Introduction
Sometime back, I was looking at a notebook journal my wife had picked up at TJ Maxx. The cover said, “Be Still and Know.” So I opened it up and began to read the scriptures it had on the header of every right page. I read them all. Ninety-five. Scriptures you might frame and hang on your walls. Scriptures like:
Cast all your care on him because he cares for you (1 Peter 5:7).
Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again, Rejoice! (Phil 4:4).
Comfort, comfort my people, says your God (Isaiah 40:1).
Great scriptures. (Every scripture is great, though not every scripture is equally great.)
But as I kept reading, it began to dawn on me that most of the scriptures chosen by whoever chose them did not mention Jesus. So I did a count. Twelve out of the 95 mentioned him. Only one or two mentioned his death, obliquely, with language of “laying down one’s life.” There was none with reference to the cross or the resurrection or the sending of the Spirit. Certainly nothing on sin or God’s judgment.
So I thought to myself, What’s the theology that emerges out of this notebook? Humans are not sinners. They’re more like weak beings that need strength and encouragement. God is good and strong, so you should be good and strong. God is for you, which is a good thing. But why is he for you? Because that’s who he is and you know him.
The theology that emerges is very much how Jews and Muslims approach God as well as groups like the Mormons or the Jehovah Witnesses. In other words, most of those verses are not distinctly Christian.
Here’s the thing. I wonder how many of us might read those scriptures and not realize that what we’re reading is not really Christian.
What makes a theology or set of beliefs Christian is not that you use the Bible. (All kinds of cults and non-Christian groups use and abuse the Bible.)
What makes it Christian is that the death of Jesus Christ for our sins is at the center of that theology. Countless verses could’ve been used to make the point in the notebook:
First chapter of the New Testament, for example. And you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins (Matt 1:21).
Or one from the beloved letter to the Romans. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Rom 5:8).
There is more, of course, that needs to be said for a theology to be robustly Christian, but not less.
And here’s why I’m bringing this up.
Today we come upon the Everest of Isaiah’s theology. We come upon the passage that could be the ultimate reason God inspired this prophet to write the magnum opus of all the prophets – sixty-six chapters of a prophecy so lofty that it could not be forgotten like, maybe, Obadiah or Zephaniah are forgotten.
Isaiah is so grand, it’s at the head of the prophets. And within those sixty-six chapters, within this prophet’s voice which cannot be easily dismissed, we have chapter 53—Everest.
In the plot of the story of redemption that we find in Isaiah 40–55, we’ve talked about God allowing Israel to go into exile for their sin, sending a word of comfort that their time of harsh labor was over, foretelling that he would judge Babylon and its gods for mistreating his people, and employing another pagan king, Cyrus, to take Israel back to their land.
And why would God do this? Because of God’s purposes to bring salvation to the ends of the earth, so that the nations might know that he alone is God. And Israel was his instrument. Israel was his servant.
BUT Israel was a failed servant. They were blind and deaf. They were rebellious.
Cyrus the Persian king was a servant of sorts, used by God, but only to bring Israel back from physical exile.
There was a deeper exile we’ve been talking about, the exile of the heart. The exile every human feels on this earth because we’re alienated from God. Cast off. Far from his presence. Drowning in shame.
That spiritual exile persists even after Israel returned to Jerusalem.
And so, that’s the biggest question Isaiah addresses: How will Israel and all humanity be freed from the spiritual captivity of sin?
You feel the captivity when you get that coveted diploma and still it’s not enough. When you get married and still it’s not enough. When your family grows and still it’s not enough. You get a raise. You travel the world. You overcome adversity. Still not enough. Do you know why? Because we long for the face of God, the presence of God, and deep down we know we are not worthy of God. We have been banished. We are in exile.
How then will Israel and all humanity be freed from the spiritual captivity of sin? The rebellion of sin? That’s the greatest question Isaiah answers.
And the answer comes into full flower in chapter 53: the suffering servant.
He’s been hinting at this answer in a number of passages:
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever (Isaiah 9:6–7).
A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him – the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of might, the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the LORD – and he will delight in the fear of the LORD (11:1–2).
