Last night in our Isaiah class we studied the invasion of Jerusalem by the Assyrian Empire (Isaiah 36-37). It’s the moment the class has been building to since we started the study back in January. I know the time change is rough but if you can make up the hill for the final few weeks of the quarter, you won’t be disappointed. It’s an amazing text. In it, we meet an Assyrian emissary to King Sennacherib. His name is not given to us, only his title: Rabshakeh. He is the King’s appointed spokesman, sent to Jerusalem to oversee what is hoped to be the peaceful surrender of all Judean soldiers. Failing that, his job is to talk trash and intimidate the Jews into believing they would be doomed to try and fight off the Assyrian army.
This man is an incredible trash-talker.
Over the course of a ten-minute monologue, he trashes Judah’s soldiers, Judah’s king, Judah’s size, Judah’s wits, Judah’s strength, and most infuriating of all, Judah’s God. Oh, he has some remarkably insulting things to say about Jehovah. He equates the God of Israel to the little pagan gods of all the nations Assyria has thus conquered. He talks about God as though He’s a pet rock that Sennacherib has in his grasp. He mocks the notion that just one solitary God could possibly defeat the army that has toppled nations protected by hundreds of gods.
Last night in class, as we read through the monologue of this Assyrian messenger, so filled with arrogant vitriol, I couldn’t help but think about how satisfying it will be when his army comes face to face with the messenger of the Lord. Then another thought occurred to me: Jesus died for that guy.
The Lord God whom Rabshakeh thought was too weak to withstand his army will, later, send His only begotten son to do for men like Rabshakeh what they cannot do for themselves. Those who are too weak to save their souls can find in Jesus the strength to break free from Satan’s shackles, regardless of the kind of people they are. When we think of the people who need Jesus, our thoughts often go to hurt people, desperate people, sad people who are lost in a dark place, looking for a way out but unable to find out. We think about the kind of people that naturally trigger our compassionate sides.
Jesus died for the jerks too.
Isn’t that an amazing thought? I know it is to me, because while I sometimes act like a sad person who needs help getting out of a mess of someone else’s making, I also sometimes act an arrogant, smarmy, and pompous tool, needing the forgiveness of God, not in spite of my bad attitude, but because of it.
Jesus died for Rabshakeh, and that’s a good thing too, because I sometimes act like him.
~ Matthew