Gospel Botany: The Joy of the Redeemed Text: Isaiah 35:1-2
Introduction: The Eschatology of Barrenness
We live in an age that has cultivated a peculiar affection for the desert. Our secular prophets, our poets, our filmmakers, and our academics all love to tell us that the world is a wilderness, a meaningless expanse of cosmic dust, a parched land with no water and no direction. They have embraced an eschatology of barrenness. For them, the wasteland is not a problem to be solved; it is the final truth of our condition. They tell us to find beauty in the desolation, to make our peace with the void. And so they wander in their self-made deserts, kicking at the sand, calling it freedom, while they die of thirst.
This is the great lie of our time: that the curse is ultimate. That the thistles of Genesis 3 have the final word. That sin, decay, and death are the fundamental grammar of the universe. And many Christians, tragically, have bought into a baptized version of this same lie. Their eschatology is one of grim retreat, of hunkering down in a beleaguered bunker, waiting for the cavalry to arrive and evacuate them from a world that is hopelessly lost. They see the desert, and they see it winning. They believe the church is destined to lose until the very last moment. They have a gospel that can save souls for the hereafter but cannot make a crocus bloom in the here and now.
Into this twin desert of secular despair and evangelical pessimism, the prophet Isaiah speaks a word of explosive, world-altering hope. This is not a quiet, sentimental hope. It is a loud, boisterous, and verdant hope. It is a promise that the gospel of Jesus Christ is not a fire escape from a burning building, but rather the living water that turns the entire desert into a garden. The message of Isaiah 35 is that God's redemption is not just spiritual, but cosmic. It is not just about souls; it is about soil. It is a promise that where the grace of God goes, the glory of God grows, and it does so in the most visible, tangible, and joyful ways imaginable. This is gospel botany, and it is the only true hope for a world dying of thirst.
The Text
The wilderness and the desert will be delighted, And the Arabah will rejoice and flourish; Like the crocus it will flourish profusely and rejoice with rejoicing and shout of joy. The glory of Lebanon will be given to it, The majesty of Carmel and Sharon. They will see the glory of Yahweh, The majesty of our God.
(Isaiah 35:1-2 LSB)
Delighted Deserts (v. 1)
We begin with the radical transformation of the cursed ground.
"The wilderness and the desert will be delighted, And the Arabah will rejoice and flourish; Like the crocus..." (Isaiah 35:1)
The prophet stacks up his terms for desolation. The wilderness, the desert, the Arabah, which is that great, salty wasteland down by the Dead Sea. This is the landscape of the curse. This is the world under judgment, the world east of Eden. It is the visual representation of man's spiritual state apart from God: dry, barren, hostile to life, and utterly unproductive. And what is the prophecy? That these very places will be "delighted" and will "rejoice."
This is not poetic fluff. This is covenant theology. The ground was cursed for man's sake (Gen. 3:17). The fate of the soil is tied to the spiritual state of man. When man is in rebellion, the ground sprouts thorns and thistles. The world becomes a wilderness. But when God redeems man, that redemption overflows and begins to heal the very land he stands on. The delight of the desert is the direct consequence of the delight of the redeemed. As the gospel advances, as men and women are brought out of their spiritual desert into the garden of fellowship with God, the effects of that redemption begin to show up in the created order.
This is a profoundly postmillennial promise. It is not speaking of a sudden renovation after a secret rapture. It is describing the progressive, historical impact of the kingdom of God spreading like leaven through the lump, like a seed growing into a great tree. The gospel makes things grow. It makes families grow. It makes churches grow. It makes civilizations grow. And it makes the desert bloom. The Arabah rejoices because the grace of God is not a sterile concept; it is a life-giving power. The flourishing is compared to a crocus, a flower that often pushes up through the last of the snow. It is a picture of new life bursting forth in the most unlikely and hostile of environments. That is what the church does in the world. It is a crocus in the snow.
Exuberant Joy (v. 2a)
The prophet is not content with mere flourishing. He insists on joy, and a loud joy at that.
