To you, O Lord, belongs righteousness, but to us open shame. . . .
To the Lord our God belong mercy and forgiveness, for we have rebelled against him. . . . We do not present our pleas before you because of our righteousness, but because of your great mercy. O Lord, hear; O Lord, forgive. O Lord, pay attention and act. (Dan. 9:7, 9, 18–19)

Sometimes what hurts the most is the feeling that there is no way out of the mess you are in. Sometimes we have only ourselves to thank for being in it, and we feel very little hope. In the Bible we see pictures of God’s people in these kinds of situations, and surprisingly, we see them asking for things that seem almost too bold to ask. They have almost no hope—they even have every indication from God that they stand under judgment. And yet they come seeking Him anyway. 

In the passage above, Daniel not only confesses and grieves—he also makes a bold request. He’s saying, “Although we are responsible for the breakdown in our relationship with you, we are your people. We bear your name. We have not earned anything from you, and we are not in a place of deserving something that we can demand from you. But please, do something. If not for us, then at least for Your own sake—it has to be an embarrassment to You that the people who belong to You in a special way are the ones in ruin.”

This is the kind of relationship that God invites us to have with Him. We can ask for great things, even when we believe that we have no reason to expect good things. Daniel felt that the Word of God itself was saying “no deliverance” for seventy years (see Dan. 9:2). But his response was to ask anyway. He saw the devastation of sin, and he grieved, confessed, and asked boldly for healing. This is a strong kind of hope—for Daniel, and for us today.

—Michael Scott Gembola, After an Affair: Pursuing Restoration

“Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food.” (Isa. 55:2)

Have you ever thought, “If we could just afford to own a home of our own, then life would be good” or “How I wish I could drive a new car instead of my old junker”? Have you ever told yourself, when you’ve felt stressed, “Perhaps if I bought myself that new electronic gadget [or pair of shoes], I would feel better”? 

We live in a culture in which people’s worth is measured by their financial success. We are told that material things will make us happy. It is easy for Christians to be affected by the spirit of our age. 

The Bible teaches that material things can be a blessing from God (see 1 Tim. 4:4). Our problem is that we can take that which is good, such as material blessings or food or sex, and put it ahead of that which is best (God). The biblical term for such distorted priorities is idolatry (see Col. 3:5). 

In Isaiah 55, the Lord reminds us that idols never satisfy. People devote their lives to gaining material riches without ever finding true happiness and peace. The billionaire Howard Hughes lived out his later years as a fearful recluse. Nathan Busenitz, a famous business titan, reportedly said, “I have made many millions, but they have brought me no happiness.”

My wife and I once lived in a prosperous Middle Eastern country. We watched people accumulate savings, travel the world, and buy expensive jewelry, cars, and houses. But their wealth did not make them happy. Nor did we see many cases in which someone said, “Now I have enough” (see Eccl. 5:10). As Isaiah says, people pour out their very lives for that which is not bread and their labor for that which does not satisfy.

The answer to materialistic idolatry is learning to find satisfaction in Christ, who is the Bread of Life (see John 6:35). He offers living water that will forever satisfy the thirst of those who drink (see John 7:37–39). And, in contrast to the costly bread of the world that can no more satisfy your soul than sawdust, Jesus offers Himself to you freely. He has paid for the feast by pouring out His life for all who will turn to Him.

Have you turned away from the bankrupt values and idolatry of the world and believed in Jesus, who satisfies our greatest need—forgiveness and restored fellowship with God? Christ died in the place of sinners and has been raised from the dead so that all who trust Him might have new, abundant life. God invites you to abandon the plastic bread of worldly wealth so that you can feast upon the rich spiritual banquet that He offers.

Perhaps you are a believer who has drifted away from Christ and toward the idolatry of worldliness. This may be why you are unsettled. As Augustine said, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” The Lord invites you to return to Him so that your soul can find renewed joy and peace.

—Jim Newheiser, Money: Seeking God’s Wisdom

“For your Maker is your husband, the Lord of hosts is his name; and
the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer, the God of the whole earth
he is called. For the Lord has called you like a wife.” (Isa. 54:5–6)

When you think about what God is like, what comes to your mind?

This is a difficult question. After all, how can limited people understand an infinite being? How can created beings comprehend what it would be like to have always existed? What does it mean for sinful people who are living in a fallen world to think well about a perfectly Holy One?

Because he is gracious, God wants to be known by the people he has created; and to that end he has stooped down to reveal himself to us. In the Bible, the Lord uses many metaphors and word pictures to help us to understand what he is like and how he relates to us. He is a King, because he rules over us and is a lawgiver (see Ps. 47). He is a Judge, in that he is the one who evaluates all our thoughts and actions (see Ps. 7:11). He is a Shepherd, for he leads his people to safety and provision (see Ps. 23).

