In those days Hezekiah was sick unto death. And the prophet Isaiah the son of Amoz came to him, and said to him, Thus saith Jehovah Set thy house in order; for thou shalt die, and not live.
Hezekiah has just come through the crisis of his reign. Now the same prophet arrives with a message about the king's own body. Why would God cut short a life so devoted to Him? And what should a believer do when told to prepare for death?
One commentator explains that Isaiah has placed this story out of order on purpose.
In history this event comes before the enemy's attack against Jerusalem, but it follows it in all three accounts that we have… It was necessary to set Hezekiah's faithful career before our eyes before his grievous illness, which threatened to put an end to it. From the prophetic point of view, this makes Hezekiah's tears and pleadings all the more moving. His death might have looked like a judgment of God, when his whole life had been spent before Him in integrity.
The Assyrian threat came from outside. This new one did not. One writer sets the king's successes beside the message that followed them.
Hezekiah had been passing through much that the enemy could easily use to puff him up: a long course of devotion to the service of God, the great reformation carried out through him, and the splendid deliverance the Lord of hosts granted him over a most formidable foe. All these things were likely to work on the pride of his heart… But how we must admire the faithfulness of our God when we hear the solemn words that open this chapter. It was now to be a personal question. "Your house." He had been much taken up with the Lord's house, and happily so. But now the Lord would come more closely to His servant. "Set your house in order." This was indeed a searching word… Before, we saw God delivering His servant from an enemy; now we see Him delivering him from himself.
The message did more than tell him what was coming. It put him where every believer must one day stand.
In this sickness God will teach him death, and how terrible it is to man as man… Every believer must in one way or another enter into this discipline and endure it. This dreadful moment to nature must be learnt and felt. What a moment! Everything a man cares for falls apart. Everything that ties him to his own works and will is gone. Man as he is in himself no longer exists. The greater his place here, the wider his work, the more engaged his affections, the more terrible the wrench of death… His suffering as he faced death was not because he doubted his final salvation. It was the thought of death cutting him off from all that interested and engaged him here.
Hezekiah's weeping puzzles many readers. One writer traces it to how little his day knew about life past the grave.
He was a godly man, yet the news of his coming death shook him and moved him deeply. God's people in Old Testament times knew little about the things beyond the grave. They also held that an early death marked God's displeasure. These things no doubt produced much of this grief. How differently believers in New Testament times can face death! Life and immortality are now brought to light by the gospel.
God reversed the sentence and gave fifteen more years. Commentators point out what those years contained.
2 Kings 21:1 shows that his son Manasseh, who followed him, was only 12 years old when he began to reign. So Manasseh was born after Hezekiah's recovery, in his added 15 years of life… Let us learn from this. We may beg God for something we regard as a favour, and He may grant it. Yet we may afterwards discover that the "favour" we demanded carried consequences that were not favourable at all.
Another writer speaks more sharply, while still refusing to judge him.
We must not presume to judge God's honoured servant, but it does look as if he would have done better to submit meekly to God's will in his sickness.
The scene means more than one man's illness. One writer reads Hezekiah here as a picture of Israel's future.
In this the king pictures beforehand the spiritual work God will one day do in His people. Israel is destined in that day to do more than give a grand outward display of His power. Israel must also go through a deep inward change — the great practical lesson of death and resurrection.
- Timing. The illness came before the Assyrian siege. Isaiah records it afterwards, so we see Hezekiah's faithful life first and feel how undeserved the sentence seemed.
- Personal. God had already dealt with the kingdom. Now the words "your house" turned the dealing inward, where success could have made him proud.
- Discipline. God sent the sickness to teach him death — an exercise every believer must in some form pass through.
- Contrast. Hezekiah's tears show how little his day knew beyond the grave. The gospel has since brought life and immortality to light.
- Outcome. He got the years he asked for, and Manasseh came with them — a warning that God may grant a request that carries what we never asked for.
And Hezekiah turned his face to the wall, and prayed to Jehovah,
Word came to Hezekiah, king of Judah, that his illness was fatal and that he should put his affairs in order. He turned away from everything in the room and spoke to God. Commentators praise that instinct, and then look closely at the prayer itself.
Hezekiah could no longer walk to the temple. One writer shows that this put nothing between him and God.
Well, what will Hezekiah do in this hour of his need? He cannot go up to the house of the Lord; but he can go up to the Lord Himself, and so he does. "Then Hezekiah turned his face to the wall and prayed to the LORD." This was his remedy now as at all times. The Lord only intended to give His dear servant a proper sense of his real condition of dependence. He would show him this: the very same hand that had just rescued his kingdom from the jaws of the enemy must now rescue Hezekiah himself from the jaws of death. What divine harmony exists between the words, "Set your house in order" and "Hezekiah turned his face to the wall!"
The wall was not a random place to look. One writer reads the movement as a sick man's version of a familiar journey.
During the siege this man took himself to the temple. Now, in his sickness, his feet can no longer walk the courts of the house of his God. So he collects himself, turns, and prays from his bed in that direction. "I have set the Lord always before me," is the language of faith. So far all is right. But we need to look a little closer, and consider not simply the fact of his praying, but the character of his prayer.
He does not ask for mercy. He asks God to look at his record. The same writer sets this beside what Hezekiah had once carried into the temple.
He is calling on God to witness to his faithfulness, to the perfectness of his heart, and to the goodness of his ways. He points to his zeal against idolatry and to his diligence in restoring the feasts, the worship, and the order of Israel. In the temple he had spread out the letter with its blasphemies. Now he spreads out his own graces before the Lord, and appeals to Him on the strength of them.
Commentators differ on how much blame this deserves. Another writer points to when Hezekiah lived, not to a flaw in him.
There was no public declaration of righteousness until Christ was risen. So when Hezekiah was dying, or thought he was, he pleaded his character, his personal piety.
Hezekiah's tears puzzle readers who expect a believer to face death in peace. One commentator answers by dating the change.
Up to this time no one could say that death was conquered, for indeed it was not. Even to a believer death still had its terrors. Now death has lost its terrors. It is no longer the king of terrors to a Christian, and for this simple reason: death must now serve the Christian. It must usher the departing Christian into the presence of the Lord. This is not loss, but gain. Who would weep bitterly at a great gain?
One writer looks back at the years just before this illness.
He had given a long life to the service of God. He was the instrument of a glorious reformation. He had great influence over the priests and Levites, the men of Judah and Israel. Last of all, the Lord of hosts gave him a splendid deliverance over a most formidable foe. All these things were well suited to work on the pride of his heart. But how we must admire the faithfulness of our God! After the brilliant scenes of this good man's life, we listen to the solemn words with which this chapter opens.
The same writer sets this prayer between two other tests. The third one ends badly.
When the king of Assyria sent letters to him, "he went up to the house of the LORD and spread them before the LORD." So he conquered. When summoned to prepare for death, "he turned his face to the wall and prayed to the LORD." So he was raised up. But when the ambassadors from the king of Babylon came to him, "he showed them the house of his precious things." SO HE FELL. Hezekiah was off his guard. No prayer — no seeking the Lord — no spiritual perception to detect the hook hidden under this attractive bait.
- Turn. With the temple out of reach, Hezekiah went to God directly — the same hand that had saved his kingdom now had to save him.
- Direction. The wall was faith's compass; he prayed from his bed toward the house of God he could no longer walk to.
- Plea. He spread out his own record where he had once spread out an enemy's letter. Christ had not yet risen, so he had no declared righteousness to lean on.
- Tears. He wept because death was still unconquered. For the Christian, death now serves, bringing him into the Lord's presence.
- Purpose. Success had been working on his pride, so God made it personal. The danger came back when he stopped praying and showed Babylon his treasures.
and said, Ah, Jehovah, remember, I beseech thee, how I have walked before thee in truth and with a perfect heart, and have done that which is good in thy sight. And Hezekiah wept much.
Isaiah has just told Hezekiah that his sickness will end in death. The king answers with prayer, an appeal to his own record, and tears. Two questions follow: was this a good prayer, and why did a godly man dread death so much?
Hezekiah is too ill to reach the temple.
What will Hezekiah do in this hour of his need? He cannot go up to the house of the Lord; but he can go up to the Lord Himself, and so he does. "Then Hezekiah turned his face to the wall and prayed to the LORD." This was his remedy now as at all times... The Lord only meant to give His dear servant a proper sense of his real condition of dependence. He would show him this: the very same hand that had just rescued his kingdom from the jaws of the enemy must now rescue him from the jaws of death.
He comes to God with his own record in his hands.
He is calling on God to witness his faithfulness, the perfectness of his heart, and the goodness of his ways. He points to his zeal against idolatry, and to his diligence in restoring the feasts, and worship, and order of Israel. In the temple he had spread the enemy's letter with its blasphemies. Now he spreads his graces before the Lord, and appeals to Him on the strength of them.
God does not dismiss what Hezekiah says about himself.
