Isaiah 49:1-7 is the second servant poem in verses 1-6 and the beginning of a response to the poem in verse 7, a section that continues to verse 13. The other servant passages are Isaiah 41:1-2; 50:4-9; and 52:13–53:12. The unifying element in these passages, first isolated by Bernhard Duhm in his 1892 commentary on Isaiah, is a description of the Lord’s servant, who sometimes suffers greatly because of that divine calling, but whose suffering proves redemptive in bringing not only Israel but other nations to a saving knowledge of the Lord. This passage describes the servant’s mission, having the theme of the light to the nations.
This essay explores Isaiah 49:1-7, examining its meaning for ancient Israel and its relevance for personal calling today. My intent is to weave together exegesis connecting the servant poems to broader biblical themes and historical context, providing an intertextual context, theological application, and move from ancient Israel’s experience to contemporary reflections on purpose, calling, and self-worth, making the text relatable. I hope an encouraging tone offers hope and affirmation, emphasizing dignity, purpose, and the possibility of transformation. I offer a meditation on divine calling, human discouragement, redemption through suffering, and the universal mission of being a "light to the nations." The key elements are: the pre-natal election, the servant's frustration amid apparent failure (especially in the exile context), the escalation from restoring Israel to enlightening all peoples, and the broader theme of dignity restored by God's faithfulness rather than our own.
In summary, I hope I encourage believers not to despair in failure or obscurity but to trust God's vision: we are formed for service, called to reflect divine light, and be part of a grand redemption story. Even in discouragement, God's faithfulness ensures the servant's (and our) labor is not in vain. I hope I offer a hopeful, affirming word for anyone questioning their worth or place in God's plan.
Here are the central insights:
- Divine Calling and Purpose: I emphasize that God calls individuals and communities for a purpose. This calling is not just for personal fulfillment but for the benefit of others—Israel is chosen to be a “light to the nations,” and this mission extends to all who seek to serve.
- Redemptive Suffering: The servant’s suffering is redemptive, bringing hope and salvation not only to Israel but to all nations. The experience of exile and apparent failure becomes a context for reflection, growth, and renewed mission.
- Universal Mission: The text moves from a focus on Israel’s restoration to a broader, universal vision—God’s salvation is meant to reach “the end of the earth.” This theme is echoed in the stories and reflections throughout the document.
- Personal Application: I connect biblical themes to individual experiences, illustrating how individuals may discover their calling gradually, often through reflection on life’s events. Stories of historical and contemporary figures reinforce the idea that everyone has a role in God’s vision.
- Dignity and Self-Worth: A recurring message is the affirmation of human dignity and worth. I encourage readers to see themselves as valued by God, capable of contributing meaningfully to the world.
- Endurance and Hope: I acknowledge the reality of failure and discouragement but urges perseverance. The harvest of one’s efforts may not be immediate, but faithfulness and love are essential for long-term impact.
Call to Action
Reflecting on these insights, I offer a call to action for readers:
- Embrace Your Calling: Take time to consider your unique gifts, experiences, and the ways you might serve others. Whether your sense of purpose is clear or still emerging, trust that you have a role in a larger story.
- Affirm Your Worth: Remember that your value is not determined by immediate results or others’ opinions, but by the fact that you are called and loved by God.
- Persevere Through Challenges: Accept that setbacks and failures are part of the journey. Focus on sowing seeds of kindness, faith, and service, knowing that the harvest may come in unexpected ways and times.
- Be a Light to Others: Look for opportunities to encourage, support, and uplift those around you. Your actions, no matter how small, can make a significant difference.
- Reflect and Connect: Periodically pause to look back on your life’s journey. Notice how past experiences have prepared you for present challenges and future opportunities.
By living with purpose, dignity, and hope, you participate in a vision that is greater than yourself—a vision that brings light and healing to the world.
Here is my detailed study.