But perhaps the most surprising and revealing image that God uses for himself in Scripture is that of a husband to his people. When God says through the prophet Isaiah that he is our husband and his people are his wife, it is a picture of the most intimate kind of knowledge and love. We know how a husband feels about his wife, and we might be tempted to wonder whether or not God, the “Holy One” and “Redeemer,” could really love his people like that. The answer, gloriously, is yes!

The fact that God refers to himself as a husband tells us something important about him and the amazing love that he has for us, but it also shows us something very important about the institution of marriage. If God is a husband, then marriage is not merely a social construct or even primarily a way for people to find companionship and start a family. Instead, marriage is fundamentally a picture of God’s love. It is a way for us to understand and display the depth and intensity of the love God has for his people.

In the end, the thing that makes a marriage a Christian marriage is not that the couple attend church together (though they should) or raise their children to know the gospel (though that is a good thing to do). At its essence, a Christian marriage should be a man and a woman who understand that they have been brought together into an intimate relationship for the purpose of learning and displaying the way that God loves us in Christ. This is a foundational truth on which to build your own marriage.

—Mike McKinley, Engagement: Preparing for Marriage

He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. (Isa. 53:3)

The Gospel and Grief

Grief. It comes in all forms and fashions, because loss comes in all shapes and sizes. When we think of grief, our souls tend to focus especially on the devastating grief that accompanies death. Yet life is filled with daily mini-caskets—losses great and small. A critical word. A critical accident. Betrayal, rejection, a stab in the back. The terminal diagnosis. Separation and divorce. A church split. A prodigal child. Job termination. The list, sadly, goes on and on.

The gospel. We know it has everything to say about grace for sin. But does the gospel have anything to say about grace for grief? We know that Jesus came to save sinners, but does he understand and care about our suffering? He understands. “He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Isa. 53:3). Jesus intimately and intensely experienced grief, sorrow, loss, and pain.

He cares. “Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows” (Isa. 53:4). The intensity of his sympathy made him feel your grief as his own—and then do something about it. He came to crush sin, Satan, and death so that one day there will never again be separation, suffering, sorrow, crying, grief, or pain (see Rev. 21:4).

The author of Hebrews, who was steeped in Old Testament passages like Isaiah 53, adds his assurance of Jesus’s compassion, care, and comfort and of the gospel’s help, hope, and healing. “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Heb. 4:15–16). Jesus is not only a man of sorrows; he cares about your sorrow. Jesus is not only acquainted with his own grief; he is acquainted with your grief.

A Grief Journey with Jesus

And not only is Jesus acquainted with your grief, he is always with you in your grief—he walks with you in the cool of the day, and he journeys with you in the ups and downs of your grief (see John 14:1–6; 16:33). Grief is not a series of stages that you complete in some stereotypical consecutive order. Grief is a very individual process—a personal journey that we take with our personal suffering Savior.

What Isaiah predicts and the author of Hebrews declares, the Gospels describe. From birth into a broken world, to death at the hands of a sinful world, and everywhere in between, the Gospels guide us on a grief journey with Jesus. The sorrows of Jesus appear on every page of the Gospels. Jesus lived, breathed, walked, and ministered in the midst of scenes of sorrow.

And the Jesus of the Gospels is not only the caring Shepherd—which brings us amazing comfort. He is also the sovereign King—which instills us with amazing confidence. “Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession” (Heb. 4:14). We entrust ourselves to him because he sovereignly shepherds us—guiding us to the green pastures of mercy, grace, and help as we walk through our valley of the shadow of death.

When life is knocking us down, how do we hold fast? We hold fast by holding on to Jesus, who is holding us close to his heart. “He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young” (Isa. 40:11).

In the pages that follow, we will journey together with Jesus, applying the following gospel truths to our grief journey:

• Jesus is a suffering Savior who is intimately acquainted with our grief. It’s normal to hurt.
• Jesus is a compassionate Savior who lovingly consoles us in our grief. It’s possible to find comfort in our hurt.
• Jesus is a healing Savior who compassionately speaks eternal truth into our earthly wounds. It’s possible to grieve with hope.
• Jesus is an empowering Savior who mightily enables us to comfort others with the comfort we receive from God. It’s supernatural to love in the midst of loss.

In our journey, we will grieve together . . . and we will hope together (see 1 Thess. 4:13).

—Bob Kellemen, Grief: Walking with Jesus