” (40:31). But the imagery and predictions can be confusing, and frankly, I’d rather skip the dark passages with threats of violence and plunder. It’s not exactly a book I want to curl up with for an afternoon — even with an ice cream bar.
But just as rereading my Disney book as a parent gave me a new appreciation for it, studying passages from Isaiah in recent years has changed my perspective about this book, too. I’m learning to see Isaiah not as an ancient pessimist, but as an accountability partner. He cared enough about people to tell them the truth. His message is timeless: the selfishness, abuse, idolatry, and apathy that pull us away from God are just as prevalent now as they were in 700 BC. His imagery, particularly in chapter 11, portrays God’s longing to restore all of creation to a life free of conflict, loneliness, fear, and poverty.
Reading Isaiah may not humor or captivate me, but I’m letting it inspire me. The best gifts I can give to others have no earthly price tag. I can speak truth in love. I can offer a vision of contentment and peace to someone anxious or hopeless. Like Isaiah, I can simply open myself as a blank book to let God speak and work through me.
Angie Fuller