“They Will Come and See My Glory”: An Exegesis of Isaiah 66:18-24

Note: I originally penned this piece for my theological studies at Ridley College. It is a short, exegetical essay on Isaiah’s ultimate passage, Isa 66:18-24. I also don’t mind saying that I did pretty well on it! The essay certainly isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but for the exegetically-minded, it may well provide some food for thought. 


The book of Isaiah contains some of the loftiest language in all Scripture, its pages replete with remarkable visions of divine majesty. Isaiah 66:18-24 is no different: there, the prophet’s audience is treated to an eschatological vista, as the nations stream into a restored Jerusalem to worship the one, true God. The revelation of Yahweh’s glory, the universal reach of his salvation, the triumph over idolatry and false worship, and the final distribution of rewards and punishments – these and other Isaianic themes are dramatically drawn together in 66:18-24, which sets them within an ultimate frame of reference.[1]

Such will form the backdrop for my examination of 66:18-24, as I argue that it provides a fitting coda to Isaiah. Indeed, its structurally significant position at the close of the Isaianic corpus is manifested in the multifarious connections it bears with the rest of the book. Depicting God’s universal revelation within a renewed creation, the passage reflects an eschatological longing[2] that also resolves the book’s basic tension between judgment and salvation. Finally, I’ll briefly sketch some of the text’s important hermeneutical points, showing that whilst salvation is offered to all, persistent rebellion exacts a sure and terrible price.

Contextualizing Isaiah 66:18-24

Questions concerning the context of Isaiah 66:18-24 – both historical and literary – have yielded multiple positions. Scholars have made numerous, sometimes speculative, suggestions regarding the passage’s historical background,[3] with many thinking it dimly reflects a post-exilic setting.[4] Gardener, for example, argues the international convocation and dispersal of emissaries (vv.18-19) suggests just such a period, when Jerusalem was still populated by foreigners. Though not unreasonable, one should be cautious about reducing the elements of the passage to “mundane” occurrences.[5] Trying to “establish an absolute dating” for the text is fraught with difficulties, given it lacks the expected historical anchors tying it to a particular period.[6] Ultimately, 66:18-24 is “eschatologically oriented” – inviting the audience to cast its collective vision forward to an as-yet unrealized era of creational and corporate renewal.[7] Not that the passage is completely severed from the general historical process (e.g., 66:20; cf. 64:10-11; 65:18-19); however, it does suggest a period that exceeds the limits of purely historical or temporized events.[8]

The literary context of Isaiah 66:18-24 can be discerned with greater confidence, for it bears multiple, overlapping links with the surrounding textual neighbourhood. Although the text constitutes a distinct unit, a clear connection exists between it and the preceding passage: a universal missionary effort succeeds universal judgment (vv.15-17), even as the consequences for the rebellious are severely felt (vv.16,24).[9] Concluding ongoing tensions between Yahweh’s servants and the apostates (cf. 65:13-15), 66:18-24 envisions the finality of deliverance and reprobation – part of a broader relationship between Isaiah 65-66.[10] Moving further afield, 66:18-24 picks up several prophetic threads in Trito-Isaiah,[11] (e.g., the interchange between judgment and salvation,[12] the inclusion of Gentiles into the redeemed community [56:1-8; cf. 66:18-21]). Indeed, commentators have noted numerous verbal links between the prophet’s final vision and the rest of Trito-Isaiah – particularly 56:1-8, with which 66:18-24 constitutes an inclusio around the book’s last major division.[13] Finally, the text constitutes a counterpoint to the opening indictment of Isaiah 1 in another inclusio, framing the book with contrasting pictures of false and true worship.[14] I shall explore these points further as I proceed.

Exegeting Isaiah 66:18-24

Isaiah 66:18-24 can be divided further into two sub-sections: vv.18-21, in which Yahweh draws together people from all nations, Jew and Gentile; and the resulting convocation of vv.22ff, where the pilgrims engage in ceaseless worship of the one, true God.

Much of the passage is rather elliptical, making interpretation difficult. Those challenges begin with v.18, which apparently details God’s response to the iniquity of the irreligious.[15] We may draw some tentative conclusions, however. The most likely antecedent of “they” (v.18a) are the rebellious of vv.16b-17, who exposed their obstinacy through corrupt and idolatrous worship[16] (cf. 57:12; 59:6-7; 65:2).[17] Their iniquitous actions somehow “trigger” Yahweh’s decision to call people from the nations – i.e, a foil for his determination to unveil his glory (v.19).[18] Verse 18b is the first of several references that give 66:18-24 a decidedly universalistic hue, thus taking up themes broached earlier in Trito-Isaiah (e.g., 56:1-8) and Isaiah 40-55 (45:22-25).[19] The consequent international assembly will “see” God’s “glory” (thrice-underscored in vv.18-19; cf. 42:8), which in context could refer to the revelation of his unique splendour, associated with his status as the world’s only Lord.[20]

In concert with this great ingathering, Yahweh will establish a “sign” among “them” (v.19a). Some argue that where v.18 summarises God’s plan in this passage, vv.19-21 detail its unfurling.[21] However, the construction of v.19 suggests a sequential relationship with the previous verse (otherwise, “them” in v.19a lacks context). Identifying the sign has also generated debate, given its ambiguity (cf. 11:10-11). A number of suggestions have been made: e.g., the restoration of Jerusalem (cf. 62:1-2,11-12), or the sending of the emissaries themselves (v.19b).[22] The first option ties 66:18-24 to earlier portions of Trito-Isaiah, but lacks positive warrant from within the passage; the second alternative also seems unlikely, for the act of disseminating heralds appears to be distinct from the sign itself. It’s entirely possible the author has been deliberately non-specific, in keeping with the eschatological, visionary complexion of the passage.[23]

“Survivors” will be sent to declare Yahweh’s glorious fame (v.19b). The term evokes images of people enduring a great catastrophe; some commentators reason that this reference ultimately finds inspiration in the experiences of post-exilic Jews.[24] This cannot be ruled out, although like the rest of 66:18-24, v.19 lacks historical markers. Again, it’s perhaps best to interpret this clause in association with vv.15-17, where Yahweh poured out his fury upon “all flesh”. If vv.18-24 follows in sequence, then the “survivors” are probably those who underwent the universal execution of Yahweh’s judgment. A related issue is whether the survivors-cum-heralds are Jews or Gentiles. Some argue for the former position, given earlier references to survivors from the Judahite community (4:2).[25] But the natural antecedent of “those who survive” are the members of the international gathering (v.18b) – i.e., non-Jews who endured the conflagration of vv.15-17 (cf. 45:20)[26] – obviating the need to look beyond the passage’s literary environs to determine their identity. Of course, this raises the question: if the envoys are Gentiles, how should they be distinguished from those foreigners who have not heard of Yahweh’s “fame” (v.19b)? The most reasonable interpretive course is to argue that the distinction is based on proximity to Jerusalem.[27] Those from Israel’s near-neighbours – who would themselves be adherents of Yahwism – will travel to the farthest reaches of the earth (cf. the impressionistic list of countries in v.19b) to announce Yahweh’s splendour.[28]

Verse 20 sees those from the far-flung nations convey “[your] brothers” to the holy mountain in a restored Jerusalem (see 64:10-11; 65:18-19; cf. 1:26-27; 36:1-37:37).[29] This image shouldn’t be taken too literally – as if so many millions could fit into such a small parcel of land – and is more intelligible on a visionary interpretation.[30] Jerusalem’s presence here coheres with the Isaianic commitment to the city as the centre from which Yahweh’s glory will be revealed.[31] Similarly, “holy mountain” features in other texts envisioning eschatological renewal (2:2-4; 65:25c; cf. 56:7).[32] Its present inclusion offers an implicit contrast with 65:11, which has the disobedient abandoning God’s sacred mountain. Here, however, his servants venture towards it. Some argue that “your brothers” are ingrafted Yahweh-fearers from among the Gentiles.[33] But v.20 seems to distinguish between this group, and those who ferry them. If indeed both cohorts are composed of non-Jews, we may ask what differentiates them – i.e., why only one group is explicitly said to enjoy fraternal standing with God’s covenant people (“your”). Conversely, understanding the term as referring to Jews comports with passages alluding to the hope that Abraham’s scattered descendants will be re-gathered (11:11-12; 49:8-12).[34]

Gentiles will therefore transport members of the diaspora on a variety of vehicles and domesticated animals – an image evoking urgency and alacrity, as this great multitude descends on Jerusalem. Their actions are compared with the “pure” offerings of Jews before Yahweh (v.20b), which suggests acceptable worship and thanksgiving.[35] This represents a “striking reversal of” attitudes concerning “unclean” foreigners.[36] Remarkably, these same Gentiles will even be elected to cultic office as priests and Levites (“some of them” – v.21). Although some exegetes contend that the verse refers to diaspora Jews,[37] such a claim is unlikely: to say that would hardly be remarkable, and indeed, rather anti-climactic.[38] Verse 21 not only corresponds to, but also “escalates”, the vision of 56:1-8, where foreigners were permitted to enter the sanctuary.[39] Further emphasising the text’s universalism, 66:21 affirms the role of Gentiles as ministers and facilitators of pure worship in the New Jerusalem, further dismantling distinctions between Jew and non-Jew in the redeemed community (cf. 56:8).[40]