Will the Lord admit the plea? He is not unrighteous to forget; He does not deny the truth of what Hezekiah says. He takes it at its worth, and tells him He will yet add fifteen years to his life.
Hezekiah's appeal to his own walk belonged to an order of things that has since changed.
Before the coming of Christ, people under law could be righteous before God, walking "blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord" (Luke 1:6). Such people could plead their integrity. They could ask God to judge them by it (Ps. 26:1). They could look to Him to hear their prayer because they had walked before God "in faithfulness and with a whole heart" (Isa. 38:3). Since the Lord's death, and the full unfolding of Christian truth, no real soul could take that ground.
The tears measure what death still was at that time.
Up to this time no one could say that death was conquered, for indeed it was not. Even to a believer death was not without its terrors. Now death is stripped of its terrors. It is no longer the king of terrors to a Christian, and for this simple reason: death must now serve the Christian. It must usher the departing Christian into the presence of the Lord. This is not loss, but gain. Who would weep bitterly at a great gain?
Being a good and useful man made the blow heavier, not lighter.
The experience of Hezekiah tells us how a man of God, a regenerate soul, feels the wrench... a man's goodness and usefulness here, instead of softening the desperateness of the blow, deepens it.
Christ also wept, but not over the same thing.
The Lord never wept over the lot that awaited Him, for He had come into this world to die. He wept over rebellious Jerusalem. He wept before the tomb of Lazarus, as He saw the power of death weigh on poor fallen men. But He never wept for Himself. In one way only He was like Hezekiah: He "offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save him from death" (Heb. 5:7 — the older translation reads "save him out of death"). But it was not, like Hezekiah, in order not to die. It was to be saved out of death... As for Hezekiah, tears became him, as they will become the upright remnant.
The sickness comes straight after the defeat of Assyria, and the two rescues belong together.
There is the outward deliverance (Isa. 36, 37), and the inward one (Isa. 38). Resurrection power was applied to the sickness of the son of David. He is a picture of a greater one, who truly died and rose to bring in the sure mercies of David.
- Turn. Cut off from the temple, Hezekiah turned to God Himself. The hand that saved his kingdom was the only hand that could save him.
- Plead. He turned with his own record in his hands, spreading his graces before God as he had once spread an enemy's letter.
- Heard. God did not deny the truth of what he said; He took it at its worth and added fifteen years.
- Changed. That way of pleading belonged to believers before Christ's death. Since then no true soul stands on it.
- Conquered. He wept because death was not yet defeated. For the Christian, death now serves as the door into the Lord's presence.
And the word of Jehovah came to Isaiah, saying,
Isaiah had just carried a death sentence into the sick king's room, and Hezekiah's only answer was to turn his face to the wall and weep. Then God spoke to Isaiah again — before the prophet had even left the palace. Two questions follow. How fast does God hear? And can a word He has already spoken be taken back?
One writer compares the gap between the prayer and the reply with an earlier case where God acted that same night:
There again there was no delay; it was immediate. In the earlier case the destroying angel came that same night. So now I may say the prophet came that same minute — or at least the word of the LORD came to the prophet. The answer was immediate. "I have heard your prayer, I have seen your tears" — for God did not despise them.
Another writer reads the timing as evidence that the gift was ready before the king asked:
God's answer does not keep him waiting long… Hezekiah's soul is barely searched out before the word of the LORD comes to Isaiah. You sense that God had already prepared everything He now grants the king in his affliction. A kind of resurrection brings Hezekiah back to life.
The word that now comes to Isaiah cancels the word Isaiah himself had delivered. One writer ties that reversal to the king's humbling of himself, and to a principle that reaches beyond Israel to all people:
Here again we find, in a picture, the principle on which Israel's deliverance depends, and the deliverance of all men. The prophet Elisha pointed to this principle, and Jesus accomplished it. Hezekiah is raised as from the dead. He had been sick to the point of death; but the LORD heard his prayer, and, when he humbled himself, revoked the sentence He had pronounced through Isaiah.
The message did more than cancel the death sentence. One writer counts its parts, and notes that the healing still came through something Hezekiah had to obey:
God heard and answered Hezekiah's prayer at once. It is one of the most striking answers to prayer. Isaiah had not gone very far. He had just reached the middle of the court when God commanded him to turn back and bring Hezekiah the answer. Seven things are contained in this new message to the weeping king. "I have heard your prayer." "I have seen your tears." "I will heal you." "You shall go up to the house of the LORD." "I will add fifteen years to your days." "I will deliver you." "I will defend the city." God also told Isaiah to use practical means. "Take a lump of figs. And they took and laid it on the boil, and he recovered." If Hezekiah had neglected this simple remedy, if he had disobeyed, he would not have recovered… Hezekiah's experience is a great encouragement for God's people to pray.
The word given to Isaiah opens with a title, not just a promise. One writer finds the reason in David's own fear of death:
Isaiah was to introduce his message with the words "Thus says the LORD, the God of David your father." The message was a promise of longer life and deliverance from his enemies. But why the God of David your father? Psalm 18 may give the answer. Its heading says David sang it on the day the LORD delivered him from all his enemies and from the hand of Saul. David knew that it was his God who had enabled him to triumph over his enemies. He, like Hezekiah, had been afraid of death… The God of David was to Hezekiah, David's descendant, what He had been to David.
One writer reads the whole episode as a picture of deliverance — both the outward rescue and the ground it rests on:
The sickness that came on Hezekiah, recorded in Isaiah 38, yields its own divine lesson. The two chapters before give the picture of the outward deliverance. That deliverance was partly carried out then, and it will be complete when the Lord Jesus appears in His glory. Here, in the sickness to death of David's son, we have the picture of the inner ground of all complete deliverance. It points forward to the sufferings of the One who really died and just as really rose from the dead. On that ground the LORD will make an everlasting covenant with Israel: the sure mercies of David.
- The word came back. Isaiah announced the death sentence. Before he was out of the palace, God's reply was on its way.
- Prepared, not improvised. The speed shows the gift was ready. God had prepared what He now granted the king in his affliction.
- Tears counted. Prayer and weeping moved God, and He did not despise them. When the king humbled himself, God revoked the sentence He had spoken through Isaiah.
- Obedience still required. The promise came with a lump of figs. If Hezekiah had neglected that simple remedy, he would not have recovered.
- Reaching past Hezekiah. The reply comes in the name of the God of David. The raising of David's dying son points on to the One who died and rose, securing the sure mercies of David.
Go and say to Hezekiah, Thus saith Jehovah, the God of David thy father I have heard thy prayer, I have seen thy tears behold, I will add to thy days fifteen years.
Isaiah has just told Hezekiah he is going to die, and now God sends the prophet straight back with the opposite word. Why did the sentence change, why does God name David, and what did Hezekiah do with the extra years?
The answer came fast. One writer notes both its speed and God's regard for the king's tears.
"I have heard your prayer." Once again there was no delay; it was immediate. In the earlier case, the destroying angel came that same night. So now I may say the prophet came that same minute — or at least the word of the Lord came to him. The answer was immediate. "I have heard your prayer; I have seen your tears" — for God did not despise them.
God's message names more than the words Hezekiah prayed. It names his tears.
He knows the pains of the human heart, though He is on high. This was true long ago. When Hezekiah was dying, the Lord's message to him was, "I have heard your prayer, I have seen your tears and your shuddering at the thought of the grave." The king's sorrow had brought the Lord and His anointed together. The Lord spared his life and turned his sadness into songs.
God does not call Himself the God of Hezekiah here. He names David instead, and one writer ties that to what was at stake.
The message of approaching death startled the king because at that time he had no son. If he had died, what then would have become of the Messianic hope through the house of David? It is beautiful to hear the Lord say through Isaiah, "Thus says the Lord, the God of David your father." Before that, Isaiah had given him the message, "For I will defend this city to save it for My own sake and for My servant David's sake."
The same sentence that grants the fifteen years also promises rescue from Assyria.
Notice how the Lord links the deliverance of the kingdom with the raising up of the king. "Behold, I will add fifteen years to your life. I will deliver you and this city out of the hand of the king of Assyria, and I will defend this city." Here we learn in the clearest way that both Judah and Judah's king must pass through death and resurrection. This is something quite outside the way of nature. And because it is, God reverses the very course of nature: "the sun turned back ten steps."
God took the plea at its worth. The cure that followed looked ordinary — a cake of figs on the boil.
Will the Lord accept the plea? He is not unjust, and He does not forget. He does not deny the truth of what Hezekiah says. He takes it at its worth, and tells him He will still add fifteen years to his life... To a casual observer there might be nothing remarkable in the recovery of a man who had been sick to the point of death. Such things happen every day. The proverb says, "While there is life there is hope," and our unbelieving hearts make gods out of the means we use. But the sentence of death had gone out from the mouth of the Lord, and it had taken hold; faith like Hezekiah's can rest on God alone, with nothing else to lean on... The cake of figs laid on the boil is only a cake of figs.
