I keep thinking about him. There was something shocking about him anyway. Besides for what he was doing I mean He looked like a caricature drawing of God, but without the lighting bolts buzzing out of his hands towards earth.
He stood there, in the middle of the street shouting out. Not looking at anyone. But I looked at him. I stared like he was a car wreck of a human life. I almost mocked him. Almost.
It was Isaiah, the book of Isaiah; yelling it out as if he himself had written this ancient text the day before. There was no emotion in his face, but his voice. Oh my God, his voice, like a deep booming drum, beating out of his throat. Such holy words framed with such a fearful voice.
I hear he’s relentless. I’m told he’s memorized most all the books of the prophets. Ezekiel, Jeremiah, Joel, Malachi and on any certain day he is out in the streets of Jerusalem reciting Hebrew Scriptures like his own dramatic monologue. He must be scoffed, and perhaps he’s crazy, yet he is relentless.
What would drive a man to do such strange things? Surely he’s not actually helping God reach out to human lives? God couldn’t possibly….
Relentless. Am I relentless about anything? Music? No. Love? Sometimes. God? I dont know.
I know, I know, I don’t need to trumpet out entire passages of confusing scripture in order to prove my relational prowess with God. And nor will I. I am however challenged to look at my own sloppy heart and search it. God, what in me requires more relentlessness? More specifically, your relentlessness?
You who make mention of the Lord, do not be silent and give Him no rest. – Isaiah
The Joy of This 
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