Commentary - Isaiah 39:5-8

Bird's-eye view

This brief and sobering passage concludes the historical narrative concerning Hezekiah, a section that began with the glorious deliverance from Sennacherib in chapter 36. After a great victory and a miraculous healing, Hezekiah, in a moment of profound foolishness, succumbs to pride. He shows off all his treasures to envoys from Babylon, a rising power but at that time not yet the great beast of empire. Isaiah the prophet confronts the king, not with a word of counsel, but with a word of judgment. The very treasures Hezekiah boasted in, and even his own descendants, will be carried off to the very place he was trying to impress. The judgment is absolute and devastating. Hezekiah's response to this terrible prophecy is, on the surface, pious, but underneath it reveals a startlingly selfish and short-sighted perspective. He is relieved that the disaster will not happen in his own lifetime. This passage serves as a crucial hinge in the book of Isaiah, pivoting from the Assyrian crisis to the future Babylonian exile, and it stands as a stark warning against the pride that so often follows great blessing.

The core of the passage is a confrontation between a prideful king and a faithful prophet. It demonstrates the unerring nature of God's prophetic word and the principle that God's judgment is always tailored to the sin. Hezekiah's sin was boasting in his material wealth and political security, so the judgment is the stripping of that very wealth and security. His response reveals a failure to think covenantally, to care for the future of his people and his own seed. It is a grim portrait of a good king's bad moment, a warning that a long track record of faithfulness is no guarantee against a disqualifying fall into pride.


Outline


Context In Isaiah

Isaiah 39 is the capstone of the historical section that runs from chapter 36 through 39. This section has detailed the faithfulness of God in the face of the Assyrian threat. God delivered Jerusalem miraculously from Sennacherib's army, and He miraculously extended Hezekiah's life by fifteen years. These are monumental acts of divine grace. Chapter 39, therefore, occurs in the immediate aftermath of God's greatest blessings upon Hezekiah. The king's prideful display to the Babylonian envoys is a tragic letdown, a squandering of the moment. This chapter provides the narrative and theological justification for the great shift that occurs in the book beginning in chapter 40. The first 39 chapters have largely dealt with the threat of Assyria and the sins of Judah in that context. But with this prophecy of exile to Babylon, the stage is set for the second half of the book, which will speak comfort to a people in exile and promise a glorious restoration through the suffering servant, the Messiah. This chapter is the dark valley that must be crossed to get to the sunlit uplands of Isaiah 40 and following.


Key Issues


The Good Word of Judgment

When a prophet of God delivers a message of utter calamity, the appropriate response is repentance, mourning, and intercession. When Isaiah tells Hezekiah that his sons will be made eunuchs in a foreign court and his entire treasury will be plundered, the king replies, "The word of Yahweh which you have spoken is good." On the surface, this sounds like humble submission. It sounds like Eli's response to Samuel: "It is the Lord. Let him do what seems good to him" (1 Sam. 3:18). But the motive clause that follows reveals the rotten core of Hezekiah's thinking: "For there will be peace and truth in my days."

This is not true submission. This is the sigh of relief from a man who has just been told that the fire insurance policy on his house is being canceled, but not until the day after he dies. It is a profoundly selfish response. He does not grieve for his sons. He does not plead for the nation. He does not tear his clothes for the dishonor that will come upon the house of David. He simply calculates that the disaster will not touch him personally. This is the kind of "goodness" that mistakes personal comfort for divine blessing. It is a failure to love his neighbor, and his closest neighbors at that, his own children. It is a failure to think and feel covenantally. The judgment of God is indeed "good" in that it is just and righteous, but for the man who is the object of that judgment, the only "good" response is to be crushed by it in repentance.


Verse by Verse Commentary

5 Then Isaiah said to Hezekiah, “Hear the word of Yahweh of hosts,

The confrontation begins with a summons. Isaiah does not offer his personal opinion or political analysis. He demands the king's attention for a direct oracle from God. The title used for God here is significant: Yahweh of hosts, or the Lord of Armies. This is the God who commands the armies of heaven, the God who had just obliterated 185,000 Assyrian soldiers. Hezekiah had been the beneficiary of this military might. Now, that same authority is being turned against him. The God who is mighty to save is also mighty to judge. Hezekiah had just been acting like a big shot in front of the Babylonians; now he is reminded who the real commander-in-chief is.