Here’s my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit on him, and he will bring justice to the nations. He will not shout or cry out, or raise his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness he will bring forth justice; he will not falter or be discouraged till he establishes justice on earth. In his teaching the islands will put their hope (42:1–4).
It is too small a thing for you to be my servant to restore the tribes of Jacob and bring back those of Israel I have kept. I will also make you a light for the Gentiles, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth (49:6).
The Sovereign LORD has opened my ears; I have not been rebellious, I have not turned away. I offered my back to those who beat me, my cheeks to those who pulled out my beard; I did not hide my face from mocking or spitting (50:5–6).
And now the passage before us develops more fully how it is that the exile of the heart is fixed. The answer is the servant who suffered for us.
This poem has five stanzas. Let’s briefly look at each.
Exalted and disfigured.
Isaiah 52:13–15
See, my servant will act wisely;
he will be raised and lifted up and highly exalted.
Just as there were many who were appalled at him—
his appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any human being
and his form marred beyond human likeness—
so he will sprinkle many nations,
and kings will shut their mouths because of him.
For what they were not told, they will see,
and what they have not heard, they will understand.
The poem is structured around certain contrasts.
The first one is that the servant is highly exalted but also appalling or shocking. Why is he shocking? Because his appearance was disfigured beyond that of any human being. His form was marred beyond human likeness.
So, on the one hand, the servant makes others want to look away from him, but, on the other hand, he will sprinkle many nations and cause the mouths of kings to be stopped.
The language of sprinkling is mainly used in Leviticus, and it refers to cleansing. This servant will cleanse the nations to bring them to God.
The drift of the stanza is plain enough. This is God’s servant. He is wise. He is highly lifted up and exalted but also disfigured, marred beyond human likeness.
Where is this disfigurement coming from? We don’t know. But we do know that kings—kings, the ones who enact laws by their word—are speechless because of him.
Rejected by humankind.
Isaiah 53:1–3
Who has believed our message
and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
He grew up before him like a tender shoot,
and like a root out of dry ground.
He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by mankind,
a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.
Those words, Who has believed our message, pack so much irony!
The greatest problem in Isaiah is not that the people have moved away from God, sinned and rebelled. The greatest problem is that they won’t believe him. They won’t believe that he’s bringing them back. They won’t believe that he’s using Cyrus to end their exile. They won’t believe that the arm of God is being revealed in this way.
The arm of the LORD has come up a couple of times in the last couple of chapters. The people cried out, Awake, awake, arm of the LORD, clothe yourself with strength (51:9). God, display your power to save us. And then, in the announcement of the return of the Lord to Zion, we read, The LORD will lay bare his holy arm in the sight of all the nations, and all the ends of the earth will see the salvation of our God (52:10).
But now the prophet laments, Who has believed our message and to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?
The chapter we are reading doesn’t read like when the arm of the Lord is at work, conquering nations, deposing kings, sending storms. It reads more like when someone is utterly humiliated.
And yet, who can sprinkle nations and silence kings?
Verse 2 speaks of his humble origins.
A tender shoot, no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
In fact, it’s worse than humble origins. Verse 3 speaks of being despised and rejected, a man of suffering and familiar with pain.
The rejection is such that it’s like one from whom people hide their faces.
Remember that exile is rejection. In his suffering and rejection the servant himself is experiencing exile.
Pierced for our transgressions.
Isaiah 53:4–6
Surely he took up our pain
and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
stricken by him, and afflicted.
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.
We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
each of us has turned to our own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.
The next three stanzas are each mind blowing.
This one brings in substitution and exchange language. We start reading of our pain, our suffering, our transgressions, our iniquities. Something happens to the servant because of those things in us.
We haven’t heard this concept before. We’ve read of the goat that once a year, on the Day of Atonement, had the sins of the people symbolically transferred onto it and sent into exile.
Leviticus 16:20–22, When Aaron has finished making atonement for the Most Holy Place, the tent of meeting and the altar, he shall bring forward the live goat. He is to lay both hands on the head of the live goat and confess over it all the wickedness and rebellion of the Israelites—all their sins—and put them on the goat’s head. He shall send the goat away into the wilderness in the care of someone appointed for the task. The goat will carry on itself all their sins to a remote place; and the man shall release it in the wilderness.
