“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint.”

(Isaiah 40:31)

What do you get out of your religion? Is it blasphemous or sacrilegious or terribly self-serving to ask such a question?

I don’t think so. Jesus put it rather plainly what tired and over-burdened people might expect from their religion if they came to him and accepted the yoke of His discipleship.

And the prophet Isaiah laid out most clearly what one might expect to get out of religion when he said: “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint.”

What can you get out of your religion? Why, renewed strength, says the prophet: spiritual strength of three distinct and desperately needed types which everyone requires.

First, religion supplies the strength to soar aloft. “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles.” Religion supplies the inspiration — the motive power of a great ideal — which is that transforming power that lifts lifeless hunks of people through the dark firmament of struggling humanity to blaze in God’s heaven with the blinding glory of a comet’s flash.

Moses in the wilderness, among ignorant Midianite shepherds, was nothing more than an early edition of Markham’s, Man with the Hoe. But from his devotions in the desert, spiritual strength grew. The moral and ethical perceptions of Moses were sharpened. As his thoughts dwelt upon God, every common bush about him flamed with the glory and the power of the creator, and deep within his soul came the call of the Almighty to deliver his captive people from their Egyptian bondage. One man, alone, before Pharaoh and the might of an Egyptian empire, stood Moses, but he stood in the spiritual power of a great ideal, burned into his soul through communion with his God. And Moses prevailed.

Joan of Arc was just the unlettered peasant girl of Domremy until she heard and heeded celestial voices which unerringly lead her, at the head of beaten armies, to victory and freedom for her beloved France.

Where did Wilberforce get his idea that slavery was wrong, and where did he pick up the spiritual power to stand alone, unafraid, before tremendous antagonistic forces? — from his conversion to evangelical Christianity and his deeply spiritual religious life.

What put it into the head of Florence Nightingale that a decent young lady should devote herself to nursing wounded soldiers in the far off Crimea, when everyone knew that nursing was a profession for women of easy virtue? Where did she get the strength — one frail woman to endure the physical hardships, to live above the ugly insinuations — and by a service so selfless, and so pure and so noble, establish the nursing profession on the highest possible plain? Oh, from fellowship with Him who was the friend of sinners and outcasts and who went about healing the sick, cleansing the lepers, and giving sight to the blind.

What does one get out of religion? Why, spiritual strength — the kind which will make our spirits soar, impelled by the divine ideal to triumph over and live high above the mean, clod-like existence of godless people.

There’s a second type of spiritual strength we may get out of our religion: that reserve of inner power needed to see us safely through life’s emergencies. Isaiah says that: “Those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength”: not only shall they “mount up with wings as eagles”, but they shall also “run and not be weary”. Yes, that’s one thing we can get out of our religion — power, waiting for all the great crises of life which call for special, though it may be brief, exertion.

Why is it some folks are broken by life’s tragic circumstances and some lifted to higher glory? How explain this mystery? It is not mystery to those within the Christian faith. They know of those heavenly reserves of spiritual strength which God gives in an emergency to those who trust Him.

This congregation knows how Dr. Millard grieved when his beloved wife died. We all were aware of the desperate loss he had suffered. One day he told me of a telephone call he had received the night before. When he answered the ring a woman’s voice gruffly demanded: “I want to speak with Mrs. Millard.” “She’s not here,” he answered. “When do you expect her back?” “I don’t expect her back. We’ve been separated.” he answered. “Oh, I’m sorry,” came the softened reply. “Oh, don’t be sorry,” Dr. Millard said, “we’re going to be reunited.” “Well, I’m glad. I’m calling to ask: does she have any hospital insurance in addition to Medicare?” “No,” said Dr. Millard. “She doesn’t have any and she doesn’t need any.” And with that the caller plopped down the receiver.

They that wait upon the Lord receive the emergency supplies of spiritual strength to keep on running and not grow weary when the harsh and crippling experiences threaten to overwhelm them. We’ve seen it happen.

But there is yet a third form of spiritual power God supplies all who trust in Him. Isaiah, in his picturesque language, calls it the power “to walk and not faint”. First, in the prophet’s promise of power to soar aloft on the wings of religious idealism — “to mount up on wings as eagles”. Then, the promise of reserve power in an emergency — “to run and not be weary”, and now finally, the promise of power “to walk and not faint”. My, how Isaiah builds us up to a big let down! What an anti-climax: “To fly, to run, to walk”. Hasn’t Isaiah got this business backwards?

No, this is no anti-climax. The sublimest power God has to impart to the human heart is the power “to walk and not faint”. Alexander Maclauren calls it “that patient power for persistent pursuit of weary monotonous duty”. To “trudge across the dusty flats, when vision has dimmed into night, and the Kingdom of God is not to be taken by storm, and there are only the night, and the stars, the dawn, and the road again — with the spires there on the world’s rim”. Ah, then to walk and not to faint.