Verses 22-23 unveil the final goal of this multi-national congress: worship of Yahweh as the world’s true sovereign, set within a renewed creation. Together with vv.18-21, these verses counterpose the perversity of religious formalism in the physical Jerusalem (Isa 1:1ff) – part of that wider inclusio at work in Isaiah[41] – by envisioning true worship in a New Jerusalem. They also constitute a capstone to the book’s polemic against idolatry, supplanting false worship with global recognition of Yahweh (“all flesh”; cf. Isa 40-48 and Yahweh’s cosmic “lawsuit” against idols).[42] The term, “New heavens and new earth” corresponds closely to 65:17-25;[43] although some contend that it’s merely a poetic description of the new order or restored city (65:17ff),[44] the language evokes the totality of creation (Gen 1:1). In addition, the verb “make” may well correspond to the thought behind a text like Genesis 2:4, whilst 65:17-25 contains its own references (long life, the fruitfulness of toil and child-bearing) which represent an undoing of the primordial curse (cf. Gen 3:15-19).[45] The new creation’s endurance – free from death and despoliation – is analogous to the persistence of Yahweh’s servants, who will enjoy permanence of posterity (cf. 56:5).[46] This may ultimately reflect the incipient universalism in Abraham’s originating call (“seed”; cf. Gen 12:1-3).[47]

Jewish and Gentile pilgrims will engage in purified worship of the one, true God (v.23b: “…bow down before me…”).[48] The clause, “From one New Moon…” implies that it will also be perpetual (v.23a).[49] We may discern another contrastive link – anchored in the dual references to Sabbaths and New Moon festivals – between this uncorrupted activity and the religious formalism within the Judahite community (1:13ff).[50] The faithful worshipers are, of course, sharply distinguished from the corpses of the rebellious, which lie outside the city walls (v.24).[51] The Isaianic interchange of salvation and judgment thus reaches a climax in the final consignment of the obedient and the obstinate. Yahweh’s servants will exit Jerusalem to “observe the grim fate” of those who stubbornly persisted in their rebellion. Verse 24 implies that the corpses are exposed (hence, the worshipers being able to view them). Their lack of proper burial is a fitting testimony to their own shamefulness: indeed, such a state represented the ultimate indignity for a Jew.[52] The makeshift graveyard may have been inspired by the Hinnom Valley, located just south of Jerusalem; as a place of child sacrifice in OT times, it would have supplied a suitably gruesome image for the appalling destiny of the wicked.[53] That the author speaks of “their worm” and “their fire” only serves to underscore the responsibility the unrighteous have for their own judgment, which here continues into the eschaton.[54] Less clear is whether this can be taken as a picture of conscious, post-mortem anguish (as per later depictions of Hell). The punishment seems permanent, but the clear reference to “dead bodies” indicates literal death. Meanwhile, “worm” and “fire” signal the permanent state of dissolution and judgment, respectively (cf. 1:31)[55] – a terrible fate, and a sobering reminder of rebellion’s consequences.[56]


Isaiah 66:18-24 concludes the overarching trajectory of the book, weaving many of its themes together in a most astounding eschatological vision.[57] It remains now to uncover some of the passage’s primary hermeneutical implications. The passage’s deep-rooted universalism immediately springs to mind, which is of a piece with the NT’s insistence that the message of salvation through Christ is, in principle, for all (John 12:32). God’s children are so, not because of ethnic lineage, but because they are born of him (John 1:13; Acts 8:26-38). A narrow, ethno-centric cast of mind may have been scandalized by such texts. But the church is also guilty of trying to restrict the gospel’s reach, often on the basis of cultural and social mores masquerading as the fundamentals of orthodoxy. Isaiah 66:18-24 reminds us that the gospel stands as God’s promise to welcome “[every]one who fears him and does what is right” (Acts 10:34). The passage confirms what much of Isaiah has already indicated – namely, that the primary metric of membership within the covenant community is not ethnicity (or any external trait), but humility before his word (Isa 66:2). Of course, this is not the whole word, for the offer of salvation does not remain open in perpetuity; judgment is still a reality. Isaiah 66:18-24 strongly implies that actions have moral consequences, even beyond this present life. Apart from humble adoration before Yahweh, one can only expect wrath and loss.[58] Difficult though it may be, this, too, cannot be ignored.

[1] See the summative statement concerning Isa 66:18-24 in Joel S. Kaminsky and Anne Stewart, “God of All the World: Universalism and Developing Monotheism in Isaiah 40-66”, HTR 99 (2006): 160. Cf. Brevard Childs, Isaiah (OTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001), 542: “A succinct summary of the eschatological themes that occur throughout the entire book…”

[2] Andrew T. Abernethy, The Book of Isaiah and God’s Kingdom: A Thematic-Theological Approach (NSBT 40; Downers Grove: Inter-Varsity Press, 2016), 193.

[3] See R. Reed Lessing, Concordia Commentary: Isaiah 56-66 (CC; St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2014), 29-30, for a brief survey of the various hypotheses that have been put forward. Lessing’s conclusion – that in many cases, such reconstructions illegitimately attempt to historicise what appears to be an eschatological text – is a wise one.

[4] See Michael J. Chan, “Isaiah 56-66 and the Genesis of Re-orienting Speech”, CBQ 72 (2010): 449-450, who says that some scholars date the pericope to the Persian period, subsequent to the building of the Second Temple. Chan acknowledges that the material in this entire section “eludes precision of dating or exactitude of allusion” (451).

[5] Anne E. Gardner, “The Nature of the New Heavens and the New Earth in Isaiah 66:22”, ABR 50 (2002): 15, n.18. This isn’t to disparage the view that certain elements in Isa 66:18-24 may have been inspired by historical events – merely to suggest that such occurrences do not exhaust the significance of the pericope.

[6] E.g., Childs, Isaiah, 444.

[7] Gary V. Smith, Isaiah 40-66 (NAC; Nasville: B&H Publishing, 2009), 65, 69, 519.

[8] William J. Dumbrell, “The Purpose of the Book of Isaiah”, TynB 36 (1985): 128.

[9] Pace Joseph Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56-66: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 19B; New York: Doubleday, 2003), 312, who argues there is no relationship between these passages whatsoever. Cf. Lessing, Isaiah 56-66, 492.

[10] Smith (Isaiah 40-66, 521) argues that Isa 66:18-24 is part of a larger literary unit stretching back to 63:7. This is true, although it should also be noted that whilst 63:7-64:13 are a lament in the face of corruption and devastation, chapters 65-66 seem to constitute Yahweh’s response.

[11] I am using the term “Trito-Isaiah” in a purely heuristic sense.

[12] John N. Oswalt, “Judgment and Hope: The Full-orbed Gospel”, TrinJ 17 (1996): 197.

[13] See Edwin C. Webster, “A Rhetorical Study of Isaiah 66”, JSOT 11 (1986): 103.

[14] Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56-66, 38.

[15] Alec Motyer, The Prophecy of Isaiah (Leicester: Inter-Varsity Press, 1993), 541; John Goldingay, Isaiah 56-66: A Critical and Exegetical Commentary (ICC; London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 512.

[16] See Motyer, The Prophecy, 541. Conrad argues that the identity of those referred to in v.18 is especially hard to uncover if, as some maintain, the verse is unrelated to what precedes it. See Edgard W. Conrad, Reading Isaiah (OBT; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991), 92.

[17] Goldingay, Isaiah 56-66, 512. References to deeds and actions in those passages are all cast in a negative light.

[18] Oswalt, Isaiah – Chapters 40-66 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 687. Cf. Goldingay, Isaiah 56-66, 512.

[19] Goldingay, Isaiah 56-66, 513.

[20] Goldingay, Isaiah 56-66, 513. Whybray reasons that the reference to glory has a “restrictive and intensive sense” associated with the temple (cf. Ezek 11:22-23). See R.N. Whybray, Isaiah 40-66 (NCBC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1975), 289. Abernethy plausibly suggests that Yahweh’s glory should be seen in conjunction with the restoration of Zion (Isa 60). See Abernethy, The Book, 193-194.

[21] Jan L. Koole, Isaiah III: 56-66 (HCOT; Leuven: Peeters, 2001), 522.

[22] Claus Westermann, Isaiah 40-66: A Commentary (OTL; London: SCM Press, 1976), 425.

[23] Oswalt, Isaiah, 687. Whybray, Isaiah 40-66, 290.

[24] Whybray, Isaiah 40-66, 290.

[25] E.g., Oswalt, Isaiah, 688-689, who argues there is nothing explicit in this passage about Gentiles experiencing judgment (but see 66:16 and “all flesh”). Moreover, the textual links between vv.15-17 and vv.18-19 favour the position I take. Cf. Goldingay, Isaiah 56-66, 514.

