Sunday 12 • 16 • 18
Summary
Elliot Grudem preaches on Isaiah 9:1-7, focusing on the name 'Mighty God' as a picture of Jesus the warrior-king who defeats evil not by destroying sinners but by bearing the penalty for sin himself on the cross. He uses Rachel Denhollander's victim impact statement to illustrate both the longing for divine justice and the sweetness of the gospel's offer of forgiveness. Grudem applies the passage by encouraging listeners to pray, share the gospel, work for God's kingdom, and fight fear by looking for evidences of Christ's victory in their everyday lives.
Topics
Scripture References
Transcript
In the former time, he brought into contempt the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the latter time he has made glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness on them light has shown. You have multiplied the nation. You have increased its joy. They rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest as they are glad when they divide the spoil. For the yoke of his burden and the staff for his shoulder, the rod of his oppressor you have broken as the sun the day of Midian. For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult and every garment rolled in blood will be burned as fuel for the fire. For to us a child is born, to us a son is given and the government shall be upon his shoulder and his name shall be called wonderful counselor, mighty God, everlasting father, prince of peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end. On the throne of David and over his kingdom to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. The zeal of the lord of hosts will do this. — Isaiah 9:1-7
Good morning. My name is Elliot. I'm one of the pastors here. It's good to be with you here this morning. Let's pray one more time.
Father, we thank you for this opportunity to gather together to consider these wonderful things in your word. We ask that your spirit would be present with us to help us understand these wonderful things, that your spirit would bring about the change in our hearts that you desire, that we leave here people deeper in love with you and deeper in love with one another. It's in your name Jesus that we ask these things. Amen.
There's a song that's been kicking around in my head all week as I've thought about this passage. I think it gives voice to some of what Isaiah is talking about in the verses that Randy just read. It goes like this:
If every stone that makes you stumble and cuts you when you fall, every serpent here that strikes your heel to curse you when you crawl, the king of love will one day crush them all. In every sad seduction and every clever lie, every word that wounds the pilgrim children of the sky, the king of love will break them by and by. And you will rise up in the end. You'll rise up in the end. I know the night is cruel but the day is coming soon when you will rise up in the end.
Do you long for that day? I know I do.
When the prophet Isaiah originally spoke these words to God's people, it was really dark. He described their condition with words like distress, darkness, gloom of anguish. Why? Because as he explained in chapter eight, God is hiding his face from us. And it wasn't just the presence of God's absence that bothered him. It was everything that came with it—oppression, cruel incompetent leaders, suffering, shame, oppression, disgrace, defeat. And because God was hiding his face, it didn't seem like there was any indication that it was going to get any better. And so they longed for deliverance.
In a sense, the message of Isaiah could be this: hold on, don't give up hope. I know the night is cruel but the day is coming soon when you will rise up in the end. Or as Isaiah put it in the previous chapter:
I will wait for the Lord who is hiding his face from the house of Jacob. I will hope in him. — Isaiah 8
It may seem like God has left us, but that can't be the end of the story, Isaiah says. So I'll keep hoping in him. I'll rejoice in hope. I'll grieve in hope. I'll long in hope. Or as Saint Paul aptly put it, describing faith in the book of Romans:
In hope I believe against hope. — Romans 4
And then in this passage, Isaiah gives us reason for hope. He tells us how God is going to make good on his promises to never leave us or forsake us. He tells us how God is going to rescue us, deliver us, make everything right. And the reason Isaiah gives us to hope is the same reason we're given to hope throughout all the scriptures.
God only has one way to make good on his promises. He never offers us empty words or far off ideas or some unrealistic plan. No, God's answer to everyone of his promises is the same. It's a person. God answers everyone of his promises through incarnation. He takes on flesh to answer every one of his promises to us. He answers every one of them ultimately in the person of Jesus. And as Jeff pointed out two weeks ago, we're looking at Isaiah nine.
Isaiah speaks of the promised future as if it has already happened and in doing so, he invites us to give expression to our hope by looking at life—our life—with eyes of faith. By recognizing the darkness and gloom and in the middle of it, looking for the promised day to come. A day when our anguish will be turned to joy. Our contempt turned to honor. Darkness overcome by light. Oppression give way to freedom. Failure and shame will be replaced with glory and war will give way to eternal peace.
