Our Greatest Problem

What do you reckon is our greatest problem? You're probably thinking heat. No, it's not the heat.

What is the most fateful thing that we face with the greatest prospects of undoing us?

Aggressive dictators, scourge of pandemics, political polarization, economic disparities,

global warming, racial tensions. There are a good number of plausible contenders.

How about personally? Financial stress, chronic debilitating health issues,

bad or abusive relationships, a seeming unshakable destructive habit,

the long wearying failure to find love. These are hard things. And even harder

is the question, what do we do about them? How can they be overcome? Well, the passage before us this

morning takes up this very question. What is our greatest problem? Both corporately, the whole of

the world of humanity, and individually, each one of us. What is the thing we face that can crush us,

that will really sink us? And our passage gives us its answer to that vital question, but further,

it gives us an answer to the inevitable and urgent follow-up question, what can be done about it?

Is there any hope in the face of this, our greatest problem? Now, we ought not to be surprised if our text

strikes us as modern hearers, with modern ears, as somewhat strange and alien in parts. After all,

the author, a Hebrew prophet Isaiah, is writing from a time and a culture very different from our own.

Some would suspect that Isaiah's distance from us is so great that nothing he says could possibly have

any relevance to us today. But this, I think, a mistake, for surely the fact that we don't share

things like cell phones or cellophane matters far less than the fact that we do share flesh and blood.

We are of a common humanity. So, as we read our passage, don't be put off by its foreignness.

It contains a message well worth our effort to understand. Let me read it for us.

It can be found in your pew Bibles on page 574. 574. Isaiah 52, picking up in verse 13 and carrying on

through the next chapter.

We have chapter 573.

and his form beyond that of the children of mankind.

So shall he sprinkle many nations.

Kings shall shut their mouths because of him.

For that which has not been told them they see,

and that which they have not heard they understand.

Who has believed what he has heard from us,

and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?

For he grew up before him like a young plant,

and like a root out of dry ground.

He had no form or majesty that we should look at him,

and no beauty that we should desire him.

He was despised and rejected by men,

a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.

And as one from whom men hide their faces,

he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows,

yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted.

But he was pierced for our transgressions.

He was crushed for our iniquities.

Upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,

and with his wounds we are healed.

All we like sheep have gone astray.

We have turned everyone to his own way,

and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,

yet he opened not his mouth.

Like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,

and like sheep before its shears is silent,

so he opened not his mouth.

By oppression and judgment, he was taken away.

And as for his generation,

who considered that he was cut off

out of the land of the living,

stricken for the transgression of my people,

and they made his grave with the wicked,

and with a rich man in his death,

although he had done no violence,

and there was no deceit in his mouth,

yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him.

He has put him to grief

when his soul makes an offering for guilt.

He shall see his offspring.

He shall prolong his days.

The will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.

Out of the anguish of his soul,

he shall see and be satisfied.

By his knowledge shall the righteous one,

my servant, make many to be accounted righteous,

and he shall bear their iniquities.

Therefore, I will divide him a portion with the many,

and he shall divide the spoil with the strong,

because he poured out his soul to death

and was numbered with the transgressors.

Yet, he bore the sin of many

and makes intercession for the transgressors.

The word of the Lord.

So, what is identified here as our greatest problem?

It's most clearly stated in the first part

of chapter 53, verse 6.

Big number, first numbers, chapters,

small numbers, verses.

53, verse 6.

And it may strike you as a rather odd reading practice

to jump right in the middle of a piece,

but it really isn't.

For with Hebrew poetry,

and this is an instance of Hebrew poetry,

the themes often work themselves from the outside

in toward the middle,

with the heart of the matter right in the middle,

right in the center.

So, the heart of the matter

is at the center of this poem.

And here we find Isaiah expressing

the heart of the matter

when it comes to our biggest problem.

Here is how he puts it.

All we like sheep have gone astray.

Each of us has turned to his own way.

