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Before diving into the book of Isaiah, we meet him through the perspective of someone searching for God in the New Testament. An Ethiopian official—a eunuch and treasurer of his kingdom—has traveled a thousand miles by chariot to Jerusalem seeking God. On his return journey, he possesses an expensive hand-transcribed scroll of Isaiah's words, but as he reads, he cannot understand what he's reading.
The passage he reads speaks of one "led like a sheep to the slaughter" and "as a lamb before the shearer is silent." He doesn't know who these words point to. God prompts Philip the evangelist to approach the chariot. When Philip asks, "Do you understand what you're reading?" the man responds, "How can I unless someone explains it to me?" Philip then uses Isaiah's words to tell him about Jesus, and as they travel, they come to water. The Ethiopian asks, "What can stand in the way of my being baptized?" God uses Isaiah's ancient words and Philip's obedience as a catalyst that changes this man's eternity.
Isaiah lived roughly halfway between Moses and Jesus—700 years after Moses and 700 years before Jesus. He was married with at least two sons and served as an Old Testament prophet. Unlike the rugged mountain-man image we might hold of prophets, Isaiah was well-connected with ties to Judean royalty. Both his cousin and uncle were kings of Judah, giving him access to both the palace and the temple. He was an insider.
He began his ministry around age 21 and lived into his early 80s. Jewish tradition holds that King Manasseh ordered his execution by being sawn in two for his faith.
Many have called Isaiah the "fifth gospel." The four gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John—detail the life and ministry of Jesus. Isaiah wrote so much about the coming Messiah that having his prophecies feels like possessing a gospel right in the Old Testament.
The book of Isaiah's structure reveals an interesting parallel: there are 66 books in the Bible and 66 chapters in Isaiah. The first 39 chapters deal with judgment and the consequences of sin, mirroring the 39 books of the Old Testament with similar themes. Then Isaiah shifts dramatically. The tone changes from judgment to hope, from consequences of sin to the coming Messiah—paralleling the 27 books of the New Testament.
To truly understand Isaiah—to know what made him the man and prophet he was—we must examine a milestone moment in his life: his personal encounter with the living God. When we have a personal encounter with God, it changes us, and the same was true for Isaiah.
In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord high and exalted, seated on a throne, and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were Seraphim, each with six wings. With two wings they covered their faces. With two they covered their feet. And with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty. The whole earth is full of his glory." At the sound of their voices, the doorposts and thresholds shook, and the temple was filled with smoke.
This vision occurred in the year King Uzziah died. Uzziah was one of the few good kings of Judah. When good kings obeyed God, the people enjoyed peace and prosperity; when bad kings ruled, the people paid the price. In Judah's 345 years as a nation, they had 20 rulers—over half were bad—but Uzziah was good, reigning 52 years.
Now King Uzziah has died. For many who knew only the peace and prosperity of his reign, uncertainty fills the land. What will come next? Will things be okay?
Yet in this very moment, Isaiah has a vision of the Lord seated on his throne—a picture of God in control. For any of us facing instability, uncertainty, or fear about what comes next, this is incredible comfort. We might personalize this: "It was the year of my divorce," "It was the year I lost my job," yet we were reminded that God is in control. Whether grieving a loved one, receiving an uncertain diagnosis, or walking through corporate transitions, the Lord sits on his throne. He knows what we don't know and sees what we do not see. Regardless of our circumstances, God is in control.
Next in this vision, Isaiah sees Seraphim—a type of angel whose name in Hebrew literally means "fiery ones" or "burning ones." They have six wings and fly around God's throne, calling to one another: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty. The whole earth is full of his glory."
In Hebrew, there is no punctuation. To emphasize something, you repeat it. To repeat something three times is the superlative—the ultimate emphasis. Of all the many names and attributes of God mentioned throughout the Bible, only one is ever repeated three times: the holiness of God.
The holiness of God is difficult to describe. The best we might grasp is that the gap between our humanity and God's holiness must be bigger than we think.
Isaiah has been called to preach judgment for the hope of repentance to the Judean people. In chapter 5 alone, six times he declares, "Woe to you. Woe to you who are perverting justice. Woe to you who call good evil and who call evil good." If we compared Isaiah to these people and what they were doing, we would say Isaiah is the good one and these people are the problem.