But now in Isaiah we read of the servant of the Lord. He took up our pain. He bore our suffering. He was pierced for our transgressions. He was crushed for our iniquities.
The suffering he’s enduring is actually ours. The punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. Punishment for him. Peace for us. Wounding for him. Healing for us.
Why is this his fate? Because we all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.
He is God’s solution to our iniquity. He goes into exile, so we may have shalom.
Oppressed and silent.
Isaiah 53:7–9
He was oppressed and afflicted,
yet he did not open his mouth;
he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
so he did not open his mouth.
By oppression and judgment he was taken away.
Yet who of his generation protested?
For he was cut off from the land of the living;
for the transgression of my people he was punished.
He was assigned a grave with the wicked,
and with the rich in his death,
though he had done no violence,
nor was any deceit in his mouth.
The emphasis here is on his oppression and silence. Twice we read, He did not open his mouth, which is all the more puzzling because earlier we read about the servant saying, He [God] made my mouth like a sharpened sword (49:2). He doesn’t lack the ability to defend himself. But he won’t do it.
He does not fight or resist. Others are afflicting him. He was led like a lamb to the slaughter. He was silent like a sheep before its shearers. He was taken away by oppression and judgment. He was cut off from the land of the living. He was assigned a grave with the wicked.
And then, in case we missed it, verse 8 says it again, For the transgression of my people he was punished. Our transgression. His punishment.
With the rich in his death portrays the rich not as honorable, but more in line with the oppressors. Often, the rich acquired their riches through ill means.
He ends up in the grave with the wicked and the rich, though he had done no violence, nor was any deceit in his mouth.
Crushed and vindicated by God.
Isaiah 53:10
Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer,
and though the Lord makes his life an offering for sin,
he will see his offspring and prolong his days,
and the will of the Lord will prosper in his hand.
The servant’s misfortune was not a mistake. It wasn’t fate. It wasn’t the vile, the oppressor, triumphing over the pure and weak. No. The servant’s death was the Lord’s will.
It was the LORD’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer. This is all the doing of God. His crushing. His piercing. His punishment. His wounds. They are all the will, the desire, of the Lord.
The LORD [made] his life an offering for sin. Not a goat but the servant of the Lord is made an offering for sin. Not symbolically but actually the servant took up our pain.
Can you try to imagine the unfathomable amounts of pain that sin has brought upon the world? Upon unborn babies. Upon little children. Upon young women in their prime. Upon old women in their frailty. Upon men given to their lusts and their rage. Upon men seeking to protect their families. Can you imagine the pain?
He took up our pain. He was made an offering for sin.
The servant knew his suffering was the will of God and had a monumental purpose. It’s why he did not open his mouth, or retaliate, but took the punishment like a silent lamb.
There’s a though in verse 10 that signals the purpose of the servant’s suffering. Though the LORD makes his life an offering for sin, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the LORD will prosper in his hand.
The servant will see his offspring. His days will increase. He will not falter or grow discouraged till he establishes justice on earth (Isa 42:4).
The will of the LORD will prosper in his hand.
It was the will of the LORD to crush him because the will of the LORD [prospers] in his hand.
In the crushing of the servant, in making him an offering for sin, God’s purpose, which Isaiah has been expounding for 52 chapters, and which often was resisted by his people and mocked by the nations, that purpose prospers in the servant’s hand.
Isaiah 53:11–12
After he has suffered,
he will see the light of life and be satisfied;
by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many,
and he will bear their iniquities.
Therefore I will give him a portion among the great,
and he will divide the spoils with the strong,
because he poured out his life unto death,
and was numbered with the transgressors.
For he bore the sin of many,
and made intercession for the transgressors.
The servant’s story doesn’t end in death. There is light, life, satisfaction on the other side.
He is God’s righteous servant. Recall all the passages when the servant, Israel, was blind and rebellious. But this one is God’s righteous servant. Recall when God looked for righteousness but instead found cries of distress (5:7). This servant is righteous and makes the many righteous by bearing their iniquities.
