The Lion, the Bird, and the Blood
Introduction: The Folly of Fleeing to Egypt
We find ourselves in the middle of a high stakes geopolitical drama. The little kingdom of Judah is caught between two ancient superpowers. To the northeast, you have the brutal, expansionist empire of Assyria, the terror of the ancient world. To the southwest, you have Egypt, the old, decadent, but still formidable power, famous for its horses and chariots. Assyria is on the march, and the political elites in Jerusalem, in a fit of godless pragmatism, have decided that their only hope is an alliance with Egypt. They are sending ambassadors, laden with treasure, down to Pharaoh to buy his protection.
To the worldly wise man, this makes perfect sense. You fight a great power with another great power. You fight tanks with other tanks. But to God, this is not just bad foreign policy; it is spiritual adultery. It is a profound act of covenantal unfaithfulness. Judah had a treaty, a covenant, with Yahweh of hosts, the God who had delivered them from Egypt in the first place. And now, in their moment of crisis, they are running back to the house of bondage for help. They are trusting in the strength of flesh, in the number of chariots, in the speed of horses, instead of trusting in the Holy One of Israel.
This is a perennial temptation for the people of God. When the pressure is on, when the enemy is at the gates, our first instinct is to look for an Egyptian solution. We look to political maneuvering, to financial security, to technological fixes, to human ingenuity. We trust in the visible, the tangible, the things we think we can control. And in so doing, we despise the invisible, sovereign God who holds the nations in His hand like a drop in a bucket.
Into this situation of faithless panic, Isaiah brings a word from the Lord. And it is a stunning word. It is a word that reveals the very character of God in two powerful, seemingly contradictory, images. God is coming to save His people, but His salvation is not tame. It is not safe in the way we think of safety. It is a terrifying and tender deliverance.
The Text
For thus says Yahweh to me,
"As the lion or the young lion growls over its prey,
Against which a multitude of shepherds is called out,
And it will not be dismayed at their voice nor afflicted at their noise,
So will Yahweh of hosts come down to wage war on Mount Zion and on its hill."
Like flying birds so Yahweh of hosts will defend Jerusalem.
He will defend and deliver it;
He will pass over and provide a way of escape.
(Isaiah 31:4-5)
The Immovable Lion (v. 4)
We begin with the first image, which is one of raw, immovable, terrifying power.
"For thus says Yahweh to me, 'As the lion or the young lion growls over its prey, Against which a multitude of shepherds is called out, And it will not be dismayed at their voice nor afflicted at their noise, So will Yahweh of hosts come down to wage war on Mount Zion and on its hill.'" (Isaiah 31:4)
The first thing to notice is who is speaking. This is Yahweh, the covenant keeping God. And He compares Himself to a lion, the king of beasts, in the fullness of its strength. The lion has its prey. It is standing over it, and it is growling. This is a low, guttural, possessive rumble that says, "This is mine."
Now, who is the prey? The text tells us that Yahweh is coming down to Mount Zion. Jerusalem, His covenant city, is the prey. This should stop us in our tracks. God is a predator, and we are His prize. This is not a comfortable image. But it is a profoundly comforting one, if you understand it correctly. The lion is not growling because it is about to devour Jerusalem. It is growling because a pack of scavengers is trying to steal its kill. The "multitude of shepherds" is the Assyrian army, with all their commanders, all their noise, all their shouting, and all their clatter. They have come to steal what belongs to Yahweh.
And what is the lion's reaction? He "will not be dismayed at their voice nor afflicted at their noise." The lion is utterly unimpressed. The commotion of the shepherds is an irrelevance. All the combined military might of the Assyrian empire is nothing more than a bothersome noise to the Lion of Judah. He does not flinch. He does not startle. He does not even lift his head. He simply stands his ground, over his possession, and growls.
This is the picture of God's jealous, sovereign love for His people. He has claimed us. He has purchased us. And He will not be moved. When the world, the flesh, and the devil come against us with all their noise and fury, the Lord of hosts stands over us, and He is not intimidated. Our security does not rest in our ability to fight off the shepherds, but in the fact that we belong to the Lion.