Verses 1-6 are the second servant poem. Listen to me, O coastlands, pay attention, you peoples from far away! The exaltation of downtrodden Israel is for the purpose of drawing all the nations of the world to the Lord. The Lordcalled me before I was born, while I was in my mother’s womb he named me. The poet of Psalm 139:13-16 beautifully says it was the Lord who formed him in his inward parts and knit him together in the womb of his mother. The idea of a pre-natal prophetic call is found not only in this passage, but also in Jeremiah (“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you,” 1:5), in II Isaiah (“who formed you (Jacob/Israel as the chosen one) in the womb” II Isaiah 44:1-4), and in the NT (e.g., Galatians 1:15-16, where Paul defends the divine origins of his understanding of the gospel by saying, “But when God, who had set me apart before I was born and called me through his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son to me … I did not confer with any human being …”). The idea of the divine election of Israel pervades the OT, and it was the people of Israel who were understood to have a divine mission. However, as they learned from experience, kings and people would not be faithful to Torah or to the divinely prophetic word. This experience opened the door for reflection upon a righteous remnant who would fulfill the calling of Israel. 2 He made my mouth like a sharp sword, suggesting that the servant will accomplish his mission by speech, the prophetic word. In the shadow of his hand he hid me; he made me a polished arrow, in his quiver he hid me away. Such images emphasize the efficacy of the divine word that the prophet will speak. The images of the “sharp sword” (echoed in Hebrews 4:12) and “polished arrow” convey not violence, but discernment, penetration, and the moral judgment to distinguish the path of faith and life from the path that leads to destruction for the individual and the nation (any nation, not just Israel). 3 And he said to me, “You are my servant (‘ébed), Israel, (some think this word is a later addition) in whom I will be glorified.” At this point, assuming Israel is not a post-exilic addition, the text states explicitly that the servant is Israel. Given what the prophet will say in verse 5, however, this interpretation of the passage has its problems. The servant will be the means through which the Lord will win glory. 4 But I said, “I have labored in vain, I have spent my strength for nothing and vanity, the servant objecting to and doubting the call, given the ineffectiveness of the fulfillment of the mission as evidenced in exile, voicing what must have been common objections by many Israelites in exile, who felt that Israel’s mission and travails had both come to an ignominious end at the hands of the Babylonians. How could a defeated, destroyed, exiled, and scattered people fulfill a divine mandate? The question was pressing during the period in which this oracle was uttered. All of this fits the prophetic word that failed to divert the judgment of 587. Some people think such musings could not refer to historical Israel. Yet, as the religious leaders of Judah have been living in exile for a generation, as they have been gathering their sacred traditions into what we know as Torah, the prophetic interpretation of the history of Israel in the Deuteronomic History, the psalter, and preserving the prophetic word and action of the classical prophets, at least this writer can imagine historical Israel through such leaders offering such musings concerning their history. I can imagine a prophet as creative as II Isaiah having such musings himself and knowing that other exiles had such feelings, even if they did not have such eloquent words for them. Yet surely my cause is with the Lord, and my reward with my God.” Despite feeling ineffective, God reaffirms his call. 5 And now the Lord says, who formed me in the womb to be his servant (‘ébed), to bring Jacob back to him, and that Israel might be gathered to him, for I am honored in the sight of the Lord, and my God has become my strength—6 he says, “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant (‘ébed) to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations, which is also the mission of Cyrus in Isaiah 42:6, that my salvation (yeshuah) may reach to the end of the earth.” Such a universal perspective was a reactivation of the core of Israel’s belief in its election that in the call to Abraham it is to be the agent by which “all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Genesis 12:3). The Lord chose Israel for the benefit of the entire world. At this point, the servant of the Lord is different from historical Jacob/Israel. Israel bringing Israel back seems a difficult interpretation. Some scholars have proposed that the Israel of verse 3 is different