How will this happen? How will this come true? Well, as one scholar put it, God's answer to everything that has ever terrorized us is a child. That's the promise God invites us to cling to this Advent season. It's the promise God invites us to cling to in this life. That's the promise we find in Isaiah nine, but two weeks ago Jeff gave a general introduction to these verses and today I'm starting the first of four sermons focusing on verse six.
The Names of the Coming King
Verse six in a sense gives the how to the what of God's great promises in this passage. It explains how God is going to make everything better forever. Look at verse six:
For to us a child is born. To us, a son is given. And the government shall be upon his shoulder and his name shall be called wonderful counselor, mighty God, everlasting Father, prince of peace. — Isaiah 9:6
A child is born. Not just a child, a son, and that indicates royalty. And if you look at verse seven, it's not just any son but it's the son of David, which is Israel's greatest king. So it's going to be one that's born a child and yet a king, and he's going to rule. The government will be upon his shoulder. And as Jeff pointed out two weeks ago, it's not a mystery who this child is. The king is Jesus, and his birth is what we celebrate each year during the Advent season.
And then in verse six, we don't just get to hear that the child is coming. We get to hear what kind of ruler he is, and it's explained in his names. These names are royal decrees of sorts, declaring his character and the kind of king that he's going to be. He's a wonderful counselor—the one with the best plans who makes the best decisions. He's the everlasting Father—the one who rules with love forever. He's the prince of peace—the ideal ruler who will bring wholeness in all areas of our life and in this world.
We'll look at each of those over the next couple of weeks, but today we're going to focus on the one I left out: mighty God. To the Hebrew ear, when they heard the words "mighty God"—in Hebrew—it would remind them of their great military heroes. It's God as a warrior. This is God on the battlefield defeating all his and our enemies. God fighting for his glory and our good.
We need a mighty God if Isaiah's promised deliverance—the one detailed in the first five verses—is going to come true. Listen again as I read it and think why we need this great warrior:
There will be no gloom for her who was in anguish. In the former time, he brought into contempt the land of Zebulon and the land of Naphtali because of military defeat. But in the latter time, he has made glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations. The people who walked in darkness have seen great light. Those who dwelt in the land of deep darkness, on them has light shined. You have multiplied the nation. You have increased its joy. They rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as they are glad when they divide the spoil. For the yoke of his burden, the staff on his shoulder, the rod of his oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian. For every boot of the trampling warrior in battle tumult and every garment rolled in blood will be burned as fuel for the fire. — Isaiah 9:1-5
Or to put it another way, if in his name all oppression will cease, it means that the oppressor is either going to surrender or be punished for his oppression. And though we might be uncomfortable with that kind of judgment, at the core of our being, we kind of want it.
Last week, I don't know if you saw, but Rachael Denhollander was named Sports Illustrated Inspiration of the Year. As you may know, Denhollander was the first woman to publicly accuse former USA Gymnastics doctor Larry Nassar of sexual assault, and more than 300 women followed her lead and testified that they were sexually assaulted by Nassar as well. She was the last victim to speak at Nassar's sentencing hearing in January, and she gave voice to that longing we all have for the kind of justice that mighty God brings. When she said to Nassar, "The Bible you speak of carries a final judgment where all of God's wrath and eternal terror is poured out on men like you."
We hear that, and when we think about evil men like Larry Nassar, there's something about it that seems right. I mean, what other punishment is right for someone that abused over 300? Just look—300 little girls.
There's something inside us that wants to have Jesus—Mighty God stepping onto the battlefield and wielding his sword of justice against all kinds of evil. Then Hollander knew, however, there's a wrinkle to the way that Mighty God achieves justice.
Jesus came to Earth as a baby, grew to a man, and then instead of wielding the sword of justice, he bore it. Instead of destroying those who rightly deserve death, he died in their place. What that means is because of Jesus, justice can happen in one of two ways: we can bear it, or Christ can bear it for us.
Then Hollander explained this to her abuser. She said, "You spoke of praying for forgiveness, but Larry, if you have read the Bible, you know forgiveness does not come from doing good things as if good deeds can erase what you have done. It comes from repentance, which requires facing and acknowledging the truth about what you have done in all of its utter depravity and horror—without mitigation, without excuse, without acting as if good deeds can erase what you have seen in this courtroom today."
She continues: "Should you ever reach the point of truly facing what you have done, the guilt will be crushing. And that is what makes the gospel of Christ so sweet, because it extends grace and hope and mercy where none should be found. And it will be there for you. I pray you experience the soul-crushing weight of guilt so you may someday experience true repentance and true forgiveness from God, which you need far more than forgiveness from me, though I extend that to you as well."