“Only one thing can conquer the disgust at the wearisome round of mill-horse tasks which, sooner or later, seizes all godless men, and that is to bring the great principles of the gospel into them, and to do them in the might and for the sake of the Lord.” (Alexander Maclauren)

I can remember how startled I was as a young theological student to hear the great Methodist missionary to India, Dr. E. Stanley Jones, declare: “The noblest humanitarianism will break down under the strain of life if unsupported by an unwavering theocratic faith.” But experience has taught me this truth: If we serve humanity for humanity’s sake alone, we find humanity en masse, and each individual in particular, so often unappreciative, ungrateful, forgetful. Only those who serve their fellowmen under the consciousness that God wills it; and that whatever they do, they do “for Jesus’ sake” and by His spirit, only those can carry the load of service: “Walk and not faint”. “They are steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as they know that their labors are not in vain in the Lord.”

“There is one thing more beautiful than an enthusiastic young Christian,” wrote J. D. Jones in his Elims of Life, “and that is a faithful old Christian. It is a glad sight to see the young person entering with enthusiasm, stripping with eager hopefulness for the race. But it is still more beautiful a sight to see an old man or woman, who has borne the heat of the day, still pressing toward the mark, marching bravely and boldly even though their step be slow — ‘walking without fainting’. Paul, the aged, is a finer and more beautiful sight than young Timothy.”

“What is there in religion for me? What do I get out of it?” I do not object to such a question. I don’t feel it is blasphemous. For Isaiah answered just that question when he tells us: “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”

But actually, what we get out of our religion is dependent upon the answer to another question. This one — “What are we going to put into it?” Oh, it’s not that the resources of God are dependent upon you and me — not that at all — but rather that our enjoyment of all His fabulous resources of spiritual strength is dependent upon our willingness to accept the terms of this transference of power.

Isaiah says it is “those who wait upon the Lord, who renew their strength”. Do we know what “waiting on the Lord” means? I was talking with a young person about uniting with the church — about making a profession of Christian faith. And this young person said: “I’m waiting until I’m sure that God is calling me into His church?” Is that waiting on the Lord? Oh, no, not in the Biblical sense of the term. “Waiting on the Lord” is serving in His presence, as one waits tables — putting oneself in the position where God’s commands can be heard and His wishes done. Waiting to hear His word rather than rushing off in response to every siren’s song or peckerwood’s knock. That is waiting upon the Lord. We must, in every deed, clear through to our hearts, be Christ’s — waiting in everything, for everything, upon Him. The measure in which we give ourselves to Christ is the very measure of spiritual strength we will get out of our religion.

Paul Scherer once noted how fitting, even for the lips of Christ, are those dramatic words from Shakespeare’s Henry V, spoken on the eve of the Battle of Agincourt. The British King had 15 thousand men while the French had over 50 thousand. Then did Westmoreland look about and wish for more. But then did Henry rebuke him:

God will! I pray thee, wish not one man more! …

I  would not lose so great an honor

As one man more, me thinks, would share from me.

Rather, proclaim it, Westmoreland …

That he which hath no stomach to this fight,

Let him depart …

This day is called the feast of Crispian.

He that outlives it and comes safe home,

Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named …

Will yearly on its vigil feast his neighbors,

And say, tomorrow is Saint Crispian.

Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,

And say, These wounds I had on Crispian’s Day.

It shall never go by …

But we shall be remembered,

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.

For he today who sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition.

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here.

“They that wait upon the Lord — who are of His faithful company — who stand fast by Christ no matter how heavy the odds against His forces of truth and purity and justice — they that constantly wait upon the Lord, they shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings as eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.”

 

PASTORAL PRAYER

O Thou Divine Spirit, in all the events of life Thou art knocking at the door of our hearts. O help us to respond to Thee. We would not be driven blindly as the stars over their courses. We would take the events of our lives as good and perfect gifts from Thee, and receive even the sorrows as disguised gifts from Thee. We would have our hearts open at all times to receive — at morning, noon, and night; in spring, summer, and winter. Whether Thou comest to us in sunshine or in rain, we would take Thee into our hearts joyfully.

Grant unto us, O most loving Lord, to rest in Thee above all creatures, above all health and beauty, above all glory and honor, above all power and dignity, above all fame and praise, above all riches and art, above all sweetness and comfort, above all gifts Thou canst give and impart to us.

Give us Thine own self, O God, without which, though Thou shouldst give us all that ever Thou hadst made, yet could not our desires be satisfied. Let our souls ever seek Thee and let us persist in seeking till we have found Thee and are fully possessed by Thee.

O Lord, keep us sensitive to Thy grace in all round about us. May the familiar not become neglected. May we see Thy goodness in our daily bread, and may the comforts of our homes take our thoughts to the mercy seat of our God, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

• Scripture Reference: Isaiah 40:27-31 • Secondary Scripture References: Isaiah 40:1-11, Matthew 11:25-30 • Subject : Spiritual strength, The source and nature of; 611 • Special Topic: n/a • Series: n/a • Occasion: n/a • First Preached: 10/10/1949 • Last Preached: 6/9/1991 • Rating: 2 • Book/Author References: , Dr. E. Stanley Jones; Elims of Life, J. D. Jones; , Alexander Maclauren; Henry V, William Shakespeare