The Divine Satire Text: Isaiah 40:18-20
Introduction: The Ultimate Mismatch
We live in an age of profound confusion, but our confusion is not new. It is the ancient, perennial confusion of man. The fundamental question that every man, every society, and every generation must answer is this: who is God? And flowing directly from that, who are we in relation to Him? Get that question wrong, and you get everything else wrong. Get it right, and everything else begins to fall into its proper place. Our modern world is a grand and tragic testament to getting it spectacularly wrong. We have exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images, for ideologies, for political saviors, and for the worship of the self. We are drowning in idolatry, and we call it freedom.
Isaiah 40 is a chapter of immense comfort. It begins with "Comfort, comfort my people, says your God." But we must understand the nature of this comfort. It is not the cheap comfort of a sentimental pat on the head. It is the robust, world-altering comfort that comes from a right understanding of who God is. The comfort is found in His sheer, unassailable majesty. The comfort is found in His transcendence. He is not a bigger, stronger version of us. He is not in the same category as anything else in the universe. He is the Creator; everything else is the creature. This is the fundamental distinction upon which all reality is built.
After establishing the grandeur of God, who holds the oceans in the palm of His hand and measures the heavens with a span, the prophet Isaiah turns his attention to the central folly of mankind: idolatry. And he does so with a magnificent, biting satire. He holds up the glorious, transcendent God in one hand, and the pathetic, man-made idol in the other, and asks the most devastatingly simple question: "To whom then will you liken God?" This is not just a question; it is a challenge. It is a mockery of human rebellion. The prophet invites us to see the absolute absurdity of trying to domesticate the Almighty, of trying to whittle the Creator of all things down to something we can control, something we can carry in our pocket or set on the mantelpiece.
The logic is inescapable. If God is who He says He is, then idolatry is not just a mistake; it is insanity. It is cosmic treason. It is an attempt to dethrone the King of the universe and replace Him with a block of wood. In these verses, Isaiah exposes the sheer stupidity of this enterprise. He shows us that the problem with idolatry is not just that it is wrong, but that it is ridiculous.
The Text
To whom then will you liken God? Or what likeness will you compare with Him? As for the graven images, a craftsman casts it, A goldsmith plates it with gold, And a silversmith fashions chains of silver. He who is too impoverished to make such a contribution Chooses a tree that does not rot; He seeks out for himself a wise craftsman To prepare a graven image that will not be shaken.
(Isaiah 40:18-20 LSB)
The Unanswerable Question (v. 18)
The prophet begins with a rhetorical question that is designed to stop all human arguments in their tracks.
"To whom then will you liken God? Or what likeness will you compare with Him?" (Isaiah 40:18)
This question hangs in the air, demanding an answer that cannot be given. After the preceding verses describing God's immensity, this is the logical climax. If God has measured the waters in the hollow of His hand, and marked off the heavens with a span, and enclosed the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance, then what in all of creation could possibly serve as a point of comparison? The question is designed to produce a holy silence. It exposes the fundamental category error that all idolaters make.
The pagan mind assumes that everything exists on one plane of being. Their gods are simply super-powered versions of created things: a super-strong man, a super-fertile woman, a sun god, a moon god. They are part of the cosmos. But the God of the Bible is utterly transcendent. He is not in the cosmos; the cosmos is in Him. He is the uncreated Creator, and everything else is created and contingent. There is an infinite, qualitative difference between God and everything that is not God. Therefore, any attempt to represent Him with a created thing is not just an insult; it is a lie about His very nature.
This is why the second commandment is so crucial. "You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth" (Exodus 20:4). The prohibition is absolute because any likeness would be an infinite reduction. To try to capture the infinite God in a finite image is like trying to capture the entire Pacific Ocean in a teacup. It is a fool's errand. The question forces us to confront the fact that God is incomparable. He is in a class by Himself. Any comparison is a blasphemous demotion.
The Folly of Manufacturing a God (v. 19)
Having asked the unanswerable question, Isaiah immediately provides the absurd answer that men give. You can't compare God to anything? Oh, but men will try. And the process is utterly pathetic.
"As for the graven images, a craftsman casts it, A goldsmith plates it with gold, And a silversmith fashions chains of silver." (Isaiah 40:19 LSB)
Notice the detailed, step-by-step description of the manufacturing process. This is deliberate. Isaiah is pulling back the curtain on the idol factory. He wants us to see the nuts and bolts of it all. This "god" doesn't reveal itself in glory; it has to be assembled. It begins as raw material, a lump of metal. A craftsman, a mere man, has to melt it and pour it into a mold. Then another man, a goldsmith, has to cover it with a thin layer of gold to make it look impressive. A third man, a silversmith, has to make little silver chains for it, perhaps to keep it from falling over, or maybe just for decoration.
