Commentary - Isaiah 40:6-8

Bird's-eye view

Here in Isaiah 40, the prophet is pivoting. After thirty-nine chapters of judgment, law, and the impending doom of a rebellious people, the theme turns to comfort. "Comfort, comfort my people," the chapter begins. Our passage is central to this theme. The comfort offered is not a flimsy, sentimental pat on the head. It is a comfort grounded in the bedrock reality of who God is and what He has said, contrasted sharply with the fleeting, ephemeral nature of man. The voice cries out, and the message to be cried is this great antithesis: man is grass, but the Word of God is forever. This is the only foundation for true and lasting comfort. All other ground is sinking sand.

The structure of this brief word is a divine command, a human question, and a divine answer that unfolds in three stages. First, the general principle is stated: all flesh is grass. Second, the reason for this withering is given: the breath of Yahweh blows on it. Third, the glorious counterpoint is declared: the Word of our God stands forever. This is not just a statement about the frailty of human life; it is a profound theological declaration about where ultimate reality is to be found. It is not in us, our plans, our empires, or our fleeting affections. It is in God and His unshakeable Word.

Outline

Context In Isaiah

Isaiah 40 marks a significant shift in the book. The first thirty-nine chapters are often called the "Book of Judgment," focusing on the sin of Judah and the surrounding nations, and the coming Assyrian and Babylonian exiles. But with chapter 40, we enter what is often called the "Book of Consolation." The exile is assumed, and the prophet is speaking a word of comfort and hope about a future restoration. The glory of the Lord is coming (40:5), and a highway is being prepared in the desert for our God.

Our text, verses 6-8, provides the theological anchor for this comfort. Why can a people in exile, a people who are like withered grass, have any hope at all? Because hope is not located in their own strength or faithfulness, which is as fleeting as a wildflower. Hope is located in the character and promises of God. The God who speaks is the God who creates the cosmos out of nothing (40:12ff). His Word, therefore, is not subject to the decay and death that characterizes all flesh. This contrast is fundamental to everything that follows in Isaiah, culminating in the work of the Suffering Servant who secures this everlasting promise.

Verse by Verse Commentary

v. 6 A voice says, “Call out.” Then he answered, “What shall I call out?” All flesh is grass, and all its lovingkindness is like the flower of the field.

The scene opens with an authoritative, albeit unidentified, voice. This is the way God often works, through proclamation. A word comes from outside our own experience. The command is simple and direct: "Call out." Preach. Proclaim. Shout it from the rooftops. Christianity is a revealed religion, which means it is a proclaimed religion. It is not something we discover through introspection; it is something that must be declared to us.

The prophet, or perhaps another heavenly voice, responds with a question that every faithful preacher must ask: "What shall I call out?" This is not a question of reluctance, but of fidelity. It is a recognition that the messenger does not invent the message. The content is not his to determine. He must be given the words to say. This is the humble posture of all who would speak for God.

And the message given is a bucket of cold water in the face of all human pride. "All flesh is grass." Take all of humanity, in all its pomp and circumstance, all its empires and armies, all its art and literature, all its technological marvels and philosophical systems, and lay it all out. What is it? It is a field of grass. It is here today, green and growing, and gone tomorrow. The word for "lovingkindness" here (hesed) is striking. Even the best of man, his covenant faithfulness, his loyalty, his virtue, is like the flower of the field. It is beautiful, yes, but fragile and temporary. It cannot be the basis of our hope.

v. 7 The grass withers, the flower fades, When the breath of Yahweh blows upon it; Surely the people are grass.

Now we are told why the grass withers. It is not simply the natural course of things, a blind process of decay. No, the grass withers "when the breath of Yahweh blows upon it." This is a staggering statement. The same divine breath (ruach) that hovered over the waters in creation (Gen. 1:2) and was breathed into Adam's nostrils (Gen. 2:7) is here a searing, withering wind. This is the hot wind of God's holiness, His judgment. Our frailty is not an unfortunate cosmic accident; it is a judicial sentence. We are mortal because we are sinners. The breath of God gives life, but against sin, that same breath is a consuming fire.

And just in case we missed the point, the prophet drives it home with a hammer blow: "Surely the people are grass." This is not an abstract philosophical point. This is about you. This is about your family, your nation, your civilization. We are the grass. Our plans are the grass. Our political solutions are the grass. Our cultural achievements are the grass. And the wind of God is blowing.

v. 8 The grass withers, the flower fades, But the word of our God stands forever.

Here is the great turn, the glorious "but." The verse begins by repeating the hard truth: "The grass withers, the flower fades." We must feel the weight of this. We must accept the verdict on all human endeavor apart from God. There is no hope in the flesh. But then comes the anchor for the soul. "But the word of our God stands forever." The Hebrew word for "stands" means to rise, to stand up, to endure. While everything else is falling, fading, and failing, one thing remains erect, unshakeable, and eternal: the Word of God.

This is the foundation of all Christian hope and comfort. Our salvation does not depend on the strength of our faithfulness (which is a fading flower), but on the strength of God's Word of promise. His decree of election, His covenant of grace, His promise of a Messiah, His gospel declared, this is what stands. The apostle Peter quotes this very passage and applies it directly to the gospel: "and this word is the good news that was preached to you" (1 Peter 1:25). The ephemeral nature of man makes the gospel necessary, and the eternal nature of God's Word makes the gospel possible and certain. All our striving is grass, but the finished work of Christ, declared in the Word, stands forever.

Application

The application of this text is both humbling and exhilarating. First, we must be humbled. We are grass. Our culture, with its frantic pursuit of self-esteem and its worship of human potential, is a field of wildflowers deluding itself into thinking it is a forest of oaks. We must repent of our pride, our self-reliance, and our attempts to build our little towers of Babel. Our political hopes, our trust in technology, our confidence in our own righteousness, it is all grass, and the hot wind of God is blowing.

But second, we must be exhilarated. Because we are not left in a field of withering grass. We have a Word from God, a promise that stands forever. Our hope is not in ourselves, but in the objective, external, unshakeable reality of God's promise in Christ. Therefore, we must build our lives, our families, our churches, and our communities on this Word. We must read it, study it, preach it, sing it, and obey it. When everything around us is shaking, when cultures crumble and nations fall, we have a kingdom that cannot be shaken because it is founded on a Word that cannot fail.

This is the only true comfort. Not that we are strong, but that His Word is. Not that we are faithful, but that He is. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the Word of our God, the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, stands forever. Amen.