Behold Your God: The Voice That Cries, The Shepherd Who Comforts

"Comfort, comfort my people," says your God. "Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and call out to her that her warfare is accomplished." (Isaiah 40:1-2, WEB)

When you were a child, a few days before Christmas, you may have known that unbearable waiting. Every day the same question ("when do we open the presents?"), and every day the same answer, "not yet." Some children even start to doubt. Doubt that the presents exist. Doubt that their parents can really give them something. Doubt that they deserve it, because this year, they haven't been so good.

There is a people in history who lived through that kind of waiting. Not for a few days, not for a few weeks: for 70 years. That people was Israel, specifically Judah, deported because of its rebellion by the empire of Babylon. Because of its unfaithfulness, God judged it. The temple was destroyed. The king, David's descendant, was no longer king. The people were torn from their land and sent a thousand kilometers from home.

They arrived there with nothing, but with one hope: the prophecy of Jeremiah, who had told them their exile would last 70 years, and that afterward they would be able to return home. But the years passed, and the decades too. Children were born in exile who had never set foot on their parents' land. Doubt crept in. Facing an empire as powerful as Babylon, would this exile really ever end? Can our God really deliver us?

Picture a Sabbath evening in a family exiled in Babylon. The grandfather takes out the scroll of Isaiah, opens it to the second part, and begins reading in a strong voice: "Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. A voice cries in the wilderness. Jerusalem, herald of good news: behold your God, behold the Lord Yahweh. He comes with might, and like a shepherd, he will feed his flock."

This is the message Israel clung to in exile, night after night. A message that announced not simply the end of exile, but far more: God himself coming among his people. And this good news is for you too. You too are sometimes waiting (for a long time now) for healing, reconciliation, the end of grief, inner peace, a stronger sense of God's presence. You too sometimes doubt. But the same voice reaches across the centuries to tell you this morning: behold your God, the Lord who sets free, the Shepherd who comforts.

1. Behold your God: a cry that prepares you

In the first eleven verses of Isaiah 40, one word comes back strikingly: the verb to cry out, or the command to raise one's voice. Six times in eleven verses. That's no accident.

Why does this message need to be cried out? We cry out first of all to be heard, obviously. But we also cry out because a cry triggers something in us that a voice merely speaking loudly does not. Just hearing a child scream is enough to feel your alertness spike immediately. A cry doesn't just call for listening: it calls for a response. Human beings have understood this effect so well that ringtones and alarms designed to grab our attention are built to sound like a cry.

There's even a cascading effect in this text: God calls the prophet to cry out. A voice cries in the wilderness. Jerusalem is invited to climb a high mountain to cry out in turn to the towns of Judah. The message spreads, the voice carries, the news travels.

And what is this cry supposed to make you do? Isaiah tells us right after: this cry is meant to prepare your heart for the coming of the Lord.

"A voice of one who calls out: 'Prepare the way of Yahweh in the wilderness! Make a level highway in the desert for our God.'" (Isaiah 40:3, WEB)

Why does this preparation matter? Because it is the King who is coming, and you recognize that he is King by the honor you show him, by the way you welcome him. You don't welcome a king in your pajamas. It takes care, preparation, seriousness. The Bible calls us to honor the king when he comes. All the more so, the King of kings.

But how do you honor the King of kings? By pulling out your finest tie, your finest dress? No. What he wants is for the garment of your heart to be purified. For your life to turn toward him, to turn away from what corrupts it. That's what it means to prepare the way of the Lord. A heart purified by his precious blood.

The Gospel tells us who this mysterious prophet crying in the wilderness is: John the Baptist. Matthew 3 presents him exactly as Isaiah announced:

"In those days, John the Baptizer came, preaching in the wilderness of Judea, saying, 'Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand!' For this is he who was spoken of by Isaiah the prophet, saying, 'The voice of one crying in the wilderness, make the way of the Lord ready! Make his paths straight!' […] Then people from Jerusalem, all of Judea, and all the region around the Jordan went out to him. They were baptized by him in the Jordan, confessing their sins." (Matthew 3:1-6, WEB)

That is what the voice crying in the wilderness calls for: a change of heart, a conversion, a return to God.

