Study Desk

When King Hezekiah heard the report, he also tore his clothes and dressed in rough, penitential burlap gunnysacks, and went into the sanctuary of God . He sent Eliakim the palace administrator, Shebna the secretary, and the senior priests, all of them also dressed in penitential burlap, to the prophet Isaiah son of Amoz.

They said to him, "Hezekiah says, ‘This is a black day. We're in crisis. We're like pregnant women without even the strength to have a baby! Do you think your God heard what the Rabshekah said, sent by his master the king of Assyria to mock the living God? And do you think your God will do anything about it? Pray for us, Isaiah. Pray for those of us left here holding the fort!'"

Just then the Assyrian king received an intelligence report on King Tirhakah of Ethiopia: "He is on his way to make war on you." On hearing that, he sent messengers to Hezekiah with instructions to deliver this message: "Don't let your God , on whom you so naively lean, deceive you, promising that Jerusalem won't fall to the king of Assyria. Use your head! Look around at what the kings of Assyria have done all over the world—one country after another devastated! And do you think you're going to get off? Have any of the gods of any of these countries ever stepped in and saved them, even one of these nations my predecessors destroyed—Gozan, Haran, Rezeph, and the people of Eden who lived in Telassar? Look around. Do you see anything left of the king of Hamath, the king of Arpad, the king of the city of Sepharvaim, the king of Hena, the king of Ivvah?"

Then the Angel of God arrived and struck the Assyrian camp—185,000 Assyrians died. By the time the sun came up, they were all dead—an army of corpses! Sennacherib, king of Assyria, got out of there fast, back home to Nineveh. As he was worshiping in the sanctuary of his god Nisroch, he was murdered by his sons Adrammelech and Sharezer. They escaped to the land of Ararat. His son Esar-haddon became the next king.

This is what Hezekiah king of Judah wrote after he'd been sick and then recovered from his sickness: In the very prime of life I have to leave. Whatever time I have left is spent in death's waiting room. No more glimpses of God in the land of the living, No more meetings with my neighbors, no more rubbing shoulders with friends. This body I inhabit is taken down and packed away like a camper's tent. Like a weaver, I've rolled up the carpet of my life as God cuts me free of the loom And at day's end sweeps up the scraps and pieces. I cry for help until morning. Like a lion, God pummels and pounds me, relentlessly finishing me off. I squawk like a doomed hen, moan like a dove. My eyes ache from looking up for help: "Master, I'm in trouble! Get me out of this!" But what's the use? God himself gave me the word. He's done it to me. I can't sleep— I'm that upset, that troubled.

Hezekiah received the messengers warmly. He took them on a tour of his royal precincts, proudly showing them all his treasures: silver, gold, spices, expensive oils, all his weapons—everything out on display. There was nothing in his house or kingdom that Hezekiah didn't show them.

Climb a high mountain, Zion. You're the preacher of good news. Raise your voice. Make it good and loud, Jerusalem. You're the preacher of good news. Speak loud and clear. Don't be timid! Tell the cities of Judah, "Look! Your God!" Look at him! God , the Master, comes in power, ready to go into action. He is going to pay back his enemies and reward those who have loved him. Like a shepherd, he will care for his flock, gathering the lambs in his arms, Hugging them as he carries them, leading the nursing ewes to good pasture.

Who has scooped up the ocean in his two hands, or measured the sky between his thumb and little finger, Who has put all the earth's dirt in one of his baskets, weighed each mountain and hill? Who could ever have told God what to do or taught him his business? What expert would he have gone to for advice, what school would he attend to learn justice? What god do you suppose might have taught him what he knows, showed him how things work? Why, the nations are but a drop in a bucket, a mere smudge on a window. Watch him sweep up the islands like so much dust off the floor! There aren't enough trees in Lebanon nor enough animals in those vast forests to furnish adequate fuel and offerings for his worship. All the nations add up to simply nothing before him— less than nothing is more like it. A minus.

Why would you ever complain, O Jacob, or, whine, Israel, saying, " God has lost track of me. He doesn't care what happens to me"? Don't you know anything? Haven't you been listening? God doesn't come and go. God lasts. He's Creator of all you can see or imagine. He doesn't get tired out, doesn't pause to catch his breath. And he knows everything, inside and out. He energizes those who get tired, gives fresh strength to dropouts. For even young people tire and drop out, young folk in their prime stumble and fall. But those who wait upon God get fresh strength. They spread their wings and soar like eagles, They run and don't get tired, they walk and don't lag behind.

"Who got things rolling here, got this champion from the east on the move? Who recruited him for this job, then rounded up and corralled the nations so he could run roughshod over kings? He's off and running, pulverizing nations into dust, leaving only stubble and chaff in his wake. He chases them and comes through unscathed, his feet scarcely touching the path.

"Take a good look at my servant. I'm backing him to the hilt. He's the one I chose, and I couldn't be more pleased with him. I've bathed him with my Spirit, my life. He'll set everything right among the nations. He won't call attention to what he does with loud speeches or gaudy parades. He won't brush aside the bruised and the hurt and he won't disregard the small and insignificant, but he'll steadily and firmly set things right. He won't tire out and quit. He won't be stopped until he's finished his work—to set things right on earth. Far-flung ocean islands wait expectantly for his teaching."