from the Israel of verse 5, the former being righteous Israel, the latter being unregenerate Israel. This understanding has the advantage of being consistent with a prominent theme in the book of Isaiah, namely, the idea of the righteous remnant — that part of Israel that will survive not only the predations of foreign powers (e.g., the Assyrians) and the conditions of exile (by the Babylonians), but also Israel’s own apostasy (see, e.g., Isaiah 10:21; 11:16; 28:5; 37:32; etc.). Thus, verse 3 would refer to the righteousness remnant of Israel as the servant that in verse 5 has the mission of not only bring Jacob back to the Lord but to be a light to the nations. In that sense, II Isaiah depicts “Israel,” the righteous remnant, as the servant of the Lord who as the elect of God has the responsibility of bringing light to of all peoples. In this way, the destiny of the people of Israel and its special relation to God have a relation to all the peoples of the world, but now in connection with the thought of election. The point here is that the lesser mission of the servant is to restore Israel to its historical identity. The greater mission is to be a light to the nations.[1]
Isaiah 49:7-13 is a response to the second servant poem. 7 Thus says the Lord, the Redeemer of Israel and his Holy One, offering a “before” image, to one deeply despised, abhorred by the nations, the slave (‘ébed) of rulers, all this said of historical Israel, suggesting the difficulty of recovering any sense of national identity or readiness to fulfill a mission in the world, moving to an “after” image of renewed and rejuvenated Israel, “Kings shall see and stand up, princes, and they shall prostrate themselves, because of the Lord, who is faithful, the Holy One of Israel, who has chosen you.” It was never Israel’s faithfulness, but rather the Lord’s faithfulness, that allowed Israel to fulfill, even in part, its mission. When we reflect upon the infinity and holiness of the Lord, the antithesis is what is earthly and human displays itself in the fact that the Lord does not just react to human acts. Rather, the “Holy One of Israel” becomes a guarantee of the hope of redemption for the exiles. [2]
The broadest stream of thought, both Jewish and Christian, has seen the servant as Israel or as the righteous remnant of Israel. Various individuals proposed as the servant have included the prophet Isaiah himself, Jeremiah, Zerubbabel, Jehoiachin, Moses, Cyrus the Great, and the eschatological Messiah. However, the text seems intentionally vague at this point.
“Application for Today”
The text is addressing the most basic need any of us has, the need for dignity, respect, and self-worth. God formed us in the womb for becoming a servant of the Lord. At the time of this prophecy, Israel no longer existed. The Babylonians had taken the remnant into captivity. They were not much at which to look. In the mind of the prophet, he hears Israel say that they failed, that they have labored to the will of the Lord in vain. Yet, the prophet sees something else in them. He sees their potential of becoming a servant of the Lord, and therefore a light to the nations.
It can be so difficult for us to find our sense of place in the great schemes of things. All of us have limits provided by family, community, and culture. We also have limits we impose upon ourselves. We often struggle to find our sense of worth and dignity. Do we matter? Does what we want, desire, and hope for, matter to anyone? Among the beautiful promises of the bible is that God has shaped each of us for a purpose. God has a vision for the vision for the world. We have the opportunity of becoming part of that vision by becoming a servant of that vision. Each of us has a role to play. Although we are only part of that long-term vision that will outlast our all too brief lives, we are a part of something majestic that God is doing. We must not downplay that part. Although we may at times become discouraged, we can find renewed hope and confidence in that vision.
“Stories of Calling,”
More often, though, many of us who become aware of having a special purpose realize this only gradually, and sometimes, only in retrospect. In the last century at the age of 86, George Herbert Palmer, who had been a professor of philosophy at Harvard for all of his career and had also taught in the divinity school there, published a small autobiography in which he discussed the things he felt he had accomplished and the many personal difficulties he had faced. But he ended by talking about the opportunity he'd had to do useful work over the years in helping more than 15,000 students with their education. He concluded his book with this statement: "As I see these things rising behind me they do not seem of my doing. Some greater power than I has been using me as its glad instrument."