Notice the final phrase: "So will Yahweh of hosts come down to wage war on Mount Zion and on its hill." God Himself is the warrior. He is not sending an angel, He is not dispatching an army. He is coming down personally. And He is fighting the battle on His own turf, on His holy mountain. This is a defensive war for what is His. He is reclaiming His territory from the squatters and thieves. This is a terrifying prospect for God's enemies, and it ought to be a profound comfort for God's people. Our God is not a distant, passive observer. He is a warrior Lion who fights for His own.
The Hovering Bird (v. 5)
Just when we have this image of a fearsome, grounded predator fixed in our minds, the metaphor shifts dramatically. The perspective moves from the ground to the air.
"Like flying birds so Yahweh of hosts will defend Jerusalem. He will defend and deliver it; He will pass over and provide a way of escape." (Isaiah 31:5)
From a lion, God becomes like "flying birds." The image is likely of a mother bird, hovering, circling, fluttering over her nest, protecting her young. If the lion represents immovable strength, the bird represents swift, agile, and comprehensive protection. The bird sees everything from above. It can dive in an instant to ward off a predator. It covers the nest with its wings. This is a picture of intimate, tender, and vigilant care.
Isaiah then unpacks this defense with a rapid fire sequence of four verbs that build on each other. This is the multifaceted nature of God's salvation.
First, "He will defend" it. This means to shield, to cover, to place a protective hedge around Jerusalem. It is a promise of encompassing protection.
Second, "He will deliver" it. This means to rescue, to snatch away. This implies that the danger is real and imminent. The enemy gets close, but God plucks His people out of the jaws of death.
Third, "He will pass over" it. This word is the key to the whole passage. The Hebrew is pasach, the verb from which we get the noun Pesach, or Passover. Isaiah is deliberately taking his readers back to the Exodus. He is reminding them of that night in Egypt when the angel of death went through the land, striking down the firstborn. The only thing that saved the Israelites was the blood of the lamb on their doorposts. When the destroyer saw the blood, he passed over that house. God is promising a new Passover. He is going to make a distinction. He will bring judgment on the Assyrian army, but He will pass over His own people. His protection is not arbitrary; it is a covenantal, blood-bought protection.
Fourth, He will "provide a way of escape." This means He will bring them to safety. It is not just about surviving the threat, but being brought through it into a place of security. God does not just stop the attack; He completes the rescue.
Conclusion: The Terrible Tenderness of the Cross
So how do we reconcile these two images? Is God a ferocious lion or a tender mother bird? The answer is yes. He is both. His love for His people has two sides. Toward our enemies, it is a terrifying, consuming fire. Toward us, it is a gentle, watchful care. He is the Lion of the Tribe of Judah, and He is also the one who gathers His chicks under His wings.
This is the character of our Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He is the Lion who roared from the cross, declaring "It is finished," having crushed the head of the serpent. He is the one who, with immovable resolve, secured His prey, His bride, the Church. And all the noise and clamor of hell and its minions could not dismay Him or move Him from His purpose. He has us, and He will not let us go.
And at the same time, He is the one who lamented over this very same Jerusalem, saying, "how often I wanted to gather your children together, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were unwilling." He is the one who hovers over His church, defending, delivering, and providing a way of escape from every trial and temptation.
The central point, the hinge on which everything turns, is that word "pass over." Our safety from the judgment we deserve is not based on our own merit. It is not because we are better than the Assyrians or the Egyptians. Our only safety is found in being covered by the blood. The first Passover was a shadow. The reality is the blood of Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, shed for us. When God the Father looks at us, He sees the blood of His Son, and the judgment we earned passes over us and falls on Christ instead.
Therefore, the message of Isaiah to Judah is God's message to us today. Stop trying to make deals with Egypt. Stop trusting in the arm of the flesh. Your frantic efforts to save yourself are an insult to the God who has pledged Himself to be your Lion and your Shield. Repent of your self-reliance. Abandon your worldly alliances. Flee for refuge to the one who is both terrible and tender. Hide yourself under the shadow of His wings, and trust in the growl of the Lion who holds you fast. Your only security is in the Passover love of God, demonstrated for all time at the cross of Jesus Christ.