The Terrible Triumph of the Lamb Text: Isaiah 63:1-6
Introduction: Our Sanitized Savior
We live in an age that wants a domesticated Christ, a Savior who is all comfort and no confrontation. The modern evangelical mind has created a Jesus who is perpetually meek and mild, a celestial guidance counselor who would never raise His voice, much less a sword. He is presented as endlessly tolerant, infinitely affirming, and His central message is reduced to a therapeutic "be nice." This is not the Jesus of the Bible. This is a Jesus made in our own flaccid, sentimental image. He is a Christ without a backbone, a King without a crown of iron, and a Judge who has misplaced His gavel.
And when we encounter a passage like this one in Isaiah 63, the modern Christian is tempted to do one of two things. The first is to quietly turn the page, pretending we did not see it. The second is to relegate it to the "Old Testament God," as though the Father were some kind of cosmic brute from whom the Son came to rescue us. But this is a damnable heresy. The Father and the Son are one, and their character is the same yesterday, today, and forever. The God who drowned the world in the flood is the God who died for the world on the cross. The Christ who told us to turn the other cheek is the same Christ who will strike down the nations.
This passage is a vision of the Divine Warrior. It is a portrait of Christ in His capacity as the Judge of all the earth. And it is not pretty. It is bloody. It is violent. It is terrifying. And for the people of God, it is a profound comfort. We have forgotten that the wrath of God is not the opposite of His love; it is an expression of it. God’s love for righteousness necessitates His wrath against unrighteousness. His love for His people requires His vengeance upon their enemies. The same sun that melts the wax hardens the clay. The same gospel that is a savor of life unto life for those who believe is a savor of death unto death for those who perish.
This vision, given to Isaiah, is a glimpse of the end of the story. It is a preview of the final act, when the King returns not as a suffering servant, but as a conquering sovereign. He is coming from Edom, from Bozrah, which are code names for the central headquarters of God's enemies. And He is coming, not with a proclamation of peace, but with garments stained in the blood of His foes.
The Text
Who is this who comes from Edom, With garments of glowing colors from Bozrah, This One who is majestic in His clothing, Marching in the greatness of His power? “It is I who speak in righteousness, mighty to save.” Why is Your clothing red, And Your garments like the one who treads in the wine press? “I have trodden the wine trough alone, And from the peoples there was no man with Me. I also trod them in My anger And trampled them in My wrath; And their lifeblood is sprinkled on My garments, And I stained all My clothes. For the day of vengeance was in My heart, And My year of redemption has come. I looked, and there was no one to help, And I was astonished, and there was no one to uphold; So My own arm brought salvation to Me, And My wrath upheld Me. I trod down the peoples in My anger And made them drunk in My wrath, And I brought down their lifeblood to the earth.
(Isaiah 63:1-6 LSB)
The Conquering King Identified (v. 1-2)
The vision opens with a question from the bewildered prophet.
"Who is this who comes from Edom, With garments of glowing colors from Bozrah, This One who is majestic in His clothing, Marching in the greatness of His power? 'It is I who speak in righteousness, mighty to save.' Why is Your clothing red, And Your garments like the one who treads in the wine press?" (Isaiah 63:1-2 LSB)
Isaiah sees a lone figure, striding with immense power and majesty. He is coming from Edom, and specifically from its capital, Bozrah. In the Old Testament, Edom, descended from Esau, is the archetypal enemy of God's people. They are the brother nation that hated, mocked, and betrayed Israel. To come "from Edom" is to come from having executed judgment on the very heart of enemy territory. This is not a retreat; it is a victory march.
His appearance is glorious. His garments are brightly colored, He is majestic, and He marches in the "greatness of His power." This is no weary soldier. This is a triumphant conqueror. The prophet asks who He is, and the answer comes back, swift and sure: "It is I who speak in righteousness, mighty to save." Here we have the two sides of the divine character held in perfect tension. He speaks in righteousness, which means His judgments are true and just. And He is mighty to save, which means His power is exercised on behalf of His people. His work of judgment and His work of salvation are not two different things; they are two sides of the same coin. He destroys His enemies in order to save His people.
But the prophet has a follow-up question. He sees the majesty, but he also sees the mess. "Why is Your clothing red?" The "glowing colors" are not from a royal dyer; they are from bloodshed. His garments look like those of a man who has been stomping grapes in a wine press, stained crimson with the juice. This sets the stage for the warrior's terrifying explanation.
The Solitary Winepress of Wrath (v. 3)
The Divine Warrior now explains the stains on His robe.
"I have trodden the wine trough alone, And from the peoples there was no man with Me. I also trod them in My anger And trampled them in My wrath; And their lifeblood is sprinkled on My garments, And I stained all My clothes." (Isaiah 63:3 LSB)
The imagery is stark. The nations in their rebellion are like ripe grapes, swollen with sin, ready for the harvest of judgment. God throws them into the winepress of His wrath, and the warrior, who we know to be the Lord Jesus Christ (Rev. 19:13-15), treads them underfoot. This is not a pleasant image, and it is not meant to be. This is the holy and just fury of God against unrepentant evil.
