So Isaiah told him, “Then listen to this, government of David! It’s bad enough that you make people tired with your pious, timid hypocrisies, but now you’re making God tired. So the Master is going to give you a sign anyway. Watch for this: A girl who is presently a virgin will get pregnant. She’ll bear a son and name him Immanuel (God-With-Us). By the time the child is twelve years old, able to make moral decisions, the threat of war will be over. Relax, those two kings that have you so worried will be out of the picture. But also be warned: God will bring on you and your people and your government a judgment worse than anything since the time the kingdom split, when Ephraim left Judah. The king of Assyria is coming!”

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. For those who lived in a land of deep shadows— light! sunbursts of light! You repopulated the nation, you expanded its joy. Oh, they’re so glad in your presence! Festival joy! The joy of a great celebration, sharing rich gifts and warm greetings. The abuse of oppressors and cruelty of tyrants— all their whips and clubs and curses— Is gone, done away with, a deliverance as surprising and sudden as Gideon’s old victory over Midian. The boots of all those invading troops, along with their shirts soaked with innocent blood, Will be piled in a heap and burned, a fire that will burn for days! For a child has been born—for us! the gift of a son—for us! He’ll take over the running of the world. His names will be: Amazing Counselor, Strong God, Eternal Father, Prince of Wholeness. His ruling authority will grow, and there’ll be no limits to the wholeness he brings. He’ll rule from the historic David throne over that promised kingdom. He’ll put that kingdom on a firm footing and keep it going With fair dealing and right living, beginning now and lasting always. The zeal of God-of-the-Angel-Armies will do all this.

Doom to Assyria!

“Doom to Assyria, weapon of my anger. My wrath is a club in his hands! I send him against a godless nation, against the people I’m angry with. I command him to strip them clean, rob them blind, and then push their faces in the mud and leave them. But Assyria has another agenda; he has something else in mind. He’s out to destroy utterly, to stamp out as many nations as he can. Assyria says, ‘Aren’t my commanders all kings? Can’t they do whatever they like? Didn’t I destroy Calno as well as Carchemish? Hamath as well as Arpad? Level Samaria as I did Damascus? I’ve eliminated kingdoms full of gods far more impressive than anything in Jerusalem and Samaria. So what’s to keep me from destroying Jerusalem in the same way I destroyed Samaria and all her god-idols?’”

Thunder rolls off the mountains like a mob huge and noisy— Thunder of kingdoms in an uproar, nations assembling for war. God-of-the-Angel-Armies is calling his army into battle formation. They come from far-off countries, they pour in across the horizon. It’s God on the move with the weapons of his wrath, ready to destroy the whole country.

“And now watch this: Against Babylon, I’m inciting the Medes, A ruthless bunch indifferent to bribes, the kind of brutality that no one can blunt. They massacre the young, wantonly kick and kill even babies. And Babylon, most glorious of all kingdoms, the pride and joy of Chaldeans, Will end up smoking and stinking like Sodom, and, yes, like Gomorrah, when God had finished with them. No one will live there anymore, generation after generation a ghost town. Not even Bedouins will pitch tents there. Shepherds will give it a wide berth. But strange and wild animals will like it just fine, filling the vacant houses with eerie night sounds. Skunks will make it their home, and unspeakable night hags will haunt it. Hyenas will curdle your blood with their laughing, and the howling of coyotes will give you the shivers. “Babylon is doomed. It won’t be long now.”

God says, “I’ll make Egyptian fight Egyptian, brother fight brother, neighbor fight neighbor, City fight city, kingdom fight kingdom— anarchy and chaos and killing! I’ll knock the wind out of the Egyptians. They won’t know coming from going. They’ll go to their god-idols for answers; they’ll conjure ghosts and hold séances, desperate for answers. But I’ll turn the Egyptians over to a tyrant most cruel. I’ll put them under the rule of a mean, merciless king.” Decree of the Master, God-of-the-Angel-Armies.

Nothing Left Here to Be Proud Of

Visit Tarshish, you who live on the seacoast. Take a good, long look and wail—yes, cry buckets of tears! Is this the city you remember as energetic and alive, bustling with activity, this historic old city, Expanding throughout the globe, buying and selling all over the world? And who is behind the collapse of Tyre, the Tyre that controlled the world markets? Tyre’s merchants were the business tycoons. Tyre’s traders called all the shots. God-of-the-Angel-Armies ordered the crash to show the sordid backside of pride and puncture the inflated reputations. Sail for home, O ships of Tarshish. There are no docks left in this harbor. God reached out to the sea and sea traders, threw the sea kingdoms into turmoil. God ordered the destruction of the seacoast cities, the centers of commerce. God said, “There’s nothing left here to be proud of, bankrupt and bereft Sidon. Do you want to make a new start in Cyprus? Don’t count on it. Nothing there will work out for you either.”

