The Anatomy of a Godly Response Text: Isaiah 36:21-22
Introduction: When Hell Opens Its Mouth
We live in an age of chatter, an era of endless noise. Every man has a microphone, and most of what is broadcast is the static of rebellion. The enemies of God are not silent. They do not whisper their blasphemies in corners; they shout them from the rooftops, they broadcast them into our homes, and they teach them in our schools. And the great temptation for the people of God is either to get down in the mud and start shouting back with the same carnal weapons, or to be so intimidated by the volume and vitriol that we simply collapse in despair.
The scene before us in Isaiah 36 is the culmination of this kind of full-throated assault. The Rabshakeh, who is the chief cupbearer or field commander for Sennacherib, the king of Assyria, has just unleashed a torrent of psychological, political, and theological warfare against the people of Judah. He has done it in their own language, Hebrew, so that every man on the wall could understand. His message was a masterpiece of satanic propaganda. He mocked their military strength, he mocked their political alliances, he mocked their king, and most importantly, he mocked their God. He claimed that Jehovah was no different from the tin-pot gods of the nations Assyria had already crushed. He offered them a false gospel of worldly peace and prosperity, a life of eating their own figs if they would just surrender to the great king, the man-god, Sennacherib.
This is not ancient history. This is the perennial strategy of the enemy. The spirit of the Rabshakeh is alive and well. He stands outside the walls of the church today and shouts in the common tongue. He tells you that your faith is futile, that your God is weak, that your leaders are deceiving you, and that the smart move is to make a separate peace with the world. He promises you security and comfort if you will just bow the knee to the secular state, to sexual liberation, to whatever idol is currently occupying the high places.
The question for us is the same question that faced the men on that wall. When the enemy unleashes his propaganda campaign, when the blasphemies are flying thick and fast, how do we respond? What does a faithful, courageous, and wise response look like? In these two short verses, we are given a master class in godly conduct under extreme pressure. We see a threefold response: disciplined silence, honest grief, and faithful reporting. This is the anatomy of a godly response, and it is a pattern we must learn to imitate.
The Text
But they were silent and answered him not a word, for the king’s commandment was, “Do not answer him.” Then Eliakim the son of Hilkiah, who was over the household, and Shebna the scribe, and Joah the son of Asaph, the recorder, came to Hezekiah with their clothes torn and told him the words of Rabshakeh.
(Isaiah 36:21-22 LSB)
Disciplined Silence (v. 21)
We begin with the first part of their response, which was no response at all.
"But they were silent and answered him not a word, for the king’s commandment was, 'Do not answer him.'" (Isaiah 36:21)
This is a magnificent silence. This is not the silence of fear, or the silence of cowardice, or the silence of having nothing to say. This is the silence of discipline, the silence of wisdom, and the silence of obedience. The Rabshakeh’s entire speech was designed to provoke a reaction. He was trolling. He wanted them to get into a shouting match. He wanted them to defend themselves, to argue, to reveal their fears, to give him more ammunition. And they refused to play his game.
Notice the reason for their silence: "for the king’s commandment was, 'Do not answer him.'" This was an act of submission to their lawful authority, King Hezekiah. A godly leader had given them a wise command, and they obeyed it. This is crucial. In times of crisis, God’s people must be disciplined and orderly. We are an army, not a mob. Hezekiah understood that to get into a debate with a blasphemer on his own terms is to grant his premise. Some arguments are not meant to be answered, but rather to be ignored. To answer a fool according to his folly is to become like him (Prov. 26:4).
The Rabshakeh was not looking for a reasonable discussion about comparative religion. He was vomiting filth on the name of the living God. You do not reason with vomit; you get out of the way. There is a time to speak, and a time to be silent (Eccl. 3:7). And wisdom knows the difference. Our temptation is often to feel that every lie must be answered, every accusation refuted, right then and there. But sometimes the most powerful statement you can make is a dignified, disciplined silence. It communicates that the accuser is not worthy of a response. It shows that your confidence is not in your own cleverness or debating skills, but in God. Jesus Himself modeled this before His accusers. Before Caiaphas, before Pilate, before Herod, He was often silent, a lamb before His shearers (Isaiah 53:7).
This is a lesson for our digital age. The internet is one giant Rabshakeh platform. It is filled with mockers who want to draw you into endless, fruitless, soul-sucking arguments. Hezekiah’s command is a word for us: "Do not answer him." Do not get into a flame war. Do not cast your pearls before swine. Your silence can be a far more powerful testimony than your most well-crafted retort, because it shows that you are not rattled. Your trust is elsewhere.
Honest Grief (v. 22a)
Their silence was external, but it did not mean they were unaffected internally. Their next action reveals the true state of their hearts.
