Isaiah 5:13-17
The Message
11-17 Doom to those who get up early
and start drinking booze before breakfast,
Who stay up all hours of the night
drinking themselves into a stupor.
They make sure their banquets are well-furnished
with harps and flutes and plenty of wine,
But they’ll have nothing to do with the work of God,
pay no mind to what he is doing.
Therefore my people will end up in exile
because they don’t know the score.
Their “honored men” will starve to death
and the common people die of thirst.
Sheol developed a huge appetite,
swallowing people nonstop!
Big people and little people alike
down that gullet, to say nothing of all the drunks.
The down-and-out on a par
with the high-and-mighty,
Windbag boasters crumpled,
flaccid as a punctured bladder.
But by working justice,
God-of-the-Angel-Armies will be a mountain.
By working righteousness,
Holy God will show what “holy” is.
And lambs will graze
as if they owned the place,
Kids and calves
right at home in the ruins.
Isaiah 5:24-30
The Message
24 But they won’t get by with it. As fire eats stubble
and dry grass goes up in smoke,
Their souls will atrophy,
their achievements crumble into dust,
Because they said no to the revelation
of God-of-the-Angel-Armies,
Would have nothing to do
with The Holy of Israel.
25-30 That’s why God flamed out in anger against his people,
reached out and knocked them down.
The mountains trembled
as their dead bodies piled up in the streets.
But even after that, he was still angry,
his fist still raised, ready to hit them again.
He raises a flag, signaling a distant nation,
whistles for people at the ends of the earth.
And here they come—
on the run!
None drag their feet, no one stumbles,
no one sleeps or dawdles.
Shirts are on and pants buckled,
every boot is spit-polished and tied.
Their arrows are sharp,
bows strung,
The hooves of their horses shod,
chariot wheels greased.
Roaring like a pride of lions,
the full-throated roars of young lions,
They growl and seize their prey,
dragging it off—no rescue for that one!
They’ll roar and roar and roar on that Day,
like the roar of ocean billows.
Look as long and hard as you like at that land,
you’ll see nothing but darkness and trouble.
Every light in the sky
will be blacked out by the clouds.
Copyright © 1993, 2002, 2018 by Eugene H. Peterson