[26] John D.W. Watts, Isaiah 34-66 – Revised (WBC 25; Waco: Thomas Nelson, 2005), 940. Cf. Emmanuel Uchenna Dim, The Eschatological Implications of Isaiah 65 and 66 as the Conclusion to the Book of Isaiah (Bern: Peter Lang, 2005), 176, 182. Cf. Willem A.M. Beuken, “Yhwh’s Sovereign Rule and His Adoration on Mount Zion: A Comparison of Poetic Visions in Isaiah 24-27, 52, and 66”, in The Desert Will Bloom: Poetic Visions in Isaiah, eds. Joseph A. Everson and Hyun Chul Paul Kim (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2009), 105.

[27] Whybray Isaiah 40-66, 290; cf. Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56-66, 314.

[28] Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56-66, 314; cf. Koole, Isaiah III, 520; Dim, The Eschatological, 183.

[29] Dim, The Eschatological, 187. See also Shalom M. Paul, Isaiah 40-66: Translation and Commentary (ECC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 626, 628.

[30] Oswalt, Isaiah, 692.

[31] Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56-66, 314.

[32] Dim, The Eschatological, 186-187.

[33] E.g., Motyer, The Prophecy, 542, who partly bases his argument on the assumption that “your brothers” and those being made priests and Levites (v.21) should be identified.

[34] Goldingay, Isaiah 56-66, 516.

[35] See Paul, Isaiah 40-66, 628-629 for comparable practices of tribute levied before potentates in Mesopotamia.

[36] Whybray, Isaiah 40-66, 291.

[37] E.g., Jose Severino Croatto, “The ‘Nations’ in the Salvific Oracles of Isaiah”, VT 55 (2005): 157. Croatto also claims that the nations in 66:18-24 play a purely servile role (hence, his interpretation of v.21). This seems clearly to run against the grain of the text.

[38] Blenkinsopp, “Second Isaiah – Prophet of Universalism”, JSOT 13 (1998): 103, n.51; Oswalt, The Holy One of Israel: Studies in the Book of Isaiah (London: James Clarke & Co., 2014), 104.

[39] See Goldingay, Isaiah 56-66, 520, who refers to a “suggestive sequence” of expansion in Isa 56-66, climaxing with the “globalization” of the priesthood in 66:21.

[40] Westermann, Isaiah 40-66, 426. See, too, Mark T. Long, “The Inclusion of the Nations in Isaiah 40-66”, TE 44 (1991): 91; Gary Stansell, “The Nations’ Journey to Zion: Pilgrimage and Tribute as Metaphor in the Book of Isaiah”, in The Desert Will Bloom: Poetic Visions in Isaiah, eds. Joseph A. Everson and Hyun Chul Paul Kim (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2009), 246.

[41] Dumbrell, “The Purpose”, 128; Motyer, The Prophecy, 543; cf. Dim, The Eschatological, 183.

[42] On the universal implications of “all flesh”, see Goldingay, Isaiah 56-66, 521. Cf. Childs, Isaiah, 542; Paul, Isaiah 40-66, 632; Koole, Isaiah III, 528; Kaminsky and Stewart, “God of All the World”, 160-161; Gardner, “The Nature”, 15, 26.

[43] Koole, Isaiah III, 526; Oswalt, Isaiah 40-66, 691.

[44] E.g., Goldingay, Isaiah 56-66, 527. Calvin argues that the reference to a renewed heavens and earth refers to the “inward renewal of man”. This represents an unwarranted spiritualisation of the text. See John Calvin, Commentary on the Prophet Isaiah – 33-66 (trans. William Pringle; Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2009), 437.

[45] Koole, Isaiah III, 526.

[46] Childs, Isaiah, 542; Dim, The Eschatological, 193.

[47] Motyer, The Prophecy, 543. See Gardner, “The Nature”, 26, and Isaianic references there to “seed” as a reference to the descendants of the patriarchs.

[48] Goldingay, Isaiah 56-66, 521.

[49] Calvin, Commentary, 437.

[50] Motyer, The Prophecy, 543; Dim, The Eschatological, 195; Koole, Isaiah III, 528.

[51] Lessing, Isaiah 56-66, 29.

[52] Dim, The Eschatological, 197.

[53] Oswalt, Isaiah 40-66, 692.

[54] Childs, Isaiah, 542.

[55] Calvin, Commentary, 439, correctly judges “fire” to be a metaphor for judgment. Whether “worm” symbolizes a troubled conscience, as he contends, is less certain. For the connections between v.24 and Isa 1:29-31, see Smith, Isaiah 40-66, 744; cf. Oswalt, The Holy One, 70, n.41.

[56] Goldingay, Isaiah 56-66, 524; Calvin, Commentary, 440; See also Paul D. Hanson, Isaiah 40-66 (Int; Louisville: John Knox Press, 1995), 252. I regard Goldingay’s contention that the passage has nothing to do with individual eschatology (or cosmic eschatology) as somewhat reductive.

[57] Stansell, “The Nations’ Journey”, 244.

[58] Goldingay, Isaiah 56-66, 525.


Isaiah’s David and Conservative Scholarship

This is an expanded version of a college essay I wrote recently for my theological studies. It concerns the conservative claim that the book of Isaiah anticipates a divine Davidic king. 


It has long been a mainstay of classical and conservative Christianity that the book of Isaiah explicitly anticipates a divine-human king who would take his rightful place on David’s throne. Resting their case on key “royal” texts, commentators in this tradition have argued for the Isaianic expectation of an idealized Davidic heir sharing the everlasting glory – the “ontological status” – of Yahweh himself. Invariably, he is identified with Jesus Christ.

I will examine the merits of this claim in what follows, pursuing it in conversation with traditionalist interpreters. In particular, I will argue that whilst Isaiah clearly envisions a superlative Davidic king – that much is uncontroversial – this object of prophetic longing remains an exclusively human figure. Even if the key redemptive individuals populating the book can all be interpreted within a Davidic-messianic framework, they, too, are pictured as essentially human. Ultimately, the expected Davidide occupies a subordinate position within the broader Isaianic portrait of Yahweh’s unmatched sovereignty. Arguments to the contrary either exceed or misconstrue the evidence.

I shall divide my essay into three, unequal parts, focusing primarily on the more contentious question of the Davidic king’s alleged divinity. First, I’ll critically explore relevant passages in Isaiah 1-39, demonstrating that even where they do expect a royal Davidide, they do not envision him as divine. Second, I shall survey Isaiah 40-55, concentrating on the infamous “servant” passages with which some scholars buttress their claims.[1] I’ll argue that whether or not these commonly-cited texts anticipate a Davidic-messianic figure, they also fail to show that he bears godhood. Finally, I shall briefly sketch a positive case for understanding the expected Davidide as a human agent within the book’s theology of divine kingship.

Isaiah 1-39

Since Isaiah 1-39 provides most of the putative data for a divine Davidide, I shall devote a larger share of my critical attention to this section. Here, we must contend with four main passages when discussing the Davidic king’s ontological status: 4:2; 7:14-18; 9:1-7; and 11:1-10.

Isaiah 4:2

Isaiah 4:2 is sometimes seen as the first Isaianic glimpse of a future, divine Davidic figure. Motyer argues that references to the “Lord’s Branch” and “the fruit of the land” reflect the coming king’s dual nature, bearing both a divine origin and human parentage.[2] “Branch” may well have messianic overtones (cf. Jer 23:5; Zech 3:8), but the point of its/his being “of” the Lord is to emphasis God’s gift of fruitfulness; the “Branch” would therefore be Yahweh’s instrument of redemption.[3] Interpreting “fruit of the land” as a veiled indication of the apparent Davidide’s human/earthly ancestry seems manufactured: a natural reading of the text doesn’t warrant such recondite interpretations, but rather suggests the joy of survivors returning to a newly bountiful landscape. Claims that mere earthen terrain would never be described with terms such as “pride” and “glory” also ignore biblical references to the contrary (e.g., Jer 3:19; Dan 11:16,41).[4]

Isaiah 7:14-18

Those who think Isaiah anticipates a divine Davidide tend to interpret Isaiah 7:14-18 in a straightforwardly predictive way – i.e., as a promise fulfilled with Christ’s miraculous birth, in whose person divinity and humanity were embodied (Matt 1:23). Advocates argue that this connection, along with the child’s name (“God-with-us”),[5] constitute strong indications of both Davidic lineage and divine origin.

Admittedly, “Immanuel’s” identity (v.14) is difficult to determine, and interpretations are legion.[6] Whether a Davidic-messianic understanding of the passage is possible,[7] contextual factors favour a certain immediacy regarding the prophecy’s ambit: the demise of the Syro-Ephraimite kings, whom Ahaz “dread[ed]”, would occur before the child reached the age of conscious moral choice (v.16; cf. vv.2,7-9). This implies the sign would come to pass within the lifetime of Isaiah’s audience.[8] Traditionalist interpretations, hewing to a disputable model of prophetic fulfilment that not even the NT consistently follows,[9] are constrained to mute the clear historical markers anchoring Isaiah’s oracle.[10] Claiming Isaiah adopts a “concertina” approach to history[11] – essentially bypassing the intervening seven centuries – represents an exercise in special pleading, and would have rendered the prophetic sign meaningless to his contemporaries.[12] Nothing explicit in the text warrants such exegetical contrivances.[13] The apparent force of the child’s virginal mother is thus negated; assuming v.14 denotes a specific woman,[14] it’s equally possible that her maidenhood was something she possessed at the time, without entailing supernatural conception. Finally, “Immanuel” is better understood as a theophoric name: less a reflection of one’s divinity than of his status as a sign of God’s enduring presence in the midst of historical crisis.[15] I shall further discuss claims concerning theophoric names below.

