Overwhelming Majesty

A Reflection on the First Reading for Sunday, February 9th, 2025:
Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

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Isaiah
6.1-2a, 3-8

​In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings. And one called to another and said: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.” The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke.

And I said: “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. The seraph touched my mouth with it and said: “Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.” Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I; send me!”

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

I can’t quite imagine finding myself in Isaiah’s position in today’s reading. He’s describing a scene that I would find overwhelming and likely terrifying. Angels in general – especially as described in the Old Testament – aren’t exactly an image that inspires a lot of comfort. The magnitude of their praise seems beyond my imagination. The overwhelming majesty of God, most of all, would be too much to truly take in. I would fall apart. I would weep in shame. I would look away in fear.

I’d like to think I could handle hearing the voice of God through a burning bush or even in the truly man, truly God person of Jesus. Every time I go to Mass, I am able to receive Him in the Eucharist, after all. God being in my earthly space, subverting nature, isn’t all that surprising to me. He literally allows Himself to be bite sized. That feels somehow manageable. It’s a miracle happening in every Church in the entire world, so often I can mistake it for something commonplace (although it truly isn’t).

But this image of being before the throne of God isn’t something I feel like I could process. In the middle of all the noise and joy of the angels, would I have the spiritual depth to fearlessly join in their worship? To delight in His presence? To boldly draw near Him?

God’s overwhelming majesty in this reading scares me, because I know I haven’t built up the spiritual muscles to handle it. I doubt I could even bear the weight of His glory for a moment. Forced to face the majesty of God, I would crumble.

And that’s a good failing to recognize at this stage of the game. Because as overwhelming as I find it in the written word, at some point my truest hope is to be face to face with the Lord. I don’t want to turn away, cower, or try to take Him in only in bite-sized pieces. I want to be totally free to take it all in – to join in the chorus of angels and declare in total joy that He is Holy, Holy, Holy!

I know it will take me a lifetime of spiritual growth to be ready to take in His majesty without collapsing, dissembling, or turning away. With whatever time the Lord gives me, He is inviting me to draw nearer and nearer to Him, attuning my heart to Him, growing in trust, and preparing my body and soul for that great day.

Heavenly Father, send your Holy Spirit to train and prepare my soul for true worship in your presence. Through the saving sacrifice of Jesus, burn away from me every sin, every earthly impulse, and every fear. When you call me home, let nothing keep me from boldly approaching your throne to join in the eternal worship of the Kingdom. AMEN.




​Stéphanie Potter

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