The whole earth is calm and at rest; people shout with a ringing cry. Isaiah 14:7
I come from a long line of hairy men. Like Esau, my grandfather, my dad, my brothers, and I were given a hefty crop of dark body fur on our faces, arms, chests, and legs. Cleaning my shower usually requires the help of a Weed Eater®. I’m sorry if this is grossing you out, but it’s just the way it is.
Before I graduated from high school, I found it necessary to shave every day. That’s when something painful started to happen. Little hairs growing out of my face and neck would sometimes get to the surface of my skin, then decide to take a U-turn. Instead of continuing to grow out into fresh air, these nasty little shafts of protein would bury themselves back into my body. No razor in the world—no matter how many blades are stacked in it—can snatch these rebels out.
So armed with a needle and tweezers, I have been forced over the years to dig out these ingrown hairs. There I stand in front of my shaving mirror, groaning as I work these wayward hairs back to the surface and extract them one by one. This is not a pretty—or pain-free—picture.
Anger and frustration are like the hairs growing from your face. If they are free to emerge from the surface of your consciousness, they can be dealt with—eliminated by the razor sharpness of confession and forgiveness. If not extracted, hostility can mercilessly turn inward and cripple you.
The picture of the Jews that Isaiah painted for us in these verses is a picture of release from conflict and the festering anger that has buried their nation in hopeless bondage: “The LORD will . . . settle them” (v. 1). Picture these families, smoldering under their sin and unresolved internal conflict, finding fresh air in their homeland. Imagine the release they experienced from open confession and forgiveness from one another, settled at last.
Then Isaiah announced that the painful invasions of “the oppressor [had] quieted down” (v. 4). Not only could the people be released from the desperate erosion of ingrown hatred, but their enemies would no longer invade their nation’s tender flesh. “The day of the LORD” will bring all of this to an end (13:6).
The next time you’re in front of your shaving mirror, take a good look at those ingrown invaders. How is it with you? Have you denied the healing that could be yours with your parents or your siblings by avoiding the issue, shoving your feelings down? Is your relationship with any of the members of your family crippled by unresolved conflict? Are there colleagues and associates who need your forgiveness? Or are these things burying their way into your soul where they cannot be reached or removed or healed?
Isaiah’s promise was for Israel’s serenity—an end to the bitterness and conflict. “The whole earth is calm and at rest” (v. 7), he pledged, alluding to the judgment that was to come upon Babylon, the great oppressor.
You may look at the face of your closest relationships and see no ugly U-turns. Everything is in the open. And good. All wrongs have been confessed and forgiven. Or it may be time to experience the temporary discomfort of giving this conflict and bitterness some fresh air and confession, pulling this shameful thing out by its root.
The temporary pain of extraction will be worth it. I promise.