Some argue for the Immanuel-child’s divinity by joining Isaiah 7:14ff with 9:1-7 and 11:1-10 via subsequent references to “Immanuel” (8:8,10). However, this assumes two things: (a) that 9:1-7 and 11:1-10 contain hints of divinity in their portraits of the coming Davidide; and (b) that these texts speak of the same individual as 7:14ff, linked as they allegedly are by way of “Immanuel”. I will critically examine (a) below. As for (b), there is reason to question the identification of the variously-mentioned figures. True, 7:14ff and 9:1-7 both speak of the birth of significant children. But attempts to link these passages – where “Immanuel” apparently refers to an exalted figure, whose identity becomes progressively clearer – fail to reckon with probable changes in the term’s usage; whereas “Immanuel” clearly refers to an individual in 7:14, it might better be seen as a cry of hope (or grief) in 8:8,10.[16]

Isaiah 9:1-7

Unlike Isaiah 4:2 and 7:14ff, 9:1-7 and 11:1-10 unambiguously expect a Davidic king: references to David’s throne (9:7) and Jesse’s “Branch/stump” (11:1,10) bear sufficient witness to this fact.[17] However, the contentious – and thus, crucial – question remains the nature of this longed-for potentate.

Numerous commentators have looked to Isaiah 9:1-7 for evidence of a future divine king, so apparently crystalline are the references to his glorified, transcendent status. Set against the background of a coming era of deliverance (vv.1-5), some argue the passage is a prophetic word concerning a divine-human saviour who will sit on David’s throne, even as he is identified with God himself. His alleged role as universal redeemer testifies to his lofty status, and commentators use vv.1-5 to buttress the broader claim that Isaiah 9:1-7 anticipates an exalted figure of cosmic scope. Verses 6-7, which speak of a remarkable infant and his accession to David’s throne, are the lynch-pin. On this view, the child’s “givenness” means that in addition to having human parentage (“born”), he is also of divine stock.[18] The complex of honorific names in v.6 apparently bears this out, for their application to the Davidic king is titular evidence of his divinity. “Wonderful [Counsellor]” (v.6a) may mean something like “supernatural”, reflecting the unique abilities of this supposedly more-than-human figure.[19] “Mighty God” (v.6a) is likewise said to denote godhood, since elsewhere, it is clearly applied to Yahweh (10:21).[20] Furthermore, proponents have suggested that “Everlasting Father” (v.6b) represents the king’s eternality and divine paternity, of which the passage’s reference to his kingdom’s endless duration (v.7) is a corollary.[21]

At first glance, the evidence marshalled from Isaiah 9:1-7 appears compelling. But several cogent objections can be levelled against it. First, interpreting references to “born” and “given” (v.5) as implying the divine-human nature of the coming king represents an artificial demarcation (cf. 4:2). The child’s “givenness” denotes the divine mercy that stands behind his birth, with the one acting as sign to the other.[22] Second, the titles of v.6 – said to be overt references to the king’s divinity – are better understood as theophoric names: ceremonial titles borne by a ruler, describing the God in whose name he reigned and on whose behalf he acted.[23] This didn’t mean the person in question was divine. Other OT texts show the (e.g.) relationship between Yahweh and Israel’s kings could be described in filial terms (God’s “son” [Ps 2:7]), without this indicating ontological likeness.[24] Hence, vv.6-7 don’t imply the Davidic ruler will bear godhood; rather, his actions and status point beyond themselves to the ultimate reality undergirding his rule.[25] Deferrals to 10:21, then, are moot: although that verse does refer to Yahweh, the application of “Mighty God” in 9:6 is a sign of God’s salvific power.[26] These titles serve to underscore his greatness, wisdom, and paternal concern – not the ruler’s per se – in redemption (v.7d).[27]

Third, references to an everlasting kingdom do not, by themselves, imply the eternality of the Davidic leader. More likely is the argument that they echo 2 Samuel 7:14ff, which speaks of the endless duration of David’s kingdom (cf. Ps 72:17).[28] Nothing in that passage suggests the equation of everlasting kingship and divinity.[29] Finally, there is reason to think the general tenor of 9:1-7 implies a ruler of a more limited (though nonetheless idealized) stature, counterposing the “manifest failures of the Ahaz regime”.[30] Some persuasively argue that God is consistently pictured as exclusive redeemer here, thereby challenging traditional readings that “inflate” the Davidic figure’s role.[31] The passage concentrates on Yahweh’s accomplishments (v.7d), denoting God as deliverer – not the subsequently-identified Davidide. “He” (v.1) refers to Yahweh, logically implying that Israel’s God is also the primary subject of vv.2-5 (cf. Isa 2:5). This strikes a better balance between the “gloom” of divine abandonment (8:22) and the “light” of divinely-ordained redemption.[32] Moreover, 9:1-7 doesn’t apply the term “king” to the wonder-child, possibly as a way of training attention on Yahweh’s kingship.[33] The Davidide is honoured, not in himself, but as an obedient agent within God’s redemptive programme.[34] If sound, this re-appraisal weakens a key plank in the classical-conservative case for a transcendent, uniquely glorified Davidic individual.

Isaiah 11:1-10

What of Isaiah 1:1-10? Does it anticipate a divine Davidide? Again, an affirmative answer exceeds the evidence. Motyer suggests the construction of v.10 denotes the origin of Jesse’s genealogical line: the Davidic “Root” is also the “root” from which Jesse and his progeny sprang, such that he is both Messiah and Creator (i.e., divine).[35] But the verse reads simply enough, especially when viewed in light of the preceding context (10:33-34): a “root” from Jesse’s line will grow and bud, despite the apparently lifeless stump that exists.[36] The passage does envision a lofty, idealized figure, whose advent is associated with the return of exiles and a new era of shalom-like harmony (vv.6-10). However, this needn’t be interpreted in “superhuman” terms.[37] Verses 1-2 depict someone acting as Yahweh’s deputy, discharging his unique duties only with the liberal assistance of divine endowment.[38] Meanwhile, 11:11ff affirm God’s superintendence over Israel’s deliverance/restoration. The Davidic figure may be God’s faithful vice-regent – offering another contrast to the corruption of contemporary elites (cf. 1:10) – but the basic thrust of this passage is one of deference and subordination, not (ontological) equality (cf. vv.2a-3b – “…will delight in the fear of the Lord”).

Isaiah 40-66

Whereas Isaiah 1-39 contains clear references to a Davidic ruler, there is scant mention of David in Isaiah 40-55 (cf. the heavily contested 55:3-5).[39] This should come as no surprise, since so-called Deutero-Isaiah focuses so closely on Yahweh’s kingship. Nevertheless, by concentrating on the “servant” texts punctuating Chapters 40-55, some maintain that Isaiah continues to envision a royal Davidide.[40] Interesting parallels obtain between the servant and (e.g.) Isaiah 11:1-10,[41] but citation of claimed textual evidence for the view fails to appreciate that much of the data parallel references in non-Davidic contexts (and are therefore insufficient to establish the traditionalist’s position), or remain ambiguous in their import.[42] It’s questionable whether the servant is consistently portrayed as an individual, much less a Davidic one (e.g., Isa 41:8; 43:10; 44:1; 49:3, implying a servant-Israel nexus).[43] Even where an individual appears to be envisaged, the passages in question lack unambiguous references to his Davidic heritage, akin to those one finds in Isaiah 9 and 11. The prospective exegete should therefore be cautious in eliding these two figures.[44]

Isaiah 49 and 53

But suppose the servant of Isaiah 40-55 is an ideal Davidic king; is there evidence to suggest this section contains an expectation of his divinity? Some scholars have argued so, leaning on a clutch of key verses from Chapters 49 and 52-53. I shall examine them in reverse order, starting with the latter text first. According to several commentators, Isaiah 52:13-53:12 contains several allusions to that figure’s deity: the servant will be exalted to a position of honour on par with God (52:13); the Lord’s “bared arm” constitutes a kind of incarnation (53:1);[45] and the servant’s agential role suggests a “perichoretic” relationship between him and Yahweh, with even incipient Trinitarian overtones.[46] These references are rather opaque, to say the least, and are better understood in more prosaic terms. That the servant is Yahweh’s instrument – his “bared arm” – can be explained as yet another instance of the master-servant/king-agent relationship (cf. 9:1-7; 11:1-10).[47] On this view, the servant is likely a human figure doing his Lord’s bidding. And “high and lifted up” (52:13) likely denotes a reversal of status from shame to honour (cf. 53:10b-12a), not “ontological identity”.[48] As for the assertion that we have here a statement of proto-Trinitarian thought, the most one can say about it is that it is entirely gratuitous.