Yet when Isaiah comes face to face with God's holiness, his "woe to you" becomes "woe is me, for I am ruined." In that moment, he realizes the gap between his humanity and God's holiness is far bigger than he imagined.
Most of us prefer to compare ourselves to other people rather than to God's holiness. We hope to build a case; we hope God grades on a curve. When asked on a scale of 1 to 10 how certain they are they'd go to heaven, many answer six.
Six has built-in humility. It acknowledges: "I'm not saying I've done it all right. I've made mistakes." It recognizes admirable people—perhaps a grandmother who taught Sunday school for 30 years, saints from centuries past, Mother Teresa, Billy Graham—people we think surely would make it. But six also has realism. Comparing ourselves to others, we think: "I haven't done it perfectly, but objectively, look at my life compared to others. Look at social media. Look at the news. There are people lying, stealing, embezzling, cheating. At my workplace, people step over each other. In my neighborhood, there's that guy still setting off fireworks at midnight—he's got to be bottom five, right?"
Wherever we place ourselves on that continuum, the common sentiment is: I'll just try to do more good than bad and hope it all works out.
But here's the problem: we're comparing ourselves to the wrong thing. We compare ourselves to each other rather than to God's holiness.
Every religion acknowledges that a gap exists between humanity and God. Every religion other than Christianity essentially says: there is a gap, and it is up to you to overcome it. You must be better, try harder, do more.
Only Christianity says: there is a gap so profound that the only chance we have is if God himself does something about it.
This is exactly what happens in Isaiah's vision. When Isaiah cries out, "Woe is me! I am ruined," one of the Seraphim flies to him with a live coal from the altar:
Then one of the Seraphim flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, "See, this has touched your lips. Your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for."
Something about the sacrifice at that altar made it possible for Isaiah to stand before a holy God. Early in Isaiah's ministry, God gives him a glimpse of what he will do. Over the course of Isaiah's life, God reveals more and more of how he will do it. Many years later, Isaiah writes what we know as Isaiah 53—a prophecy of a coming Messiah who would be a suffering servant.
Isaiah 53 (beginning with the last verses of chapter 52) is one of the most remarkable portions of scripture in the Bible. Martin Luther said every Christian should memorize it. This is the very passage the Ethiopian official read from as he sat in his chariot. This is the passage Philip used to tell that man about Jesus.
Isaiah has already established that a gap exists between humanity and God's holiness. Now he begins to tell us why the gap exists:
We all like sheep have gone astray. Each of us has turned to our own way.
The Bible calls this sin. Sin always separates us from God, creating the gap. The Apostle Paul expressed it this way: "For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God."
In Genesis 1 and 2, God creates the heavens and the earth—and it is good. We are in right relationship with God. God tells Adam and Eve: "I've made all of this for you. There's just one thing you must not do."
Isaiah has already established that a gap exists between humanity and God's holiness. Now he begins to explain why that gap exists. The prophet writes:
We all like sheep have gone astray. Each of us has turned to our own way.
The Bible calls this sin. Sin always separates us from God, creating the gap. The Apostle Paul expressed it this way: "For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God."
In Genesis 1 and 2, God creates the heavens and the earth—and it is good. We are in right relationship with God. God tells Adam and Eve: "I've made all of this for you. There's just one thing you must not do." There is a tree in the middle of the garden called the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. "You must not eat of that tree or you will surely die."
Of course, Adam and Eve do the one thing God said not to do. As a result, sin enters the world and infects humanity from that point forward. We are separated from God because the penalty, the consequence, the punishment for sin is death—a spiritual separation, this gap we have been discussing.
This creates a tension for God. God is just and holy and must uphold the righteous requirements of the law. And yet God is love and longs to be in relationship with humanity. In fact, the whole rest of the Bible from Genesis 3 onward is God's relentless pursuit of mankind to restore connection with God. This pursuit culminates in God sending his one and only Son, Jesus Christ, to take on human flesh, live a perfect life, and die on the cross for our sins.
Our single biggest problem was that there was a gap we could do nothing about. God's surprising solution is that Jesus Christ himself bridged that gap. And Isaiah prophesies that this will happen 700 years before Jesus was born.
Isaiah prophesies that a Messiah would come who would bear our sins, who would take our sins on himself. Consider these verses from Isaiah 53:
Surely he took up our pain and bore our sufferings, but he was pierced for our transgressions. He was crushed for our iniquities. The punishment that brought us peace was on him. And by his wounds, we are healed. And the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all. My righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.
