There is a terrifying scene in the movie Gravity in which Dr. Ryan Stone (played by Sandra Bullock) becomes untethered from the space station on which she had been working and is sent spinning off into space, flipping head-over-feet as she goes. What makes it particularly terrifying is Newton’s first law of motion, which says that in the absence of any external force acting upon her (such as friction or air resistance, which are not present in space), she would continue spinning that way indefinitely. In other words, in that moment there was nothing she could grab to stop herself and no way she could flap her arms or legs to change the direction of her motion. She was in a position of absolute helplessness, imprisoned by the laws of physics. Only something acting on her from outside of herself could save her from that terrible situation. And if you want to know if she gets out of it, I won’t spoil it for you. See the movie.
As descendants of Adam exiled from the Garden-Temple of God’s presence, we are in a situation like that one. We are not in the kind of story in which the hero finds himself in difficult circumstances but still manages through quick thinking and creativity to get himself out of it. We are totally helpless, unable to extract ourselves from the fallen world in which we live or from the guilt that makes us liable to the terrifying prospect of God’s judgment. We can grasp with our hands, flail our arms, and kick our legs all we want, but if the story the Bible tells is true, the only hope we have is for something—or Someone—to act on us from outside of ourselves. Our only hope is a heavenly rescue operation.
That is precisely what the incarnation of God the Son is: a rescue operation for a helpless human race. If you have lived a reasonably comfortable life, you may not be accustomed to thinking of your situation in these kinds of dire terms. But it is important that we let the Word of God interpret reality for us rather than seeking to interpret it for ourselves. Notice the dire situation referred to in verse 1 of this passage: “But there will be no gloom for her who was in anguish. In the former time he brought into contempt the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali.” Zebulun and Naphtali were two tribes on the northern edge of the kingdom of Israel. When Isaiah says God brought them into contempt in the former time, he is speaking of the fact that Zebulun and Naphtali were the first territories to fall to the conquering Assyrian army, which took over the nation of Israel in the eighth century BC. In that event of exile, Israel did not merely experience the oppression of a foreign army. They experienced the wrath of the God they had spurned. And so they found themselves, as 8:22 says, in “the gloom of anguish” and in “thick darkness” of God’s withdrawal from them.
Now, what does the exile of Israel have to do with us? Israel’s exile is a mini-version of our own. It is a small representation of what happened in Genesis 3 when God sent the human race away from his presence and left us under the shadow of his coming judgment. Exile pictures us as both oppressed victims and guilty offenders. The political left argues that the problems of society are due to victimization. The structures and institutions of society are unjust and oppressive, and they are primarily to blame for the bad actions of individuals. Fix social structures, and you fix individual behavior. The political right argues the opposite: the problems of society are due to individual responsibility. Social structures don’t carry out evil actions; individuals do, and so our focus must be on changing hearts. The biblical perspective shows us that both left and right have a vision that is too small. According to the Bible, we are sinful rebels against God who also live under the oppression of dark powers that manifest themselves in the corrupt structures of society. We are exiles, which means we are both rebels and victims: we are rebels who have been driven from our rightful home in God’s presence because of our own sin, and at the same time we are victims who have been handed over to the power of Satan. Our only hope is that God himself, who has sent us into exile, might in his sovereign grace break the hold of our oppressor, reconcile us to himself, and welcome us back home. The Christmas story tells us that he has done just that in the incarnation, atoning work, and enthronement of his Son. As we will sing shortly, it is in Christ alone that our hope is found.
I would summarize the promise of Isaiah 9:1-7 like this: God will restore this broken world in judgment and blessing through the reign of the God-man, the Son of David. The way I want to unpack that is by asking and answering two questions: What will God do? And how will he do it?
So the first question to ask from this text is this: What will God do? Here is the answer:
In his book The Reason for God, Tim Keller refers to the story of Samwise Gamgee from J.R.R. Tolkien’s trilogy The Lord of the Rings. Toward the end of the story, Sam discovers that his friend Gandalf the wizard, whom he thought was dead, was actually alive. Sam cries out, “I thought you were dead! But then I thought I was dead myself! Is everything sad going to come untrue?” Tim Keller then comments: “The answer of Christianity to that question is—yes. Everything sad is going to come untrue and it will somehow be greater for having once been broken and lost.” Whatever you may be facing today, remember that our God is a God who restores what is broken. Let that truth resonate in your heart as we hear it again from Isaiah.