As she explained, the sweetness of the gospel of Christ is this: Mighty God came to Earth in the person of Jesus to defeat evil by bearing the full penalty of evil in his death on the cross. And it's not just the evil committed by men like Nasser. It's also the sins that we commit every day that deserve God's wrath.
If Mighty God saved you, it's because he bled and died for you, taking upon himself the wrath you rightly earned for the sins that you confessed earlier in the service. It's the only way unrighteous you and me can live in a kingdom of righteousness and be ruled by a righteous king. Instead of destroying us, Mighty God dies for us. Instead of letting us die the death we deserve, he offers us life.
He bled and died for the unkind words we spoke last week. The lies we told to cover our mistakes. The lust-filled glances. The jealous thoughts. Jesus bled and died for the ways we manipulated or bullied others to get our way. The times that laziness got the best of us. The times we overworked or refused to rest or care for others. He bled and died for the many ways we treated others and ourselves as less than human. And he bled and died for the many ways we attempted to live by our own rules with little regard for God and his law.
As Dan Hollander said, that is what makes the gospel of Christ so sweet, because it extends grace and hope and mercy where none should be found.
Emmanuel: God With Us
Often during this season, we sing about Emmanuel. It's a term that Isaiah uses when he talks about the promises about Jesus. Literally, it means "God with us." Mighty God is part of what we mean when we say God is with us.
Jesus saves us from the evil in this world by taking upon himself the full measure of God's wrath against that evil, dying for that evil, and rising victorious over it three days later. And because there's evil in us—seeing the ways we disobey God in what we think, say, and do, and what we don't do—Jesus bears God's wrath that is due our sin. He died for us. He died so that we can reign in his kingdom of righteousness and justice alongside him forever.
Or to put it another way: if it's a kingdom of never-ending justice and righteousness, as we read in verse seven, it's not only the king that has to be perfect in his justice and righteousness. It's his subjects as well. And that's only going to happen one of two ways: Mighty God will destroy us and start over with a new group, or he'll need to make us what we are not.
The sweetness of the gospel is that he offers to do the second—to make us what we are not by allowing himself to be destroyed. He takes the penalty so we can get the victory.
Isaiah emphasizes the sweetness of this gospel in two ways in this passage. First, he includes himself in the group that needs to be saved.
To us, a child is born. To us, a son is given.
Not "I'm good, but you all need this." It's "I, Isaiah, the great prophet of God, need this as much as you do." He realizes he needs Mighty God's saving work as much as everyone else.
To experience the sweetness of the gospel, you must also include yourself with Isaiah and every other person that Jesus died to save. Again, it's "to us," not "for you all." You must count yourself as one who doesn't just believe the stories of Jesus are good and true, but that they're true for you.
They're true about you. You need mighty god to defeat your sin. Without him, you would forever be in the kingdom of darkness, shame, sin, and death. But because of him, as we read earlier in the passage, on you, a light has shined.
But it doesn't end there. It's not just that Jesus saves the good ones or saves the good parts of us. Look at verses one and two:
There'll be no gloom for her who was in anguish. In the former time, he brought into contempt the land of Zebulon and the land of Nephthali, but in the latter time, he's made glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined. — Isaiah 9:1-2
Isaiah uses words like contempt and deep darkness to describe Zebulon and Nephthali. The locations are important because they're real locations and real people live there, but in addition, we see the sweetness of the gospel and what those areas represent.
Zebulon and Nephthali were the areas of Israel that were the first to fall to pagan invaders. God's clear their defeat was the result of their sin and failure. So for Isaiah's original audience, they weren't just two areas that were under pagan rule. They represented sin, failure, defeat, and shame.
Maybe I can explain it like this. If you're a Clemson basketball fan and you hear someone talk about Chapel Hill, what comes to mind? It's not quite the same, but Clemson's men's team has played UNC in Chapel Hill 59 times in the last 92 years. You know how many games they've won? None. Zero and 59 in Chapel Hill. And if you're a Clemson basketball fan, Chapel Hill represents failure, loss, and really no hope that you'll ever end up on the winning side of things. You're zero and 59. Even if you come back and win the next 10 games, you're still 10 and 59, which isn't a whole lot to brag about.