Because Jesus didn't just die but rose from the dead, beating the power of sin in the grave, the passage continues:
He will be raised and lifted up and highly exalted. Therefore, I will give him a portion among the great.
This passage speaks of the coming Messiah who would be Jesus Christ.
This passage of scripture speaks so clearly of Jesus that for centuries, critics of the Bible pointed to Isaiah 53 and said: "The reason that sounds so much like Jesus is that a bunch of Christians added it after the fact to the original."
Then in 1947, we discovered the Dead Sea Scrolls. Among them, we found the Great Isaiah Scroll—almost completely intact, all 66 chapters of Isaiah on a 24-foot scroll that dated to 100 to 125 years before the time of Jesus.
When we read Isaiah 53, we see Jesus. But what would someone see who had never heard it or was not familiar with it?
A Messianic Jew—a Jewish man who believes in the New Testament and has accepted Jesus as his Messiah—conducted man-on-the-street interviews in Israel, approaching young Jewish men who only believe the Old Testament. He read this passage of scripture to them without telling them what it was from and asked what they thought.
When asked if the passage was from the New Testament, they all said yes. When asked what made them think so, they pointed out: "It said that God was—you're blaming God in that, right?" and "It sounds like it's talking about Jesus like... we put our sins on him. That's what they say, right?"
One young man explained: "In the Old Testament, it's like we take [the punishment] for our sins, not we don't put it on someone else... if we put it on Jesus, we put it on ourselves."
That young man was right in one sense: if we don't put our sin on Jesus, we do take it on ourselves. But this passage from Isaiah, written by one of their major Old Testament prophets, communicates that the only way to stand before the holiness of God is if the Messiah takes our sins on himself.
Consider this illustration: There was a king known as one of the most just and loving kings who had ever lived. For a long time, all was well. But then someone was discovered stealing from the king's treasuries.
The king made an edict: "When it's discovered who's stealing from the king's treasuries, the person found responsible will receive 10 lashes." But the stealing did not stop. The king issued another edict: 20 lashes. Still it continued. 30 lashes. Finally, the king made a final edict: 40 lashes—an almost certain death sentence.
After much time, it was discovered who had been stealing from the king's treasuries. It was none other than the king's daughter.
The whole kingdom wondered what the king would do. Would he uphold the justness and rightness of the law and administer the punishment? Or would he lovingly spare her and let her off the hook?
The king thought long and hard about what he must do. Finally, he decided that the edict is just and the verdict must stand. The next day, the whole kingdom gathered as the daughter was brought forward. She was tied to the post, her gown was ripped open, and the executioner raised the whip.
Just then the king yelled, "Stop!" The king got off his throne, took off his shirt, and placed himself between his daughter and the executioner. He wrapped his body around hers and looked up at the executioner and said, "Now."
The executioner objected: "My king, I cannot deliver the blows without striking you."
The king said, "I know. Do it."
With that, the king took the 40 lashes that were meant for his daughter. The king died in place of his daughter. And he did it in a way that the justice of the law was upheld, while lovingly providing a way for his daughter to be spared and set free.
That is a picture of what Jesus did for us.
When we really get what Jesus did on the cross—this unfathomable gift—and when we really understand how massive the gap was that separated us from God, and when we really grasp what it cost Jesus to bridge that gap, it changes everything. And on top of it all, we are saved by grace. There is nothing we bring to the table. It is a gift of God.
A gift like that begs a response.
We see this with the Ethiopian man in Acts 8. He starts out frustrated, trying to put the pieces together. But once the scriptures are explained to him and he realizes who Jesus is, everything in his heart responds and says yes to God. A bridge like this does us no good if we refuse to walk across it. But when we understand that the gift of God requires a response, everything in us says, "Of course, of course I want to walk across it."
The Ethiopian man responds by saying to Philip, "Look, there's water. Is there any reason why I cannot be baptized?" Scripturally, baptism is the very next thing we are asked to do after following God. If you have made a decision to follow Jesus but have not been baptized as an adult, this is an opportunity to respond to God and say yes.
We also see this phenomenon in Isaiah's own life. He has a vision of a holy God. In doing so, it uncovers his humanity, and he sees the gap that exists between himself and God's holiness. But God steps into that gap. He atones for Isaiah's sin. His guilt is taken away.