There is a contrast in verse 1 between “the former time” and “the latter time,” and the contrast pertains to the way God acts toward the land of Zebulun and Naphtali. Formerly, God “brought into contempt” this land through the judgment of the Assyrians. He disregarded it, made it nothing. But Isaiah tells us “in the latter time he made glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations.” In judgment, he treated it as nothing, but in grace, he will make it glorious.
After the conquest, the Assyrians made three provinces out of this land, and each province is referenced here. The “way of the sea” refers to the territory between the Mediterranean Sea and the Sea of Galilee. The “land beyond the Jordan” refers to the territory just east of the Jordan River (Gilead). And “Galilee” refers to the northern area of Naphtali, next to the Sea of Galilee. Now, if you are astute, you may be wondering: How does Aaron get the point that God will restore this broken world from a prophecy that declares the restoration of three little areas of land in northern Israel? I’m glad you are wondering that, because I have an answer. Notice that Isaiah doesn’t merely refer to “Galilee” here in verse 1. He calls it “Galilee of the nations” (or “Galilee of the Gentiles”), which is a term used for this area that is nowhere else used of it in the Old Testament. What does it mean? It may be a reference to the fact that the tribes of Zebulun and Naphtali never quite finished the job of driving the Canaanites out of their territory, and so there were always Gentiles living among them. It may be a reference to the fact that in 1 Kings 9:11, King Solomon gave Hiram, king of Tyre, twenty cities from Galilee, resulting in an influx of Gentiles to that area. Or it may be a reference to the fact that, after the Assyrians conquered this land, they resettled people from other nations they had conquered there. Or it may be a reference to all three of those realities. Whatever the case, the name “Galilee of the nations” clearly puts emphasis on the fact that this is a land that is not merely Israel’s land. By making glorious “Galilee of the nations,” God shows his intention to bless, not only the nation of Israel, but all the nations of the world. Galilee is his down payment on the globe.
Matthew quotes Isaiah 9:1-2 in Matthew 4:15-16 when he tells the story of Jesus moving to Capernaum in Galilee at the beginning of his public ministry. In God’s grace, the territory that first experienced the wrath of exile also became the first to witness the glory of the Messiah. At the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus begins his ministry in “Galilee of the nations.” At the end of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus tells his disciples, “Go, make disciples of all nations,” making clear that God’s ultimate intention is to restore his broken world.
Then verses 2-5 show us three ways to picture this work of restoring the land God had previously brought into contempt: light, joy, and deliverance. The first perspective in verse 2 is that of shining a light: “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.” The darkness of God’s absence has fallen over the land, as the people have forsaken his word and run instead to the dark practices of fortune-telling and séances (see 8:19-20) in order to find some kind of spiritual direction during this time of national calamity. But the light represents God’s revelation and favor shining once again on his people. God will not remain silent forever. He will make himself known, says the prophet.
A second perspective on this restoration is in verse 3, which speaks of giving joy to the nation: “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.” The oppressed people of Israel under the wrath of their God will find themselves rejoicing under his blessing like farmers at the time of a rich harvest, or like a victorious army claiming the spoils of war for themselves.
A third perspective is then given in verses 4-5, which speak of deliverance from an enemy oppressor: “For the yoke of his burden, and the staff for his shoulder, the rod of his oppressor, you have broken as on 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.” Speaking here of deliverance from the Assyrian oppression, Isaiah makes reference to two other biblical acts of deliverance. When he refers to “the day of Midian,” he is talking about the time when Gideon’s paltry army of 300 men defeated a multitude of thousands of Midianites because the Lord caused the Midianite soldiers to attack one another (see Judges 6-8). The other biblical reference is more subtle, but you find it in the words “yoke,” “burden,” “shoulder,” and “oppressor.” All four of these terms are used in other places in Scripture in reference to the power of Egypt over Israel during the time of Israel’s slavery there. And so Isaiah signals to us that the deliverance he is foretelling will be like the great event of Israel’s exodus from Egypt. What both of those events—Gideon’s defeat of Midian and Israel’s deliverance from Egypt—have in common is that both were entirely God’s doing. In both stories, the spoils of victory were given to those who had done nothing. The restoration that Isaiah foretells will be a divine rescue operation.
