One question rings down through the entire Bible. It is summed up in Psalm 1: do you follow the way of the Lord...or not? Are you a tree planted by streams of water...or are you dust in the wind? Do you love God with your heart, mind, and strength...or don't you? We often feel there must be some alternative way to either loving or hating God. But Scripture consistently shows there is no such thing. Chapters 7-9 of Isaiah bring us deeply into the folly of human sin and into the marvelous grace of God. Along the way, we are taught about the truth that God can be our sanctuary or our stumbling block - our great love or our great enemy. As with previous posts, we will go deep into Isaiah's text - there is a lot here to attend to.
With all of its strange and foreign names of places and people, chapter 7 is particularly intimidating. It helps to know some of the geographic circumstances: Egypt to the southwest and Assyria to the northeast are the major players. In between them are a host of small nations: Phoenicia along the western sea wall, Edom in the mountains to the north, Syria, Aram, Samaria, Moab, and Philistia. Samaria and Aram have arisen against King Ahaz of Judah. The Judean leaders are all gathered at the water supply on the road to Fullers Field - and the water supply isn't impressive. Ahaz's big decision: whether to turn to Assyria for help against these foes. It's crisis time. This is where Isaiah and his son meet them.
Isaiah's message is laid out in verses 3-9: "Who are Samaria and Aram, anyway? They are "smoldering stumps of firebrands" whose glory days are all gone. Their fire is going out. Stand strong." The real threat is not these tiny nations. The real threat is Assyria - the nation Ahaz is about to turn to for support. Isaiah turns to Ahaz himself in verse 10: "Ask a sign of the Lord your God..."
This is probably the biggest moment of these three chapters, because everything that plays out does so because of Ahaz's unimpressive response. "Isaiah's offer of a sign was one which the prophets of Israel used to make when some crisis demanded the immediate acceptance of their word by men, and men were more than usually hard to convince...by offering (Ahaz) whatever sign he chose to ask, Isaiah knew that the king would be committed before his honor and the public conscience to refrain from calling in the Assyrians, and so Judah would be saved; or if the king refused the sign, the refusal would unmask him." (Smith, 111-112). Ahaz refuses. "I will not ask..." (7:12) The implications are stunning. If Ahaz had only asked, what might have been the difference?
Next comes the judgment on Ahaz. It comes in the form of the famous Messianic prophecy that we hear at Advent. (7:13-17) One is coming who will bear the name of God himself. But by the time he is a young man, he will eat curds and honey - a diet which you wouldn't eat unless there was nothing else to eat. The land will be deserted. It is a picture of royalty and majesty that have been entirely impoverished. "...only his name remains to haunt, with its infinite melancholy of what might have been" (115) - Immanuel, "God-with-us".
In chapter 8, Isaiah turns from his appeal to the king to make his appeal to the people. Like the king, they are too impressed by Assyria to trust in the Word of the Lord. God "will become a sanctuary, a stone one strikes against; for both houses of Israel he will become a rock one stumbles over - a trap and a snare for the inhabitants of Jerusalem." (8:14) God is the one certain refuge that can be depended on in all of life. And there is a double-edge to that fact. For those who will turn to him and rely on him, he is a sanctuary. To those who don't, he is something they stumble over, that trips them up "which is overlooked, rejected, or sought after in a wild, unintelligent spirit, and only in the hour of need, and is then their lasting ruin." (Smith 123)
All of Isaiah's hope has been placed in the remnant by the end of chapter 8. In their arrogance and idolatry, Israel and Judah are destined to be overtaken by Assyria. There's no hope for them. But as we move into the first verses of chapter 9, something changes. We don't know how much time has taken place from 8:20 to 9:2 - whether it occurred over months or immediately - but his tone of voice has passed from sarcasm to pity (8:20-21); from pity to hope (8:22-9:1); from hope to triumph (9:2). The great judgment that has been prophesied for the land of Galilee, the way of the sea, the site of the worst of Judah's idolatries has now given way to a dawning of hope which is inexplicable apart from God. In place of poverty, hunger, and war, God's people are given harvest, victory, joy, and peace in the person of the "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace" who has already been introduced in the child of chapter 7. There is new hope for Israel and Judah because God is still God - who is always greater, even than what we now know of him.
Our lesson from these three chapters is the lesson of the 'sanctuary'. It is always tempting in our day and age (as in every age) to treat God like one of the ingredients in a cocktail. He may even be the most important ingredient - but that still isn't enough. We may think that's unfair, but whenever people have turned from him into the ways of selfishness, wastefulness, injustice, and greed, he is no longer our sanctuary, but becomes our stumbling block. He trips us up. But the glorious good news is that if he trips us up, we can take a closer look at what we tripped on. We can recognize "Immanuel" in the God who allows himself to be rejected, to be cursed, to be tripped over, even to die on a cross, but who remains a refuge of mercy to those who turn to him. The stumbling block can still become our sanctuary.
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