How does Isaiah respond? He says:
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send and who will go for us?' And I said, 'Here am I. Send me.'
He doesn't even know the assignment yet. His heart is already saying yes to whatever God might ask. Everything in him wants to respond. He goes from "woe is me" to "send me."
He has such a clear view of what the gift was that it catapults him past all the things that distract us and get in our way—past feelings of fear, the desire for comfort, or worries about being inadequate. He is able to connect the dots: if God was able to fill that gap, then God can equip me to do whatever it is he calls me to do.
Across our campuses, there are those of us who need to respond to whatever it is that God may be asking today.
If you're here today and have never made a decision to truly follow Christ—if you believe in God but haven't responded to him personally—there is a way to do that right now. If that is the desire of your heart, you can pray:
Lord, I recognize there's a gap that is so much bigger than me. And I recognize that you sent your Son, Jesus Christ, to bridge that gap. Will you forgive my sins and come into my life? I want to follow you with my life.
If you pray this with sincerity in your heart, Jesus Christ hears you, and you will move from death to life. You will be with God in glory.
Many of you here have made that decision to follow Jesus. But it is still true that there are those of you who need to respond to whatever it is that God may be asking. In the silence and quietness of your heart, ask God: "Here am I, Lord. I'm present. Here am I, Lord. I am available. Here am I, Father. I am ready to hear you and listen."
As you sit in silence before a holy God, ask him a question, and pay attention to whatever comes to your mind. Do not easily dismiss it. Ask: "What do you want me to know? And what do you want me to do?"
For some of you, you knew the answer to that question before you asked it, because it's the very thing you've been wrestling with and struggling with and trying to lay down but haven't. Perhaps today something has shifted in you. Upon being reminded of the gift, your heart might be willing to respond with yes. If so, pray this silently:
I hear you, God. The answer's yes. Here am I. Send me, Lord. I may not know how it's going to work or how I'm going to do it, but yes, Lord.
When you have a moment where God speaks to you, my encouragement is this: don't let this day pass before you tell somebody what happened. There's something that happens when we tell somebody else that makes it a little more tangible. Our pastors would love to connect with you and simply ask, "Tell me what God was doing in your heart this week," pray with you, and encourage you.
Before diving into the book of Isaiah, we meet him through the perspective of someone searching for God in the New Testament. An Ethiopian official—a eunuch and treasurer of his kingdom—has traveled a thousand miles by chariot to Jerusalem seeking God. On his return journey, he possesses an expensive hand-transcribed scroll of Isaiah's words, but as he reads, he cannot understand what he's reading.
The passage he reads speaks of one "led like a sheep to the slaughter" and "as a lamb before the shearer is silent." He doesn't know who these words point to. God prompts Philip the evangelist to approach the chariot. When Philip asks, "Do you understand what you're reading?" the man responds, "How can I unless someone explains it to me?" Philip then uses Isaiah's words to tell him about Jesus, and as they travel, they come to water. The Ethiopian asks, "What can stand in the way of my being baptized?" God uses Isaiah's ancient words and Philip's obedience as a catalyst that changes this man's eternity.
Isaiah lived roughly halfway between Moses and Jesus—700 years after Moses and 700 years before Jesus. He was married with at least two sons and served as an Old Testament prophet. Unlike the rugged mountain-man image we might hold of prophets, Isaiah was well-connected with ties to Judean royalty. Both his cousin and uncle were kings of Judah, giving him access to both the palace and the temple. He was an insider.
He began his ministry around age 21 and lived into his early 80s. Jewish tradition holds that King Manasseh ordered his execution by being sawn in two for his faith.
Many have called Isaiah the "fifth gospel." The four gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John—detail the life and ministry of Jesus. Isaiah wrote so much about the coming Messiah that having his prophecies feels like possessing a gospel right in the Old Testament.
The book of Isaiah's structure reveals an interesting parallel: there are 66 books in the Bible and 66 chapters in Isaiah. The first 39 chapters deal with judgment and the consequences of sin, mirroring the 39 books of the Old Testament with similar themes. Then Isaiah shifts dramatically. The tone changes from judgment to hope, from consequences of sin to the coming Messiah—paralleling the 27 books of the New Testament.
To truly understand Isaiah—to know what made him the man and prophet he was—we must examine a milestone moment in his life: his personal encounter with the living God. When we have a personal encounter with God, it changes us, and the same was true for Isaiah.