Traditionalist interpretations of Isaiah 49:1-7 also over-egg the exegetical pudding. Motyer, for example, asserts that “strength” (v.5c) implies the servant uniquely embodies divine power[49] – despite plain readings of the text which suggest that he “merely” benefits from Yahweh’s preservation amidst his arduous mission. Likewise, although others have argued that the servant actually incarnates divine salvation (v.6d), this, too, can be understood in instrumental terms – i.e., the servant acting on behalf of his God, functioning as a “tool” (cf. v.2, where the servant is likened to a weapon in Yahweh’s hand). Finally, the servant may well act as God’s “salvation” (v.7), but a more straightforward interpretation lies close to hand – namely, that he is an agent prosecuting the redemptive agenda of the One who sent and empowered him. To be sure, an agential role is logically consistent with the possession of deity. However, it certainly does not demand deity, and one is firmer textual grounds by eschewing that understanding.

[ADDITIONAL OBSERVATIONS: Complementing these rejoinders are certain features which suggest that if the servant is an individual, then he is an “ordinary”[50] human one. Although it is true that Isaiah 49 depicts him in exalted terms (cf. 11:1-10), it is also clear that he relies upon the generating and sustaining power of God. That in itself may reflect a (metaphysical) distinction between the servant and the One he obeys. He is formed, we are told, by Yahweh in the womb (49:5), which suggests a beginning in time. Eternality, however, is one of the hallmarks of true deity (cf. 43:13), and is a quality that separates Yahweh from his creation. Of course, it might be possible to argue that this doesn’t necessarily preclude pre-existence; Christians, after all, believe that Christ is both the eternal logos (cf. John 1:1) and the son born to a first-century Jewess. But the author of Isaiah was no Christian. Moreover, the traditionalist will find no comfort in (e.g.) Isaiah 7:14ff: as I have already suggested, that text does not predict the miraculous birth of some kind of divine-child, but instead denotes the impending advent of an infant who will constitute a sign of God’s presence. The present passage says nothing beyond the fact that the servant was, like every other human individual, fashioned by the One who is the ultimate source of all life. This speaks of a mundane being, who is constrained by the limits of materiality.

One may also cite Isaiah 49:4, which refers to the servant vainly exhausting himself – yet another indication of finitude, and thus, of humanity without divinity (cf. 40:28c). Although he is called to be a light for the Gentiles (v.6b) – a statement that could be construed as a claim to share in the divine light (cf. 2:5) – it is telling that he does not possess this intrinsically; that Yahweh will “make” him so implies that whilst he carries divine truth, he does not embody it by nature (cf. 58:8,10, where light is clearly associated with members of Yahweh’s covenant community). None of the above points is decisive in isolation, and one cannot definitively rule out some articulation of the servant’s deity. However, they constitute a cumulative case that is relatively strong. Isaiah 49:1-7 seems, then, to offer a picture of someone who remains deeply dependant on, and humbly committed to, the God who has commissioned him. Everything in the passage suggests, once more, ontological difference – not identity – between Yahweh and the servant. Traditionalist arguments, like those associated with previous passages, go beyond the data.]

Isaiah and Kingship: Yahweh’s Matchless Rule

The foregoing analysis has suggested that claims concerning Isaiah’s anticipation of a divine Davidide outstrip the evidence. But can a constructive case be made for understanding the Davidic king as a solely human figure? I believe so, and its possibility lies in the implications of one of the book’s key themes: Yahweh’s unmatched supremacy – his “isolated sovereignty” – against all other claimants.[51]

Isaiah is suffused with references to this basic belief, so crisply distilled in the oft-repeated phrase, “Holy One of Israel” (e.g., 41:14,16; 43:3; 54:4; 60:14). Captured in that term is the notion that Yahweh is both metaphysically “other” and morally spotless. The prophet discovers this when he is confronted with a vision of God. There, Isaiah is overwhelmed by a transcendent monarch of unparalleled majesty (6:1; cf. 63:15); the thrice-declared fact of his holiness simply underscores this reality. That experience is the starting-point for “so-called Isaianic ideology”,[52] buttressing the book’s unrelenting critique of attempts to exalt oneself as Yahweh’s equal.[53] Isaiah’s fundamental outlook explains the denunciation of the Babylonian king in Isaiah 14:12-15, whose actions represent the unlawful arrogation of Yahweh’s unique position of glory. The general tenor of Isaiah 13-23 is one of God’s sovereignty in judgment, climaxing with a re-assertion of this king’s universal lordship via the execution of his devastating wrath upon the earth. Even the bridging narrative of Isaiah 36-37 is underpinned by the conviction of Yahweh’s sole deity; Hezekiah’s prayer, for example, affirms Yahweh as Lord – in contrast to mute, impotent idols – and the only one who may be called the “living God” (37:14-20).[54] That contrast, of course, is demonstrated in dramatic fashion, as the Assyrian army is completely vanquished (37:36-38).

The theme of Yahweh’s reign culminates with the book’s extended “lawsuit” against the great pantheon of idols in Chapters 40-55, a section that has been noted for its lofty, uncompromising monotheism.[55] Much of this polemical output serves to establish Yahweh’s status as unrivalled potentate and Israel’s only redeemer (e.g., 42:5-9). Yahweh repeatedly contrasts his royal glory with the lifeless “gods” of pagan devotion (40:18-25; 46:1-12). He alone commands the otherwise unchecked forces of nature; he alone foretells the future and ensures his plans prevail. Not only is he Israel’s king (43:15); he is God eternal, supreme over creation – including those elements used to create the idols he so resolutely opposes.[56] As Yahweh himself emphatically insists, he “will not yield” his “glory to another”, or his “praise to idols” (42:8) – precisely because no one else can be positioned as his equal (cf. 64:5). The final, eschatological picture of “all flesh” engaging in pure worship of the one, true God (66:18-22) perfectly complements – and indeed, fulfils – the lines of thought found in Deutero-Isaiah. Tellingly, there is no mention in that text of a supposedly divine-human Davidide (as we might expect if Isaiah consciously anticipated such a figure); he seems to have faded from the scene entirely. At the conclusion of history, the prophet implies, Yahweh alone will stand supreme.

In view of these proposals, it would seem that no matter how revered the coming Davidic king is, one shouldn’t claim more for him than Isaiah’s theological predilections will allow. Given the book’s unyielding emphasis on Yahweh’s matchless sovereignty (cf. 63:15) – and the consequent gulf that exists between him and all other things – it makes more sense to understand the Davidide as an honoured (though non-divine) individual, acting as Yahweh’s subordinate. Several of the passages surveyed bear this out. Isaiah 9:1-7 has shown that the (human) Davidide operates as an agent within, and as a result of, the cosmic Lord’s redemptive enterprise. His stature and titles signal God’s sovereign power, even if he himself remains a mundane figure. Isaiah’s broader theological horizons make the distinction between these two actors thoroughly intelligible. Yahweh’s glory is a unique and intrinsic possession (cf. 42:8); by implication, the Davidide simply does not have it. And on the assumption that the subject of Isaiah 49:1-7 is a Davidic figure, the aforementioned features of that oracle – features that seemingly imply an ordinary human being – would become doubly comprehensible. Not only do inner textual considerations invite the reasonable conclusion that the servant is non-divine; Isaiah’s basic theological foundations appear to rule out anything more. Conversely, we may ask whether a prophetic work so committed to God’s singular deity would then obscure its message by introducing a being who, as it were, “blurs” the relevant metaphysical categories of divinity and humanity (cf. 2:22). If my analysis is correct, there is not only reason to doubt traditionalist interpretations of the longed-for Davidide; a positive framework also exists that strongly encourages an affirmation of his exclusive humanity.


We must conclude. As I have sought to demonstrate, both intra-exegetical considerations and broader theological concerns suggest that Isaiah anticipates a human Davidic king, and nothing more. Even the book’s unambiguous references to an expected Davidide fail to yield compelling evidence for his divinity. Instead, the passages examined here indicate someone who occupies an inferior – though still important – position within the sovereign God’s salvific economy. The honour accorded him is reflective of the ubiquitous pattern of veneration that ancient kings enjoyed. On the other hand, it’s difficult to resist the conclusion that traditionalist/conservative claims in this field sometimes stem, not from a dispassionate exegesis of the text, but from scholarly ingenuity in service of particular theological aims. As I have sought to demonstrate, those who argue that Isaiah expects the coming Davidide to bear divinity are frequently compelled to resort to some rather tenuous interpretive strategies. This isn’t to say that those living this side of the Incarnation shouldn’t read these texts through a Christological lens. That remains a legitimate hermeneutical move. However, Isaiah reveals to us an undimmed belief in Yahweh’s ontological uniqueness, such that expectations of a divine-human king – a transcendent son of David – are questionable at best.

[1] The attentive reader will notice that I have not included Isaiah 56-66 in my analysis. This is so for two reasons: putative references (e.g., to a royal Davidide/divine figure) are extremely rare and/or ambiguous; and, where a relevant text may be found, it is significant only to the extent that it echoes language already found in earlier sections of Isaiah (e.g., 53:1//63:5).

[2] Alec Motyer, The Prophecy of Isaiah (Leicester: Inter-Varsity Press, 1993), 65, 67. For an ancient rendition of this argument, see Bede, “Homilies on the Gospels 1.4”, cited in Stephen A. McKinion (ed.), Ancient Commentary on Scripture: Isaiah 1-39 (Downers Grove: Inter-Varsity Press, 2004), 36.