I wonder if you find that a surprising answer.

It's not that in Isaiah's day,

people didn't face things like plagues

and hunger and ravages of war

and disease and deportment

and inflation or poverty.

No, all of these things were conspicuously present.

It's simply that Isaiah identifies

a more fundamental root-level problem.

Our going astray.

Our turning to our own way, as he puts it.

So, what does Isaiah mean?

Straying from what?

Turning away from what?

Notice, his image is that of sheep.

The picture is of sheep straying from the path

marked out by the shepherd.

So, who is the shepherd?

Well, of this, there was no question

in Isaiah's hearers' minds.

The picture was perfectly clear

and very familiar to them.

As their minstrel King David

opened his famous Psalm 23,

The Lord is my shepherd.

So, the shepherd is God, our creator.

It is from the path that God marks out

that we stray.

When we go our own way,

we are turning aside from the creator's way.

So, Isaiah is saying that common to all

is waywardness with respect to God, our creator.

Ours is the attitude which says,

I don't care what path you've marked out.

I will be in your world as I jolly well please.

I shall set my course without regard to you.

I will make my own way.

Thank you very much.

And really, a moment's reflection

reveals that to go our own way

is to make ourselves our authority.

It is to repudiate our shepherd God.

It is to regard the very creator as a rival.

It is to take the defiant stance of a rebel.

I shall play the part of God in my own life.

I shall be the arbiter of what is good, right, and just.

The effects of this turning aside

from the ways of our creator

are varied and terrible.

From genocide to lack of generosity,

selfishness to suicide attacks,

sex trafficking to spoilation of the earth,

we have made a ruinous mess of things.

We have vandalized God's world

and victimized God's creatures.

Yes, the effects of our chosen paths

are bad enough.

Bad enough for us to think

that they are our worst problems.

They are not.

But it is the essence of our chosen path

that is supremely morally horrifying.

We have substituted ourselves for God.

We put ourselves in his place.

That, according to Isaiah,

is our greatest problem.

Tell me you do not know

Isaiah's description to be true of you.

It certainly is true of me.

Isaiah knew that it was true of him.

Notice his statement

is in the form of a confession,

and he places himself in the company.

All of us, like sheep, have gone astray.

I wonder, can you make that confession?

I have a problem.

I have substituted myself for God.

I have made God my rival.

If so, our second question

forces itself upon us.

What can be done about this?

Now, the people of Isaiah's day

had been long taught to understand

that such a stance toward God

was deserving of his terrible

but just judgment.

Death.

That much was clear.

The whole sacrificial system

acknowledged and reinforced

that death was due transgressors.

An endless parade of bulls

and goats and sheep

were offered on altars

to atone for the sins of the people.

But the sense was

that the blood of bulls or goats

couldn't really constitute

atonement for sin.

It was simply a postponement.

Animals were no ultimate answer.

So the question remained,

both for them and for us,

what can be done about the fact

that we keep piling up capital offenses

against the very judge of the universe?

It doesn't look good for us.

To be sober-minded is to grow pale.

But look at the remarkable answer

Isaiah gives to deal with this,

our great, truly our greatest problem.

God is sending someone,

his servant.

This is the opening verse of our passage,

52 verse 13.

Behold my servant.

Now Isaiah has made reference

to the Lord's servant before.

Sometimes it refers to Israel as a nation,

then more narrowly to the faithful remnant

within the faithless nation.

Once the title is given to a pagan king Cyrus

who does God's bidding.

But this time it's different.

For this time the servant is identified there,

verse 53, 1,

as the arm of the Lord.

This is remarkable.

For the designation,

the arm of the Lord,

is none other than a metaphor

for God himself.

The arm of the Lord is God

rolling up his sleeves

to act himself

in great power.

Now, a quick observation

to hopefully clarify

where there's typical confusion.

Notice how God's solution

to humanity's problem

involves his arm,

not just his mouth.