God 's Message, the God who created the cosmos, stretched out the skies, laid out the earth and all that grows from it, Who breathes life into earth's people, makes them alive with his own life: "I am God . I have called you to live right and well. I have taken responsibility for you, kept you safe. I have set you among my people to bind them to me, and provided you as a lighthouse to the nations, To make a start at bringing people into the open, into light: opening blind eyes, releasing prisoners from dungeons, emptying the dark prisons. I am God . That's my name. I don't franchise my glory, don't endorse the no-god idols. Take note: The earlier predictions of judgment have been fulfilled. I'm announcing the new salvation work. Before it bursts on the scene, I'm telling you all about it."

Sing to God a brand-new song, sing his praises all over the world! Let the sea and its fish give a round of applause, with all the far-flung islands joining in. Let the desert and its camps raise a tune, calling the Kedar nomads to join in. Let the villagers in Sela round up a choir and perform from the tops of the mountains. Make God 's glory resound; echo his praises from coast to coast. God steps out like he means business. You can see he's primed for action. He shouts, announcing his arrival; he takes charge and his enemies fall into line: "I've been quiet long enough. I've held back, biting my tongue. But now I'm letting loose, letting go, like a woman who's having a baby— Stripping the hills bare, withering the wildflowers, Drying up the rivers, turning lakes into mudflats. But I'll take the hand of those who don't know the way, who can't see where they're going. I'll be a personal guide to them, directing them through unknown country. I'll be right there to show them what roads to take, make sure they don't fall into the ditch. These are the things I'll be doing for them— sticking with them, not leaving them for a minute."

Pay attention! Are you deaf? Open your eyes! Are you blind? You're my servant, and you're not looking! You're my messenger, and you're not listening! The very people I depended upon, servants of God , blind as a bat—willfully blind! You've seen a lot, but looked at nothing. You've heard everything, but listened to nothing. God intended, out of the goodness of his heart, to be lavish in his revelation. But this is a people battered and cowed, shut up in attics and closets, Victims licking their wounds, feeling ignored, abandoned. But is anyone out there listening? Is anyone paying attention to what's coming? Who do you think turned Jacob over to the thugs, let loose the robbers on Israel? Wasn't it God himself, this God against whom we've sinned— not doing what he commanded, not listening to what he said? Isn't it God's anger that's behind all this, God's punishing power? Their whole world collapsed but they still didn't get it; their life is in ruins but they don't take it to heart.

"But for now, dear servant Jacob, listen— yes, you, Israel, my personal choice. God who made you has something to say to you; the God who formed you in the womb wants to help you. Don't be afraid, dear servant Jacob, Jeshurun, the one I chose. For I will pour water on the thirsty ground and send streams coursing through the parched earth. I will pour my Spirit into your descendants and my blessing on your children. They shall sprout like grass on the prairie, like willows alongside creeks. This one will say, ‘I am God 's,' and another will go by the name Jacob; That one will write on his hand ‘ God 's property'— and be proud to be called Israel."

The blacksmith makes his no-god, works it over in his forge, hammering it on his anvil—such hard work! He works away, fatigued with hunger and thirst.

The woodworker draws up plans for his no-god, traces it on a block of wood. He shapes it with chisels and planes into human shape—a beautiful woman, a handsome man, ready to be placed in a chapel. He first cuts down a cedar, or maybe picks out a pine or oak, and lets it grow strong in the forest, nourished by the rain. Then it can serve a double purpose: Part he uses as firewood for keeping warm and baking bread; from the other part he makes a god that he worships—carves it into a god shape and prays before it. With half he makes a fire to warm himself and barbecue his supper. He eats his fill and sits back satisfied with his stomach full and his feet warmed by the fire: "Ah, this is the life." And he still has half left for a god, made to his personal design—a handy, convenient no-god to worship whenever so inclined. Whenever the need strikes him he prays to it, "Save me. You're my god."

This lover of emptiness, of nothing, is so out of touch with reality, so far gone, that he can't even look at what he's doing, can't even look at the no-god stick of wood in his hand and say, "This is crazy."

He makes the magicians look ridiculous and turns fortunetellers into jokes. He makes the experts look trivial and their latest knowledge look silly. But he backs the word of his servant and confirms the counsel of his messengers. He says to Jerusalem, "Be inhabited," and to the cities of Judah, "Be rebuilt," and to the ruins, "I raise you up." He says to Ocean, "Dry up. I'm drying up your rivers." He says to Cyrus, "My shepherd— everything I want, you'll do it." He says to Jerusalem, "Be built," and to the Temple, "Be established."

God 's Message to his anointed, to Cyrus, whom he took by the hand To give the task of taming the nations, of terrifying their kings— He gave him free rein, no restrictions: "I'll go ahead of you, clearing and paving the road. I'll break down bronze city gates, smash padlocks, kick down barred entrances. I'll lead you to buried treasures, secret caches of valuables— Confirmations that it is, in fact, I, God , the God of Israel, who calls you by your name. It's because of my dear servant Jacob, Israel my chosen, That I've singled you out, called you by name, and given you this privileged work. And you don't even know me! I am God , the only God there is. Besides me there are no real gods. I'm the one who armed you for this work, though you don't even know me, So that everyone, from east to west, will know that I have no god-rivals. I am God , the only God there is. I form light and create darkness, I make harmonies and create discords. I, God , do all these things.