[3] Childs argues that because “Branch” is pegged to “the Lord” – not David or Jesse – the reference should not be seen as messianic-Davidic, but rather as a denotation (along with 4:2b) of Yahweh’s work in bestowing upon the land “abundance and fecundity”. See Brevard Childs, Isaiah (OTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001), 36.

[4] John D.W. Watts, Isaiah 1-33 (Revised) (WBC 24; Waco: Thomas Nelson, 2005), 75.

[5] Calvin argues that “Immanuel” is a sure indication that Isaiah was predicting the coming of the (divine) Christ. See John Calvin, Commentary on the Prophet Isaiah, Vol. 1; trans. William Pringle (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2009), 248-249.

[6] Childs, Isaiah, 68-69. See Andy Abernethy, The Book of Isaiah and God’s Kingdom: A Thematic-Theological Approach (NSBT; Downers Grove: IVP, 2016), 122, who cites some scholars arguing for Immanuel’s identification with Hezekiah. Other candidates include Isaiah’s son, or a collective interpretation (i.e., mothers calling their sons “Immanuel” as a profession of faith). Abernethy himself argues that the identity of the child is unimportant.

[7] Goldingay, like many others, notes that there is nothing explicit about the Immanuel child being of Davidic origin. See John Goldingay, The Theology of the Book of Isaiah (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2014), 140. Watts (Isaiah 1-33, 140) suggests that “no record exists of special attention being given to Isa 7:14 in pre-Christian Judaism”.

[8] Watts, Isaiah 1-33, 136, 141. Laato argues for an immediate historical fulfilment. See Antti Laato, Who is Immanuel? The Rise and the Foundering of Isaiah’s Messianic Expectations (Abo: Abo Academy Press, 1988), 172-173.

[9] E.g., Matthew’s use of Hosea 11:1 (Matt 2:18). See James M. Hamilton, Jr., “‘The Virgin Will Conceive’: Typology in Isaiah and Fulfillment in Matthew 1:23”, in Built Upon the Rock: Studies in the Gospel of Matthew, eds. Daniel M. Gurtner and John Nolland (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), 233-236, 242-247, for a summary and defence of a typological (rather than predictive) approach to the NT’s understanding of prophetic fulfilment.

[10] Herbert M. Wolf, Interpreting Isaiah: The Suffering and Glory of the Messiah (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1985), 91.

[11] As Motyer (Isaiah, [TOTC; Leicester: Inter-Varsity Press, 1999], 78) does; idem, The Prophecy, 87.

[12] As even John N. Oswalt (The Book of Isaiah – Chapters 1-39 [NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1986], 206-207) admits, despite his adherence to the conservative position; cf. Marvin E. Tate, “King and Messiah in Isaiah of Jerusalem”, R & E 65 (1968): 412.

[13] Other exegetes (e.g., John Calvin and Gary Smith) have posited that the child of v.14 is different from that of v.16. I can only say that this seems terribly forced, and undermines the integrity of the passage. See Calvin, Commentary on Isaiah, 250; Gary V. Smith, Isaiah 1-39 (NAC 15A; Nashville: B & H Publishing Group, 2007), 215.

[14] Note the definite article preceding “virgin” in v.14, which could imply a specific, concrete individual (cf. Smith, Isaiah 1-39, 200).

[15] Abernethy, The Book, 122-123; Greg Goswell, “Royal Names: Naming and Wordplay in Isaiah 7”, WTJ 75 (2013): 106.

[16] See Wolf, Interpreting, 94; idem, “Solution to the Immanuel Prophecy in Isaiah 7:14-8:22”, JBL 91 (1972): 455; Watts, Isaiah 1-33, 154. Cf. G.C.I Wong, “Is ‘God with Us’ in Isaiah VIII 8?”, VT [no number] (1999): 430, who interprets the cries of “Immanuel” negatively. This does not affect my broader point. Smith admits that Isa 7:1-17 lacks the messianic “flavour” of 9:1-7. See Smith, Isaiah 1-39, 215. Porter notes a number of other differences between these figures. See Frank Chamberlain Porter, “A Suggestion Regarding Isaiah’s Immanuel”, JBL 14 (1985): 20.

[17] See Goswell, “The Shape of Messianism in Isaiah 9”, WTJ 9 (2015): 108.

[18] This interpretation has a venerable history. See Motyer, Isaiah, 89; idem, The Prophecy, 102. See also Carl Umhan Wolf, “Luther on the Christian Prophecy, Isaiah 9”, Lutheran Quarterly 5 (1953): 390, for a summary of Luther’s views on this point; Augustine, “Sermon 187.4” in McKinion, Ancient, 70.

[19] Motyer, Isaiah, 89.

[20] Motyer, Isaiah, 89; Smith, Isaiah 1-39, 240; Wolf, Interpreting, 97-98.

[21] Interpreting the names in Isa 9:6 as connoting the Davidide’s deity has a long and venerable history. A quick glance at McKinion, Ancient, 70-76 reveals that many of the luminaries of the ancient church – from Justin Martyr, to Ambrose, and Augustine – held this view. Although I depart from such an august array of witnesses, I do not do so lightly. For a modern parallel, see Motyer, The Prophecy, 102.

[22] H.G.M. Williamson, Isaiah 6-12: A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Isaiah 1-27 (Volume 2) (ICC; London: Bloomsbury, 2018), 395.

[23] Goswell, “The Shape”, 107. Cf. Tate, “King and Messiah”, 418, who argues that these were throne names bestowed upon a king at his coronation; Watts, Isaiah 1-33, 175; Williamson, Variations on a Theme: King, Messiah, and Servant in the Book of Isaiah (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 1998), 43, who argues this was a common ancient practice; idem, Isaiah 6-12, 397-398.

[24] Abernethy, The Book, 127; Tate, “King and Messiah”, 418; Paul D. Wegner, “A Re-examination of Isaiah IX 1-6”, VT 1 (1992): 107-108.

[25] Childs, Isaiah, 81.

[26] Goldingay, The Theology, 140; Wegner, “A Re-examination”, 110.

[27] Abernethy, The Book, 127-128; Wegner, “A Re-examination”, 111.

[28] Smith, Isaiah 1-39, 241; cf. Laato, Who is Immanuel?, 194, 303.

[29] Williamson, Variations, 36; idem, Isaiah 6-12, 403.

[30] Goswell, “The Shape”, 101.

[31] See Goswell, “The Shape”, 101-110, esp. 102. See also Tate, “King and Messiah”, 418.

[32] Cf. Wegner, “What’s New in Isaiah 9:1-7?”, in Interpreting Isaiah: Issues and Approaches, eds. David G. Firth and H.G.M. Williamson (Nottingham: Inter-Varsity, 2009), 240.

[33] Wegner, “What’s New”, 244.

[34] Goswell, “The Shape”, 102; Williamson, Variations, 32-34.

[35] Motyer, The Prophecy, 14, 121.

[36] Goldingay, The Theology, 141; Watts, Isaiah 1-33, 209.

[37] Contra Oswalt, Isaiah 1-39, 278.

[38] Goswell, “Messianic Expectation in Isaiah 11”, WTJ 79 (2017): 126-127, 129.

[39] See Goswell, “The Shape”, who argues that Isaiah 40-55 has no place for a Davidic king; cf. Childs, Isaiah, 437, and Christopher R. North, The Suffering Servant in Deutero-Isaiah: An Historical and Critical Study (London: OUP, 1956), 218, who argue likewise. As for Isa 55:3-5, many scholars argue that it refers to the “democratization” of promises originally made to David – now applied to the entire community. Oswalt (The Book of Isaiah – Chapters 40-66 [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998], 439-440) argues that the use of the third-person singular in v.4, combined with the Davidic reference, suggests that we are dealing with an individual Davidide, and that he ought to be identified with the Isaianic servant of Isaiah 40-53. However, he concedes that this line of evidence is not decisive.

[40] E.g., Motyer, The Prophecy, 344-345.

[41] See Paul D. Hanson, Isaiah 40-66 (Int; Louisville: John Knox Press, 1995), 44, for an exploration of some of those parallels, with a focus on Isa 11:1-2 and 42:1-2; cf. Wolf, Interpreting, 191.

[42] See, for example, the arguments marshalled by Daniel I. Block, “My Servant David: Ancient Israel’s Vision of the Messiah”, in Israel’s Messiah in the Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls, eds. Richard S. Hess and M. Daniel Carroll R. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2003), 47. Cf. Abernethy, The Book, 148, n.83, who persuasively refutes such claims.

[43] Oswalt, Isaiah 1-39, 50. Cf. Abernethy, The Book, 138-144.

[44] See North, The Suffering Servant, 142: “We are not at liberty to assume that the picture of the servant is homogenous throughout the Songs [of Isa 40-55]”; Hanson, Isaiah 40-66, 166. It should be noted, however, that later “servant” passages seem to bear an individualist stamp (although the identification of the subject of Isa 49:1-7 remains disputed).

[45] Motyer, The Prophecy, 333.