Thankfully, not all that awareness comes only days before we die! Sandra Gibson, who graduated in 2008 from Ashland (Ohio) Theological Seminary with a degree in clinical pastoral counseling, writes about a "retrospective lens" that periodically enables her to catch a glimpse of how some of the random dots of life connect. "I suspect that one of the nicest gifts God gives us in our journey," writes Gibson, "is a retrospective lens on life. We don't always get clearly marked blueprints or maps, but we do get a connect-the-dots picture if we pause to look back over our shoulders." And sometimes what we see is how the "dots" of our lives have shaped us to be able to deal with something else that comes along. We may feel, for example, with some gladness or at least gratitude, that we were born to be a parent to a child who needs parenting even more than most. Or we were born to help a loved one through a dark valley. Or we were born to accomplish a certain task. Or, amid some great crisis, we discover that we have certain skills that we have picked up over the course of our lives that have made us ready to meaningfully help others in the crisis.
We may not use the language of being born for some role. We may not speak of God naming us. We may not even characterize ourselves as God calling us. But if, at some point, it comes to us that we are in the place that we need to be because we can do some good there, it is worth considering whether that may indeed be evidence of a call from God.
And if that happens, then we have the choice of whether we will put our energies into this thing for which we were born. Dag Hammarskjöld was the secretary-general of the United Nations from 1953 until his death in 1961 in a plane crash while en route to negotiate a cease-fire in an African conflict. He had worked tirelessly in the causes of peace in many trouble spots around the globe. After his death, friends found his personal diary in his New York apartment, eventually publishing it under the title, Markings. One thing he said in that book was this: "We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny. But what we put into it is ours."
Is that not a way of saying that while we may be born for some purpose, it is still up to us what we do about that purpose? Alice Flaherty is a neurologist at Massachusetts General Hospital who describes her work as a calling. In fact, she talks about a time in medical school when she became so convinced she was in the right profession that it filled her with "an exaggerated, perhaps even pretentious, feeling of duty and joy." And she says that she still feels a little of the same emotions every time she turns on a new stimulator in a Parkinson's patient and sees the person go from a frozen condition to walking nearly normally.
But she also explains that that same feeling turns into a torment when she knows she has betrayed it. As an example, she tells of one of the worst days of her residency, when a superior insisted that she perform a painful procedure -- one which she felt was unnecessary -- on a dying patient who begged her to leave him in peace. "In the end," Flaherty says, "the patient, the nurse and I were all sobbing as I executed the procedure. Thinking of that night still fills me with shame."
As we move through life, it is good to take time to consider whether we have some sense of being named by God, of being born to some role, or simply of being the right person in the right place at the right time -- which can be one form that God naming us as his own takes.
I saw Mother Teresa on TV in January of 1987. She was at a news conference. One of the reports said, "Many people call you a modern-day saint. What do you think of being called that?" Her response: "We are all called to be saints. I am called to be a saint in what I do with my life. You are called to be a saint in what you do." I doubt if many reporters are accustomed to receiving that kind of challenge. But I wonder, do we dare to believe that we can be saints in whatever we do?
A Christian therapist was talking with a person who had terrible feelings of guilt because of what the person had done in the past. He asked, "What is your mental image of Christ?" The patient said: "I guess as a baby. Or as somebody dying on a cross. A real loser." The doctor asked if he thought he could picture Jesus as someone who loved him. He responded that he wanted to but could not seem to do it. He did not understand why he resisted. The therapist then said: "You probably feel unworthy." The patient nodded yes. The doctor said: "You are worthy. God was born in a manger and died on a cross for you. That means you are worth a lot to God."[3]
Until we view ourselves as worthy to God, I wonder if we will ever get to a place where we can offer ourselves freely to God, to the church, to others, with all our gifts and talents. One study done of churches that grow said that theology, denomination, location, do not mean as much as another characteristic. Churches that grow are more loving than churches that do not.[4]
One of the remarkable stories of literature is The Man of La Mancha. In the stage play, Don Quixote meets a prostitute named Aldonza. He tells her that she will be his new lady, and that she will receive a new name: Dulcinea. She rejects his offer. He keeps affirming her and declaring her to be what he believes she is. At the end of the play, someone rapes Aldonza. She is crying and hysterical on stage. The Man of La Mancha again calls to her, "My Lady, Dulcinea." She says: "Don't call me your lady; I was born in a ditch by a mother who left me to die. I am only someone men use and forget. Don't call me a lady. I'm only Aldonza. I am nothing at all." She leaves the stage with Don Quixote calling after her, "But you are my Lady Dulcinea!" Soon, he lays dying of a broken heart. A lady, a Spanish queen, kneels beside her. He wonders who she is. "Don't you remember? You called me your lady. You gave me a new name. My name is Dulcinea!"[5]
“Modern Reflections,”
Now, let us consider the identity of the people of God.