"...it will flourish profusely and rejoice with rejoicing and shout of joy." (Isaiah 35:2a)
Notice the repetition. It will flourish, and flourish profusely. It will rejoice, and it will rejoice with rejoicing. And on top of that, it will "shout of joy." This is the Hebrew way of hitting the accent mark. This is not the quiet satisfaction of a stoic. This is the uninhibited, roaring laughter of a barren woman who has just given birth to a son. This is Sarah's laughter. This is the joy of the redeemed.
Christianity in the West has become far too quiet, too respectable, too beige. We have been taught a piety of the library, a faith of quiet introspection. But the biblical picture of faith is one of feasting, singing, and shouting. When God saves His people, the appropriate response is not a polite golf clap but a jubilant shout. The joy described here is objective and corporate. It is the creation itself, personified, erupting in praise for its Maker and Redeemer.
This is what happens when the glory of the gospel is truly understood. When you realize that your sins are forgiven, that death has been defanged, that the Spirit of God dwells in you, and that the kingdom of Christ is an ever-advancing, world-conquering reality, the only sane response is to "rejoice with rejoicing and shout of joy." This is the emotional fuel of the Great Commission. We go to the nations not with a grim sense of duty, but with an irrepressible joy. We are not selling a product; we are announcing the victory of our King, a victory so great that it makes the very deserts dance and sing.
Borrowed Glory (v. 2b)
Next, the prophet describes the quality of this new life. It is not just life, but glorious life.
"The glory of Lebanon will be given to it, The majesty of Carmel and Sharon." (Isaiah 35:2b)
In the Old Testament landscape, these were the exemplars of created beauty and fruitfulness. Lebanon was famous for its magnificent, towering cedars, a symbol of strength and majesty. Carmel was a lush, green mountain, a byword for beauty. The Plain of Sharon was known for its rich pastures and abundant flowers. These were the prime real estate, the garden spots of the promised land.
And the promise is that this glory, this majesty, will be given to the desert. The wasteland will not just get a little better; it will be invested with the very best of God's creation. This is a crucial principle of redemption. God does not simply restore us to our factory settings. He does not just take us back to Eden. He glorifies us. The redemption we have in Christ is greater than the innocence Adam lost in the garden. The church, the new creation, is destined for a greater glory than the first creation ever knew.
The glory of Lebanon is given to the church. The majesty of Carmel is given to the Christian family. The fruitfulness of Sharon is given to the Christian community. The gospel does not produce a minimalist, subsistence-level righteousness. It produces an abundant, overflowing, glorious righteousness that transforms everything it touches. The world was made good, but through Christ, it is being made glorious.
The Source of It All (v. 2c)
Finally, Isaiah reveals the engine driving this entire transformation. Where does all this life, joy, and glory come from?
"They will see the glory of Yahweh, The majesty of our God." (Isaiah 35:2c)
This is the absolute center. The desert blooms because they see the glory of God. The joy erupts because they see the glory of God. The glory of Lebanon is given because they see the glory of God. This is the beatific vision, and it is the cause of all cosmic restoration. Transformation follows revelation. You cannot get the fruit of verses 1 and 2a without the root of verse 2c.
And where do we see the glory of Yahweh? The New Testament is emphatic. We see it in the face of Jesus Christ. "For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ" (2 Corinthians 4:6). Jesus is the glory of God made visible. He is the Word made flesh. He is the majesty of God tabernacling among us.
The flourishing of the world is directly proportional to the church's vision of Christ. When the church has a high and glorious vision of her King, when she preaches a robust and sovereign Christ, the world begins to bloom. When her vision of Christ is low, sentimental, and man-centered, the desert remains a desert. The world is not transformed by our programs, our techniques, or our political savvy. The world is transformed when men and women, by faith, see the glory of our God in the face of His Son.
This seeing is not a passive glance. It is a soul-altering gaze. To see His glory is to be changed by it, from one degree of glory to another (2 Cor. 3:18). This is the engine of sanctification, and it is the engine of civilization. As we behold Him, we are changed, and as we are changed, we become agents of His restorative, life-giving power in every sphere of life. The desert blooms when the church is captivated by the majesty of her God.