[46] For a summary of such arguments (as well as cogent rejoinders), see Abernethy, The Book, 146.

[47] Abernethy, The Book, 146.

[48] Abernethy, The Book, 146.

[49] Motyer, The Prophecy, 387.

[50] “Ordinary” in the sense that he is not divine or transcendent. The servant (like the Davidic king of Isaiah 1-39) is clearly an extraordinary figure.

[51] Williamson, Variations, 12.

[52] Williamson, Variations, 18. See Watts, Isaiah 34-66 (Revised) (WBC 25; Waco: Thomas Nelson, 2005), 574. who says Isaiah’s vision is an integral part of his “religious consciousness”; Nathan MacDonald, “Monotheism in Isaiah” in Firth and Williamson, Interpreting Isaiah, 58.

[53] Williamson, Variations, 12.

[54] Watts, Isaiah 34-66, 574; MacDonald, “Monotheism”, 56.

[55] William Sanford La Sor, David Allan Hubbard and Frederic William Bush, Old Testament Survey: The Message, Form and Background of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982), 386. See also MacDonald, “Monotheism”, 45.

[56] R. Reed Lessing, “Yahweh Versus Marduk: Creation Theology in Isaiah 40-55”, Concordia Journal 36 (2010): 237-238. See also Goswell, “Isaiah 1:26 – A Neglected Text on Kingship”, Tyndale Bulletin 62 (2011): 235, who notes an almost exclusive emphasis on Yahweh as king in Isaiah 40-55; MacDonald, “Monotheism”, 48.

The Johannine Jesus and the “I am”


The Jesus of the Fourth Gospel is an enigmatic figure, making tantalizing claims about his ultimate identity. His so-called “I am” statements, sprinkled throughout John, are no exception. Allusive and oblique, they are nonetheless freighted with cosmic significance. This essay will argue that the “I am” statements of John’s Gospel constitute an implicit, yet definite, claim to deity, and that this can be substantiated via an exploration of Old Testament ideas latent within the formula. Unfolding in three stages, it will first survey the two main ‘types’ of “I am” statements Jesus employs, demonstrating the formula’s verbal reliance upon key OT texts, and arguing for their fundamental reference to God’s unique covenantal character. The essay will then build upon those preliminary conclusions, offering a broader theological and salvation-historical account of Jesus’ claim, and highlighting several interlocking thematic links between the Johannine Jesus and previous instances of God’s redemptive-revelatory activity. Finally, it will attempt to properly nuance the “I am” formula, sketching out the distinctiveness of Jesus’ divine identification – particularly in light of its relationship to John’s overall Christological-theological presentation.

“I am” in Context

John’s Gospel uses “I am” on several occasions. Some are conventional forms of self-identification (e.g. 1:20). Others, however, carry weightier significance. I will identify two such categories of “I am” statements: those where Jesus used the “I am” formula absolutely; and those where he combined it with a predicate, or vivid image. One shouldn’t force the distinction: a common bed of theological meaning underlies any apparent division. Moreover, the latter unfurls what is latent in the former.

The Johannine Jesus uses the absolute “I am” statements in the Fourth Gospel without any qualifying predicate. John 8:58 is the classic example. In a steadily escalating debate over his identity and origin, Jesus boldly asserts that “before Abraham was born, I am!” His interlocutors understand this seemingly truncated turn of phrase: immediately, they attempt to kill him (v.59). Their hostility indicates an implicit interpretation of blasphemy. Jesus’ opponents, it seems, invested his pronouncement with the kind of meaning that would have led them to conclude he was, remarkably, claiming deity. John 8:24, 28 are also pertinent, as is 18:5-6. The latter passage, where Jesus confronts a detachment of arresting soldiers, is further indication of claimed deity. The party’s prostrating response – after the evangelist emphasises Jesus’ distinctive reply – certainly implies a theophanic experience.

These are inferences, of course. But why did Jesus’ statements arouse such reactions? What kinds of associations would his contemporaries have made? Here, overtones become echoes – deliberate allusions to a rich stream of OT thought, capturing foundational disclosures of God’s utter uniqueness and covenantal faithfulness. Jesus’ judicial and religious opponents, it seems (particularly in 8:58-9), understood this connection. Indeed, abundant evidence for antecedent OT usage exists, which reveals the burgeoning development of “I am” as a divine name.

Of the various OT texts that might be surveyed in this regard, Isaiah 40-55 is especially important, employing self-referential statements linguistically similar to Jesus’ “I am” formula. In the second major section of Isaiah, repeated promises of divine redemption and covenantal faithfulness appear amidst doubts about Yahweh’s willingness, or ability, to rescue his people (aroused by the calamity of exile, and the apparent triumph of pagan “gods” over Israel’s sovereign). The term, “I am [he],” and its cognates, are used to reveal, among other things, Yahweh’s absolute uniqueness – Israel’s sole guarantor of salvation. Isaiah 41:4 and 43:10-13 are prime examples in this regard. Chapters 44-46 are also apposite, where the “I am” formula is employed several times in a similar context, with similar import (cf. 44:6; 45:5-6, 18: 46:4, 9). In addition, Jesus’ “I am” utterances arguably rely upon Exodus 3:14, where Yahweh disclosed his character to Moses with the appellation, “I am who I am.” Like Isaiah 40-55, Exodus 3:14 is set within a larger, covenantal-redemptive context (which the Fourth Gospel echoes). Divine self-disclosure points again to Yahweh’s matchlessness and loyalty. Jesus’ “I am” statements reverberate with sounds of Yahweh’s titular declarations in Isaiah and Exodus. Recalling such expressions, Jesus deliberately appropriated the divine name, perpetuating a historical pattern characterised by Yahweh’s repeated self-revelation (cf. Jn. 17:11). Jesus’ opponents rightly interpreted these “I am” statements as references to a sacred-divine unveiling.

This OT verbal background applies equally well to the seven instances of the predicated “I am,” fleshing out the absolute form, and underpinning various facets of Jesus’ salvific relationship to humanity. For instance, Jesus claimed to be the “resurrection and the life,” prefacing that declaration with “I am” (Jn. 11:25). In so doing, he appropriated something that, ordinarily, belonged to God alone – and in the process, implicitly presented himself as the locus of resurrection life. Sometimes, Jesus clearly drew from OT images and threads. He claimed to be the “bread of life” (6:35), plainly alluding to the feeding of the Israelites after their flight from Egypt (Exodus 16) – and the source, the enfleshment, of true life. His declaration to be “light” (8:12), it seems, echoed the OT’s use of light as a metaphor, not just for illumination, but for salvation (e.g. Isa. 42:6, 49:6). Similarly, as the “true vine” (15:1), Jesus claimed to be the divine reality to which OT Israel – frequently depicted in these terms (e.g. Ps. 80:8-11; Isa. 5:7) – pointed.

John 10:1-21 is a particularly good example of these realities. By declaring, “I am the good shepherd” (vv.11, 14), Jesus consciously alluded to Ezekiel 34 (cf. 37:24-28), boldly contrasting himself with Israel’s false leaders. In that passage, Israel’s “shepherds” are castigated for their predatory ways (vv.2-10); Yahweh vows that he himself will come and shepherd his people, whilst paradoxically promising the advent of a Davidic figure to reign over the nation (vv.11-24). Jesus re-applied Ezekiel’s promise to himself, asserting that he was that “shepherd,” and that he would provide security and comfort for God’s afflicted (albeit leaving the relationship between the Davidic ruler and Yahweh ambiguous). In so using the “I am” formula, Jesus identified himself with past instances of revelatory activity. Moreover, he frequently combined them with known scriptural images to substantiate his claim to be the consummating distillation of the salvific promises to which he alluded.

“I am” – Thematic Resonances

As the foregoing analysis implies, the “I am” statements signalled more than appropriation of the divine self-appellation. Indeed, they went beyond an abstract, metaphysical assertion. The “I am” formula’s OT grounding suggests that Jesus situated himself within a salvation-historical narrative, identifying (climactically) with a particular god, via particular acts – Yahweh, whose past revelations provided the boundaries for his own self-disclosure. The formula is pregnant with several interlocking theological themes and motifs, once more linking Isaiah 40-55 and Exodus to the Johannine Jesus. Three in particular stand out: the cosmic lawsuit; the revelatory-redemptive nexus; and the seminal significance of the image of exodus itself. They form a triadic relationship, having been woven together to inform a deeper understanding of the significance of the “I am” formula.

To begin, Jesus’ “I am” utterances are part of a scriptural-historical pattern of judicial contests between Yahweh and his adversaries. Both Isaiah 40-55 and Exodus feature what could be called the cosmic lawsuit motif, pitting God and false claimants to deity against each other in a supra-natural trial. Indeed, the question of knowledge of God’s identity hangs over both these portions of the OT. In Isaiah, Yahweh repeatedly reveals himself against a panoply of lifeless idols; in Exodus, he’s unveiled as the authentic Lord, over and against Pharaoh and his pantheon. The key link is the polemical unveiling of the true God in a judicial conflict, where his acts yield knowledge of his character (Exod. 6:2, 6-7, etc.). “I am [he]”, whether in Exodus 3:14, or Isaiah 40-55, hooks into this divine self-identification, and is achieved amidst controversy over who the true, universal sovereign is (cf. Exod. 5:2).