The added years are not left as a happy ending. Commentators point out what filled them — an heir who became Judah's worst king, and a lapse into pride.
Manasseh was twelve years old when he succeeded his father Hezekiah. He was therefore born during the fifteen years of extended life granted to Hezekiah in answer to his prayers and tears... Despite his early advantages, Manasseh became the wickedest king Judah had ever known.
"But Hezekiah did not repay according to the favour shown him, for his heart was lifted up." It is clear that he was proud he had gained fifteen years because of his faithful life. If he had died when the Lord told him, he would have been the only king of Israel with a truly bright end to his reign. As it was, his extra fifteen years added painful sorrow to his history.
- Heard — the answer came back at once, and God counted both the prayer and the tears.
- Seen — God's message names the weeping, not only the words, and turns the sorrow into songs.
- Named — He speaks as the God of David, guarding the promise attached to that house when the king still had no son.
- Linked — one breath grants the king's fifteen years and the city's rescue. A sign turns the sun back.
- Weighed — the gift was real, yet those years brought pride and Manasseh. Answered prayer is a trust, not a trophy.
And I will deliver thee and this city out of the hand of the king of Assyria, and I will defend this city.
Hezekiah is dying, and God's answer reaches far past his sickbed. It covers the king's life and the city's safety at once — so why are the two tied together?
God does not treat Hezekiah's recovery and Jerusalem's safety as two separate favours. One writer shows what that link teaches.
And notice how the Lord links the deliverance of the kingdom with the raising up of the king. "Behold, I will add fifteen years to your life. I will deliver you and this city out of the hand of the king of Assyria, and will defend this city." Here we learn in the clearest way that both Judah and Judah's king must pass through death and resurrection. It is something quite outside the way of nature; and because it is so, God reverses the very course of nature. … When faith appeals to God's almighty power, nothing is too great.
Isaiah 38 comes after the account of Sennacherib's defeat. Yet this verse still names the Assyrian as a live threat. One writer reads that as the key to the real order.
That his illness was before the Assyrian invasion is clear from verse 6, and the same in Chronicles.
If that is right, two blows landed on Hezekiah at once.
On the one hand, an invasion took his whole country except for Jerusalem. On the other hand, a fatal illness struck him — and that at the very time when he had restored to his people the worship of the true God, wiped out idolatry, and freed Judah from Assyrian bondage! No wonder his faith wavered under this terrible trial, and his trust in God dimmed for a moment in his heart.
Hezekiah wept for his own life. The reply went well past what he asked.
God heard and answered Hezekiah's prayer at once. It is one of the most striking answers to prayer. Isaiah had not gone far — he had just reached the middle of the court — when God told him to turn back and bring Hezekiah the answer. This new message to the weeping king contains seven things. "I have heard your prayer"; "I have seen your tears"; "I will heal you"; "You shall go up to the house of the LORD"; "I will add fifteen years to your life"; "I will deliver you"; "I will defend the city." … Hezekiah's experience is a great encouragement to God's people to pray.
One writer points to the reason God gives for defending Jerusalem.
More than this, God would add 15 years to his life. He would deliver him and Jerusalem from the hand of the king of Assyria. The Lord would defend the city — not even for Hezekiah's sake, but for His own sake and for the sake of David His servant.
Another writer points to the One who steps in, and to the power behind the promise.
But "the God of David" his father steps in, in divine grace, and promises to "add" fifteen years to his life, and to deliver and defend Jerusalem. Here, then, we see the power at work that goes beyond nature.
These chapters hold more than palace history. One writer reads the double rescue — a king brought back from death, a city kept from its enemy — as a picture of what is still ahead.
Isaiah 36-39 tell the history of Sennacherib's invasion, its result, and the illness that brought Hezekiah near death, which came before it. This teaches the remnant how to wait on the Lord. In substance, this deliverance is a figure of the one that will take place with respect to the Assyrian in the last days. Hezekiah's sickness gives us a type of the Son of David raised from the dead. It shows the power of Christ, and God will perfect that power in a nation also raised, morally, from the dead, with all their sins pardoned.
- Prayer. Tears in a sickroom brought an instant reply. God turned Isaiah back before he crossed the courtyard.
- Promise. The answer carried seven promises, from healing to the defence of the city. Hezekiah asked for one life and got a city's safety with it.
- Ground. God defends the city for His own sake and for David's, not for the merit of the man who prayed.
- Timing. Commentators read this verse as proof that the illness came before Assyria fell. So sickness and invasion pressed on Hezekiah at the same time.
- Picture. King and city both pass through death and rescue, a figure of the Son of David raised and a nation delivered.
And this [shall be] the sign to thee from Jehovah, that Jehovah will do this thing that he hath spoken
Hezekiah has just heard that he will not die, and that God is adding fifteen years to his life. Now God attaches a visible pledge to that spoken promise. Why would a king who already has God's word want a sign at all?
Hezekiah wanted more than the message Isaiah brought him. One writer treats this as a weakness rather than a strength.
God showed compassion to His servant Hezekiah by granting him healing, with the promise of fifteen added years. But we have serious lessons to learn from this history. Was the word of the Lord not enough for Hezekiah to rely upon? No! He asked Isaiah to give him a sign to confirm God's promise that he would go up to the house of the Lord the third day. Are we like Hezekiah? Are we like the official in John 4:46-53, to whom the Lord said, "Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe"? Yet the Lord would still grant Hezekiah the sign he wanted.
Commentators differ. Others read such a request as faith reaching out, not faith failing. They point to how God answered Abraham.
The boldness of faith never offends our gracious God, even when it seems to need signs to confirm the promise. God promised Abraham every blessing, and that he would inherit the land of Canaan. Abraham then asks, "How am I to know that I shall possess it?" Is God offended that His word is not enough? Ah, no, but He gives the wonderful night vision of the furnace and the flaming torch.
The sundial God used belonged to Hezekiah's father, Ahaz. God once told Ahaz to ask for a sign, and he refused.
A sign that Hezekiah takes in remarkable contrast with his father. The same prophet asked Ahaz to look for a sign in heaven or on earth. Ahaz pretended that he could not do such a thing — that it was not for him to ask for a sign. But it would have shown a far more truly submissive heart if he had asked. When God bids us ask, it is a serious thing to refuse. We ought to be bold in faith, and Hezekiah was. There was a double sign on offer: the dial could go forward or backward. He chooses the harder of the two.
That link between the two kings is not a coincidence of furniture. The same writer who notices it traces the deliberate pattern:
It was to Ahaz the king that this sign was first spoken of in Isaiah 7; now it is upon his dial that the sign of this section is given — "a sign from the Lord," on "the sundial of Ahaz." Therefore the sign of this last section of history is clearly connected by the Holy Spirit with the sign of the first.
More than one natural means could have served God here.
The shadow turned back on the dial of Ahaz ten degrees, in answer to the prophet's prayer. It was a miracle, whatever way we take it. God could have reversed the turning of the earth, if He had seen fit. Even a poor clockmaker can turn back the hands of the clock he made himself. Or He could have caused it by the ordinary law of refraction.
God matched the sign to the thing promised. A shadow moving the wrong way pictured a sickness moving the wrong way.
For the shadow on the sundial to go ten degrees backward was completely contrary to nature. But it was a fitting sign, because God was about to reverse Hezekiah's sickness. Contrary to the nature of his disease, it would end in life and not death.
Another writer presses further, from one man's body to the whole order of death.
This miracle has a deeper meaning. It means that God could and would overturn the whole order of nature, with the laws that put the sinner under death. He would do it to save those He loves. Death no longer retains its fatal course... In Christ the Lord reversed what sin had made nature's order for us, so that He might save us. In doing so He assures us that His purposes for us will be carried out.
The sign drew attention as far as Babylon. The healing on the sick-bed was the same hand at work.
The princes of Babylon may send to ask about this wonder, and to congratulate the king for whom it was done. But God's hand is in both. He suspends or reverses the working of the laws of nature only to carry out His own purposes, and He has another field of enquiry for His saints. On the sick-bed of Hezekiah, no less than on the dial of Ahaz, God has put forth His power.
- Promise first. God granted the healing and the fifteen years before Hezekiah asked for anything. The sign only confirms a word already spoken.
- Asking. Writers differ. One hears an echo of "Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe." Another says such boldness never offends God, who answered Abraham in the same way.
- The dial. The sign lands on the sundial of Ahaz. God invited that father to ask for a sign, and he refused. The son asks, and picks the harder sign.
- The reversal. A shadow driven backwards matched a disease driven backwards. It points further: God overturns the whole order of death to save His people.
- The reach. Babylon watched the dial, but faith is meant to watch the sick-bed too: the same hand worked in both.
behold, I will bring again the shadow of the degrees which hath gone down with the sun on the dial of Ahaz, ten degrees backward. So the sun returned on the dial ten degrees, by which it had gone down.