So we have a sense now from these first five verses that God will restore this broken world. But I said that he will do so “in judgment and blessing.” Where is that in the text, and why does it matter? Verses 4-5 in particular make this point by referencing deliverance from an oppressor. If God is going to deliver his people from oppression, it means he will do so by bringing his judgment against their oppressors, just as he did to Egypt at the time of the exodus, and just as he did to Midian at the time of Gideon. So why does it matter for us to recognize that the restoration of God’s world comes through both judgment and blessing? It matters because, if we don’t come to grips with that truth, we will tend to assume that the good news is merely an announcement about a wonderful thing God is doing, and not also a call for us to respond personally to it. In other words, what I am saying here is that it is not just the fact that the kingdom of God is coming that matters. It also matters whether or not you and I will enter that kingdom. For when it comes, some will be welcomed in, but others will be judged by God and exiled forever from his presence. What makes the difference between these two groups? Where does the road fork between Heaven and Hell? We’ll see as we come to the next two verses.
So that answers the question of what God will do. Our second question is this: How will God do it? And the answer is this:
I keep a CD in my car that is entitled The Ology. It’s a collection of songs that covers the whole range of theological topics in a way that is memorable for children. The last song summarizes what the whole collection is about, as the chorus says this:
“From Genesis to Revelation There’s one story of Your great salvation It’s all about Jesus, oh, it’s all about Jesus Shoutin’ out from every page There’s one Hero that’ll save the day It’s all about Jesus, oh, it’s all about Jesus.”
As Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 1:20, “For all the promises of God find their Yes in him.” The Bible is a diverse book, packed full of different literary forms, including stories, laws, poems, parables, letters, proverbs, prophetic oracles, and apocalyptic visions. It is a book that speaks to every area of life, including ethics, marriage, business, government, childrearing, etc. But ultimately it is one book with one main purpose: to lead us to Jesus Christ. He is the focus of all Scripture and the centerpiece of God’s plan for the ages, and so let it be our ambition to see how every book, every paragraph, every word of Scripture points us to him.
Little words matter. Verse 6 begins with the little word “for.” That is a word that can be used in different ways, but in this case, it means “This is the basis of what I just said.” That is, Isaiah’s prediction of deliverance from an enemy oppressor depends entirely on what verses 6-7 tell us. The oppressor will be overthrown by the child predicted here.
Verse 6 tells us “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given.” Again, little words matter. Those two little words “to us” make all the difference in the world. Isaiah foretells the birth of a son who will not merely be a gift of Heaven to his parents; he is God’s gift to the whole nation. Over seven-hundred years later the angel would echo those words in his announcement to the shepherds, “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” The reason we celebrate Christmas is not just because Jesus was born. It is that he was born unto us, born to be ours forever. The government, or dominion, that would rest on his shoulder replaces for us the oppressive staff that had been held over our shoulders in our exile (v. 4).
And then note the four names by which he will be called. All four of them point us to the fact that he is more than a mere man. The first name is “Wonderful Counselor.” The adjective “wonderful” here doesn’t mean “really good,” as we typically use it today. Think of the term “wonderful” in connection with the phrase “signs and wonders.” Perhaps a better term is “supernatural,” referring to that which is beyond human ability. And the term “counselor” speaks of his great wisdom, in contrast to the foolishness of King Ahaz, the descendant of David whose lack of trust in the Lord is showcased for us just two chapters prior to this one. The coming king will be a supernatural counselor, a ruler whose wisdom is divine, not merely human.
The second name is “mighty God,” a term that clearly refers to God himself in Isaiah 10:21. Here it is applied to the child who would be born, demonstrating clearly that the coming king will be God himself, able to act not only with supernatural wisdom, but also with divine power.
The third name is “everlasting father.” This term does not mean that God the Father would become incarnate. It is very clear from the New Testament that it is God the Son, not God the Father, who took on flesh for us, died for ours sins, and was raised from the dead. So if that is the case, what could “everlasting father” mean here? It makes sense to see this title in reference to the fact that the coming king will be like a father to his people. Every king in Israel reigned, not by his own authority, but as a representative of God’s own fatherly care for the nation. If you look up to 8:18, you will notice that Isaiah says, “Behold, I and the children whom the LORD has given me are signs and portents in Israel from the LORD of hosts, who dwells on Mount Zion.” Isaiah’s “children” here probably refers to the faithful remnant of Israelites who would emerge from the coming judgment under God’s blessing. But the reason I draw attention that text is because the New Testament book of Hebrews quotes it (Heb. 2:13), applying the words to Jesus and his people. We are, in other words, pictured there as the “children” of our king. And he is no temporary father to us. He is the everlasting father, the king whose reign would have no end. Subject as we are to death, it is clear that no mere man could fulfill this prophecy.