In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord high and exalted, seated on a throne, and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were Seraphim, each with six wings. With two wings they covered their faces. With two they covered their feet. And with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty. The whole earth is full of his glory." At the sound of their voices, the doorposts and thresholds shook, and the temple was filled with smoke.
This vision occurred in the year King Uzziah died. Uzziah was one of the few good kings of Judah. When good kings obeyed God, the people enjoyed peace and prosperity; when bad kings ruled, the people paid the price. In Judah's 345 years as a nation, they had 20 rulers—over half were bad—but Uzziah was good, reigning 52 years.
Now King Uzziah has died. For many who knew only the peace and prosperity of his reign, uncertainty fills the land. What will come next? Will things be okay?
Yet in this very moment, Isaiah has a vision of the Lord seated on his throne—a picture of God in control. For any of us facing instability, uncertainty, or fear about what comes next, this is incredible comfort. We might personalize this: "It was the year of my divorce," "It was the year I lost my job," yet we were reminded that God is in control. Whether grieving a loved one, receiving an uncertain diagnosis, or walking through corporate transitions, the Lord sits on his throne. He knows what we don't know and sees what we do not see. Regardless of our circumstances, God is in control.
Next in this vision, Isaiah sees Seraphim—a type of angel whose name in Hebrew literally means "fiery ones" or "burning ones." They have six wings and fly around God's throne, calling to one another: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty. The whole earth is full of his glory."
In Hebrew, there is no punctuation. To emphasize something, you repeat it. To repeat something three times is the superlative—the ultimate emphasis. Of all the many names and attributes of God mentioned throughout the Bible, only one is ever repeated three times: the holiness of God.
The holiness of God is difficult to describe. The best we might grasp is that the gap between our humanity and God's holiness must be bigger than we think.
Isaiah has been called to preach judgment for the hope of repentance to the Judean people. In chapter 5 alone, six times he declares, "Woe to you. Woe to you who are perverting justice. Woe to you who call good evil and who call evil good." If we compared Isaiah to these people and what they were doing, we would say Isaiah is the good one and these people are the problem.
Yet when Isaiah comes face to face with God's holiness, his "woe to you" becomes "woe is me, for I am ruined." In that moment, he realizes the gap between his humanity and God's holiness is far bigger than he imagined.
Most of us prefer to compare ourselves to other people rather than to God's holiness. We hope to build a case; we hope God grades on a curve. When asked on a scale of 1 to 10 how certain they are they'd go to heaven, many answer six.
Six has built-in humility. It acknowledges: "I'm not saying I've done it all right. I've made mistakes." It recognizes admirable people—perhaps a grandmother who taught Sunday school for 30 years, saints from centuries past, Mother Teresa, Billy Graham—people we think surely would make it. But six also has realism. Comparing ourselves to others, we think: "I haven't done it perfectly, but objectively, look at my life compared to others. Look at social media. Look at the news. There are people lying, stealing, embezzling, cheating. At my workplace, people step over each other. In my neighborhood, there's that guy still setting off fireworks at midnight—he's got to be bottom five, right?"
Wherever we place ourselves on that continuum, the common sentiment is: I'll just try to do more good than bad and hope it all works out.
But here's the problem: we're comparing ourselves to the wrong thing. We compare ourselves to each other rather than to God's holiness.
Every religion acknowledges that a gap exists between humanity and God. Every religion other than Christianity essentially says: there is a gap, and it is up to you to overcome it. You must be better, try harder, do more.
Only Christianity says: there is a gap so profound that the only chance we have is if God himself does something about it.
This is exactly what happens in Isaiah's vision. When Isaiah cries out, "Woe is me! I am ruined," one of the Seraphim flies to him with a live coal from the altar:
Then one of the Seraphim flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, "See, this has touched your lips. Your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for."
Something about the sacrifice at that altar made it possible for Isaiah to stand before a holy God. Early in Isaiah's ministry, God gives him a glimpse of what he will do. Over the course of Isaiah's life, God reveals more and more of how he will do it. Many years later, Isaiah writes what we know as Isaiah 53—a prophecy of a coming Messiah who would be a suffering servant.
Isaiah 53 (beginning with the last verses of chapter 52) is one of the most remarkable portions of scripture in the Bible. Martin Luther said every Christian should memorize it. This is the very passage the Ethiopian official read from as he sat in his chariot. This is the passage Philip used to tell that man about Jesus.