It's not enough to send a prophet,

a mouthpiece,

a spokesman

to tell us how to get out of this mess

that we've made.

It takes his coming down himself

and acting.

And if your notion is

that Christianity is fundamentally

about instruction,

how we ought to live,

and in a way,

who could be faulted for thinking so

because it's such a common error?

And so many religions

seem to consist

in simply that,

instruction on how to live.

But if we get

what Isaiah is saying here,

we realize this

is something

very different.

It is not fundamentally

religious instruction.

It's about God himself

coming down and acting.

That's what makes Christianity

very distinctive here.

It's not advice.

It is announcement.

Not,

this is how you need

to change your life.

Rather,

this is what happened

that changes your life.

It's fundamentally news,

or as the first Christians

called it,

the good news

to be declared.

So,

what can be done

about our terrible plight?

God is sending someone,

his servant,

but this servant

is none other than

the arm of the Lord.

God himself

come down to act in power.

No wonder he says

at the start,

behold,

behold.

Yeah,

you're telling me

this I'd like to see,

God himself

coming down to act?

We've seen him

bear his arm before.

Plagues of Egypt,

angel of death,

splitting the Red Sea

and the Jordan.

Surely,

we're going to see

some remarkable fireworks.

But this is the odd,

the very odd thing.

The profile,

the servant,

of the servant

that Isaiah gives us

is not at all

what we would expect.

In fact,

it's closer

to the opposite

of what we'd expect.

No, no,

thank you.

Fashion must be maintained

in these parts.

It's the opposite

of what we'd expect.

Even as Isaiah

describes his servant,

Isaiah recognizes this.

Who's going to believe this?

He asks in verse 1.

So,

what's so unlikely

or implausible

about this profile?

Well,

for one,

the servant,

who we've heard

is God coming down,

is an unimpressive,

inglorious figure.

Verse 2,

he has no stately

former majesty.

Clearly,

this servant

is not the hero

of folk legends,

the glorious warrior God

from Valhalla.

in fact,

supremely,

the suffering servant,

sorry,

the servant

is a suffering figure.

Verse 3,

he was despised

and forsaken of men,

a man of sorrows

and acquainted with grief.

But there's something

haunting about him.

While suffering

is the common lot

of us all,

there is something

extreme

in his.

He is,

verse 5,

pierced,

crushed,

scourged.

And all this

naturally generates

the impression

that he must

somehow be under

the special judgment

of God.

And in a way,

Isaiah tells us,

this is true.

Verse 10,

the Lord

was pleased

to crush him,

putting him

to grief.

His fate,

it would seem,

compels the conclusion

that he must have been

terribly guilty

and God gave him

what he deserved.

But,

we discover

the fact is,

the odd,

inexplicable thing is,

he was innocent.

Verse 9,

he has done

no violence,

nor was there

any deceit

in his mouth.

If not for his own

sin and offenses,

then,

why is he punished

by God?

Why is he marked

out for horrendous

suffering?

Happily,

where clarity

is most needed,

Isaiah is most

transparently clear.

And what he says

is astonishing.

Verse 5,

he was pierced

through

for our transgressions.

He was crushed

for our iniquities.

Why does the servant

suffer?

Because he is,

verse 10,

a guilt offering,

a sacrificial lamb,

verse 7,

an offering to God

to compensate

for the violations

of transgressors.

Ours.

The background

here is very familiar.

The very familiar

world of ritual

sacrifice

in which the

Hebrews lived.

The guilty party

would lay their

hand on the head

of the sacrificial

animal

in identification.

This is the fate

I deserve

and symbolizing

a transfer

of my guilt

to the offering.

So the servant

suffers

as a substitute

for sinners.

Were it not

so clear,

we would scarcely

dare believe it.

He,

God himself,

comes down,

gives his life

for us.

He takes the lash

for rebellion

for us

to whom,

verse 8 says,

the stroke

was due.

