(Isaiah 40; Colossians 1:15-20)
Isaiah is the most theological book of the Old Testament. In the breadth of the prophet’s teaching, the depths of his themes, and the subtle ways in which those themes are woven together throughout the book, it is unmatched in the Hebrew Scriptures; not for nothing has it been called the Romans of the Old Testament. The driving concern all through the book is the contrast between what Israel is called to be—namely, God’s servant among the nations, through whom he will draw all the nations to himself—and what Israel actually is—their idolatry, their injustice, their refusal to trust God, and their insistence on putting their trust instead in themselves and their military power (such as it was).
The first five chapters set out the broad themes of the book, and then in chapter 6 we have the story of God calling Isaiah as a prophet. Chapters 7-39 are the first main section of the book, showing us Isaiah’s prophetic ministry in Judah, which was the southern kingdom—when the northern ten tribes seceded from the kingdom of David and Solomon, they took the name “Israel” with them; the south became known as “Judah” after its dominant tribe. When Isaiah begins his ministry, during the reign of King Ahaz, the main threats to Judah are Israel and Syria. Isaiah goes to Ahaz and tells him, “This is what God says: Israel and Syria are plotting to invade you, but just trust me—they won’t do it, because I’m going to stop them. Ask me for a sign—anything—and I’ll give it to you to confirm this.” But Ahaz refuses, because he already has his own plan: he’s going to ally himself with the Assyrian empire and use them to take care of Syria and Israel.
In consequence, God, through the prophet Isaiah, responds with anger and frustration, telling Ahaz that because of his refusal to trust in God, Assyria is going to come down hard on Judah; the Assyrians won’t quite conquer Judah, but they’ll do everything but. Over the course of time, Assyrian power rises, and their threat to Judah rises—though Isaiah tells the people several times along the way that the real threat is the one coming along behind them, the Babylonians—culminating in the Assyrian invasion, which comes in chapter 36, as the Assyrian armies take all the cities of Judah except for the capital city of Jerusalem. This time, however, Hezekiah is king; unlike his father Ahaz, he puts his trust in God, and God delivers the nation. But then, in chapter 39, he makes a critical mistake: when envoys come from the king of Babylon—Babylon about whom Isaiah has been warning his people all these years—Hezekiah does everything he can to make an ally of them, putting his trust in them rather than in the God who has already delivered his nation once from the power of Assyria. He makes essentially the same mistake Ahaz made, and the word comes in response: Babylon will conquer Judah, and your people and treasures will be carried off into exile.
As we noted a few weeks ago, though, that could not be the last word; the story of the people of God could not end that way, or it would invalidate everything God had ever said about himself. Thus begins the second great section of the book, Isaiah 40-55, which answers the question, “What now?” God will bring his people back from exile, that has to be established—and it is, in the first 11 verses of this chapter, the immediate response to the word of judgment pronounced in chapter 39—but on what basis? What will God do with this people who refuse to be the servant people he called and created them to be? Will they respond to their exile by repenting and changing their ways, or will God’s work have to go forward some other way? Will he ultimately have to set his people aside?
The answers to those questions will be worked out over the course of chapters 40-55, which we’ll be studying over the next number of weeks; right from the beginning, though, even in the great word of comfort and hope that opens this section, we have hints that God’s people will not respond as they should. It’s my contention that we see two primary things happen in these chapters; the first is widely agreed on, while the second is not so much. First, in what are known as the “Servant Songs,” we see the focus shift from the nation as God’s servant to God raising up a particular servant, one human being, through whom he will accomplish his purpose—and these prophecies are fulfilled in Jesus Christ. Thus we’ll spend some time during this series in the gospels, and in other passages that point explicitly to Christ, as our passage from Colossians does this morning. Second, I believe we see in these chapters a shift away from Israel to the nations—since Israel would not take up the mission to the nations, the Servant will begin that mission himself; the salvation of Israel will have to come through the nations, instead of the other way around. This engages with Paul’s argument in Romans 9-11, in which he wrestles with this issue, and so we’ll spend some time reading there as well.
The argument begins here in chapter 40, though, with the announcement of deliverance; and that announcement is founded in the assertion that God, and only God, is capable of delivering his people. We see the first statement of that in verse 10: “See, the Sovereign LORD comes with power, and his arm rules for him”; and then in verse 12, Isaiah begins to argue this out in detail. The central question of this section comes in verse 18: “To whom will you compare God?” The answer is clear: nobody. Verse 12 asks, who can compare with God’s power in creation? The imagery here is remarkable—for all the vastness of the heavens, God measured them with a span, which is the distance from here [tip of thumb] to here [tip of spread pinky]. That’s how big the universe is compared to God. Verses 13 and 14 ask, who can compare with God’s wisdom and knowledge—who was even in a position to offer him advice? Clearly, no one.
What about the nations? The kings of Judah, as we’ve seen, spent much of their time focused on the threat from this nation or that nation, and hoping to use this other powerful nation over here as an ally to deal with the perceived threat; and if they could have, they no doubt would have been looking for nations which they could invade and conquer in turn. What about these powers? The kings of Judah didn’t trust God to deal with them, preferring their military efforts and diplomatic intrigues; were they justified? Are the nations too great for God to handle? No, says Isaiah, of course not. All their power and glory are nothing, just the speck of dust that settles on the scale—completely inconsequential. Not only is their power no rival to that of God, the very idea is utterly ludicrous, totally absurd. They’re not “worthless”—that’s not a good word choice by the NIV; it’s not as if God doesn’t value them, because he clearly does. The point is, rather, that as God measures power, they don’t even register.
