June
15
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A Startling Response
Shout for joy, you heavens;
rejoice, you earth;
burst into song, you mountains!
For the Lord comforts his people
and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.
But Zion said, “The Lord has forsaken me,
the Lord has forgotten me.”
Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
I will not forget you!
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.
Isaiah 49:13-16
I love the book of Isaiah. Yes, it contains some hard words of judgment, but it is also overflowing with hope. The passage above is a good example. The verses leading up to Isaiah 49:13 describe the salvation God will bring into the world through his Servant—the one we know to be Jesus. Then comes this beautiful invitation: “Shout for joy, you heavens; rejoice, you earth; burst into song, you mountains!”
Isaiah paints a picture of a restored creation, a world made new because God has come to rescue his people. And then, almost like a record scratch, verse 14 interrupts the celebration: “The Lord has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me.”
What a startling response.
God has just laid out promise after promise, yet the people answer with a complaint. But if we’re honest, we understand exactly where they’re coming from. Future salvation is wonderful. Eternal life is wonderful. The promise that God will make all things new is wonderful. But sometimes what we really want to know is this: What about today?
I feel overwhelmed today. I feel lonely today. I have unanswered questions today. You say you love me, Lord, but where are you right now?
Notice that Isaiah doesn’t suggest the people have stopped believing God’s promises. They simply find it hard to connect those promises to their present circumstances. Author Richard Lovelace once wrote, “It is an item of faith that we are children of God, but there is plenty of experience in us against that.”
That’s true, isn’t it?
We believe, yet there is often evidence pushing in the opposite direction. We look inside ourselves and wonder how God could possibly love us after what we’ve done or thought. Outside of us we look around us and see disappointments, broken relationships, unanswered prayers, and dreams that never came true.
Our heads tell us God is faithful, but our circumstances sometimes seem to argue otherwise. That’s why I love God’s response. He doesn’t scold his people. He doesn’t tell them to try harder or have more faith. He doesn’t dismiss their pain. Instead, he gives them a picture. “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?”
The expected answer is no. A mother’s love is among the strongest bonds we know.
Then God says something even more remarkable: “Though she may forget, I will not forget you!” Human love, as beautiful as it is, can fail. God’s love never does. And then comes one of the most powerful images in all of Scripture: “See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.”
For Isaiah’s first readers, it was a vivid promise that God would never lose sight of his people. For Christians, these words take on even deeper meaning when we look at the cross. The risen Jesus still bears the marks in his hands. The hands that were pierced for our salvation are the same hands that hold us today.
When life convinces us that we’ve been forgotten, God points us to those wounded hands and says, “Never.”
Being Human Connection: You may feel abandoned. You may feel overlooked. You may wonder where God is in the middle of your struggles. But feelings are not the final verdict. The cross is. And the cross declares that you are remembered, loved, and held by a God who will never let you go.
Featured artwork: The Return of the Prodigal Son, Rembrandt, ca. 1668.
About the artwork: Painted near the end of his life, this painting depicts the moment from Jesus’ parable in Luke 15 when a wayward son returns home and is welcomed by his father. The kneeling figure is the prodigal son, worn down by his failures and hardships. Notice the worn-out sandals. The older man embracing him is his father, whose compassion reflects God’s love for sinners. Standing nearby are other family members and observers, including the older brother who doesn’t look too happy. This painting has profoundly influenced religious art and modern theology; writers such as Henri Nouwen have meditated on it as a visual expression of spiritual homecoming.