"Then Eliakim the son of Hilkiah, who was over the household, and Shebna the scribe, and Joah the son of Asaph, the recorder, came to Hezekiah with their clothes torn..." (Isaiah 36:22a)
Eliakim, Shebna, and Joah, the three officials who had been sent to negotiate, returned to the king with their clothes torn. Tearing one’s garments in the Old Testament was a visceral, outward expression of profound grief, horror, or righteous indignation. Jacob did it when he thought Joseph was dead (Gen. 37:34). The high priest did it when he accused Jesus of blasphemy (Matt. 26:65). This was not melodrama. This was heartbreak.
What were they grieving? They were not just grieving the military threat. They were not just afraid for their lives and their city. They were horrified because the name of their God, the holy God of Israel, had been publicly dragged through the mud. They had heard the Creator of the heavens and the earth compared to the cheap idols of Hamath and Arpad. Their grief was theological. It was a holy sorrow born out of zeal for the glory of God. They had a right sense of the sacred, and they were shattered to hear it profaned.
This is a diagnostic question for us. What tears our clothes? What breaks our hearts? We get upset when our political party loses, when our team fumbles on the one-yard line, when our stock portfolio takes a hit. But are we undone when the name of Christ is blasphemed? Does the rampant idolatry and public wickedness of our nation cause us genuine, heartfelt grief? Or have we grown so accustomed to it, so calloused by the constant stream of filth, that it no longer registers? These men had soft hearts. They were not stoics. Their disciplined silence was not a sign of apathy. It was the necessary restraint that allowed them to bring their grief to the right place.
Their sorrow was not despair. It was the kind of grief that drives a man to his knees. It is the sorrow that says, "I cannot fix this. This is an offense against heaven. This is a matter for God." And that is precisely where they take it.
Faithful Reporting (v. 22b)
The final part of their response is to report the matter to the king.
"...and told him the words of Rabshakeh." (Isaiah 36:22b)
This seems simple, but it is deeply significant. They did not edit the report. They did not soften the blow. They did not try to handle it themselves. They took the blasphemous words, in all their ugliness, and laid them before the king. Why? Because Hezekiah was God’s ordained authority. He was the one responsible for leading the nation in a covenantal response. They were not a law unto themselves. They understood their place in the structure of authority God had established.
And what did Hezekiah do? The very next verse tells us that when he heard it, he also tore his clothes, covered himself with sackcloth, and went into the house of the Lord (Isa. 37:1). And from there, he sent these same men to the prophet Isaiah. The report went up the chain of command, from the people on the wall, to the officials, to the king, and from the king to the prophet and to God Himself in the Temple. This is the divine order. The problem was taken to the proper authorities, both civil and ecclesiastical.
This is how the church is to function. When we are confronted with grievous sin or blasphemous attacks, we are not to act as lone vigilantes. We are to bring the matter to the leadership of the church. We report the matter to the elders, who are charged with guarding the flock and seeking the mind of the Lord. The response to a corporate threat must be a corporate response, led by those whom God has appointed. Eliakim, Shebna, and Joah are models of faithful subordinates. They obeyed the command to be silent, and they fulfilled their duty to report.
Conclusion: From Torn Garments to a Torn Veil
So we see the pattern. Disciplined silence in the face of the mocker. Heartfelt grief over the profaning of God’s name. And a faithful report to God’s appointed authorities. This is the way of wisdom. This is the path of faith.
But the story does not end with torn garments. It points us to a greater story. These men tore their robes because they heard the living God blasphemed by a pagan. Centuries later, in that same city, the high priest Caiaphas would tear his robes when he heard the living God, standing before him in the flesh, speak the truth (Matt. 26:65). Caiaphas rent his garments in a wicked display of false piety, condemning the Holy One as a blasphemer.
And in that moment, when Jesus was condemned on the basis of that false charge, He was taking the filth of the Rabshakeh, and the filth of Caiaphas, and the filth of all our blasphemous hearts upon Himself. He stood silent before His accusers, the ultimate fulfillment of Hezekiah’s command. He bore the grief, not just for a blasphemous speech, but for the sin of the whole world.
And when He gave up His spirit on the cross, another garment was torn. Not a man’s robe, but the great veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom (Matt. 27:51). This was God’s answer to all the blasphemies of men. This was God tearing open the way into His own presence, through the broken body of His Son. Hezekiah’s men tore their clothes in horror at the gulf between a holy God and a profane world. God tore the veil to bridge that gulf forever.
Therefore, when the Rabshakehs of our day shout their taunts, we can be silent, not in fear, but in faith. We can grieve, not in despair, but in hope. And we can report the matter to our King, Jesus, who has already won the decisive victory. He has defeated Sennacherib, and every spiritual Sennacherib, and He will one day return to silence every blasphemous tongue for good. Our job is to trust Him, to obey His commands, and to stand together in disciplined faith until that day.