In a similar way, but with a much greater degree of seriousness, Zebulon and Nephthali didn't represent success and victory. They represented ever-present darkness and the stench of death. They represented rebellion, failure, sin, defeat, shame.
God's Victory in Places of Shame
Do you have places like that? What is Isaiah promising about mighty god's victory? The places of defeat and shame will be the very first places to experience his victory. Seven hundred years later, Jesus started his preaching ministry in the land of Zebulon and Nephthali. It's where his public ministry began. He could've started preaching anywhere he wanted, and then he started in Zebulon and Nephthali because those are the places he loves to do his work.
What is Isaiah saying? In our places of great shame and failure, that's where mighty god loves to make his victory known.
I don't know about you, but that's a good word for me. I often struggle with wanting to have a transactional relationship with god. When stuff goes well, it's because I've done well. When stuff goes poorly, it's because I've done poorly. I've earned this. I deserve this. It's a way that I really enjoy or often used to explain the hard stuff in my life. I know my relationship with god isn't really transactional, but my actions often show that I believe something different.
Let me press it further. There's a verse in Romans 8:28:
And we know that for those who love god, all things work together for good. — Romans 8:28
I believe that this is true, but sometimes I make exceptions—at least in my own life. Surely god doesn't want to make good on my mistakes. Surely everything related to my mistakes will work together for bad or evil or something just as bad.
And into my world walks mighty god. And he invites me to join him on the battlefield after his victory is secured, to share in his spoils. I haven't won a thing. In fact, I'm wonderfully familiar with all the places I failed and lost. And Isaiah 9 reminds me that it's in those very places—places like Zebulon and Nephthali—that god longs to make his victory known.
Where are those places for you? Where do you feel like you're defined by your past failures? What are your "nothing good can come from this" places? Where are you certain you're receiving exactly the bad you deserve, or where does it seem like life is so stacked against you that it's never going to get better? Where does it seem like the whole world is against you? What would it look like for god to step in there and do something amazing? What would it look like for you to hope against hope?
In verse seven, we see two reasons to hope, even in the face of hopelessness, failure, and despair:
Of the increase of his government and of peace, there will be no end. On the throne of David and over his kingdom to establish it and uphold it with justice and with righteousness, from this time forth and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this. — Isaiah 9:7
First, the increase of his government and of peace—there will be no end.
Think about that for a moment. If his kingdom is advancing and bringing with it peace and wholeness in all areas of life, if his kingdom is established and upheld with righteousness and also justice, there will never be a moment when we can look at our lives and say, "This is as good as it's going to get." There will never be a moment we look at the darkness of the world and say, "This is as good as it's going to get." There will never be a moment we have to be content with the injustice in this world and say, "This is as good as it's going to get."
Now, if of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, there isn't an area of our lives or this world that won't be touched by mighty God's victory. His reign and rule over all things will not be hidden forever. As Doctor King said, evil may so shape events that Caesar will occupy a palace in Christ across. But that same Christ will rise up and split history into AD and BC. Said even the life of Caesar must be dated by his name. Yes, the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.
Jesus isn't looking to just tweak this or that. We may feel and experience injustice and evil today but one day, mighty God is going to bring it to an end forever. That's the first hope.
The Zeal of the Lord of Hosts
The second hope is in the last line of verse seven that says this whole thing is going to be for sure. It says:
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.
What does that mean? Well, it means a couple of things. It means, number one, that the king is not just mighty like some great war hero. It means he's also God. His power is unending and unrivaled. He cannot make a promise he will not fulfill and he will fulfill his promises in a way that are far better and far greater and more marvelous than what our feeble minds could ask or imagine.
It's the zeal of the captain of heaven's armies. That's the Lord of hosts. It's the zeal of the captain of heaven's armies that will do this. Mighty God is consumed with a passion, love for you and for your good. If Jesus is your savior, it means he is absolutely 100% committed to working everything out in your life for good. Out of love for you, he brings with him the full power of heaven and all of its armies to one day make his victory so evident and so complete that we will never ever have a reason to cry again.
And until then, we look through our tears to the cross. We see mighty God accomplishing his victory by taking our sin upon himself so that one day, he can live in this glorious kingdom of righteousness and justice with us forever.
And we work. In light of that, we work. In light of the certain victory, we work. And in fact, there's a great way to test whether you really believe the promises found in Isaiah nine are true. Or to put it another way, if you believe that it's true—that of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and righteousness from this time forth and forevermore—then you'll give yourself to the advancement of that kingdom here on earth. For there's no greater, more lasting cause to give yourself to. It's the kind of work that matters. For this is the kind of work that will last for eternity.
