Stuck in the Middle - Pastor Johnnie Simpson Jr.

We find ourselves exploring Isaiah 2:1-5, a powerful vision given during one of Israel's darkest hours. The prophet received this word while Jerusalem faced political chaos, economic collapse, and the terrifying approach of the Assyrian empire. Yet in the midst of this turmoil, God revealed a future where the mountain of the Lord would be established, where nations would stream to learn God's ways, and where weapons of war would be transformed into tools for feeding people. This passage invites us to consider what it means to be 'stuck in the middle'—caught between God's promises and our present circumstances. We pray for healing that doesn't come, for peace that seems impossible, for justice that remains elusive. But this vision teaches us that the middle is exactly where God meets us. It's where our faith is tested and proven. The Hebrew phrase 'in the last days' actually means 'in the days to come'—not the end of the world, but God's perfect timing breaking into our imperfect present. When we walk in the light of the Lord now, we're not passively waiting for God to fix everything; we're actively learning God's ways and allowing transformation to begin in us. The same God who turned back the Assyrian army through unexpected circumstances is the same God who can redirect the forces coming against us today.

Caught Between Promise and Reality: Finding Light in the Middle

Life has a peculiar way of trapping us between two opposing forces. On one side stands the weight of our current circumstances—the bills that keep coming, the relationships that remain broken, the injustices that persist, the diagnoses that terrify. On the other side echo the promises we've heard from God—promises of provision, healing, justice, and peace. And there we stand, suspended in the tension, wondering if what God said will ever match what we see.

This is the space where faith either withers or deepens.

When Everything Falls Apart

The prophet Isaiah understood this tension intimately. He wasn't writing beautiful poetry from a comfortable position of peace and prosperity. For 44 years, he served as a prophet during some of the most turbulent times in Israel's history. The once-united kingdom had fractured into two nations—Israel in the north and Judah in the south—and both were struggling to survive.

The political landscape was a disaster. Leaders were making alliances with pagan nations instead of trusting God. They poured resources into military might, believing that bigger armies would save them rather than divine intervention. The economic situation was equally grim. War spending drained the treasury while ordinary people—farmers, merchants, craftspeople—bore the burden of their leaders' poor decisions. The wealth gap widened. The rich grew richer while the poor grew poorer.

Justice had become a commodity available only to those with money and power. The very people God commanded His followers to protect—widows, orphans, immigrants—were being exploited and oppressed. And internationally, the Assyrian empire was tearing through cities with brutal efficiency, leaving destruction in its wake. Every day brought news of another fallen city, another wave of refugees seeking asylum.

Sound familiar?

The Hypocrisy Problem

What made the situation even more painful was the religious hypocrisy. People showed up for worship. They knew the rituals, could recite the liturgy, sang the songs without needing a hymnal. From the outside, everything looked spiritually healthy. But step outside the sanctuary, and you wouldn't know these people had any relationship with God at all.

They had religion without relationship, form without substance, rituals without righteousness.

This is where God met Isaiah with a vision that seemed impossible given the circumstances.

A Vision That Defies Reality

Isaiah received a prophetic word about "the days to come"—not necessarily the end of the world, but God's perfect timing breaking into human history. And what he saw was revolutionary.

He saw the mountain of the Lord's house established and exalted. Not geographically—Mount Zion isn't actually the highest mountain—but spiritually. God's presence would be elevated above everything else: above politics, above economics, above international conflict, above all human systems and structures.

He saw people from all nations making pilgrimages to this mountain, singing songs of praise along the way. Not just the religious insiders, but everyone—Jews and Gentiles, cradle-to-grave believers and those who couldn't spell church. An all-welcoming God inviting everyone to come.

He saw God teaching people His ways so they could walk in His paths. Notice that God isn't called a king in this passage, but a judge and a teacher. The resolution isn't God fixing everything while we sit back passively. It's us going to God, learning from God, and walking in His ways.

And then comes the most striking image: weapons transformed into farming tools. Swords beaten into plowshares, spears into pruning hooks. Nation no longer taking up sword against nation. The instruments of death becoming instruments of life. Resources dedicated to destruction redirected toward nourishment and growth.

The Audacity of Hope

Here's what makes this vision so powerful: Isaiah proclaimed it while cities were falling around him. He spoke of peace in the middle of war, of justice during oppression, of transformation amid chaos.

This wasn't wishful thinking. It was prophetic preparation for the coming of Christ—the Prince of Peace, the one who would judge between nations not with a sword but with truth, the one who would teach God's ways through both His words and His life, death, and resurrection.

The light Isaiah saw wasn't a someday light or a far-off light. It was a light available to walk in right now, today. As John's Gospel declares: "In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."

Walking in the Light While Stuck in the Middle

The vision wasn't just about the future. It was a call to live differently in the present: "Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord." Not wait for the light. Not hope for the light someday. Walk in the light now.

And here's the remarkable thing: as the Assyrians marched toward Jerusalem, intent on destruction, a civil war broke out back in their homeland. They had to turn around and go home. The threat that seemed unstoppable was stopped by circumstances no one could have predicted.

Sometimes, when you walk in the light, enemies heading your way will inexplicably turn around and go home.

Walking in the light means choosing faith over fear, hope over despair, love over hate, justice over comfort. Every time you trust God in your present circumstance, you're walking in the light.

The "But God" Factor

We need to learn to put "but God" into our vocabulary. I'm broke right now, but God. I'm sick right now, but God. I don't know how it's going to work out, but God.

"But God" turns what people try to make a period into a comma. God isn't through with you yet. What God has in store for you exceeds anything you can imagine.

The middle—that uncomfortable space between promise and fulfillment—is exactly where God wants to meet you. The middle is where the vision comes, where faith is tested and proven, where you learn to walk in the light even when darkness surrounds you.

The End of the Story

The Bible is clear about how this story ends. Christ wins. We'll be walking in the light. We will see salvation.

Powers and principalities don't determine your future. God does. And when God delivers—and He will deliver—don't be afraid to dream big. Don't be afraid to believe that weapons in your life can be transformed into tools for feeding, that battles can come to an end, that political chaos can work out for your good.

You might be stuck in the middle today. But the middle is holy ground. It's where heaven meets earth, where the impossible becomes possible, where darkness gives way to light.

The light has already won.