Study Desk

"Now I'm stepping in," God says. "From now on, I'm taking over. The gloves come off. Now see how mighty I am. There's nothing to you. Pregnant with chaff, you produce straw babies; full of hot air, you self-destruct. You're good for nothing but fertilizer and fuel. Earth to earth—and the sooner the better.

Oh, you'll see the king—a beautiful sight! And you'll take in the wide vistas of land. In your mind you'll go over the old terrors: "What happened to that Assyrian inspector who condemned and confiscated? And the one who gouged us of taxes? And that cheating moneychanger?" Gone! Out of sight forever! Their insolence nothing now but a fading stain on the carpet! No more putting up with a language you can't understand, no more sounds of gibberish in your ears.

Just take a look at Zion, will you? Centering our worship in festival feasts! Feast your eyes on Jerusalem, a quiet and permanent place to live. No more pulling up stakes and moving on, no more patched-together lean-tos. Instead, God! God majestic, God himself the place in a country of broad rivers and streams, But rivers blocked to invading ships, off-limits to predatory pirates. For God makes all the decisions here. God is our king. God runs this place and he'll keep us safe.

But the Rabshekah replied, "Do you think my master has sent me to give this message to your master and you but not also to the people clustered here? It's their fate that's at stake. They're the ones who are going to end up eating their own excrement and drinking their own urine."

Then Hezekiah prayed to God : " God -of-the-Angel-Armies, enthroned over the cherubim-angels, you are God, the only God there is, God of all kingdoms on earth. You made heaven and earth. Listen, O God , and hear. Look, O God , and see. Mark all these words of Sennacherib that he sent to mock the living God. It's quite true, O God , that the kings of Assyria have devastated all the nations and their lands. They've thrown their gods into the trash and burned them—no great achievement since they were no-gods anyway, gods made in workshops, carved from wood and chiseled from rock. An end to the no-gods! But now step in, O God , our God. Save us from him. Let all the kingdoms of earth know that you and you alone are God ."

Then Isaiah son of Amoz sent this word to Hezekiah: " God 's Message, the God of Israel: Because you brought King Sennacherib of Assyria to me in prayer, here is my answer, God 's answer: "‘She has no use for you, Sennacherib, nothing but contempt, this virgin daughter Zion. She spits at you and turns on her heel, this daughter Jerusalem. "‘Who do you think you've been mocking and reviling all these years? Who do you think you've been jeering and treating with such utter contempt All these years? The Holy of Israel! You've used your servants to mock the Master. You've bragged, "With my fleet of chariots I've gone to the highest mountain ranges, penetrated the far reaches of Lebanon, Chopped down its giant cedars, its finest cypresses. I conquered its highest peak, explored its deepest forest. I dug wells and drank my fill. I emptied the famous rivers of Egypt with one kick of my foot.

"‘And this, Hezekiah, will be your confirming sign: This year's crops will be slim pickings, and next year it won't be much better. But in three years, farming will be back to normal, with regular sowing and reaping, planting and harvesting. What's left of the people of Judah will put down roots and make a new start. The people left in Jerusalem will get moving again. Mount Zion survivors will take hold again. The zeal of God -of-the-Angel-Armies will do all this.'

"Finally, this is God 's verdict on the king of Assyria: "‘Don't worry, he won't enter this city, won't let loose a single arrow, Won't brandish so much as one shield, let alone build a siege ramp against it. He'll go back the same way he came. He won't set a foot in this city. God 's Decree. I've got my hand on this city to save it, Save it for my very own sake, but also for the sake of my David dynasty.'"

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.

O Master, these are the conditions in which people live, and yes, in these very conditions my spirit is still alive— fully recovered with a fresh infusion of life! It seems it was good for me to go through all those troubles. Throughout them all you held tight to my lifeline. You never let me tumble over the edge into nothing. But my sins you let go of, threw them over your shoulder—good riddance! The dead don't thank you, and choirs don't sing praises from the morgue. Those buried six feet under don't witness to your faithful ways. It's the living—live men, live women—who thank you, just as I'm doing right now. Parents give their children full reports on your faithful ways.

Then Isaiah said to Hezekiah, "Now listen to this Message from God -of-the-Angel-Armies: I have to warn you, the time is coming when everything in this palace, along with everything your ancestors accumulated before you, will be hauled off to Babylon. God says that there will be nothing left. Nothing. And not only your things but your sons. Some of your sons will be taken into exile, ending up as eunuchs in the palace of the king of Babylon."

Hezekiah replied to Isaiah, "Good. If God says so, it's good." Within himself he was thinking, "But surely nothing bad will happen in my lifetime. I'll enjoy peace and stability as long as I live."

A voice says, "Shout!" I said, "What shall I shout?" "These people are nothing but grass, their love fragile as wildflowers. The grass withers, the wildflowers fade, if God so much as puffs on them. Aren't these people just so much grass? True, the grass withers and the wildflowers fade, but our God's Word stands firm and forever."

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.

"But you, Israel, are my servant. You're Jacob, my first choice, descendants of my good friend Abraham. I pulled you in from all over the world, called you in from every dark corner of the earth, Telling you, ‘You're my servant, serving on my side. I've picked you. I haven't dropped you.' Don't panic. I'm with you. There's no need to fear for I'm your God. I'll give you strength. I'll help you. I'll hold you steady, keep a firm grip on you.

"Do you feel like a lowly worm, Jacob? Don't be afraid. Feel like a fragile insect, Israel? I'll help you. I, God , want to reassure you. The God who buys you back, The Holy of Israel. I'm transforming you from worm to harrow, from insect to iron. As a sharp-toothed harrow you'll smooth out the mountains, turn those tough old hills into loamy soil. You'll open the rough ground to the weather, to the blasts of sun and wind and rain. But you'll be confident and exuberant, expansive in The Holy of Israel!

"The poor and homeless are desperate for water, their tongues parched and no water to be found. But I'm there to be found, I'm there for them, and I, God of Israel, will not leave them thirsty. I'll open up rivers for them on the barren hills, spout fountains in the valleys. I'll turn the baked-clay badlands into a cool pond, the waterless waste into splashing creeks. I'll plant the red cedar in that treeless wasteland, also acacia, myrtle, and olive. I'll place the cypress in the desert, with plenty of oaks and pines. Everyone will see this. No one can miss it— unavoidable, indisputable evidence That I, God , personally did this. It's created and signed by The Holy of Israel.

"I, God, started someone out from the north and he's come. He was called out of the east by name. He'll stomp the rulers into the mud the way a potter works the clay. Let me ask you, Did anyone guess that this might happen? Did anyone tell us earlier so we might confirm it with ‘Yes, he's right!'? No one mentioned it, no one announced it, no one heard a peep out of you. But I told Zion all about this beforehand. I gave Jerusalem a preacher of good news. But around here there's no one— no one who knows what's going on. I ask, but no one can tell me the score. Nothing here. It's all smoke and hot air— sham gods, hollow gods, no-gods."

"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."