Isaiah 42 explained: A Gentle Servant, a Blind People

The gentle chosen servant (vv. 1-4)

God presents a servant he has chosen and filled with his Spirit, who will bring justice to all nations quietly, without shouting or force. A bent reed and a lamp wick about to go out picture people who are fragile or nearly finished, and he will not crush them.

Called to be a light (vv. 5-9)

The Creator of everything promises to hold the servant's hand and make him a covenant (a binding bond between God and people) and a light to other nations, freeing the blind and the imprisoned. God points out that his earlier predictions came true, so the new things he now announces can be trusted, unlike idols.

A new song everywhere (vv. 10-12)

The whole world is called to sing, from sailors and distant coastlands to Kedar, a desert tribe in Arabia, and Sela, a rocky stronghold south of Judah. The point is that people far beyond Israel join in praising the LORD.

Warrior and woman in labor (vv. 13-17)

After a long silence God bursts into action, pictured both as a warrior raising a battle cry and as a woman crying out in childbirth, two images of something held back and finally released. He will scorch the land against his enemies yet lead the blind home by roads they never knew, likely picturing exiles returning from Babylon, while those who trust idols are shamed.

Israel, the blind servant (vv. 18-25)

Now the servant is Israel itself, a people who have seen and heard much but will not take it in, and who now sit plundered and imprisoned after conquest and exile. The prophet says bluntly that the LORD handed them over to war because they would not keep his law, and that even in the flames they still did not understand.

Key verse: Isaiah 42:3

Where Christians differ

Christians differ on whether the servant of verses 1 to 7 is a direct prediction of Jesus, as the Gospel of Matthew applies it, or first meant Israel or a figure in the prophet's own time, with Jesus seen as its later and fullest fulfillment.

Something to think about

Why might gentleness toward people who are fragile or nearly worn out be rarer, or harder, than forceful justice?