This trenchant disclosure does not, however, stand in isolation. As noted, these passages are part of a broader covenantal framework. In God’s effort to redeem Israel from slavery, or draw it out of exile, the cosmic lawsuit gives way to a deeper redemptive thrust. Yahweh’s exposure of false deities and his own, contrasting claims – by virtue of the evocative “I am” – are in the service of his desire to faithfully save his people. Thus, divine knowledge and divine redemption merge, and are twin components of the logic of Exodus and Isaiah 40-55. Finally, the exodus itself constitutes a seminal link: its founding reality becomes paradigmatic for future liberation by the time of Isaiah 40-55. Indeed, the references to the exodus in Isaiah are particularly vivid, establishing continuity between God’s salvation-historical acts.

The Johannine Jesus, by way of his “I am” pronouncements, relied upon this scriptural edifice, even as he presented himself as its capstone. “I am” is an allusion to a multi-faceted, redemptive narrative. The Fourth Gospel’s cosmic lawsuit, for example, is a well-known motif, reaching a crescendo in Jesus’ trial and crucifixion. Adversarial-legal passages, such as Jn. 5:16-47 or 8:12-59, offer glimpses, as do the frequency of words such as “testimony” and “witness,” references to judgment and divine verdicts (e.g. 3:19ff; 5:22, 28-30; 11:31; 16:8-11), and the Holy Spirit’s depiction as counsellor or advocate.

The Johannine concept of truth takes on a decidedly judicial “hue” in this context, seen most clearly in the repeated disclosures of authentic deity. Jesus’ “I am” pronouncement in 8:58 (and 8:24, 28) is rooted in this environment, and is a particularly clear reflection of the wider cosmic contest, built into the Fourth Gospel’s narrative, between the true God and his opponents (cf. 1:4-5; cf. 19:15c). Controversy over Yahweh’s rightful status as universal Lord is transmuted into a trial over Jesus’ kingly identity (e.g. 19:15). Echoing those crucial portions of Exodus and Isaiah, Jesus offered himself, polemically, as true deity – Yahweh’s unique representative. The “I am” formula, so allusive in its brevity, encapsulates this fundamental (and exclusively authentic) unveiling (8:28). But, also like those OT passages under examination, such revelation was indissolubly linked with salvation: Jesus adopted the “exclusive soteriological function” claimed of Yahweh, where acknowledgement of the “I am” meant life (8:24, 51, 58; esp. 11:25-26; cf. 17:3). Conceiving of truth as revelation, John’s Gospel uses the “I am” statements to encapsulate the authentic character of God, as revealed in Jesus. It is in this regard that John’s frequent use of glory as a metaphor for divine light/truth, explicating Jesus’ identity as its ultimate channel, is relevant: “I am” reflects an understanding of redemptive enlightenment – the already-surveyed conjunction of divine knowledge, communion and salvation. The culmination of that nexus, of course, occurred at Calvary, the paradoxical site of Jesus’ ultimate unveiling as Israel’s true saviour-king (8:28). “I am,” as used by Jesus, is the functional, verbal equivalent of the image of Yahweh’s radiance.

The Fourth Gospel also employs the key motif of exodus as an overarching framework, using its seminal influence to flesh out the nature of Jesus’ salvific ministry. Features include: echoes of the tabernacle’s establishment, a key plank in Yahweh’s salvific-covenantal project (1:14); the corresponding use of divine glory to communicate a key dimension of Jesus person and ministry (e.g. 1:14; cf. 40:34-38); various Mosaic comparisons (1:15; 3:14); the wider import of Isaiah 40:1-3 in John 1:23 (trading, as the former passage does, on exodus imagery); allusive references to the paschal lamb (1:29); imagistic overtones of the exodus in Jesus’ “born again” declaration (esp. 3:5); typological use of the Israelites’ feeding in the wilderness (John 6); salvation as freedom from slavery (8:31, 34); Jesus’ crucifixion at Passover, consummating that event’s anticipatory significance; and, of course, the “I am” formula itself (given its already-noted provenance). Passing the exodus through an Isaianic prism, Jesus obliquely claimed to be the same “I am” who had already achieved redemption for his people, and vowed to do so again. He deployed the formula to identify himself intimately with the God of the exodus – signalling the inauguration of a new exodus, as promised in the Isaianic literature. Isaiah 40-55 and Exodus 3:14, then, should be combined as part of a layered backdrop to Jesus’ own claim – which his “I am” statements reflect – to be the salvific God’s climactic self-revelation.

“I am” God?

One shouldn’t conclude from the above account that Jesus was baldly claiming to be Yahweh/God, without remainder. His pronouncements were, it must be said, far more subtle. Whilst he appropriated uniquely divine prerogatives (bestowal of life, judgment, etc.), and implied unity with God (10:30), Jesus paradoxically distinguished himself from the Father, explicitly referring to this difference at several points (e.g. 4:34; 5:19). It’s important, in this final section, to nuance his solemn assertion of deity found in the “I am” formula.

Importantly, Jesus’ “I am” statements can be viewed in light of John’s unique Christological-theological presentation, particularly as it is found in the prologue (1:1-18). The notion of the divine logos (or Word/wisdom/mind) is pertinent, underpinning the distinctiveness of Jesus’ “I am” utterances. John 8:12 (bookending Chapter 8 with v.58) recalls the prologue’s characterisation of the Word as light, and coheres with allusive references to Jesus-as-Temple, the “site” of Yahweh’s resplendence (= glory, above p.5; see 1:14; 2:12-25; cf. Exod. 40:34-38). Tapping into a rich vein of Jewish theology about the transcendent God’s simultaneous immanence, John’s Gospel depicts Jesus as God’s embodied wisdom, identified with his nature, yet distinct (cf. Isa. 55:11; Prov. 8:22ff). The “I am” statements link Jesus with Yahweh’s activity and being, echoing the prologue’s portrayal of the divine Word as supervening agent in creation. Yahweh’s kingship, to which this essay has already referred, is of a piece with the Johannine picture of God’s presiding over creation: he is the universal sovereign, to which authorship of creation attests. Furthermore, this identity is “concretized,” so to speak, in Jesus and his “I am” claims. John 8:58 is especially apposite, strongly implying Jesus’ pre-existence, and contrasting it with creation’s contingency and finitude (represented, in this case, by Abraham’s qualified existence [cf. 1:1-3]). Functions attributed to Jesus are attributed to the logos, and these connections reflect the Gospel’s conviction regarding his co-inherence, his ontological identification, with Israel’s – and the world’s – God (14:10). Jesus is seen as, and declared himself to be, God’s mediating presence in the creation (1:9-10), witnessing to humanity as the climactic bearer of the divine name (cf. Heb. 1:1-3).

As can be seen, then, this isn’t merely a matter of later theologizing. In the aforementioned use of Ezekiel 34, Jesus himself fused the paradoxical combination of a divine-human shepherd in his own person. John 14:6, where Jesus claims, “I am the way…”, touches upon the enigma of his twin-status as the supreme revelation of Yahweh and the distinct channel, mediator – even enfleshment – of divine truth; indeed, to know Jesus is to know the Father (Jn. 14:9-10), and Yahweh’s singular reality is “devolved,” in a sense, to his uniquely qualified representative. “I am” functions as a subtle reference to Jesus’ divine status, whilst discouraging facile attempts to baldly equate him with Yahweh. Therefore, although he claimed deity, Jesus did so in a way that didn’t exhaust the Godhead. “I am” isn’t a totalizing declaration of godhood, but points to Jesus’ status as God’s true “image” – the incarnation of Yahweh’s wisdom. The Johannine picture of God’s manifold nature calibrates the import of Jesus’ statements, holding in tension his dual identity as Yahweh’s manifest presence and a discrete personage. “I am,” in this environment, successfully preserves the Son’s essential deity, but without collapsing it into the being of the Father.


It is apparent that the Johannine Jesus, according to his “I am” statements, sought to (obliquely) claim divinity. The formula bears clear linguistic parallels with OT instances of God’s self-identification – found, above all, in places such as Isaiah and Exodus – encompassing his uniqueness and covenantal loyalty. Moreover, Jesus’ declarations captured a complex web of fundamental salvation-historical themes and motifs, building upon those striking verbal similarities. The cosmic lawsuit, the coalescence of revelation and salvation, and the use of exodus as a defining image for that process, form a coherent backdrop to Jesus’ “I am” statements. More than an inert, metaphysical assertion, his declaration signalled the climax of God/Yahweh’s redemptive-revelatory activity, to which the surveyed background pointed. Past acts of self-disclosure converged in Jesus, crystallized – in abbreviated form – in the “I am” formula. Importantly, Jesus remained within the confines of monotheism, utilising Jewish categories to explicate his own, distinctive claims to deity. Rather than offering up an exhaustive declaration of godhood, the Jesus of the Fourth Gospel presented himself as God’s supreme self-expression: participating eternally in divine life, embodying divine truth, but retaining a distinct identity. Properly contextualised, Jesus’ “I am” statements buttress this paradoxical portrayal.