Come now, let us argue it out, says the Lord: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be like snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool. Isaiah 1:18
When one of my grandsons, who are right now six and four years old, try to talk their mother into something they know she is not going to allow (climbing the bookcase, for example) or into delaying something they should do (take a bath, which leads to bedtime), they construct goofy and often silly arguments which outsiders would probably call “cute.” My daughter wants to give her children the freedom to speak and wants them to develop their reasoning and speaking abilities, but also has limitations of patience and energy.
I find recollections of these conversations amusing, partially because I’ve been through them with my own children, including said daughter, but also because I can often tell that sometimes my grandsons know they are engaging in arguments they will eventually lose. That amusement on my part is tinged with a bit of pang, however, because I know I have often just gone against what my earthly and my heavenly parents wanted, knowing, even in the moment, that I would not escape the consequences. Those are arguments of defiance, not of reason.
Many translators render the phrase “let us argue it out” as “let us reason together.” The latter implies a dialogue where our heavenly Father explains the situation of our sins. The former seems to picture a more perhaps contentious conversation, a quarrel we need to have, an altercation which we are bound to be on the losing side of, but only if we got our way.
A wise priest reminded me that God is big enough not only to take our sorrows and pain, but also our anger. I will add that God is big enough to handle our irrationality.
But, as when we argued with our parents as very small children, we may find ourselves arguing about one thing when God is arguing about another. Notice that after the invitation to argue, God does not say, “here is the evidence of your wrong.” Instead, God talks about the effect of sin, as if the other part of the argument was already settled. We might argue that we have not sinned; we may contend that our sins have not been “so bad.” God uses the conclusion as the premise: We have sinned and those sins have stained us. Though we are stained, we will be made clean. Then, as a good parent, He presents the options in the following verses, one outcome comes from being “willing and obedient,” and another should we “refuse and rebel.”
The difference between defiance and dialogue is that the first means walking away from God to have our own way, often knowing it isn’t best. The second requires us to be in God’s presence, to engage with Him. There is a tension in this because God knows we might still leave, and inside we know we may find ourselves convinced to stay.
Our Father, remind us daily to abide in You. Bring us back when we have convinced ourselves we are safe alone. Thank You for giving us space to argue it out and for loving us even when we rebel. May we always delight in your presence, which is holy. Amen.
