The first day of December 2024 is over. It has begun, as it does every year. A celebration in the Christian world that honors the essence of our existence.  A celebration that includes everyone—no matter how broken or commercialized it might be—there are few parts of the world that are not adorned with gold, silver, and color in these coming weeks.

The twenty-fifth day of December is entirely associated with Christmas, never with the pagan festivals around the solstice when the year “turns” and the days grow longer or shorter.  Centuries ago, December 25 was calculated as the year’s turning point according to the Julian calendar. (We now use the Gregorian calendar, and the solstice occurs on December 21.)

Delving into history is fascinating, uncovering all sorts of interesting facts. But there’s so much more to Christmas that we should truly celebrate—so much more that we can trace back even further than the wobbly origins of our modern idea of Christmas.

Let us go far back, into the ancient history of Israel, when a beloved old prophet marked the politics of his land as a time of change, tied to the name of a king, allowing us to establish the facts and timeline with ease.

Isaiah lived and prophesied in the eighth century BCE.  The grandeur of David and Solomon was fading amid the political upheavals of a divided kingdom.  Isaiah, a gifted poet, sang most of his prophecies in verse.  When reading modern translations, you can sometimes sense the poetry echoing from the ancient Hebrew into our words.

The book bearing his name describes a pivotal experience in chapter six.  A king dies, and Isaiah sees God on His throne.

Uzziah ruled Judah for fifty-two years, during which time he and his people were extremely prosperous. Victorious in war and successful in peacetime arts, his reign was largely one of abundance.  However, the later years of his life were overshadowed by illness.  His pride led him to enter the Holy of the Temple, a place reserved for priests.  Read about it in 2 Chronicles 26:16-21.  He emerged leprous, living as a leper for twelve years before dying.

His son and successor, a young man of twenty-five, ascended the throne amid ominous war clouds gathering in the north, threatening Judah.

“In the year that King Uzziah died” is far more than a chronological marker. It not only states when but also why Isaiah had his vision.

The earthly king had been laid to rest, but the prophet realized that the true King of Israel was neither the deceased Uzziah nor the young Jotham, but the Lord of Hosts.  This revelation dispelled fears and anxieties, empowering Isaiah with a renewed strength.  He entered the temple with troubled thoughts but left with a spring in his step, a lightened heart, and a determined resolve: “Here am I, send me.”

There are significant lessons for our daily lives to be gleaned from this remarkable vision with its unique timestamp.

Christ is the manifested Jehovah, the King of Glory.  Isaiah’s vision, fleeting as it was, reveals an eternal reality.

Rather than existing only in the prophet’s spiritual sight, Isaiah’s vision gained a human body to live and suffer among us.  We have seen the King in a reality even greater than what Isaiah beheld.

According to John (12:41), the Lord on the throne was Christ, and the vision pertained to His future kingdom.  It revealed that the whole earth would be filled with the glory of God.  The prophet, gazing into the Most Holy Place from outside the temple, “saw” God seated on the Throne of Grace, surrounded by cherubim and seraphim.  He “saw” the glory of God filling the entire temple.  Let’s read what Isaiah saw (6:1-4):

“In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a high and lofty throne, and the hem of His robe filled the temple. Seraphim were standing above Him; each one had six wings: with two they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew.
And one called to another:
‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts;
His glory fills the whole earth.’
The foundations of the doorways shook at the sound of their voices, and the temple was filled with smoke.”

The seraphim, ablaze with love and zeal, represent obedience to God, even in the absence of understanding His plans.  Covering their faces in holy reverence, they remind us how pride and ambition vanish with a single glimpse of Christ’s glory.

In a tradition of majestic splendour and displays of power, Isaiah saw the robe of light that filled the entire temple.  The holiness and mystery of God were underscored by the sound of worship that shook doorposts and filled the temple with smoke.  Smoke, symbolic of mystery, indicates what is not immediately comprehensible.  God’s might and deeds are not always explainable—and that’s not what matters.  God on the Throne of Grace is the core of the vision, the renewal Isaiah experienced.

In a single moment, Isaiah elevates our own vision of Jesus to a magnificent heavenly image, supernatural and surely more wondrous than words can describe.  He is so much more than the baby in a manger depicted in every nativity scene at Christmas.

The vision of Jesus on the Throne of Grace surpasses His coarse-woven robe and dusty sandals during His life on a cursed earth that produces thorns and thistles, where humanity must toil to survive.  (Genesis 3:18)  He bore the thorns of the curse on His head as He went to the Cross, paying the full price so that the indescribable robe of light Isaiah saw, could fill the Most Holy-city of God, the New Jerusalem.

Can we, even once—or perhaps daily—amid menus and merriment, look up and “see”?  The Cross of the Prince of Light made it possible.  As the Church of Jesus, we live in the Most Holy Place.  Look up and see the Robe of Light, the Prince of Heaven, who as the slain Lamb, took His place on the Throne (Revelation 4 and 5).

The busyness and demands of December push us toward just another Christmas, steeped in tradition and gatherings, which is not wrong.  Yet, it would be a tragedy if the celebration comes and goes without a vision.  Do you see the Light? Do you enter the Most Holy Place to see the King on the Throne, so that your lament and fear transform into a cry of worship that shakes the doorposts?

Nothing in Isaiah’s politics or society changed. He changed. He saw the Light. His awareness of sin transformed into purpose.

Here I am, Lord, send me!