Laura and Taylor never discuss baby names with us. Before Kellen was born, I guessed (correctly) that they would come up with some unusual names for their children so each time we’ve prepared ourselves to smile and nod when the time comes. I can’t imagine Kellen with any other name and I didn’t even flinch when they introduced us to Oaks. In fact, I really kind of like it 🙂

I love the verse that they’ve attached to his name. While the first two verses of Isaiah 61 are fairly familiar to me, verse three was not.

Jesus read from this portion when he read the scrolls in the synagogue (Luke 4:16-21.) He was in Nazareth on the Sabbath day and stood up to read. The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him and he unrolled it, finding what we identify as Isaiah 61 and read the first two verses. He then rolled up the scroll and sat down. When everyone looked at him, he said, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” And the people were impressed. It says “All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his lips.” This wasn’t one of those times that his words set off accusations of blasphemy or the outrage of the religious leaders.

But Jesus didn’t read verse three, in fact, he didn’t even finish verse two. (For one thing, there weren’t verse notations in the scrolls, though that probably wasn’t his reason for stopping at that point.) Verse 2 and 3 read:

“to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor

[Jesus stopped here]

and the day of vengeance of our God,

to comfort all who mourn and to provide for those who grieve in Zion–

to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness instead of mourning,

and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness,

a planting of the Lord,

for the display of his splendor.”

For Laura and Taylor, these references to comfort, ashes, mourning and despair reflected some of the more difficult times they’ve experienced with two miscarriages and a long year of waiting for conception to occur. They have felt that this baby was truly a “planting of the Lord” as they have prayed and waited for this child.

When I heard these words, they brought an immediate sense of hope. I’d truly been mourning, grieving, and despairing in the months and weeks previously and loved the replacement words: crown of beauty instead of ashes, oil of gladness instead of mourning, a garment of praise instead of despair. Beyond the “normal” process of grieving my mother’s death since January, I’ve felt bushwacked by an accumulation of discouraging circumstances. While I rested following my surgery, I spent so much time crying over a lot of spilled milk. I knew that my grief was cumulative, the result of a long hard year topped with additional losses, but I was surprised by the level of despair I felt and the frequent flow of tears. I’d just written to Anne that these past few months had “about done me in.”

I knew that a new baby would help me feel a little better. But I had no idea how encouraged I would be by his name and by this verse.

On Sunday when they announced that there would be an Ash Wednesday service at church I was surprised that it was that time of year already. I brushed it off, thinking that this year I just didn’t have time for Lent. I had a new grandson coming and a wedding in New Zealand, all well before Easter.

But I made it to the service because Isaiah 61 reminded me that ashes–grief, mourning and despair–are very much a part of life that I need to acknowledge, a reason why Jesus had to suffer and die. I’m not sure why I needed that reminder in the midst of my own mourning, but I did. I needed the hopefulness of these verses, the message that part of the way Jesus fulfilled Scripture was also to comfort those who mourn, to bestow beauty for ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.

And the great hope that we will be called Oaks of righteousness. Our little acorn will be a great reminder to me in the days ahead.

And for now, “How sweet to hold a newborn baby, And feel the pride and joy he gives…” It’s an old Gaither song from the 80s, one popular when our babies were born, but one that comes to mind in those wonderful baby-holding moments.

I’ve still got a lot on my plate and since Oaks arrived, life has become busy once again. But I’m going to take time for Lent, balancing activity with reflection, hope with the reality of the broken world that Jesus came to redeem.