2. The Lord who sets free: a glory returning, a word that endures

This cry announces something immense. Look at verse 5:

"Yahweh's glory shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together; for the mouth of Yahweh has spoken it." (Isaiah 40:5, WEB)

Why is this sentence so overwhelming for the exiles? Because, in their time, the glory of God had left the temple. At the dedication of the first temple, Solomon's temple, the glory of God had come down and filled the sanctuary (1 Kings 8). God was displaying a special presence in the midst of his people. But at the time of the deportation, the prophet Ezekiel describes a heartbreaking moment: the glory leaves the temple (Ezekiel 10).

That was the hope of the exiles in Babylon: that God would return, and that his glory would return to his temple. Did that happen? Yes, and no. When the exile ended, the temple was rebuilt. But when the foundations were laid, those who had seen the first temple began to weep. Why? Because the second one was much smaller, much less impressive. So the prophet Haggai made this extraordinary promise:

"'The latter glory of this house will be greater than the former,' says Yahweh of Armies; 'and in this place I will give peace,' says Yahweh of Armies." (Haggai 2:9, WEB)

Did the glory of God appear? Yes. But with a taste of something unfinished. This is what I like to call the Mona Lisa effect. If you go to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa and you're shown a child's drawing instead, however cute it may be, you're going to ask for a refund. Why? Because that drawing represents the Mona Lisa, but it isn't the Mona Lisa.

This Mona Lisa effect is what the exiles were living through. The glory had indeed returned, the temple was indeed there, but the true glory was still to come. And this is where this text takes on new meaning for those who follow Jesus. Because that voice crying in the wilderness is John the Baptist. And that glory coming to the temple is Jesus Christ, God made man.

See how the Spirit ties it all together: in Luke chapter 2, the old man Simeon meets Christ. Where? In the temple. In that small, unimpressive temple, which finally sees the glory of God appear, the real glory. Jesus Christ, fully God, walks into that place and comes to fulfill Haggai's promise.

And there's a consequence for you. If the voice crying in the wilderness in verse 3 is John the Baptist, and if the glory coming in verse 5 is Jesus Christ, then who is this "Jerusalem, herald of good news" in verse 9? It is those who, as the apostle Paul says, have been born from above, for this Jerusalem is heavenly (Galatians 4:26). It is the Church.

This term "herald of good news" is stunning when you read it in the Greek of the Septuagint (the translation widely used in New Testament times): euaggelizomenos. Do you hear that word? Evangelize. Good news. Gospel. What you are called to carry today, your life and your mouth proclaim it: the true glory has come to this earth. It was born, it lived, it died, it rose again. Behold your God.

And who is this God? The God who sets free. The text insists:

"Behold, the Lord Yahweh will come as a mighty one, and his arm will rule for him. Behold, his reward is with him, and his recompense before him." (Isaiah 40:10, WEB)

To exiles who sometimes doubted the power of God, Isaiah reminds them that the Creator of heaven and earth comes with might, and that his arm secures dominion. How could these exiles be sure of it? By remembering that this God is the very one who already brought their ancestors out of Egypt, who had already shown his full ability to deliver them from an empire stronger than themselves.

You too are invited to hold on with confidence to your past experiences: those moments when God proved faithful to you, and also those moments when he proved faithful to others. That's where the testimony of the Church (your brothers, your sisters, those who came before you in the faith) is precious.