6 ‘Behold, the days are coming when all that is in your house and all that your fathers have treasured up to this day will be carried to Babylon; nothing will be left,’ says Yahweh.

The prophecy is breathtaking in its scope and precision. Hezekiah had just shown the Babylonians "everything" in his house and treasury (v. 2). God's judgment is perfectly symmetrical to the sin. You boasted in "all" your treasure? "All" of it will be taken. You were so proud of what your fathers had accumulated? That specific, generational wealth will be plundered. And where will it go? To Babylon, the very nation you sought to impress. This was not an obvious prediction. At this point in history, Assyria was the undisputed superpower, and Babylon was a secondary player. But God, who declares the end from the beginning, sees the course of empires. The judgment is total: nothing will be left. This is not a mere tax or tribute; it is utter desolation. The word is sealed with the divine signature: "says Yahweh." This is not a possibility; it is a certainty.

7 ‘And some of your sons who will issue from you, whom you will beget, will be taken away, and they will become officials in the palace of the king of Babylon.’

The judgment cuts even deeper. It moves from Hezekiah's possessions to his posterity. The Hebrew is emphatic: "your sons who will issue from you, whom you will beget." This is not an abstract threat against a distant generation; it is a direct consequence for his own lineage. The Davidic throne, the covenant with David, was about sons who would sit on the throne. Now, those sons will be carried off. And their fate is one of deep humiliation. They will become officials in the Babylonian palace, a word that is often translated as "eunuchs." Whether this means literal castration or simply high-ranking court service, the point is the same. The royal seed of David, meant to rule in Jerusalem, will be servants in a pagan court, cut off from their inheritance and their future. This is a direct reversal of the covenantal promise. Daniel and his friends Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah were the historical fulfillment of this very prophecy (Dan 1:1-7).

8 Then Hezekiah said to Isaiah, “The word of Yahweh which you have spoken is good.” For he said, “For there will be peace and truth in my days.”

Here is the sad conclusion. Hezekiah offers a pious-sounding platitude: "The word of Yahweh... is good." And in one sense, it is. God's judgments are always good because they are always just. But the king's reasoning, which Matthew Henry called the "but" that qualifies his submission, exposes his heart. He is not thinking of God's glory, or the future of the covenant people, or the fate of his own children. He is thinking about himself. His horizon of concern extends only to the end of his own life. As long as he can have peace and truth, or security and stability, in his lifetime, he is content. This is the classic sin of the disconnected father, the man who eats his seed corn. He received a glorious inheritance and a miraculous deliverance, but he is content to let the next generation face the consequences of his foolish pride. It is a tragic end to the story of an otherwise good king, a man who started so well but stumbled badly at the finish line.


Application

The story of Hezekiah's fall is a story for all of us, and particularly for those who have experienced God's blessing. Success and deliverance are often more dangerous to our souls than affliction and persecution. When God gives us victory, or prosperity, or healing, the temptation is to do exactly what Hezekiah did: to subtly begin to take credit for it, to show it off, to treat it as our own possession rather than a stewardship from God. Pride is the native language of the fallen heart, and it is always listening for an opportunity to speak up.

We must also take to heart the warning about generational thinking. Hezekiah's attitude of "peace in my time" is a sin that plagues the modern church. We are often content with our own spiritual comfort, our own sound doctrine, our own stable congregations, while giving little thought to the catastrophic spiritual inheritance we are leaving for our children and grandchildren. We make compromises with the world, we boast in our programs and budgets, and we are relieved as long as the inevitable collapse doesn't happen on our watch. A true man of God, a true father, a true pastor, is always thinking about the next generation. He plants trees whose shade he will never enjoy. He fights battles for the sake of his great-grandchildren's freedom. Hezekiah's response was "good" in a formal sense, but it was a heartless good. Our response to God's word must be more than formally correct; it must be broken, contrite, and full of love for those who will come after us.

The ultimate answer to Hezekiah's failure is found in a greater Son of David, one who did not seek peace in His own days. Jesus Christ faced the ultimate judgment not for His own pride, but for ours. He did not say, "Let this cup pass from me, as long as I am safe." He drank the cup of God's wrath to the dregs so that future generations, His spiritual sons and daughters, might have everlasting peace and truth. He was carried off, not to Babylon, but to the cross. He was made a curse for us, so that the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles. He is the king who perfectly loved the next generation, and the one after that, and He secured our inheritance not with gold and silver, but with His own precious blood.