The servant

is treated

by God

as if he

had done

every vile

thing

we have done

and do.

the innocent

servant

takes hold

of everything

that blights

our lives,

our griefs,

our infirmities,

our sorrows,

our afflictions,

but our follies

and our rebellion.

He takes them up

and he faces

their consequences.

In short,

and this is the

summary so far,

if you get nothing,

get this,

our great

calamity,

we substitute

ourselves

for God.

Our only

rescue,

God

substitutes

himself

for us.

And what

does this

great substitution

accomplish?

Chapter 52,

15,

a sprinkling

of many nations.

Drawn from

the language

of Jewish ritual,

sprinkling meant

cleansing,

as a leper

would be sprinkled

and declared

clean.

And it is a

cleansing by

removal.

For the servant

to have borne

away our

iniquities,

verse 4,

is for him

to have borne

them away.

To have our

sin placed on

him is to have

them removed

from us.

Verse 11

expresses what

this substitution

accomplished in a

slightly different

light.

Ah, but a

wonderful light.

It justified

many.

That is,

it gave them

a perfect

moral record.

In this

substitution,

there is a

double exchange.

Not only does

the servant

take the

consequences of

our wicked

and wayward

lives,

we in

exchange

receive the

credit for

everything the

servant did

and was.

My righteous

servant will

justify the

many.

That is,

provide

righteousness,

a perfect

moral record,

his own

record,

for our

very,

very shabby

one.

He steps

into our

shoes,

and we

into his.

Really?

Really?

I mean,

this sounds

altogether too

remarkable.

Can it

really be

so?

As Isaiah

would later

record,

just beyond

our passage,

my ways,

says God,

are not

your ways.

As high

as the

heavens are

above the

earth,

so much

higher are

my ways

than your

ways.

And another

remarkable

thing,

notice that

though the

servant was

smitten,

cut off,

yet he

strangely lives

to see the

fruit of his

work.

The servant

will see the

travail of his

soul and be

satisfied,

verse 11.

So here

then is

Isaiah's

portrait of

the suffering

servant.

And although

Isaiah the

prophet presented

it, he

himself could

not penetrate

it.

We're later

told in 1 Peter

that the

prophets

themselves puzzled

over their own

words, seeking

to know what

person or time

their prophecy

referred to.

Ah, but

friends, there

would come a

day when

there would

be no doubt

who this

suffering servant

really was.

And it would

be this very

passage of

Isaiah which

would prove

most precious

and important

to the first

Christians.

for it, above

all others,

help them to

grasp what

God was

doing and

how it

related to

this Jesus

who had

turned their

world upside

down.

Can you

see how

this prophecy,

such a mystery,

was seen to be

in the light

of Jesus,

such a match?

If you're at

all familiar

with the

gospel accounts,

I don't think

you can fail

to see it.

As with the

servant, so

with Jesus,

nothing about

his origin

nourished hopes

of greatness.

Jesus of

Nazareth

sputters

Nathaniel in

incredulity.

Can anything

good come out

of Nazareth?

Special?

Him?

Is this not

the carpenter's

son?

Just a

local nobody?

Reckoned to

be a zero?

Was Jesus

a man of

sorrows,

acquainted with

grief, as

the prophet

foretold?

Grief was

his intimate

acquaintance,

sorrow, his

constant

companion.

Scarcely had

he started

his ministry

when the

religious leaders

of the day

were planning

on how they

might dispatch

him.

The pressure

of sorrow

was so intense

it came out

in sweat

like drops

of blood.

You, a

king, scoffed

Herod in

derision.

His only

royal robe,

Herod's,

draped in

mockery.

His only

crown,

thorns.

Those

hoarse cries

of the crowd

yelling,

crucify him,

crucify him,

only interspersed

by Pilate's

thrice repeated

verdict,

he's innocent.

He's innocent.

They cry out,

but he holds

his peace.