God promised to heal Hezekiah, and gave him a sign to prove it. The shadow on a public sundial would run backward instead of forward. That raises two questions: how could this happen, and why this sign for a dying king?
The dial of Ahaz was not a clock as we know one. It told the time by sunlight.
Some device, not described in detail, which marked the divisions of the day. A pillar or pointer cast its shadow on a series of steps, or degrees.
Older translations call these steps "degrees." The dial carried the name of Hezekiah's father, and the same prophet had once offered him a sign too.
Hezekiah asks for a sign! When the Lord told Ahaz to ask for one, he would not. But now the shadow returns "ten degrees" on the time dial of that very king Ahaz — the same degrees by which the sun had gone down.
Ahaz had refused a sign. His son shows the opposite spirit.
There would have been far more real submission of heart in Ahaz if he had asked. When God tells us to ask, it is a serious thing to refuse. We ought to be bold in faith, and Hezekiah was. There was a double sign: the dial could go forward or backward. He chooses the harder of the two.
The backward shadow was not chosen at random. It pictured exactly what God was doing in the sickroom.
For the shadow on the sun-dial to go ten degrees backward was completely contrary to nature. But it was a sign that fitted what God was about to do. He would reverse Hezekiah's sickness, so that contrary to the nature of his disease, it should end in life and not death.
How could it happen? Several answers are possible, and each one still leaves a miracle.
God could have reversed the turning of the earth, if He had seen fit to do so. Even a poor clockmaker can turn back the hands of his own work. Or He could have caused it by the ordinary law of refraction. Or He could have tilted the dial's pointer for a time by pressure from beneath. In any case it was a miracle, whatever the rationalist or sceptical astronomer may say.
Faith does not wait for the mechanism.
It is not for us to speculate whether this sign came by refraction or in some other way. It was given by God. That is enough for faith.
The shadow's forward march meant time running out — for the king, and for his kingdom. Turning it back meant more than one man's recovery.
Time was passing fast and must end in night, in the complete vanishing of the monarchy under God's judgment... But this miracle has a deeper meaning. It means that God could and would overturn the whole order of nature and its laws, which made the sinner subject to death. He would do it to save His beloved ones. Death no longer keeps its fatal course. That life which was fading... would begin again for the faithful remnant in the resurrection of the Messiah, their representative. For us it begins again in eternal life by the resurrection of the Saviour.
News of the moving shadow travelled. Babylon's rulers sent to ask about it — but curiosity about a wonder is not the same as knowing God's ways.
The princes of Babylon may send to ask about this wonder, and congratulate the king God did it for. But God's hand is in both. He only suspends or reverses the working of the laws of nature to carry out His own purposes, and He has another field of enquiry for His saints. On the sick-bed of Hezekiah, no less than on the dial of Ahaz, God has put forth His power... Faith owns this. But the man of faith reaches the secret of His ways another way. Not by asking questions in the world outside, but by discovering the world within himself.
- Shadow. The dial told the time by a shadow crossing steps. God sent that shadow ten steps backward — on a dial named after the father who once refused a sign.
- Asked. Given a choice, Hezekiah asked for the harder sign. God invites bold faith. Refusing His offer, as Ahaz did, is the serious thing.
- Reversed. The sign matched the gift. God turned back what nature runs one way, just as He turned a deadly disease into life.
- Mechanism. Bent light, a tilted dial, a turned earth — writers list the options, then drop the question. The power was God's, and that settles it.
- Meaning. The backward shadow points beyond one recovery. It points to death's whole order overturned in the resurrection of Christ — a lesson learned in the sickroom, not in Babylon's questions.
The writing of Hezekiah king of Judah, when he had been sick and had recovered from his sickness
Hezekiah, king of Judah, was told he would die. He prayed, and God gave him fifteen more years. Then he sat down and wrote what had happened to him. Verse 9 is the title line over that writing, and it raises a question: why should a private illness become public Scripture?
Other Old Testament books report the illness. Only Isaiah keeps the king's own account of it. One writer notes both its value and its shadow:
Only Isaiah gives us "A writing of Hezekiah king of Judah, after he had been sick and had recovered from his sickness" (Isa. 38:9-10). It is an excellent account of what a servant of the Lord goes through while God's hand is on him. But how sad that he did not fully live up to the closing words of his own writing: "The LORD will save me, and we will play my music on stringed instruments all the days of our lives, at the house of the LORD."
God gave a sign outside the king: the shadow on the dial moved back. But the writing looks somewhere else:
God showed His power on Hezekiah's sick-bed just as much as on the dial of Ahaz. "I will bring the shadow back down the steps." "I will add fifteen years to your life." Faith accepts this. But the man of faith reaches the secret of God's ways in another way. Not by asking questions about the world outside him, but by discovering the world inside him.
The writing does not stay in one key. It starts low and ends high, and one commentator marks where the change happens:
It begins with deep mourning, which takes up five verses, but it ends with songs that are to fill the rest of his life. The change of tone begins when he recognised the trouble as coming from the hand of God. He also discovered, as verse 16 shows, that what threatened death to his body brought life to his spirit, which matters more than the body.
The opening verses sound dark for a godly man. Commentators explain this by where Hezekiah stood in God's unfolding revelation:
Death was to him the most painful prospect. What could differ more sharply from this than the triumphant language of 2 Cor. 5:1-8? There the apostle says, "in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling." "We are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body [the very thing good Hezekiah was not] and at home with the Lord." … In Old Testament times people could not have the rest and peace and joy of heart that the revelation of Christ's work and glorified person creates.
Writers also read the sickness as a pattern of something larger:
The sickness of Hezekiah gives us a picture of the Son of David raised from the dead. It shows the power of Christ, which will be brought to completion in a nation also raised — morally — from the dead, with all their sins pardoned. It is the outward and inward deliverance of Israel: resurrection in its practical power, and rescue from the Assyrian invader.
One more test came after the recovery. It was not sickness but flattery.
The man who, through discipline, has learned resurrection is still not proof against being recognised here and made much of by Babylon. … The simple fact that our flesh enjoys being recognised and exalted is proof positive of how dangerous it is to us. … Babylon stands in principle for all the selfish, independent advancement of this world. To be acknowledged by it is too much for Hezekiah, and the acknowledgment he accepts in unbelief and vanity brings judgment on his family, for the world's favour is deceitful.
- Written, not just felt. Isaiah alone keeps the king's own account of what a servant of the Lord goes through while God's hand is on him.
- Inward, not outward. God showed His power on the dial and on the sick-bed alike. But you find the meaning of His ways by looking within, not by asking the world to explain them.
- Mourning to music. Five verses of grief give way to songs meant to last a lifetime. The turn comes when he owns the trouble as coming from God's hand.
- Before the light. He dreaded leaving the body. The apostle would rather be away from it and at home with the Lord, because God had by then revealed Christ's work and glory.
- Still fragile. The discipline of the sick-bed did not make Hezekiah proof against Babylon's flattery. Being made much of is itself the test, and he failed it.
I said, In the meridian of my days I shall go to the gates of Sheol I am deprived of the rest of my years.
Hezekiah, king of Judah, learned that he would die in the middle of his life. After he recovered, he wrote down what he had said while that sentence stood over him — words spoken before Christ's work and glory came to light.
One commentator traces the phrase "gates of Sheol" into the New Testament.
This accounts for eight of the eleven passages where hades is found in the New Testament. The one in Matthew 16:18 presents no difficulty. It is very likely borrowed from Isaiah 38:10, where "the gates of the grave" should rather be "the gates of sheol."
An Israelite's promised blessings were tied to living in the land, so being cut short meant losing everything at once.
To the Old Testament saint, this earth was the place and scene of his blessings, both spiritual and temporal. His calling, his promises, his hopes, his blessings, and his place of worship to give thanks for them, were on earth... So long life and health to enjoy those blessings formed an essential part of them. What then must death be for an Old Testament saint? To him it was the end of all his joys and blessings. He lost not only his earthly ones, but even his spiritual privilege of worship at the Lord's holy temple, in His holy city... Death, even to a godly Israelite, was an enemy that "cut him off." It carried him away from his people and all their blessings, into the shadowy regions of Hades — the place where all departed souls, believers and unbelievers, were kept.
His faith did not soften the blow.
Hezekiah was no doubt a true servant of God; still, all his links were down here on this earth. So to him death was intolerable. It was the cutting of every tie that bound him here.
His dread is the opposite of the way believers speak of death in the New Testament.
Death was to him the most painful prospect. What a difference between this and the triumphant language of 2 Corinthians 5:1-8! There the apostle says, "we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling." He also says, "We are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body [the very thing good Hezekiah did not want] and at home with the Lord." You do find the king turning his face to the wall. But who could imagine such a thing of dying Stephen?... In Old Testament times there could not be the rest and peace and joy of heart created by the revelation of Christ's work and glorified person.
One writer applies the same phrase to Paul as he faced death.