The satire is biting. This god is a product of human labor and economic transaction. It is a committee project. It requires multiple specialists. It is dependent on the skill of the artisan and the wealth of the patron. The creature is making his creator. The thing that needs to be fashioned is supposed to be the one who fashions all things. The one that needs to be decorated is supposed to be the source of all glory. The irony is suffocating. You have to pay for this god. You have to hire people to make it. And at the end of the day, what do you have? A piece of decorated metal that was just recently bubbling in a furnace.
We become like what we worship. If you worship a god who is deaf, dumb, and blind, a god who has to be carried around and propped up, you will become spiritually deaf, dumb, and blind. You will become dependent and helpless. But if you worship the living God, the one who speaks and worlds leap into existence, you are transformed from one degree of glory to another. The idolater brings his god down to his level; the true worshiper is lifted up to his God.
The Poor Man's Pathetic Deity (v. 20)
The satire continues by considering the case of the man who cannot afford such a high-end, gold-plated deity. Idolatry, it turns out, has options for every budget.
"He who is too impoverished to make such a contribution Chooses a tree that does not rot; He seeks out for himself a wise craftsman To prepare a graven image that will not be shaken." (Isaiah 40:20 LSB)
This is even more pathetic. The poor man can't afford gold, so he has to be practical. He goes out and finds a good, sturdy piece of wood, something that won't rot too quickly. He is a discerning consumer of potential gods. He has to find a "wise craftsman," a skilled woodworker, to carve it for him. And what is the ultimate goal of all this careful selection and skilled labor? To make an idol "that will not be shaken."
Think about that. The highest aspiration for this god is that it won't wobble. The pinnacle of its divine power is stability. It needs a man to carve it, and it needs a man to set it up securely so it doesn't tip over in a stiff breeze. This is the thing that is supposed to hold the universe together? This is the being that is supposed to save you from your enemies and deliver you from death? A piece of wood that you hope is well-balanced?
The contrast with the true God is staggering. The God of Isaiah 40 is the one who sits above the circle of the earth, before whom the inhabitants are like grasshoppers. He is the one who brings princes to nothing and makes the rulers of the earth as emptiness. He does not need to be secured; He is the one who secures all things. He is not in danger of being shaken; He is the one who shakes the heavens and the earth. The idol is the pinnacle of impotence, a monument to human foolishness.
Modern Idolatries
It is easy for us to read this and chuckle at the foolishness of ancient pagans. We don't bow down to statues made of wood and stone, do we? But we must not be so smug. Idolatry is not primarily a matter of metallurgy or carpentry; it is a matter of the heart. An idol is anything that we look to for ultimate hope, meaning, security, or deliverance, other than the one true God. An idol is any created thing that we place in the position that only the Creator should occupy.
And by that definition, our world is riddled with idols, far more sophisticated than Isaiah's, but just as pathetic. We don't cast them in bronze, but we craft them with our intellects and desires. Some worship the idol of political power, believing that if we just get the right man in office, or pass the right legislation, then utopia will be ushered in. We look to the state for salvation, for provision, for security, forgetting that the state is an idol that will not be shaken only until the next election, or the next economic collapse.
Others worship the idol of materialism, the accumulation of wealth and possessions. They choose a job that will not rot, and seek out wise financial craftsmen to prepare a portfolio that will not be shaken. Their security is in their 401k, their hope is in the stock market. But this god, too, is a flimsy block of wood. Moths and rust destroy, and thieves break in and steal. And a god that can be lost in a market crash is no god at all.
Still others worship the idol of the self. This is the great idol of our age. We look inward for our truth. We define our own reality. We seek self-fulfillment, self-esteem, self-actualization. We are our own creators, our own lawgivers, our own saviors. But the self is the most unstable idol of all. It is a god that is wracked with anxiety, riddled with sin, and destined for the grave. A god that cannot save itself from a common cold, let alone from the judgment of the Almighty, is a miserable deity indeed.
The question of Isaiah still rings true: "To whom then will you liken God?" Will you compare Him to your political party? To your bank account? To your own fleeting feelings and desires? All these things are graven images, fashioned by human hands and human minds. They are nothing. They are less than nothing and vanity. The comfort of Isaiah 40 is a call to abandon these pathetic, wobbly idols and to turn to the one true God, the creator of the heavens and the earth, who alone is unshakable, incomparable, and eternally glorious.