Like a lamb

that is led

to the slaughter

and like a

sheep silent

before his

shearers,

he opens

not his

mouth.

He is

crushed

beneath the

burden of the

cross,

then pierced

through upon

it.

Yes,

and as Isaiah

foretold,

his grave was

assigned with

the wicked,

verse 9,

for his body

was to be

flung in a

common grave

with the

criminals who

flanked him

on the cross.

But the

wealthy

Joseph of

Arimathea

interposed,

asking for the

body to be

placed in his

own tomb,

and so he

was indeed

with a rich

man in his

death.

But as

Isaiah's

prophecy

cryptically

indicated,

his inglorious

death was not

the end for

him.

4,

verse 10,

he will

prolong his

days.

He would

see his

offspring.

The Lord

himself takes

up the final

words of

Isaiah's

prophecy as

a final

verdict upon

his servant.

Verse 12,

therefore I

will allot

him a

portion with

the great,

and he will

divide the

booty with

the strong.

The servant

proves to be,

despite all

appearances,

Jesus, a

victor.

Friends, the

life, death,

resurrection, and

exaltation of

Jesus fits

Isaiah's profile

like a hand in

a glove.

Jesus is the

suffering servant.

He is the

arm of the

Lord.

He is God

come down to

act in power

for our rescue.

This the first

Christians saw

with clarity,

and as we

saw with

the Philip

and the

Ethiopian,

proclaimed it

unhesitatingly.

The mystery

was dissolved,

and it was

dissolved both

ways.

Jesus dissolved

the mystery of

Isaiah's cryptic

prophecy, but

Isaiah's prophecy

also dissolved

the great mystery

of Jesus.

For the great

inexplicable

question for

Jesus'

followers was

this.

If Jesus

was God's

chosen servant,

whom he

greatly loved,

and we heard

the Father say

so from heaven,

how could

God let

Jesus come

to such a

terrible end

on a cross?

Indeed,

as they knew

from Scripture,

anyone hanged

on a tree is

especially cursed

of God.

Deuteronomy,

Galatians.

How could

the anointed

of God be

the cursed

of God?

How could

the faithful

servant of God

suffer the

frightful judgment

of God?

It just didn't

add up for them,

but it was

Isaiah's prophecy

which provided

the answer.

The servant

of God

was

as our

substitute,

and it all

came together

as the

strangest

and most

glorious

good news.

Now,

it's possible

that some of you

are thinking,

well,

I'm really glad

for them

that it all

made sense

to them,

but I'm glad

they got their

questions answered,

but I still have

a few.

for one,

this whole notion

of sacrifice

at the center

of Isaiah's

vision sounds

so primitive.

You know,

on the order

of propitiating

angry gods

by dropping

victims in

volcanoes,

you can't expect

modern people

to credit

such a thing.

And this is

certainly an

understandable

reaction,

given that we

in our

sensibilities,

largely heirs

of the

enlightenment,

for whom

primitive

simply means

unenlightened,

aka stupid.

But,

the question

for us

is,

dare we

be so

dismissive

of all

things primitive?

For in

this case,

by primitive,

we are

identifying

a strong

instinct

and deep

intuition

as ancient

as history

itself

and near

universal

across cultures,

an instinct

that we are

and live

in relation

to a reality

beyond us,

not just

forces,

but a being,

and that we

are alienated

from that being

and need

reconciliation,

and that

some cleansing,

some propitiation

must transpire

to affect

that reconciliation.

And we may

pronounce all

such mumbo

jumbo,

but let us

at least

be aware

that in

doing so,

we part

company with

the overwhelming

majority of

mankind

across time

and cultures,

and that it

is Isaiah's

framework

work which

stands in

deep and

profound

resonance

with those

abiding

human instincts.

Perhaps that

should give us

pause

if we find

ourselves

dismissive.

Others here

may find

difficulty with

the notion

of substitution.

