“He protects his flock like a shepherd; he gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them in the fold of his garment. He gently leads those that are nursing.” (Isaiah 40:11 CSB)
Devotional
The same God who measured the oceans in the hollow of his hand also carries lambs against his chest. Isaiah 40 opens with some of the most cosmic language in all of scripture, God weighing mountains on a scale, measuring the waters, needing no one to instruct him. Then, without any tonal warning at all, this. He gathers the lambs in his arms.
That contrast is the whole point, not an accident of the chapter’s structure. The same immense power described just verses earlier is exactly what’s doing the gathering and carrying here. Nothing about his strength gets set aside in order for him to be this tender.
We tend to assume immense power and genuine tenderness don’t usually come in the same package, at least not in anyone we’ve personally met. This verse insists they do, in God, at the exact same time, toward the exact same people, without either one diminishing the other.
What that means practically is that our weakness, the parts of us that feel like the nursing ones in this image, the newest, the least able to keep pace, are not an inconvenience to a busy, important God. They are exactly what he gathers up and carries.
Stop and actually let this be as astonishing as it is. The God who holds galaxies together is the same one who adjusts his pace to ours and carries us against himself when we cannot keep up on our own.
Reflection
I tend to picture God’s power and God’s gentleness as somehow competing with each other, as if being genuinely tender would make him less mighty. This verse says they were never in tension. I want to let myself be one of the nursing ones sometimes, the slow, the tired, the ones who need carrying, instead of pretending I can always keep pace. That feels like the harder thing to actually believe about myself.
Prayer
Father, we stand in awe of a God powerful enough to hold galaxies and gentle enough to gather lambs. Thank you that our weakness has never been an inconvenience to you. Carry us in the places we cannot keep pace right now. Thank you for being close enough to actually adjust to us.