Isaiah has already established that a gap exists between humanity and God's holiness. Now he begins to tell us why the gap exists:
We all like sheep have gone astray. Each of us has turned to our own way.
The Bible calls this sin. Sin always separates us from God, creating the gap. The Apostle Paul expressed it this way: "For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God."
In Genesis 1 and 2, God creates the heavens and the earth—and it is good. We are in right relationship with God. God tells Adam and Eve: "I've made all of this for you. There's just one thing you must not do."
Isaiah has already established that a gap exists between humanity and God's holiness. Now he begins to explain why that gap exists. The prophet writes:
We all like sheep have gone astray. Each of us has turned to our own way.
The Bible calls this sin. Sin always separates us from God, creating the gap. The Apostle Paul expressed it this way: "For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God."
In Genesis 1 and 2, God creates the heavens and the earth—and it is good. We are in right relationship with God. God tells Adam and Eve: "I've made all of this for you. There's just one thing you must not do." There is a tree in the middle of the garden called the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. "You must not eat of that tree or you will surely die."
Of course, Adam and Eve do the one thing God said not to do. As a result, sin enters the world and infects humanity from that point forward. We are separated from God because the penalty, the consequence, the punishment for sin is death—a spiritual separation, this gap we have been discussing.
This creates a tension for God. God is just and holy and must uphold the righteous requirements of the law. And yet God is love and longs to be in relationship with humanity. In fact, the whole rest of the Bible from Genesis 3 onward is God's relentless pursuit of mankind to restore connection with God. This pursuit culminates in God sending his one and only Son, Jesus Christ, to take on human flesh, live a perfect life, and die on the cross for our sins.
Our single biggest problem was that there was a gap we could do nothing about. God's surprising solution is that Jesus Christ himself bridged that gap. And Isaiah prophesies that this will happen 700 years before Jesus was born.
Isaiah prophesies that a Messiah would come who would bear our sins, who would take our sins on himself. Consider these verses from Isaiah 53:
Surely he took up our pain and bore our sufferings, but he was pierced for our transgressions. He was crushed for our iniquities. The punishment that brought us peace was on him. And by his wounds, we are healed. And the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all. My righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.
Because Jesus didn't just die but rose from the dead, beating the power of sin in the grave, the passage continues:
He will be raised and lifted up and highly exalted. Therefore, I will give him a portion among the great.
This passage speaks of the coming Messiah who would be Jesus Christ.
This passage of scripture speaks so clearly of Jesus that for centuries, critics of the Bible pointed to Isaiah 53 and said: "The reason that sounds so much like Jesus is that a bunch of Christians added it after the fact to the original."
Then in 1947, we discovered the Dead Sea Scrolls. Among them, we found the Great Isaiah Scroll—almost completely intact, all 66 chapters of Isaiah on a 24-foot scroll that dated to 100 to 125 years before the time of Jesus.
When we read Isaiah 53, we see Jesus. But what would someone see who had never heard it or was not familiar with it?
A Messianic Jew—a Jewish man who believes in the New Testament and has accepted Jesus as his Messiah—conducted man-on-the-street interviews in Israel, approaching young Jewish men who only believe the Old Testament. He read this passage of scripture to them without telling them what it was from and asked what they thought.
When asked if the passage was from the New Testament, they all said yes. When asked what made them think so, they pointed out: "It said that God was—you're blaming God in that, right?" and "It sounds like it's talking about Jesus like... we put our sins on him. That's what they say, right?"
One young man explained: "In the Old Testament, it's like we take [the punishment] for our sins, not we don't put it on someone else... if we put it on Jesus, we put it on ourselves."
That young man was right in one sense: if we don't put our sin on Jesus, we do take it on ourselves. But this passage from Isaiah, written by one of their major Old Testament prophets, communicates that the only way to stand before the holiness of God is if the Messiah takes our sins on himself.
Consider this illustration: There was a king known as one of the most just and loving kings who had ever lived. For a long time, all was well. But then someone was discovered stealing from the king's treasuries.
The king made an edict: "When it's discovered who's stealing from the king's treasuries, the person found responsible will receive 10 lashes." But the stealing did not stop. The king issued another edict: 20 lashes. Still it continued. 30 lashes. Finally, the king made a final edict: 40 lashes—an almost certain death sentence.