Was he cast down at the thought of being "deprived of the residue of his years"? Not at all; he speaks almost with delight at the possibility of his martyrdom, writing, "For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain."
God did not spare His servant the lesson.
However, the Lord did not deliver His servant in a way that interfered in the least with the divine lesson He wanted to teach him. You can see this by reading carefully "the writing of Hezekiah, king of Judah, when he had been sick and had recovered from his sickness" (Isaiah 38:9). He could never have reached the experience breathed out in this writing in the middle of the congregation. Nor on the battlefield. Nowhere but where God put him — on the sick bed. None can teach like God.
Commentators also see his recovery as a picture of Israel's future.
The sickness of Hezekiah gives us a type of the Son of David as raised from the dead. It shows the power of Christ, which will be brought to perfection in a nation also raised, morally, from the dead, with all their sins pardoned. It is the outward and inward deliverance of Israel.
Where nothing is left, God Himself is the answer.
"Death" outwardly! "Death" inwardly!... Speaking naturally, the whole situation is hopeless! But there is "the living God" (Isaiah 37:4, 17). He is the God "who raises the dead," the God who has already "raised from the dead" "Jesus Christ, the offspring of David." Is anything too hard for Him?
- Sentence. Hezekiah hears he must die in mid-life and sees only "the gates of Sheol" — the phrase Matthew 16:18 probably borrows.
- Shadow. His calling and worship belonged to life on earth. An early death looked like the loss of every joy and every tie at once.
- School. God let the sickness run its course. The lesson breathed in this writing came nowhere else but the sick bed.
- Sign. Commentators read his recovery as a picture of the Son of David raised. Israel too will be raised, morally, with sins pardoned.
- Song. A shortened life silenced him. The same prospect makes believers speak of dying as gain, because the God who raises the dead has already raised Jesus.
I said, I shall not see Jah, Jah in the land of the living. With those who dwell where all has ceased to be, I shall behold man no more.
Hezekiah has been told he will die. The sharpest pain is not dying itself, but the loss of two sights: God, and other people. Commentators read the verse two ways — as the honest grief of a godly man in Old Testament times, and as a picture of what Israel will one day pass through.
The verse names God twice. In Hebrew both times it is the short form Jah, which English Bibles print like the ordinary name.
This word occurs forty-three times in the Psalms, and only six times besides — twice of them here in Isaiah 38:11. In most of these places it is printed LORD, just as the word Jehovah usually is.
One writer explains what the short name carries.
Look at the context of most places where it occurs, and you will see it is not just a short form of Jehovah. It has a meaning of its own. It reminds His people that He has stepped in with power on their behalf, and will do so again… Jah marks Him out as the Deliverer of His people from Egypt long ago, who will deliver them from all their enemies again.
So the king's fear is not that he will lose God. It is that he will no longer see the God who rescues at work here, among the living.
The second half of the verse is about people — he will look on man no more. One writer draws out why that cuts so deep.
Giving up my existence as a man is not the mere pain of dying, as a lower animal suffers. It is the end of my connection with all that interests me, attracts me, and makes life valuable and great… To be separated from everything here without a heavenly hope, to be no more here for God or for man — this is its bitterness.
Hezekiah was a believing king. So why did the news of his death shake him?
Though he was a devout man, the announcement of his coming death troubled and shook him. God's people in Old Testament times knew very little about the things beyond the grave. They also held that an early death meant God's displeasure. Both no doubt produced much of this grief. How differently God's people in New Testament times can face death!
His whole hope was fixed on the land. One writer sets that beside what believers know now, and beside what Israel will yet receive.
To see the Lord in the heavenly country among the glorified is far better than to see Him in the land of Israel. Our joy is that we are to be with Him in heavenly blessing, as we know ourselves in Him in heavenly places even now. Such thoughts never entered the king's mind. He desired, as a Jew, that his life might be prolonged to see Jah in the land of the living. So Israel will see Him in the land of the living, and God will bring them under the shadow of His wing, despite all their mighty foes.
Isaiah uses the phrase "cut off out of the land of the living" again later, of someone else.
Why all this life out of death? How does it come about? Because of that other "Plant," the "tender Plant"… He was pierced for their transgressions, He was crushed for their iniquities. Through His stripes they will get healing. He was "cut off out of the land of the living" (Isaiah 53:8). Hezekiah pictures Israel. Because he was being "cut off" and going to the "gates of the grave," he cried that he would not see the Lord "in the land of the living."
Hezekiah's song ends in thanksgiving, and one writer reads Israel's future in it. (Sheol is the place of the dead.)
Israel, like Hezekiah, will be brought back from death. One day they will sing their song of thanksgiving to the Lord: "In love you have delivered my life from the pit of destruction, for you have cast all my sins behind your back. For Sheol does not thank you… the living, the living, he thanks you" (verses 17–19). A living God praised by a living people through the knowledge of a living Saviour.
- The Name — The word here is Jah, said twice: God known as the Deliverer who has stepped in for His people and will do it again.
- The Loss — Death was bitter because it separated him from everything here, with no heavenly hope: no longer here for God, no longer here for man.
- The Reason — God had revealed little yet about life beyond the grave, and people read an early death as His displeasure. So even a devout man could be shaken.
- The Gift — What Hezekiah never imagined is now open. To see the Lord in the heavenly country is better than seeing Him in the land, and believers are in Him in heavenly places already.
- The Answer — Another was cut off out of the land of the living, and because of Him the living — a living people — will praise a living God.
Mine age is departed, and is removed from me as a shepherd's tent. I have cut off like a weaver my life. He separateth me from the thrum -- from day to night thou wilt make an end of me.
God sent word through the prophet Isaiah that Hezekiah would die, and the king later wrote down how those hours felt. His pictures of a pulled-up tent and cloth cut from the loom carry the hard questions of any sickbed: is God against me, and does the thread just end?
The king is not describing mere physical pain. One writer names what makes death bitter, and when that bitterness is gone:
The actual surrender of my existence as a man is not the mere pain of dying, as a lower animal suffers. It is the end of my connection with everything that interests and attracts me and makes life valuable and great. The bitterness of death is past when someone is so worn down by sorrow or sickness that he longs to be released. But to be cut off from everything here without a heavenly hope, to be no more here for God or for man — this is its bitterness.
The verse ends with God making an end of him. For a man who had served God for years, that made the news harder, not easier:
For a godly Jew, to walk before God in the land of the living was a clear sign of His favour. Was that favour now withdrawn from the king? God would take no account of fourteen years of devotion to Himself, to His cause and to His house! So he was being rejected as a useless instrument, just at the moment when his godliness and his confidence in God had shone out in a special way!
Why would a believing man dread death so much? It follows from what God had revealed to him at that time:
The answer is simple: earthly blessing was the characteristic promise to the saints of old. Death, therefore, was the end to them of all their hopes. To die was to die out of the sphere in which their special promises were to be realised... As far as revealed, the horizon of the Jewish believer did not extend beyond this world.
One writer sees the Messiah behind this king's words. The likeness holds through being cut off mid-life, then breaks at one decisive point:
All this speaks to us of what came upon the Messiah, of whom Hezekiah is only a faint picture. He too had to be cut off in the middle of His days, to be cast down after being lifted up. He too, the faithful Witness who had done only the will of God, had to suffer death. He too had to leave with nothing and lose His kingdom and all His earthly glory. But Christ suffered these things because He was bearing the iniquity of a great people. He had to suffer God's righteous condemnation in our place. This could never be true of Hezekiah.
God answered with a sign: the shadow on the sundial moved backwards. Here is what one writer reads in that sign:
This miracle has a deeper meaning. It means that God could and would overturn the whole order of nature and its laws that made the sinner subject to death. He would do this to carry out the salvation of His beloved ones. Death no longer keeps its fatal course. That life was fading, and would then be cut off from the loom like the weaver's cloth (Isa. 38:12). For the faithful remnant it would begin again in the resurrection of the Messiah, their representative. For us it begins again in eternal life by the resurrection of the Saviour.
One writer sets this scene beside the ground a believer stands on now:
Death and life stand side by side in the "all things" that are ours. The keys of hell and death are in the hands of a risen Lord... But there is nothing of this in the scene before us. Darkness and dread, and the breaking up of earthly occupations, ties and hopes, press on the soul... God is looked to, but it is for a present deliverance from death and for a longer life in the land.
- Cut off. The pain in the verse is separation — being no more here for God or for man — not merely the pain of dying.
- Cut off, rejected. Long life in the land read as God's favour, so the death sentence looked to Hezekiah like God writing off his service.
- Limited light. God had promised him earthly blessing, so death looked like the end of everything promised.
- Christ cut off. He too was cut off mid-life — but bearing the iniquity of a people, which Hezekiah could never do.
- Loom restarted. Resurrection ties the thread back on. Life begins again for the faithful remnant, and for us in eternal life through the risen Saviour.