But does the Lord want to deliver? Are his promises nothing but wind? No. The Lord uses his power, and he will use that same power for you, because his word stands forever:

"The voice of one saying, 'Cry!' One said, 'What shall I cry?' 'All flesh is like grass, and all its glory is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, because Yahweh's breath blows on it. Surely the people are like grass. The grass withers, and the flower fades; but the word of our God stands forever.'" (Isaiah 40:6-8, WEB)

The strength of a people or an empire comes and goes. Look at how quickly the powers succeeded one another in Israel's time: the Assyrians seemed invincible, they were swept away by the Babylonians, who were swept away in a matter of weeks by the Persians, who were swept away by Alexander the Great, who was himself swept away by Rome. These seemingly invincible empires were corruptible and short-lived. Like grass that withers under God's breath. Like a dandelion you blow on, and it flies away.

And what endures? What is not corruptible? The word of God. The promises he makes to his people. The Babylonian empire collapsed within months: that's what history tells us. But the word of God was fulfilled. Israel returned from exile. A real deliverance took place.

Isaiah himself names the instrument of this deliverance: the Persian king Cyrus, called the Lord's "anointed" (messiah):

"Yahweh says to his anointed, to Cyrus, whose right hand I have held, to subdue nations before him, and strip kings of their armor…" (Isaiah 45:1, WEB)

Cyrus, a "messiah"? Once again, the Mona Lisa effect. Yes, Cyrus was the instrument God used to free his people. Yes, in some ways he was a powerful king. But did he free Israel definitively and completely? No. Israel was later dominated by other empires. Cyrus is not the true deliverer.

What does the true Messiah need to free you from? From one corruptible empire that gives way to another corruptible empire, before your own body finally turns to dust? No. The true liberation Christ brings is liberation from corruption itself. He frees you from death. This is exactly what Peter picks up directly from Isaiah 40:

"Having been born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, through the word of God, which lives and remains forever. For, 'All flesh is like grass, and all of man's glory like the flower in the grass. The grass withers, and its flower falls; but the Lord's word endures forever.' This is the word of Good News which was preached to you." (1 Peter 1:23-25, WEB)

You are born of an incorruptible seed, and that is the only way to be freed from the coming and going, from that withering-grass effect. Jesus says it plainly:

"If you remain in my word, then you are truly my disciples. You will know the truth, and the truth will make you free." (John 8:31-32, WEB)

How do you apply this today? Maybe you believe God can free you from sin in general, but not from that one sin that has been rotting your life for years. Maybe you think God is capable of great things, but not the small things of your everyday life. God cares about your life, every part of it. The God of great things is also the God of small things.

If you're looking for a biography to read on vacation, pick up the one about George Müller, the man who founded several orphanages relying on God for every need. He understood that daily dependence. Here's an excerpt:

"August 3, 1844. We began the day with fifteen francs. I said to myself: I will now wait for the way the Lord will deliver us today, for he surely will. How many times in the past has he not come to my help? So I wait on him. Between 9 and 10 this morning, I gave myself to prayer to obtain what we need. Three of my coworkers were with me. While we were praying, there was a knock at the door: a brother brought me 43 francs for the orphans."

This biography is page after page of concrete, urgent requests to feed orphans. And of God answering, day after day. The God of great things is the deliverer of small things too.

3. The Shepherd who comforts: comfort that comes through forgiveness

Behold your God, the Lord who sets free, but also the Shepherd who comforts. The text opens with this word:

"Comfort, comfort my people," says your God. "Speak tenderly to Jerusalem…" (Isaiah 40:1-2, WEB)

Here is a God who comes, not only as the strong God with the mighty arm, but as the God who opens his loving arms to comfort you. Comfort, comfort my people. Yahweh is gentle. He is the good Shepherd.

"Yahweh is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves those who have a crushed spirit." (Psalm 34:18, WEB)

You do not have a distant God. Our God has come among us. He has lived what you are living. He has suffered far more than you have suffered. At the lowest point you can reach, Christ has always already gone before you. He is there. He is the good God who comes to comfort.