How can

a God

be considered

just and

good

who,

in remedy

for the

offenses of

some,

punishes,

in their

stead,

an innocent

third party?

Well,

of course,

on that

apprehension

of the matter,

the revulsion

is understandable.

But this

would be

a grave

misapprehension.

For the

suffering servant

is not

an innocent

victim seized

upon,

but rather

one who

willingly

put himself

forward

as a

substitute.

His life

was not

taken from

him.

He laid

it down

voluntarily.

Neither,

as we

discovered,

is the

suffering

servant

some

third party

God

punishes.

No,

he is the

arm of

the Lord,

God

himself,

taking the

lash of

his own

judgment.

Here,

substitution

is the

voluntary

self-offering

of God,

and rightly

understood,

evokes not

scandal,

but marvel.

Now,

some of

you are

probably

still thinking,

okay,

okay,

but this

is all

still so

strange.

Well,

was this

not Isaiah's

point precisely?

Who would

have thought

this,

the arm

of the

Lord?

Who would

have thought

this,

the saving

action of

God in

the world?

Well,

will you,

friend,

miss of it

for its

strangeness?

Let me ask

you,

through what

lens are

you looking

for God?

What fancies

dictate your

expectations in

relation to

God's action

in this world,

in relation

to you?

And may I

further ask,

what good

reason do

you have for

those fancies

to dictate,

to form the

lens through

which you

will look

for God

and discern

His working?

be very

careful

that you

have not

screened out

the divine

provision,

the only

provision there

is for

your greatest

problem,

a problem

so great

it will

ultimately

crush you.

Will

yours be

as the

eye of

Sauron

scanning

the landscape

for the

ring,

never thinking

to look

for a

hobbit,

but a

hobbit

was the

ring bearer.

But some

of us here

perhaps face

a different

challenge.

The arm

of the

Lord is

for us

not unfamiliar

but over

familiar.

We've been

instructed from

Sunday school

up, heard

sermons and

sung songs

about Jesus

the suffering

servant,

but let us

be careful

here for

familiarity

does not

mean

beneficiary.

And it

is very

possible to

penetrate the

identity of

the suffering

servant and

yet his

sacrifice not

propitiate for

your sins.

As with the

sacrificial goat,

one must place

one's hands on

the head of the

victim in

identification.

My sin

rightly would

place me

there.

the Hebrew

word for

placing the

hand on

implies

leaning

hard,

placing the

weight of

one's reliance

fully upon

the sacrifice

for there is

no other way

of expiation.

Have you

done this?

Placed your

full weight

upon God's

suffering servant?

Admitting your

transgressions against

God would

rightly put you

in the place

of death and

adhering to

him as your

substitute with

all the weight

of your complete

reliance.

In the Hebrew,

the final word of

Isaiah's appeal that

we have read

together is the

servant's appeal for

transgressors.

And this is my

appeal for you.

place your

hand upon

the substitute

and put

the full

weight of

your reliance

upon him.

If you have

never done

so,

why not do

it now?

Let today

be the day

of salvation.

Well,

we have

sought to

unfold

the meaning,

challenge,

and appeal

of this

mysterious

servant song

of Isaiah.

If you

have begun

to grasp

it,

three things

you can

know and

what a

difference

they make.

And I

conclude,

briefly,

I assure

you,

with these.

First,

you are

not alone

in your

suffering.

God,

your creator,

is not

remote.

Do you

see it?

He is

with you

in your

suffering.

God has

not shared

your humanity

in some

sanitized

way,

staggering as

that in

itself would

be.

He has

known it

intimately,

at its

worst.

He has,

as Isaiah

says,

borne our

griefs and

suffered our

sorrows.

He has

taken upon

himself the

deep wounds

of life,

sunk under

its woes,

and carried

its terrible

scars.

In the

horror of

trench warfare

of World War

I, and in

the maimed and

amputated

aftermath, the

anguished cry

went up,

where is God

in this

horror?