I kept still until the morning; ... as a lion, so doth he break all my bones. From day to night thou wilt make an end of me.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Like a swallow [or] a crane, so did I chatter; I mourned as a dove; mine eyes failed [with looking] upward Lord, I am oppressed; undertake for me.
Hezekiah has just been told he will die. In this verse he compares his own praying to bird sounds — a chattering swallow, a moaning dove — and then ends with one short cry to God.
Hezekiah names birds known for their sound and their habits. One dictionary explains the crane, and notes a question about the Hebrew names:
Scripture says two things about this bird: it chatters or makes a complaining noise, Isaiah 38:14; and it knows its time of migration, Jeremiah 8:7. The common crane answers to both of these characteristics. In the passages above the swallow comes after the crane. The Hebrew words are sis and agur. Many hold that the translators have swapped the words: sis refers to the swallow, and agur to the crane.
The dove is the third bird in the verse. Scripture gives it a fixed character:
It is the bird of love and sorrow (Isaiah 38:14; Isaiah 59:11; Ezekiel 7:16). So it rightly pictures the Spirit of Him whose love made Him a man of sorrows in a world that was not His own.
The whole poem up to this point is complaint. Something is missing from Hezekiah's view of death, and it explains the tone:
But here, on the contrary, the king mourns over his failing strength… He complains against God's will. He has no dead and risen Christ to interpret it all by. He views death in itself, or its bearing on himself here. How deeply even saints needed a revealed Saviour and a known redemption!
The verse ends with a plea that hands the whole matter to God. Older translations word it "undertake for me," and the writers quoted here use that wording. One writer marks this clause as the turning point:
As you will see, this writing of Hezekiah is the Spirit's account of what took place in him during this desperate discipline. But then he comes to the words, "O Lord, I am oppressed, undertake for me." At that point a new light clearly shines in his soul. He enters into resurrection, in hope… The discipline has achieved its blessed purpose. It was a terrible ordeal, but nothing else can lead the soul to rest entirely in God as the spring and fountain of life.
One writer applies the same cry to anyone who has stopped trying to fix himself:
And often the soul comes to its lowest point, like Hezekiah, when he cried, "O Lord I am oppressed; undertake for me." Ah, it is just then that full deliverance comes… when the soul is brought to this: guilty, lost, without power or strength to be better. Unless God undertakes for me I am lost for ever. "What shall I say?" says Hezekiah; "He has both spoken to me, and Himself has done it." It is not, will He speak to me? Will He undertake for me? No, it is this: He has spoken to me in His blessed Word. He has undertaken for me: He has done it!
One writer contrasts Hezekiah's outlook with the believer's today. What Hezekiah wanted was more time on earth:
Darkness and dread, and the breaking up of earthly occupations, ties and hopes, press on the soul. There is no "Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory," for he knows no such victory. He looks to God, but only for a present rescue from death and a longer life in the land. What wonderful ground the simple believer in Jesus now stands on. For him, death is a thing behind; he has a life hidden with Christ in God.
Hezekiah's illness was not only personal. One writer reads it as a pattern of God's future dealings with the Jewish nation:
In Hezekiah's case God made him the sign of the quickening — the making alive — of the Jews, since he showed the feelings of a godly Jew. As a nation they will one day go through a spiritual process like death and resurrection… God will work in them first, and then display His power on their behalf.
- Chatter. The crane and swallow chatter with a complaining noise; the dove mourns. Hezekiah's prayer had become sound without shape.
- Sight. His eyes fail looking upward because he views death in itself, with no dead and risen Christ to interpret it by.
- Surrender. "Undertake for me" is the hinge: at that phrase a new light enters his soul and he begins to hope in resurrection.
- Supply. Full deliverance comes at the lowest point. There a person has no power to be better, and God alone can undertake — and He has already done it.
- Sign. One writer reads his near-death and recovery as a picture of the nation's future: God works in the people first, then displays His power for them.
What shall I say? He hath both spoken unto me, and himself hath done [it]. I shall go softly all my years in the bitterness of my soul.
God told Hezekiah he would die, then gave him fifteen more years after he wept and prayed. This verse comes from the song he wrote afterwards: a question with no answer, an admission that God both spoke and acted, and a promise about how he will walk from now on.
Hezekiah has spent the earlier verses asking God to act for him. Here he runs out of words, and that is progress.
Now the light begins to dawn a little more. He has asked Jehovah to act for him: "He has both spoken to me," and so on. He began to see the blessed truth more clearly. The great matter is not what we say to Jehovah, but what Jehovah says to us — and, more than that, what Jehovah does for us. "I shall go softly all my years." All this trial was just the needed discipline, and good for him.
Healing came through an ordinary treatment, yet Hezekiah names God as the healer. That has a practical edge for anyone taking medicine today.
He chose to use a plaster of figs to bring Hezekiah back to health. But the king knew that it was Jehovah who had healed him, as he said, "He has both spoken to me, and He Himself has done it" (Isa. 38:15). The holy Gospels record what Jesus Himself did. Encouraged by that, we may use our medicines, sure that He is just as active today, both in His sympathy and in His power to heal.
Ask what Hezekiah gained from his illness, and this verse answers. He came out of it walking differently. Where the ESV says "I walk slowly all my years," the older translation these writers quote says "I shall go softly all my years."
Now if someone asks what special lessons Hezekiah learned during his sickness, the fifteenth verse tells us... In a word, he learned the need of walking softly. And surely the sickness God sent was well suited to teach that blessed lesson, however quickly he might forget it. But there was more than this. Hezekiah learnt something about God as well as about himself. This is valuable for us. It would never do to unlock only the secret springs in our own hearts. We must unlock the secret springs in God's heart at the same time. If a man only learns that there are hidden sins in his heart, and evil tendencies he knew nothing about before, he is just plunging his spirit into miserable despair. But if, while he discovers his sin, he also discovers God's grace in putting that sin away, this is divine — this is learning both himself and God.
Grace does more than clear the record. Watch what it did to Hezekiah's walk.
Now, it is only when a man learns himself and God together that he is really humbled. Grace, while it puts away our sin, leads the soul into deep humiliation because of it. So it was with Hezekiah; he was taught to "walk softly" by the grace that had forever settled the question of his sins.
Hezekiah accepts the death sentence as his due. He submits before he understands why, and only later sees what God was after.
As for Hezekiah, tears suited him, as they will suit the upright remnant. He must learn to accept the sentence of death as being due to him; to say at first, without understanding God's purpose: "What shall I say? He has both spoken to me, and He Himself has done it" (Isa. 38:15); and to understand at last, at the end of all his anguish, that the Lord "was purposed to save" him (Isa. 38:20).
A promise made on a sickbed does not prove itself there. Days later, princes arrived from Babylon.
A few days before the Babylonian princes came, Hezekiah had gone up to the house of Jehovah to pour out his soul in thanksgiving for the mercies he had received. He had said, "I shall go softly all my years in the bitterness of my soul." No doubt he meant it at the time. But God put him to the proof. Instead of "going softly" all his days, he did not repay the kindness done to him, for his heart was lifted up... "God left him to try him, that he might know all that was in his heart."
- Silence. "What shall I say?" is the end of Hezekiah's arguing — the great matter is not what we say to God but what He says and does for us.
- Speech and act. God spoke the word and God performed it; the figs were the means, but the king knew who had healed him.
- Softly. The one lesson the sickbed taught was a changed walk — a quieter, humbler pace for all the added years.
- Grace humbles. Learn only yourself and you sink into despair. Learn yourself with God's grace and you get the humility that softens the walk.
- Tested. The vow was real, but it did not keep itself. God tested it with the visitors from Babylon, and Hezekiah's heart grew proud instead.
Lord, by these things [men] live, and in all these things is the life of my spirit; and thou hast recovered me, and made me to live.
Hezekiah, king of Judah, lay dying, and the prophet Isaiah told him he would not recover. Yet here he says that men live by the very things that almost killed him — what life is that, and how does God give it?
These are not calm words spoken from a safe distance. A man who had heard he was dying spoke them.
He had been struck down by an alarming illness, and told by the prophet Isaiah that he would die and not live (Isa. 38:1-3). In deep grief he turned his face to the wall, wept before the Lord, and prayed earnestly. In grace God heard his prayer and gave him back his health. But he learned important lessons first.
The surprise is the verb Hezekiah chose. Sickness looks like the road to death, so we expect the opposite word.
When good king Hezekiah was sick to death, and wept bitterly, in his exercise of mind he saw the true meaning of his affliction. He said, "O Lord, by these things men live." We would naturally have imagined that he would have said, "By these things men die." No, he used the right word, "live." He recognised that there is a life which is life indeed. It is the only life God accepts, the life that by its nature turns to Him. That life endures beyond sickness and trial and the grave. It enters heaven itself, the presence of God, because it is lived in God's presence now and so will last for ever.
Hezekiah uses two different words for his inner life within two lines. One writer looks at the Hebrew behind them.
