Abstract
O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence. . .
On 5 March 1867, there was a meeting of the Joint Committee of the Established and Free Churches on the Gaelic Scriptures. It was held in Edinburgh and convened by Dr. Smith, minister at Inveraray.
Some of the members wanted to delay the meeting. Three of their modest number had died since the previous meeting. The convener was contrary minded and encouraged the committee to proceed.
With some warmth, he concluded his words of encouragement, ‘We must go on, sirs. Don’t you see we are dying.’ And they wisely followed the convener’s advice for in July, they were lamenting his passing too!
In the midst of personal or national tragedy, our faith is surely tested. Things have not gone according to plan and we wonder how we should proceed. God seems afar off and we feel abandoned.
We are drawn to the spirit of the prophet who prayed so earnestly, ‘O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence . . . and remove our grief, comfort our sorrow, restore our peace of mind.’
‘O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence . . . and the insidious work of the coronavirus would be controlled and our isolation terminated.’
‘O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence . . . and the people struggling for survival this Christmas would be given their rightful place at the world’s dining table.’
‘O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence . . . and evil exposed, good vindicated, happiness infuse our lives and peace reign supreme among the nations of the world!’
‘O that you would tear open the heavens and come down …’. That is our Advent cry for help, our longing for the coming of the Son of God. But will our prayer be answered this Advent? Was it answered last Advent? Was it answered when the lament was first delivered in the days of the prophet?
Moses witnessed the dramatic phenomena of earthquake, wind and fire. Others too but those were the days of that old-time religion when God was God, sinners knew their place and there was a miracle round every corner!
Does it happen anymore? Would you want it to happen? There are two problems with the prayer. Firstly, to whom would God respond? If you were the one who cried, ‘O that you would tear open the heavens and come down . . .’, would God respond to you?
Secondly, would your cause be justified? Would you have right on your side? What sort of God would make immediate response to your prayer? A puppet on a string? Or the God of the fanatical face of indiscriminate violence, brutality and terror?
Is that the kind of God who would tear open the heavens and come down and sort everyone out? Is that the kind of religion we actually espouse? Some do—but I’m afraid I’m not so sure!
And neither was the poet who wrote this powerful lament. For in the fourth verse, he acknowledges that this prayer has not been answered for a long time—if it ever was! From ages past no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who works for those who wait for him.
Oh dear! That’s not good news. Waiting! Who wants to wait? We have to wait so much—and it’s not always a life-affirming experience. Quite the reverse! Waiting makes us feel ignored, rejected, under-valued!
But this is what Advent is all about. ‘Keep alert!’ says one. ‘Keep watch!’ says another. Wait for Christ to come. This waiting is not a passive activity. It’s all about being alert and keeping watch!
In fact, in his parable, Jesus says it’s all about doing the work which has been allocated to us. And we do that with a keen eye and a sharp intellect. Alert. Watchful. Keenly attuned to the signs of our times.
Amazingly enough, this waiting brings with it the fulfilment of God’s promise. For in this addition to the lament, we discover that far from waiting for God to tear open the heavens, God comes down and ‘works for those who wait for him’.
There’s much less drama, but that’s what God does. God meets those who do two particular things. Firstly, remember him. How often do we forget? But not today. Not on this first Sunday of Advent.
We remember God when we gather together to worship him and, in particular, when we break the bread and share the wine and remember the saving work he did for those who wait upon him on the cross!
Secondly, gladly do right. You see this waiting is about doing. There’s much discernment in what it means to do right but loving God and loving our neighbour as yourself is a good beginning.
This doing is liberating because it’s done gladly. We choose to do it and in choosing, we do it joyfully. This waiting isn’t a chore but a joy!
This prayer is more readily answered than the dramatic crie de coeur, ‘O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!’ But it’s a more authentic religion. It’s all about God’s collaboration with us, working with us, meeting us when we remember him and gladly do right!
And this is what we celebrate on Advent Sunday along with the Rev’d Samuel Fergusson who was at that eventful meeting of the Gaelic Committee in 1867. The young minister was struck by the quality of Smith’s leadership describing it as ‘the art of guiding well’.
Afterwards he wrote a poem. It is included in a section of his poetry entitled, “In Memoriam”. It includes another three poems which he wrote after the premature deaths of his children—Henry, Janet, and David who died aged one, two and five respectively.
How many times could the young father have cried out with the prophet in his sorrow, ‘O that you would tear open the heavens and come down . . . !’ But he didn’t do this in any of his memorials. Instead, in words allocated to the wise convener, he resolves to live humbly by faith until he too died, drowned in a fishing accident on the river Tay, aged forty-one.
When duty loudly calls us still, And much remains to do, Be ours, with ready hand and will, To prove resolv’d and true. Our country claims our earnest toil— The truth our gifts of mind; Shall humble hearts expect in vain, Nor, trusting, comfort find?