Therefore, says God, I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong. The servant is vindicated. He is victor. He has spoils to divide. He is no longer humiliated or alone. The many, the great, the strong are his offspring. Remember how the poem started, My servant will act wisely; he will be raised and lifted up and highly exalted. And then after that lofty introduction, we descended into his humiliation, came back to his victory from God, and now finish the poem being reminded once again, lest we miss it, of the reason for his exaltation.
Because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors. He poured out his life, dying like a transgressor, a rebel. But not just dying like a rebel, dying for the rebels, for the transgressors.
It’s how Isaiah opens in chapter 1. Hear me, you heavens! Listen, earth! For the LORD has spoken: I reared children and brought them up, but they have rebelled against me (1:2).
This has been the problem all along, the rebellion of God’s people, the rebellion in the human heart.
It took the righteous servant of the Lord—one alone—to die as a rebel and for the rebels, so that the purpose of God might prosper, to make rebels righteous all over the earth.
This is the most profound answer to the question Isaiah has been developing from its opening chapter and verse: How will Israel and all humanity be freed from the spiritual captivity of sin? The rebellion of sin? Now, we have the answer. The servant of the Lord bore the sin of many and made intercession for the rebels.
By his wounds we are healed.
Rebels are healed by his wounds.
The apostle Peter, explaining in his first letter what became the central idea within Christianity, quotes Isaiah 53. “He himself bore our sins” in his body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; “by his wounds you have been healed” (1 Peter 2:24).
What makes a set of beliefs Christian is that at the center of those beliefs is the death of Jesus Christ for our sins.
The Everest of revelation in the Old Testament squarely pointed to the work of Jesus and explained the work of Jesus.
His death is how transgressors have their transgression covered.
His death is an offering for sin. It’s how our rebellion against God dies.
My fear for many of you is that you do not know how to put Jesus at the center of your life.
We use the Bible the way that notebook from TJ Maxx uses the Bible. Nice verses about God helping us, making us strong, encouraging us along the way.
We read the Bible like the story of David and Goliath. Goliath stands for all the big, scary obstacles we have in life, and we’re little David who comes with the power of God and has the grit of the little engine that could. And because God is good and strong, we like David crush Goliath.
Did you notice that there is nothing Christian about that plot? It’s God helping you, David, defeat Goliath.
Isaiah 53 and all of the New Testament read in context make clear that we’re NOT David. We’re the fearful, rebellious Israelites hiding from Goliath. We would never defeat Goliath. Our David is Jesus. It’s why he’s called the Son of David. He is the true David who took down the Goliath of Sin, Death, and Evil by his death on the cross and his rising from the dead.
Therefore, God highly exalted him.
We do this training for our Life Group leaders called a Coaching Circle.
And one of the main tools we work through in the class is called a Seed Moment, from the Parable of the Sower. A seed moment is when God grabs our attention and wants to implant his word in us.
And so, we work through three questions in processing seed moments: What is the Father saying to you? How do you need Jesus in this situation? And what’s your Spirit-empowered response?
Everything you go through in life can be processed through those three questions.
What’s the Father saying to you? He’s saying to me that I need to trust him with my children. He’s saying to me that he’s doing something new and I need courage. He’s saying to me that I need to turn from my pornography idol.
But the question people struggle with the most is the second: How do you need Jesus in this situation? And the reason we struggle is because we think we’re David in the story rather than fearful Israel.
I need to trust the Father with my children. So I will.
No, you won’t. A gospel answer moves in a different direction. I need to trust the Father with my children. But that’s difficult for me because my children mean everything to me. They’re my joy, my purpose, my life. But I recognize that that’s idolatry. And Jesus died as a rebel for my rebellion, pierced for my transgressions, to heal me and free me and forgive me. So I beg you, Jesus, to make you my joy, my purpose, my life. Let me hide in you and trust you with my children. If you gave your life for me, you are trustworthy.
That, and another thousand ways, is how we put Jesus at the center of our lives.
Church, the reason that coveted diploma and raise and marriage and family and travel and hundreds of other things are never enough, is because we long to see the face of God, but we know we’re not worthy of God. We’ve been banished. We are exiled.
Jesus’ face was disfigured beyond that of any human being to bring us face to face with God, to bring us into God’s family and purge our transgressions. Miracle of miracles!
By his wounds we are healed.