When we examine honestly the history of the church, we see much that ought to distress us. The church simply does not live up to its potential. It often fails to be an effective witness. It often fails to effectively offer the Christian message. I have read this somewhere: the best reason to become a Christian is the witness of other Christians; the greatest blockage to people becoming Christians is other Christians. The traditional message of the church, that we are sinners, is all right as far as it goes. However, we are not telling people anything they do not know. We all know that we fall short of our own ideals, let alone the ideals the church or society or family. We are always falling short.
If we are honest about our lives, we can see the many ways in which we have failed to be the person called us to be. Some of those times will occasionally bring tears to our eyes and the words, “Please forgive me,” on our lips. We never finish when it comes to becoming effective servants of the Lord.
When we work with people, it is rare that anything ever gets finished, done, accomplished. If we are going to talk, with the prophet, about God calling us, then we had better talk, with the prophet, about failure. A person who has spent her life working with teachers, helping them to be better teachers, said to me, "Good teachers must be in love with the task of sowing the seed, not reaping the harvest.” Pastors, parents, Sunday School teachers, health care givers, about any disciple, must be in love with something more significant than immediate, visible results because our goals are so high, the work of God so mysterious, the plans of God for the world so grand, that the harvest does not occur until years after the sowing. God called us here. The work is God's, not ours. We are not to seek validation for what we do in our time frame, demand results as we measure results. The harvest, after our sowing, is God's harvest, in God's own suitable time.
We need to talk about what we can become, not so much because of us, but because of God. God saw that God could work with this nation, even if it felt itself as a failure, to the point where it could become a light to the nations. God looks at the church, God looks at each of us, and sees that seem potential to make a positive contribution to the lives of others.
Ships seeking safe harbor look for signs of land. When people on a ship spot a light on the horizon, there is cause for excitement. Yes, a lighthouse is a warning that danger lies ahead, but it is also a beacon of hope, signaling the end of a long journey and guiding ships through safe channels. For this reason, many lighthouses are indeed perched near a port of safety.
There’s a lighthouse on the hillside that overlooks life’s sea.
When I’m tossed it sends out a light that I might see.
And the light that shines in darkness now will safely lead me home,
If it wasn’t for the lighthouse, my ship would sail no more.
Chorus
And I thank God for the Lighthouse, I owe my life to him.
Jesus is the Lighthouse and from the rocks of sin,
He has shown the light around me, so that I might clearly see.
If it wasn’t for the Lighthouse, where would this ship be?
Everyone that lives around us, says tear that old lighthouse down,
The big ships don’t sail this way anymore, ain’t no use in it standing round.
But then my mind goes back to that stormy night, when just in time I saw the light,
With the light from that old lighthouse, that stands there on the hill.[6]
[1]
[2]
[3] Robert Schuller, Self-esteem, 158).
[4] (Ned Barnes, "How We Set Ourselves on Fire," in Good News in Growing Churches, 29).
[5] (Robert Schuller, Self-esteem, 159-160).
[6] —“The Lighthouse,” by Ronny Hinson. Recorded by the Happy Goodmans, J.D. Sumner and the Stamps, The Oak Ridge Boys, the Gaithers, et al. The song was once on the charts for more than 40 weeks.
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