At the end of the seventy years, God will look in on Tyre. She’ll go back to her old whoring trade, selling herself to the highest bidder, doing anything with anyone—promiscuous with all the kingdoms of earth—for a fee. But everything she gets, all the money she takes in, will be turned over to God. It will not be put in banks. Her profits will be put to the use of God-Aware, God-Serving-People, providing plenty of food and the best of clothing.

It’s God’s scheduled time for vengeance, the year all Zion’s accounts are settled. Edom’s streams will flow sluggish, thick with pollution, the soil sterile, poisoned with waste, The whole country a smoking, stinking garbage dump— The fires burning day and night, the skies black with endless smoke. Generation after generation of wasteland— no more travelers through this country! Vultures and skunks will police the streets; owls and crows will feel at home there. God will reverse creation. Chaos! He will cancel fertility. Emptiness! Leaders will have no one to lead. They’ll name it No Kingdom There, A country where all kings and princes are unemployed. Thistles will take over, covering the castles, fortresses conquered by weeds and thornbushes. Wild dogs will prowl the ruins, ostriches have the run of the place. Wildcats and hyenas will hunt together, demons and devils dance through the night. The night-demon Lilith, evil and rapacious, will establish permanent quarters. Scavenging carrion birds will breed and brood, infestations of ominous evil.

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.” * * *

You’re Acting Like the Center of the Universe

Our Redeemer speaks, named God-of-the-Angel-Armies, The Holy of Israel: “Shut up and get out of the way, daughter of Chaldeans. You’ll no longer be called ‘First Lady of the Kingdoms.’ I was fed up with my people, thoroughly disgusted with my progeny. I turned them over to you, but you had no compassion. You put old men and women to cruel, hard labor. You said, ‘I’m the First Lady. I’ll always be the pampered darling.’ You took nothing seriously, took nothing to heart, never gave tomorrow a thought. Well, start thinking, party girl. You’re acting like the center of the universe, Smugly saying to yourself, ‘I’m Number One. There’s nobody but me. I’ll never be a widow, I’ll never lose my children.’ Those two things are going to hit you both at once, suddenly, on the same day: Spouse and children gone, a total loss, despite your many enchantments and charms. You were so confident and comfortable in your evil life, saying, ‘No one sees me.’ You thought you knew so much, had everything figured out. What delusion! Smugly telling yourself, ‘I’m Number One. There’s nobody but me.’ Ruin descends— you can’t charm it away. Disaster strikes— you can’t cast it off with spells. Catastrophe, sudden and total— and you’re totally at sea, totally bewildered! But don’t give up. From your great repertoire of enchantments there must be one you haven’t yet tried. You’ve been at this a long time. Surely something will work. I know you’re exhausted trying out remedies, but don’t give up. Call in the astrologers and stargazers. They’re good at this. Surely they can work up something!

What’s That We See in the Distance?

“What’s that we see in the distance, a cloud on the horizon, like doves darkening the sky? It’s ships from the distant islands, the famous Tarshish ships Returning your children from faraway places, loaded with riches, with silver and gold, And backed by the name of your God, The Holy of Israel, showering you with splendor. Foreigners will rebuild your walls, and their kings assist you in the conduct of worship. When I was angry I hit you hard. It’s my desire now to be tender. Your Jerusalem gates will always be open —open house day and night!— Receiving deliveries of wealth from all nations, and their kings, the delivery boys! Any nation or kingdom that doesn’t deliver will perish; those nations will be totally wasted. The rich woods of Lebanon will be delivered —all that cypress and oak and pine— To give a splendid elegance to my Sanctuary, as I make my footstool glorious. The descendants of your oppressor will come bowing and scraping to you. All who looked down at you in contempt will lick your boots. They’ll confer a title on you: City of God, Zion of The Holy of Israel. Not long ago you were despised refuse— out-of-the-way, unvisited, ignored. But now I’ve put you on your feet, towering and grand forever, a joy to look at! When you suck the milk of nations and the breasts of royalty, You’ll know that I, God, am your Savior, your Redeemer, Champion of Jacob. I’ll give you only the best—no more hand-me-downs! Gold instead of bronze, silver instead of iron, bronze instead of wood, iron instead of stones. I’ll install Peace to run your country, make Righteousness your boss. There’ll be no more stories of crime in your land, no more robberies, no more vandalism. You’ll name your main street Salvation Way, and install Praise Park at the center of town. You’ll have no more need of the sun by day nor the brightness of the moon at night. God will be your eternal light, your God will bathe you in splendor. Your sun will never go down, your moon will never fade. I will be your eternal light. Your days of grieving are over. All your people will live right and well, in permanent possession of the land. They’re the green shoot that I planted, planted with my own hands to display my glory. The runt will become a great tribe, the weakling become a strong nation. I am God. At the right time I’ll make it happen.”