Notice the emphasis: "I have trodden the wine trough alone." And again, "from the peoples there was no man with Me." This is crucial. The work of both salvation and final judgment is a solitary work of God. No one helps Him. No one advises Him. No one assists Him. At the cross, Christ purchased our salvation alone. And at the final judgment, He will execute wrath alone. We do not assist in our salvation, and we do not assist in His final vengeance. This is a divine prerogative.
He makes it clear that this is not an accident. "I also trod them in My anger And trampled them in My wrath." This is a deliberate, judicial act. The result is that their "lifeblood," not grape juice, has spattered His garments. This is a picture of total and complete victory. The enemies of God are not just defeated; they are crushed. The Apostle John sees the fulfillment of this vision in Revelation 19, where Jesus returns, clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and "He Himself treads the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God."
Vengeance and Redemption: Two Sides of One Day (v. 4)
The warrior now gives the reason, the divine motive, for this bloody work.
"For the day of vengeance was in My heart, And My year of redemption has come." (Genesis 63:4 LSB)
Here is the central axiom. Vengeance and redemption are linked. They are not at odds. The "day of vengeance" is the necessary precursor to the "year of redemption." God must clear the field of His enemies to make room for the glorious kingdom of His people. He must judge the wicked to vindicate the righteous. To ask for God to save His people is to simultaneously ask for Him to judge their persecutors.
Notice the beautiful asymmetry. It is a "day" of vengeance, but a "year" of redemption. God's wrath, though fierce and final, is swift. His grace, His redemption, His peace, is lasting. He is not an ogre who delights in punishment. He is a king who does what is necessary to establish His glorious and eternal peace. The work of judgment is what Isaiah elsewhere calls God's "strange work" (Is. 28:21). It is the work He must do. But His delight is in the "year of redemption," the long and glorious age of His people's flourishing.
The Sufficiency of God's Own Arm (v. 5-6)
The passage concludes with a reaffirmation of God's solitary power and the totality of the victory.
"I looked, and there was no one to help, And I was astonished, and there was no one to uphold; So My own arm brought salvation to Me, And My wrath upheld Me. I trod down the peoples in My anger And made them drunk in My wrath, And I brought down their lifeblood to the earth." (Isaiah 63:5-6 LSB)
The warrior looks for a helper, for an ally, and finds none. This is not a statement of disappointment, but a statement of fact designed to highlight His own all-sufficiency. Man cannot save himself, and man cannot establish true justice. All our efforts are tainted and fall short. There was no one to uphold righteousness, no one to bring true salvation. "So My own arm brought salvation to Me."
This is the story of the gospel. When there was no one who could save, God sent His own Son. His own arm brought salvation. And notice the parallel: "And My wrath upheld Me." Just as His arm accomplishes salvation, His wrath sustains His work of judgment. His character is perfectly integrated. His saving love and His judicial wrath work in perfect harmony to accomplish His purposes.
He concludes by summarizing the action. He trod down the peoples. He made them "drunk" in His wrath, a metaphor for being completely overwhelmed and disoriented by His judgment. And He brought their lifeblood down to the earth. The victory is total. The judgment is final. The enemy is no more.
Conclusion: The Comfort of the Winepress
So what are we to do with such a passage? We are to take immense comfort in it. This is not a passage for the unbeliever to casually consider. For those who are in rebellion against God, this is a terrifying warning. The day of vengeance is not a metaphor for a bad day; it is the conscious, eternal wrath of a holy God. The only escape is to flee to the cross, where this same warrior allowed His own blood to be shed to satisfy this same wrath on behalf of sinners.
But for the believer, for the Church, this is a promise. It is the promise that evil will not have the last word. It is the promise that our King is not weak, and He will not be mocked forever. He sees the injustice, He hears the cries of the martyrs, and He has a day of vengeance in His heart. He will return, and He will set all things right.
This is the engine of our postmillennial hope. Christ is currently ruling from His throne, and He is, by His Spirit and Word, extending His kingdom. He is causing the gospel to advance, and He is putting His enemies under His feet. This process culminates in the final judgment depicted here, but the victory is happening now. We are on the winning side. Our King has already trodden the winepress of His own suffering on the cross, and because He did that alone, He has earned the right to tread the winepress of wrath against His enemies alone.
Therefore, we do not fear. We do not despair when we see the wicked prosper. We do not wring our hands when the culture descends into madness. We labor, we preach, we build, and we pray, knowing that our King is on the march. He is majestic in His clothing, marching in the greatness of His power. And though He is mighty to save, we must never forget that He is also the one who treads the winepress. And for that, we should give thanks.