Three Ways to Give Yourself to God's Work
So what does it look like? What does it look like to give yourself to that work? Well, let me suggest three things in closing: pray, work, and hope.
One, you are committed to constantly pray for this to happen. When you see wrong in people or in the world around you, ask God to make his kingdom known by doing something about it.
Two, you commit to do something about it. You tell others who aren't yet believers in Jesus. This is what makes the gospel of Christ so sweet. It extends grace and hope and mercy where none should be found. You remind them, you tell them that Jesus came to earth and lived and died and rose from the dead to extend that grace and hope and mercy to you. And then he offers the same to them. Remind them or you tell them their guilt is crushing, that they can't do anything to get out from under the guilt of their sin, but that Jesus came to save them. He wants to save them. Encourage them. Tell them, repent of your sins and take Jesus' salvation.
So you tell others about Jesus and then you work to make this world look more like his government of peace. We follow mighty God onto the battlefield not with our swords but with love. As we sometimes sing here on Sunday:
Lead on, O King eternal, Till sins' fierce war shall cease, And holiness shall whisper The sweet amen of peace. For not with swords loud crashing Or roll of stirring drums, With deeds of love and mercy His heavenly kingdom comes.
And where do you do those deeds of love and mercy? Well, let's not start with trying to change the world. Why don't you start where you're at? Where has God placed you? What's in front of you? Start with what you have.
See what God does with it and where he takes you from there.
And then three: in hope, believe against hope. Fight the fears that would tell you otherwise. Fight against the fears that would keep you on the sidelines. Fight to remember that Jesus has come and that Jesus will come again. Follow him. Stay close to him. His victory is certain and it's secure.
Maybe the best way to fight those fears is to look for evidences of Jesus' victory now. Tell stories and celebrate the ways that he's worked in the past. Let those stories encourage your faith today. That's what Isaiah is doing in the first part of chapter nine.
Then, be diligent to look for ways that he's at work in your life today. Tell those stories and celebrate his work today—not just in the big events but also in the details that make up your everyday life. He's with us in the big stuff. He's also with us in the seemingly meaningless details. Find those stories.
Maybe put it this way: He's at work. It's often our issue—just not knowing to look forward or see it or believe it.
The True Picture of Faith
If you've watched any Christmas movies this month, you probably picked up on a fairly common theme. At Christmas, if you'll just believe in something, it will make all the difference. Believe in the power of love, believe in the goodness of others, believe in the existence of Santa, believe in the spirit of Christmas, believe that life really is like a Hallmark movie. If you believe one of those things, it makes all the difference. You hear bells, Santa's sleigh flies, you meet the perfect partner, an angel gets its wings. Believe it. It changes everything, right?
That idea isn't wrong—just the application. I like the picture of faith better that's pictured in A Charlie Brown Christmas. You know this, I'm sure. Toward the end of the movie, Linus, the scared little boy who can't go anywhere without a security blanket, comes to the center of the stage to tell the true meaning of Christmas. And he does so by quoting from Saint Luke's Gospel.
In the middle of Linus' monologue, he drops his blanket. It's the only time in the whole movie that he drops his blanket. It's in the middle of telling the story of good news of great joy—the middle of telling the story of mighty God taking the field in the form of a child. Fearful Linus drops the thing that is most precious to him. The very thing he looks to for security in his fear-filled life.
He drops his comfort when he speaks of a better comfort. He drops the thing that brings him peace when he speaks of a greater peace. He drops the only thing he thinks will give him life when he hears of a greater life. He hears the good news. He believes it. And he realizes that in Jesus, all his longings are fulfilled—and that changes everything.
He drops his security blanket when he says:
Fear not. For behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a savior, which is Christ, the Lord.
So, lead on, oh king eternal. We follow not with fears. For gladness breaks like morning when air thy face appears. The cross is lifted o'er us. We journey in its light. The crown awaits the conquest. Lead on. Oh God of might.
Let's pray. Jesus, would you now lead us? Would you make your presence with us and your promises to us so evident that we could not deny them? Remind us now again of your victory—that victory is for us—and help us believe it's true. It's in your name that we ask these things. Amen.
Study Companion
Ask about this sermon
Ask anything about this sermon
Study Companion
Ask about this sermon
Ask anything about this sermon