Ah, but some might say, that’s comparing apples to dragons. The nations are certainly far greater and more powerful than Israel, so surely their gods must be greater and more powerful than Israel’s God, right? That would have seemed obvious to most people; but to Isaiah, it’s the most ridiculous idea yet. In verses 19-20, we get the first of several polemics against idols that we’ll see in this section—this one’s brief, but when Isaiah returns to this theme and these images later on, he’ll do so at greater length. Are the gods of the nations powerful? No, they’re nothing at all. People make them out of stuff. Sure, it’s valuable stuff—that “poor man” is a mistranslation, because in that part of the world, wood that wouldn’t rot was actually very expensive, and it required a skilled craftsman to shape it—but it’s just stuff, made by people, set up by people, protected by people. It can’t even stand up by itself—it has to be secured with chains or fastened down in some other way to keep it from falling over. And this is supposed to rival the God who made the whole universe (including that stuff that people bow down and worship) out of nothing, not even needing anyone to advise him? Not likely.
Just to make sure you got the point, Isaiah goes back over all of it. Creation, kings, nations—don’t you get it? he asks; are you really that dense? All these things are God’s creation, and he does with them as he will; even the sun, moon, and stars, which the peoples of the ancient world thought governed their lives, are his creation and his servants. In his power, in his character, in all of who he is, God is so far above anything we human beings can imagine as to be completely incomparable, completely beyond our ability to describe; as such, he’s also completely beyond our ability, or the ability of our enemies, to baffle, thwart, or evade. He raises up the powers of the earth, and then he brings them to nothing, as he will; no opposition to him will be allowed to endure.
From Israel’s perspective, though, what really mattered was their own circumstances, and when things weren’t going the way they wanted, they were inclined to distrust God; and so here we get the first appearance of their grumbling skepticism. “God isn’t helping us; he can’t see what’s happening to us, and he doesn’t care that we aren’t getting the justice we deserve.” To that, Isaiah says once again, “Don’t you get it?” God has all power over creation, and he knows everything that happens; and no, he’s not too tired to help his people, either, because he never gets tired. God intends to deliver his people, and he has the ability to do so any time and in any way he chooses. What is needed is for his people—for them; for us—to trust him.
Our own strength is limited; even the best of us wear out and falter. That second word translated “young men” means “chosen ones”—the elite, the hand-picked, like our own Olympic athletes. Even a guy like Michael Phelps can only keep going for so long before he drops from exhaustion. But God says that if we will trust him, wait for him, depend on him, rather than putting our trust in our own strength and our own plans, that he will give us the strength and the endurance we need to do what he calls us to do. We will be able to fly as eagles fly—not by working hard flapping their wings, but by stretching out their wings and letting the wind carry them; we will be able to keep going through the weary times, because when our strength runs out, he will renew us, if we wait on him.
This is important for us to remember as a nation, as we enter a new year in very uncertain circumstances; as we consider Iran, and terrorists, and the global economic situation, we need to remember what Isaiah tells us: surely all these problems compared to God are like the bead of condensation that slides down your can of soda, or the bit of dust that settles on the scale when you’re weighing the produce. Yes, economic trends could make our lives much less comfortable than we’ve been used to, and yes, al’Qaeda could hurt our country badly; but though God may permit bad things to happen to us, they will only happen when he permits them, and he will continue to work through them just as he works through the good things we see in life. In all things, well and ill, God is in control and at work to accomplish his purposes.
This is also important for us to remember as a church. We know we have some challenges; we know that given the size and age of our congregation, the giving level we’ve seen, and the size of our budget, our current situation is not sustainable. Change will come, one way or another, that’s inevitable—the only question is whether we will be proactive in creating change, or just let change happen to us (in which case it will almost certainly be bad). What we need to bear in mind is that we must not make the same mistake King Ahaz made, in choosing to put his trust in his own wits and schemes and plans—a mistake that came because he focused too much on the problems he could see, and lost sight of the fact that God is much bigger than all those problems. As the Session gathers next Sunday to begin to develop a vision and a plan for this body, as we bring our work to the congregation at the annual meeting next month, as we work over the course of this coming year to get everyone committed to going forward together in ministry in a new way, we need to remember whose wisdom we need to seek, and whose will we need to follow, and whose strength and whose power will make it all happen—namely, God. Our incomparable God who made all that is and who dwarfs every challenge we face has a part for us in his plan, and he desires to bless us as a part of that; we just need to follow.
This means that while our own efforts are important—God doesn’t call us to passivity—the most important thing we can do is pray. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, if you’re a part of this community of faith, your first responsibility before all others is to be in prayer for the church; if you didn’t get the sheet I put together suggesting ways to be praying for this body, let me know and I’ll run you off a copy. In particular, and especially this year, we as the Session need your prayers, as we seek to discern where God is leading us.