The final, culminating title applied to the coming king is “prince of peace.” Because he has supernatural wisdom, divine power, and reigns as a loving father over his people forever, he alone has the ability to bring the blessing of peace to his people. That English word “peace” doesn’t quite seem to capture everything that is meant by the Hebrew word “shalom.” When I think of “peace,” I normally think of the end of armed conflict. But the Hebrew word here indicates much more: it speaks of the wholeness of life that occurs when God and humanity are reconciled and living in harmony. It speaks of fullness, joy, blessing, abundance, fruitfulness. Perhaps if we said, “the prince of life,” we would come closer in our understanding to what this title means.
The bottom line we must acknowledge from the names in verse 6 is that they far surpass anything that any mere man would be capable of. These terms refer to one who is God himself. But if verse 6 places emphasis on the deity of the coming king, verse 7 places equal emphasis on his humanity, for it reads, “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.” This child lays claim to the throne of David, meaning he must be a descendant of David. And as such, he must be fully human. But not just any man will do. He has a particular nationality, tribe, and lineage that matters in the story that God is telling, for God made a promise to David that he would establish the throne of David’s kingdom forever. However, as the book of Isaiah makes clear, the house of David failed. King Ahaz put his trust in the power of Assyria instead of in the power of God, and the resulting judgment from God brought the Assyrians flooding into his land. And then, over a hundred years later, the Babylonians would come in to finish the job and remove David’s throne altogether. God made a promise to establish David’s throne forever, but that promise could not be fulfilled apart from the righteous reign of a faithful son of David. And since David’s descendants were unfaithful, how would God resolve this dilemma? He would supply the faithful Son of David himself in the person of his Son Jesus Christ. Jesus is not only God the Son incarnate, he is also the long-awaited Son of David whose enthronement at his resurrection marks the restoration of the house of David and the beginning of an everlasting kingdom of righteousness.
Our passage ends fittingly with these words: “The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.” This will be an act of God, a heavenly rescue operation, because we are completely unable to do it ourselves. And so even the manner of the birth of Christ—birth from a virgin (see Isaiah 7:14)—communicates that it is God alone who saves us. Mary and Joseph did nothing to produce their child, because he was a child beyond their ability to produce by any natural human means. The human race could never produce the Messiah we needed. It had to be an act of God alone.
Earlier I posed the question: what makes the difference between those who will receive God’s blessing and those who will fall under his judgment when the kingdom he has promised comes? Verses 6-7 show us that everything revolves around the coming king, the God-man, the Son of David. Your destiny depends on your response to him. Psalm 2 pictures the Son of God—the Messiah—dividing humanity into two categories: those who remain in rebellion against him and those who turn away from their rebellion and acknowledge his lordship over them. It ends with these words (v. 12): “Kiss the Son [as an act of homage], lest he be angry, and you perish in the way, for his wrath is quickly kindled. Blessed are all who take refuge in him.” Christmas is one more reminder to us that our only hope is to take refuge in the Son who was born for us in Bethlehem.
If you are not a believer in Christ, it is time for you to give up your rebellion. Stop fighting to defend your own kingdom, because that is a fight you are certain to lose. Throw down your weapons and look to the one who came into the world in the gentle humility of a baby, born to obey God where we had disobeyed, and born to die under the judgment of God that we deserved. On the third day God raised him from the dead and enthroned him as king of the cosmos. You cannot escape his reign. But you can bow to it, rejoice in it, and find the blessing of forgiveness of your sins if you will call out to him in faith. If that is you today, come and speak to us about declaring your faith in Jesus Christ through baptism.
If you are a baptized believer who is in good standing with a local church, it is important for you also to be reminded of the wonder of the incarnation, God’s rescue operation for a helpless human race, once more at the Table of the Lord. Even when he had been a believer in Christ for many years, the “Prince of Preachers,” Charles Spurgeon, could say truthfully, “I am a poor sinner still, and I have to look to Christ every day as I did at the very first.” By eating and drinking today, you declare that same testimony, that the God-man, the Son of David, was not merely my hope on the day I came to faith. He remains my only hope today, and he alone who has taken my guilt from me will one day bring me home from exile.