We can learn from other passages in the Old Testament that soul and spirit were not confused, but were known and kept apart. Hezekiah said that he spoke in the bitterness of his "soul" (nephesh); but further adds, "In all these is the life of my spirit (rooagh)." (Isa. 38:15-16.) Job says, "I will speak in the anguish of my spirit (rooagh), I will complain in the bitterness of my soul (nephesh)." (Job 7:11.)
Our instincts about what is good for us are not reliable. One writer applies that to everyday life.
When he fully saw that the Lord had brought him low for his spiritual gain, he burst out: "O Lord, by these things men live, and in all these is the life of my spirit." The things we naturally like often bring death and barrenness to us spiritually; while those we dislike often produce exercise, and so, through them, we live — Godward. The One who loves us perfectly knows best where to place us. He knows what to allow, what to order, and what to hold back. Our wisdom is to be happily subject to His will.
The second half of the verse asks God for healing. One writer traces the moment hope broke in, using an older translation that reads the words as a statement of confidence.
When he comes to the words, "O Lord, I am oppressed, undertake for me," there is evidently a new light in his soul; he enters into resurrection, in hope. He can now say, "O Lord, by these things men live, and in all these is the life of my spirit. So You will restore me to health and make me live." … The discipline has achieved its blessed purpose. A terrible ordeal it was, but nothing else can lead the soul to rest entirely in God as the spring and fountain of life.
Hezekiah's recovery was not only personal. One writer sees in it a sign for the whole nation.
In Hezekiah's case God made him a sign. He showed the feelings of a godly Jew, and he pointed to the day when God will give the Jews new life. As a nation they will one day pass through a spiritual process like death and resurrection.
- Sentence. Isaiah told Hezekiah he would die. This song comes from a man who had heard his own death sentence and wept over it.
- Reversal. Nature says such things kill. Hezekiah said they make men live — with the only life God counts as life.
- Spirit. Bitterness filled his soul; life filled his spirit. He used two different words, and both were true at the same moment.
- Submission. What we like can leave us barren. What we dislike produces exercise, so wisdom is glad subjection to the God who knows where to place us.
- Recovery. The plea "make me live" comes after hope has dawned. The discipline reached its purpose when it left him resting on God alone as the fountain of life.
Behold, instead of peace I had bitterness upon bitterness; but thou hast in love delivered my soul from the pit of destruction; for thou hast cast all my sins behind thy back.
Hezekiah, king of Judah, wrote this song after God healed him from a deadly illness. Here he looks back over the whole ordeal. Two surprises meet in one line. Bitterness came where he expected peace, and the rescue he praises goes deeper than his body.
The king had thought his life safe and settled. One writer takes the collapse of that assumption as a mercy rather than a misfortune. He quotes older wording of the verse — "for peace I had great bitterness" — where the ESV reads, "it was for my welfare that I had great bitterness." The older "pit of corruption" quoted below is the ESV's "pit of destruction."
Hezekiah says in Isaiah 38:17, "Behold, for peace I had great bitterness." It is a mercy from God when a false peace is smashed up. The "great bitterness" which results is not pleasant, but it is still the way to God. See Saul of Tarsus in Acts 9:9, three whole days unable to eat and drink. When a man goes off his food like that, his mind must be in deep turmoil. The fact is, Saul had made a terrible discovery. With all his blameless life and his religious zeal, he was at heart an enemy of God and His Son. The best man of his time saw himself to be "the chief of sinners!" Oh, the bitterness of it! Have we been in the depths like that?
The sickness taught Hezekiah about himself. But self-knowledge on its own would have crushed him.
Suppose a man only learns that there are hidden sins in his heart, and principles of evil he knew nothing about before. Then he is only plunging his spirit into miserable despair. This is not learning anything through divine teaching. But if he discovers his sin and, at the same time, God's grace in putting that sin away, this is divine — this is learning both himself and God.
Why did this godly king dread dying so much? His hopes lay in this life.
Hezekiah, no doubt, was a true servant of God; still, all his links were down here on this earth. Therefore, to him death was intolerable. It was the severance of every tie that bound him here. His position and order of blessing matched these words: "You have in love to my soul delivered it from the pit of corruption"; then, "The Lord was ready to save me"; and then, "Death cannot celebrate You." It was the character of blessing suited to that time.
Hezekiah made two discoveries about God, in order: first the love, then the sins put away. One writer draws out what "behind His back" says about a God who never doubles back.
First, he discovered that on God's part there was "love to my soul." He could not have known that love with the fullness that Christ alone has revealed. Yet it led him further. He discovered that God had dealt with his sins, though he could not have known that with the finality that the Gospel brings to us… Still, he knew that God had cast all his sins behind His back. God does not move in circles. He moves straight forward through the eternal ages. So what He casts behind His back is there for ever — not as He said to Ephraim in Hosea 7:2, "before My face."
One writer pictures those sins as a bundle carried on the king's back.
Until now that bundle had been on the back of Hezekiah. Now God casts it away behind His own back, and He would remember it no more. The awful load fell from Hezekiah. It falls from every soul, king or pauper, who turns in the same way to our sin-pardoning God.
Grace settled the question of his sins and left him humbled, not casual. His reign had just seen a national rescue from the Assyrian army, but his song does not celebrate that.
Grace, while it puts away our sin, leads the soul into deep humbling because of it. So it was with Hezekiah: he was taught to "walk softly" by the grace that had settled the question of his sins for ever. Here was a blessed discovery of God! It was not merely, "You have delivered the kingdom out of the hand of the King of Assyria." No; it was, "You have delivered me from the pit of corruption: for You have cast all my sins behind Your back." So Hezekiah gets away from himself, away from his sins, away from the pit. He takes his happy place among "the living," who alone can "praise and celebrate" the name of the Lord.
- Bitterness. God smashes a false peace, and the bitterness that follows is the road to Him, not a detour.
- Discovery. Learning your own heart alone ends in despair. Learn God's grace that puts the sin away, and you have learned both yourself and God.
- Love. Hezekiah traces the rescue to God's love toward his soul, not to anything in himself.
- Distance. Sins cast behind God's back are behind Him for ever, because He moves forward, never in circles.
- Song. The man lifted out of the pit takes his place among the living, who alone praise God. Hezekiah's hopes still lay on this earth — the order of blessing suited to his day.
For not Sheol shall praise thee, nor death celebrate thee; they that go down into the pit do not hope for thy truth.
Hezekiah has just escaped death, and his written song explains why he wanted to live: the dead do not sing. Does that mean the soul simply stops at death? And what does a believer lose by dying?
The verse gives a reason, and it rests on what he had just said: God had put his sins out of sight for good.
Grace, while it puts away our sin, leads the soul into deep humbling because of it. That is how it was with Hezekiah... Here was a blessed discovery of God! It was not merely, "You have delivered the kingdom out of the hand of the king of Assyria." No, but "in love you have delivered my life from the pit of destruction, for you have cast all my sins behind your back." So Hezekiah gets away from himself, away from his sins, away from the pit. He takes his happy place among "the living" who alone can "praise and celebrate" the name of the Lord.
Hezekiah's praise was tied to a place and to people he would leave behind.
A godly Israelite wanted to celebrate His praises on earth, to bring up children for the service of His sanctuary, and to go up to that temple where the glory of Jehovah visibly dwelt. In his mind these belonged to every thought of Jehovah's praise. You see it in that quotation from Isaiah: "the father makes known to the children your faithfulness." Death would cut short that declaration and stop those praises. Death could not celebrate in that sense.
There was a second weight on him. Under the law a long life was a mark of God's favour, so dying early carried a verdict with it.
Besides this, length of days was one of the blessings of the law. So to be cut off in the middle of one's days, as God threatened Hezekiah, meant to a Jew that God was angry.
Some use verses like this to argue that death is the end of a person. Commentators answer that you cannot settle it from the part of the Bible that was still dark on the subject.
The New Testament plainly teaches that the gospel brought life and immortality (incorruption) to light. Why then, to prove your point, do you go back to what was admittedly dark on the subject?... And you bring your proofs from the Old Testament. There, the apostle assures us, the full revelation on this subject was not given, and the truth about it was not yet brought to light. Is this not a strange way of getting at the truth, especially since the Lord Himself declares that the soul does not perish with the body?
The tone of Hezekiah's song is exactly what you would expect before that light came.
In the past, death was a shadow over souls. We see it in the earlier part of the chapter. We find it in the wail of a Hezekiah, or in Job's picture of "the land of gloom like thick darkness... where light is as thick darkness" (Job 10:22). But now with the Life the Light has come, and the shadow of death is pierced by it. He who had the power of death has been met and defeated, and the captives are freed (Heb. 2:14-15).
Hezekiah dreaded the very thing the apostle preferred.