After much time, it was discovered who had been stealing from the king's treasuries. It was none other than the king's daughter.
The whole kingdom wondered what the king would do. Would he uphold the justness and rightness of the law and administer the punishment? Or would he lovingly spare her and let her off the hook?
The king thought long and hard about what he must do. Finally, he decided that the edict is just and the verdict must stand. The next day, the whole kingdom gathered as the daughter was brought forward. She was tied to the post, her gown was ripped open, and the executioner raised the whip.
Just then the king yelled, "Stop!" The king got off his throne, took off his shirt, and placed himself between his daughter and the executioner. He wrapped his body around hers and looked up at the executioner and said, "Now."
The executioner objected: "My king, I cannot deliver the blows without striking you."
The king said, "I know. Do it."
With that, the king took the 40 lashes that were meant for his daughter. The king died in place of his daughter. And he did it in a way that the justice of the law was upheld, while lovingly providing a way for his daughter to be spared and set free.
That is a picture of what Jesus did for us.
When we really get what Jesus did on the cross—this unfathomable gift—and when we really understand how massive the gap was that separated us from God, and when we really grasp what it cost Jesus to bridge that gap, it changes everything. And on top of it all, we are saved by grace. There is nothing we bring to the table. It is a gift of God.
A gift like that begs a response.
We see this with the Ethiopian man in Acts 8. He starts out frustrated, trying to put the pieces together. But once the scriptures are explained to him and he realizes who Jesus is, everything in his heart responds and says yes to God. A bridge like this does us no good if we refuse to walk across it. But when we understand that the gift of God requires a response, everything in us says, "Of course, of course I want to walk across it."
The Ethiopian man responds by saying to Philip, "Look, there's water. Is there any reason why I cannot be baptized?" Scripturally, baptism is the very next thing we are asked to do after following God. If you have made a decision to follow Jesus but have not been baptized as an adult, this is an opportunity to respond to God and say yes.
We also see this phenomenon in Isaiah's own life. He has a vision of a holy God. In doing so, it uncovers his humanity, and he sees the gap that exists between himself and God's holiness. But God steps into that gap. He atones for Isaiah's sin. His guilt is taken away.
How does Isaiah respond? He says:
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send and who will go for us?' And I said, 'Here am I. Send me.'
He doesn't even know the assignment yet. His heart is already saying yes to whatever God might ask. Everything in him wants to respond. He goes from "woe is me" to "send me."
He has such a clear view of what the gift was that it catapults him past all the things that distract us and get in our way—past feelings of fear, the desire for comfort, or worries about being inadequate. He is able to connect the dots: if God was able to fill that gap, then God can equip me to do whatever it is he calls me to do.
Across our campuses, there are those of us who need to respond to whatever it is that God may be asking today.
If you're here today and have never made a decision to truly follow Christ—if you believe in God but haven't responded to him personally—there is a way to do that right now. If that is the desire of your heart, you can pray:
Lord, I recognize there's a gap that is so much bigger than me. And I recognize that you sent your Son, Jesus Christ, to bridge that gap. Will you forgive my sins and come into my life? I want to follow you with my life.
If you pray this with sincerity in your heart, Jesus Christ hears you, and you will move from death to life. You will be with God in glory.
Many of you here have made that decision to follow Jesus. But it is still true that there are those of you who need to respond to whatever it is that God may be asking. In the silence and quietness of your heart, ask God: "Here am I, Lord. I'm present. Here am I, Lord. I am available. Here am I, Father. I am ready to hear you and listen."
As you sit in silence before a holy God, ask him a question, and pay attention to whatever comes to your mind. Do not easily dismiss it. Ask: "What do you want me to know? And what do you want me to do?"
For some of you, you knew the answer to that question before you asked it, because it's the very thing you've been wrestling with and struggling with and trying to lay down but haven't. Perhaps today something has shifted in you. Upon being reminded of the gift, your heart might be willing to respond with yes. If so, pray this silently:
I hear you, God. The answer's yes. Here am I. Send me, Lord. I may not know how it's going to work or how I'm going to do it, but yes, Lord.
When you have a moment where God speaks to you, my encouragement is this: don't let this day pass before you tell somebody what happened. There's something that happens when we tell somebody else that makes it a little more tangible. Our pastors would love to connect with you and simply ask, "Tell me what God was doing in your heart this week," pray with you, and encourage you.