In this

context, one

survivor composed

these lines as

he looked at

Isaiah's

servant.

The other

gods were

strong, but

thou wast

weak.

They rode, but

thou didst

stumble to a

throne.

But to our

wounds only

God's wounds

can speak, and

not a god

has wounds, but

thou alone.

let the

servant

song seep

into your

soul, and

you will

know you

are not

alone in

your suffering.

And let

the servant

song sink

into your

soul, and

you will

begin to

feel that

you are

loved to

a

breathtaking

degree.

For why

did the

servant take

on those

scars?

It was

for you.

For you,

he laid

aside his

beauty and

became marred

beyond human

semblance, as

one from

whom we

hide our

faces.

All this

to have

you as

his

beloved

forever.

Take this

servant

song into

your soul,

and not

only will

you begin

to feel

beautiful in

the eye of

your beloved,

his love

will begin

to make

you beautiful

in the

ways that

really matter.

Finally,

take the

servant song

into your

being, and

you shall

have a

record that

finally lets

you rest.

Do you feel

crushed under

the burden

to achieve?

By your

performance to

cut a figure

that garners

approval and

applause?

are your

nights haunted

with terrors of

failing to

meet the

standard, of

being found

out of

failure?

You toil on

frantically to

make the

grade, to

get the

record that

gains the

verdict approved,

accepted, all

the while knowing

you are ever

only as good as

your last

performance.

such toil is

unending, and

your record is

fragile and

faltering.

But remember, the

servant offers to

exchange your

record for his.

He steps into

your shoes, you

into his.

His record, by his

record, not yours,

you are justified.

He took your

place in court, and

the verdict is in,

accepted.

You are in the

sight of God the

judge, as good as

his, the servant's

record.

What resting joy is

this?

What more security

do you need than to

know that the one

whose verdict really

matters, the one who

knows all you are

and everything you

are not, has

declared immutably,

you are in the

beloved servant,

perfect in God's

sight.

There and there

alone is real

deep rest for the

soul.

Oh, friends, take

this message of

Isaiah into your

heart.

Lay your full

weight upon the

substitute, and you

may, as did the

Ethiopian that we

read of earlier, go

on your way

rejoicing.

May it be so for

each one of us.

Well, how Isaiah's

description of the

suffering servant

illuminates the

death of Christ,

setting it forth as a

substitutionary sacrifice

on behalf of his

people.

Will we come now to

another setting forth

of that substitutionary

sacrifice of the

suffering servant in the

bread and the cup that

the suffering servant

himself gave to his

disciples?

Hopefully you've

received one of these

and you came in,

otherwise the ushers

can help you.

When Isaiah was

called as prophet,

he describes an

angel touching his

mouth with a

burning coal taken

from the altar.

Behold, this has

touched your lips,

and your guilt is

taken away, and

your sin is atoned

for.

Notice the

purifying coal

touched his lips.

lips, speech,

words.

You would think that

that a prophet's

best part.

But even at his

best, where he

might naturally

have taken pride,

he was guilty.

He needed cleansing

and atonement.

And that atonement

could come alone

from the altar

of sacrifice.

brothers and

sisters,

if you know

that even

at your best,

you need

cleansing,

and if you

know it

comes from

nowhere else

but the

altar,

the sacrificial

death of

Christ,

the bread

and the cup

is for you.

Friend,

if this is

not yet true

of you,

while the bread

and the cup

is not yet

for you,

the Savior

that they set

forth is

for you.

Take him.

The apostle

writes,

the Lord Jesus

on the night

when he was

betrayed

took bread

and when he

had given

thanks,

he broke it

and said,

this is my

body,

which is for

you.

Do this

in remembrance

of me.

Do this in Ganon

remembrance

of me.

Do this in remembrance

of me.

Do this in remembrance

of me.

Do this in remembrance

of me.

Do this in remembrance

of me.

Do this in remembrance

of me.