It has been a continued time of disquiet lately. Many of you may not know that in addition to my work in ministry and the arts, I have worked as an interpreter for the deaf for many years now. It has been a dark time in that area of my life over the past week or so.

Last week, one of my first teachers of ASL died suddenly after a years-long struggle with heart problems. She went in for what should have been a fairly simple surgical procedure to repair a valve on a pacemaker, and she never came out. She was 44. She was one of the first deaf people I really got to know. She taught me so much about interpreting, deaf culture, and language. I miss her.

At the start of this week, another of my first teachers, and my first interpreting partner, went into the hospital with heart problems. I'm still not totally filled in on the circumstances of his problems, but they're reason for concern. He taught me more than any other person about interpreting. He gave me the confidence to do the job that I came to love so much. I still count him as a mentor.

Today, I got an early phone call. Do you know the early phone call feeling? It's never good. The name on the caller ID was that of my most recent and very favorite interpreting partner. I thought she was calling to tell me bad news about my mentor above. Instead it was a friend of hers informing me that my friend's husband had committed suicide the day before. She's obviously devastated. She has a young son and will have to make all the decisions that go along with a death in the immediate family later today.

I've been spending a lot of time reading Isaiah lately. It's quite my favorite book in the Bible, and recently it has been a constant source of inspiration and comfort. I think it has more to say about living for God in times of strife than most other texts ever written. Beginning in Isaiah 42, there is a series of passages known as the 'Servant Songs.' It is much debated who the Servant is, though most Christians and many Jews understand the Servant to be the Messiah. Others show internal evidence to suggest that the Servant is Israel itself; still others show that at least part of the Servant Songs refer to Moses as the Servant. The total of these thoughts and studies would suggest Messianic relevance all the way around even if there is variation in a few specific references.

In one of my favorite parts of the Servant Songs, Isaiah 42, the writer says this:

"Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
my chosen, in whom my soul delights;
I have put my spirit upon him;
he will bring forth justice to the nations.
He will not cry or lift up his voice,
or make it heard in the street;
a bruised reed he will not break,
and a dimly burning wick he will not quench;
he will bring forth justice.
He will not grow faint or be crushed
until he has established justice in the earth;
and the coastlands wait for his teaching."

The point of the passage has to do with the Servant or Messiah not being what you might expect. It won't be through great preaching that he comes. It won't be through violence. What has always struck me in this passage is the Servant's gentleness. "A bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench." How badly do we, humanity, need that?

Instead of focusing on the Servant here, I've been meditating lately on identifying with the reed and the wick. We are so fragile. We are bent and bruised. We are crushed and reduced to embers. Look at the world around us: from war in the Middle East, to worldwide terrorism, to celebrity decay, to our indulgent Dionysian society. And look more closely to home: at the single mothers all around us trying to be two parents without a moment to spare for themselves, at the poor and hungry, at the addicted, at the slackers, at the vain, at the disabled, at the sick, at the clueless, at the burdened and heavy-laden.

Which of us is not on that list? Which of us doesn't need the ministering of that gentle Servant? It's the kind of thought that I always mention to my non-Christian friends. Wouldn't you at least want that to be true? Here we are, bruised reeds and smoldering wicks. Wouldn't you at least want to believe that God has sent a ministering and gentle Servant to bring healing, justice, and peace? I believe he has, and I know three families in particular this morning who feel that need even more strongly than me. Please pray for my friends.

I think this is much more what it means to be a follower of Christ than is usually portrayed in America today. I'm so weary of discussions of Christianity always meaning a discussion of politics and policy. In the face of human suffering it seems obscene. I'm afraid I'll never fight for "Christ-centered policy or government." I'll never support political causes being championed by "Christian politicians." The Bible doesn't have much to say about how to be in power or in a majority. Quite the contrary, it has everything to say about how to minister through oppression and how to be odd.

I think that's why the Servant Songs speak to me so much. Even the writer of these passages in Isaiah saw that God was doing something different. "The Messiah won't look like what you think he will," was the message. "Abandon your ambitions of power and exaltation on this Earth." Instead, look around you at the quiet common suffering of your fellow men. Let's put our focus there. Leave power out of the equation. We would do well to take our lead from the title given here to the Messiah: "Suffering Servant." That's where we should identify. Too true; and today in the lives of these people who are so dear to me, so close.

Some of those touched by the tragic circumstances I mentioned earlier read this blog. I'm praying and I would ask you, my friends, to pray for them as well.