Death was to him the most painful prospect. What could differ more sharply from this than the triumphant language of 2 Corinthians 5:1-8? There the apostle says, "We are always of good courage... we would rather be away from the body [the very thing good Hezekiah did not want] and at home with the Lord." Living here, "we are away from the Lord." You do find the king turning his face to the wall. But who could imagine such a thing of dying Stephen?
Commentators also read the sick king as a picture of his nation.
Israel, like Hezekiah, brought back from death, will sing their song of thanksgiving to the Lord by and by... A living God praised by a living people through the knowledge of a living Saviour.
If only the living can praise, praise had to wait for resurrection. Christ went into death with that morning in view.
The inspired heading of Psalm 22 is "Aijeleth Shahar" — the hind of the morning. It shows that the blessed Saviour had the resurrection day in His heart before He entered the awful darkness of abandonment. When that darkness had passed we hear the triumphant note, "I will tell of your name to my brothers; in the midst of the congregation I will praise you" (v. 22).
- Pit. His dread of the grave was real. But forgiven sins are what lifted him out of it and put him among the living.
- Praise. For an Israelite, praise meant temple, song, and children taught God's truth. Death ended his share in all of it.
- Shadow. The verse shows death as it looked before the light came. It is not a statement that the soul stops existing.
- Light. The gospel brought life and incorruption to light, and that Light pierces the shadow Hezekiah wailed under.
- Living. Only the living praise — so the risen Christ leads the song, and a living people will yet sing it.
The living, the living, he shall praise thee, as I this day the father to the children shall make known thy truth.
King Hezekiah has just been brought back from death, and this line is the high point of his song of thanks. The dead say nothing, so the living must speak. Two questions follow: why did death look so bleak to this godly king, and what is a father meant to hand on?
One writer explains the verse from inside the mind of a believing Israelite. His hope was fixed on the temple and on the children he would train to serve there.
A godly Israelite's ambition was to swell that great chorus of praise. The last psalms look forward to just such a scene. For him, every thought of Jehovah's praise carried these things with it. He would celebrate His praises on earth. He would train up children to serve in His sanctuary. He would go up to that temple where the glory of Jehovah could be seen. You see it in this line from Isaiah: "the father makes known to the children your faithfulness." Death would cut short that declaration and make those praises cease. Death could not celebrate in that sense. Only the living, the living, could do it.
Why did dying feel unbearable to a man who truly served God? One writer answers by looking at where Hezekiah's blessings lay.
Hezekiah, no doubt, was a true servant of God; still, all his links were down here on this earth. Therefore, to him death was intolerable. It was the severance of every tie that bound him here.
Another writer sets Hezekiah's dread beside the apostle's confidence in 2 Corinthians.
Death was to him the most painful prospect. What can differ more sharply from this than the triumphant language of 2 Corinthians 5:1-8? There the apostle says, "we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling." He also says, "we are always of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord." That was the very thing good Hezekiah did not want. Old Testament believers could not have that rest and peace and joy of heart. It comes from the revelation of Christ's work and His glorified Person.
The second half of the verse is a plain charge to parents. One writer asks whose father Hezekiah became in those extra years.
Manasseh was twelve years old when he succeeded his father Hezekiah. So he was born during the fifteen extra years Hezekiah received in answer to his prayers and tears. Manasseh surely received careful teaching in the ways of God, for Hezekiah said, "the father makes known to the children your faithfulness." Let every Christian father note this and follow Hezekiah's good example. Despite his early advantages, Manasseh became the wickedest king Judah had ever known.
Teaching has a limit, and another writer names it.
The fathers are to make known the truth to the children, but each man must be born again or he cannot see the kingdom of God.
One writer reads Hezekiah's rescue as a picture of Israel's future. In the song, Sheol means the grave.
Israel, brought back from death like Hezekiah, will one day sing their song of thanksgiving to the Lord. They will say, "you have in love delivered my life from the pit of destruction, for you have cast all my sins behind your back. For Sheol does not thank you… the living, the living, he thanks you." A living God praised by a living people through the knowledge of a living Saviour.
One writer carries Hezekiah's words forward to Christians today.
Long ago Hezekiah the king said, "For Sheol does not thank you; death does not praise you… The living, the living, he thanks you." In His infinite mercy God has numbered us among those who are "alive to God in Christ Jesus" (Romans 6:11). So we form part of that living structure where the living God dwells in the praises of His saints.
- Silence. Death ends a man's thanksgiving and his teaching of his children. That is why it looked so bleak to Hezekiah.
- Recovery. The fifteen added years were not just more time. They meant more praise and one more child to teach.
- Handover. A father makes God's faithfulness known to his children. That is how praise passes to the next generation.
- Limit. Manasseh was born in those very years and well taught. He still became the worst king Judah knew. Teaching is a duty; new birth is personal.
- Horizon. Hezekiah's hope was tied to this earth; the Christian's reaches past death. Praise still belongs to the living, and God has made Christians alive.
Jehovah was [purposed] to save me. -- And we will play upon my stringed instruments all the days of our life, in the house of Jehovah.
Hezekiah's written record of his illness ends not in the sickroom but in the temple. Rescued from death, he promises to spend the rest of his life singing.
The song moves from panic to certainty, and the certainty is not about Hezekiah's recovery but about God's intention toward him. One writer traces that arc through the whole chapter, ending on this verse.
He must learn to accept the sentence of death as being due to him; to say at first without understanding God's purpose: "What shall I say? He has both spoken to me, and He Himself has done it" (Isa. 38:15); and to understand at last, at the end of all his anguish, that the Lord "was purposed to save" him (Isa. 38:20).
The chapter opened with a command to put his house in order — a death sentence. The song answers it, and the answer is forgiveness rather than merely a longer life.
See then to what a happy place all God's solemn dealings in this chapter brought the soul of this good man. The chapter opened with the words, "Set your house in order." This, as has been noted, showed him many things that were meant to humble him. But then he learns more of God's redeeming and restoring love. So he can answer the searching charge, "Set your house in order," with the triumphant statement, "You have cast all my sins behind your back."
The same writer notes what such forgiveness does to a man.
Grace, while it puts away our sin, leads the soul into deep humiliation because of it. That is how it was with Hezekiah; he was taught to "walk softly" by the grace that had settled the question of his sins forever.
The words for the song and the instruments here also stand in the titles of several Psalms.
Job 30:9, "I am their song"… so Isa. 38:20… The verb means to strike the strings. Neginah occurs in the title of Ps. 61; Neginoth in Ps. 4, Ps. 6… Upon the stringed instrument, or upon the stringed instruments.
Read alongside the groaning of verses 10–15, the closing line marks a complete change of tone.
It is no longer bitterness of soul, and doubts, and misery. Oh no, says Hezekiah, "The Lord was ready to save me; therefore we will sing my songs all the days of our life in the house of the Lord." That is far better; yes, let us sing His praise with adoring hearts.
"All the days of our life" locates the praise here, in the land of the living — and commentators point out that this matches the kind of blessing Hezekiah knew.
Hezekiah was no doubt a true servant of God; still, all his links were down here on this earth. So death was unbearable to him. It cut every tie that bound him here. It was entirely in keeping with his position and order of blessing to say, "In love you have delivered my soul from the pit of destruction." And again, "The Lord was ready to save me." And again, "Death cannot celebrate you." vv. 17, 18, 20.
The verse is a resolution as much as a thanksgiving. One writer finds the flaw in it, and the flaw is not insincerity.
This memo of a recovering Hezekiah records resolutions that are not insincere, but formed in ignorance of self… Out of continuous gratitude, he will be the worshipper and praiser of the Lord. That is his settled purpose. But it is built on the "I shall" and "we will" of a sincere but self-ignorant heart… There is no "hold me up" about it, and so there is no stability.
The later record bears that out.
It is an excellent account of what the Lord's servant goes through while His hand is upon him. But how sad that he did not fully live up to the closing words of his writing… Manasseh was born during the fifteen years added to Hezekiah's life, and his wickedness brought judgment from the Lord.
One writer reads Hezekiah's recovery as a picture of what God will do for His people.
Israel, like Hezekiah, will be brought back from death. By and by they will sing their song of thanksgiving to the Lord: "In love you have delivered my soul from the pit of destruction, for you have cast all my sins behind your back. For Sheol does not thank you… the living, the living, he thanks you" (vv. 17–19). A living God praised by a living people through the knowledge of a living Saviour.
- Sentence. The chapter begins with an order to set his house in order. This song is what a man sings after facing that verdict, not dodging it.
- Salvation. "Ready to save" is God's settled purpose. Hezekiah saw it only at the end of his anguish, and the rescue he needed most was his sins cast behind God's back.
- Song. The instruments are the neginoth of the Psalm titles — strings that are struck. Gratitude comes out as music.
- Setting. His praise belongs to the house of the Lord and to life on earth. That matches the order of blessing he knew.
- Self. The vow was sincere, but it was built on "I shall" and "we will." Without "hold me up" it did not hold, and the added years proved it. Yet his rescue still pictures a people who will one day sing this song and mean it.