But comfort does not come without a debt being cancelled. Imagine that, over your vacation, you completely mismanaged your money, and you check your account balance after a long while: -5,000 euros. You tell your friend, who replies, "It's fine, it's fine, don't worry, everything's okay." That's kind, but the debt is still there.

God does not pretend. True comfort comes through forgiveness. God comes to forgive:

"Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and call out to her that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received of Yahweh's hand double for all her sins." (Isaiah 40:2, WEB)

"I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, your transgressions, and, as a cloud, your sins. Return to me, for I have redeemed you." (Isaiah 44:22, WEB)

God comforts, God redeems, God pays the debt. But how? By giving himself:

"But he was pierced for our transgressions. He was crushed for our iniquities. The punishment that brought our peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray. Everyone has turned to his own way; and Yahweh has laid on him the iniquity of us all." (Isaiah 53:5-6, WEB)

No sleight of hand. Someone has to pay. And it is this good Shepherd who pays. Once again, the Mona Lisa effect: Isaiah presents Cyrus as a shepherd (Isaiah 44:28). But Cyrus, useful as he was, is not the good Shepherd. He did not lay down his life for his sheep. Who is this good Shepherd? Jesus Christ.

"I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. […] My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give eternal life to them. They will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand." (John 10:11, 27-28, WEB)

You may know that expression, "that speaks to me." A Christian is someone who has heard the voice of Jesus and recognized, in their heart, that it wasn't the voice of a stranger, but the voice of the one who created them and loved them more than anything.

In practice, how do you apply this? We confess that Jesus is our Shepherd. But what matters isn't what we say; it's what we do. In a world of gurus and algorithms, we need to ask ourselves which shepherds are really guiding us.

Three truths to remember

Isaiah's cry reaches across the centuries to reach you. It's not just an alarm to listen to, it's a call to respond: to prepare your heart, to turn toward God, to let his presence transform what's inside you.
God sets free through his incorruptible word. Empires, circumstances, the powers of this world pass away like grass. God's word, though, stands firm, and it is through it that you are set free from sin, from death, and from everything that held you captive.
True comfort comes through the forgiveness given in Jesus. God doesn't downplay your debt: he pays it by giving himself. The good Shepherd laid down his life for his sheep.

For your own reflection

What are you waiting for right now (healing, reconciliation, grief, inner peace), where you're starting to doubt that God will come through? Which verse from Isaiah 40 can you hold up against that doubt this week?
How are you concretely preparing your heart for Christmas? Is there a sin to confess, a repentance to live out, a relationship to set right?
Which "shepherds" (algorithms, influences, habits, voices) are guiding your time and attention? Where do you struggle to recognize the voice of the good Shepherd?
Can you name one specific moment when God proved faithful to you or to someone you know? Write it down, keep it in view for the days when you doubt.
Is there a particular, longstanding sin you believe God cannot free you from? What does Isaiah 44:22 say to that thought?

Verses cited in this message

FAQ

Why is Isaiah 40 so central to Christmas?
Because it announces the coming of God himself among his people. The Gospels explicitly draw on Isaiah 40:3 to present John the Baptist as the one who prepares the way for Jesus (Matthew 3:3). Isaiah 40 is the promise that the glory of God will return, and Christmas is the moment that promise is fulfilled in a child born in Bethlehem.

Who is the "voice crying in the wilderness"?
In Isaiah's story, it is the prophet announcing to exiled Israel the end of its trial. In the fulfillment, it is John the Baptist, as Matthew 3:1-6, Mark 1:1-4, Luke 3:1-6, and John 1:23 explicitly say. Today, this cry reaches you through Scripture and through the Church, which takes up the role of Jerusalem, "herald of good news" (Isaiah 40:9).

What does it actually mean to "prepare the way of the Lord"?
It's not an outward or ceremonial preparation. It's a change of heart: recognizing your sins, turning toward God, letting Christ purify what you cannot purify on your own. This is what John the Baptist called "repentance," and what Jesus makes possible through his death and resurrection.

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