Suffering and comfort

Hearing God's Voice Beneath the Taunt: Hezekiah's Suffering and Comfort

When Assyria's field commander mocked Jerusalem from beneath her walls, how did the suffering people of God find comfort amid humiliation?

BibleVibe Editorial5 min read
TranslationESV
Isaiah 36:1-20

In the fourteenth year of King Hezekiah, King Sennacherib of Assyria marched against all the fortified towns of Judah and seized them. From Lachish, the king of Assyria sent the Rabshakeh, with a large force, to King Hezekiah in Jerusalem. [The Rabshakeh] took up a position near the conduit of the Upper Pool, by the road of the Fuller’s Field; and Eliakim son of Hilkiah who was in charge of the palace, Shebna the scribe, and Joah son of Asaph the recorder went out to him. The Rabshakeh said to them, “You tell Hezekiah: Thus said the Great King, the king of Assyria: What makes you so confident? I suppose mere talk makes counsel and valor for war! Look, on whom are you relying, that you have rebelled against me? You are relying on Egypt, that splintered reed of a staff, which enters and punctures the palm of anyone who leans on it. That’s what Pharaoh king of Egypt is like to all who rely on him. And if you tell me that you are relying on the ETERNAL your God, this is the very one whose shrines and altars Hezekiah did away with, telling Judah and Jerusalem, ‘You must worship only at this altar!’ Come now, make this wager with my master, the king of Assyria: I’ll give you two thousand horses, if you can produce riders to mount them. So how could you refuse anything, even to the deputy of one of my master’s lesser servants, relying on Egypt for chariots and riders? And do you think I have marched against this land to destroy it without GOD? It was GOD who told me: Go up against that land and destroy it.” Eliakim, Shebna, and Joah replied to the Rabshakeh, “Please, speak to your servants in Aramaic, since we understand it; do not speak to us in Judean in the hearing of the people on the wall.” But the Rabshakeh replied, “Was it to your master and to you that my master sent me to speak those words? It was precisely to the men who are sitting on the wall—who will have to eat their dung and drink their urine with you.” And the Rabshakeh stood and called out in a loud voice in Judean: “Hear the words of the Great King, the king of Assyria! Thus said the king: Don’t let Hezekiah deceive you, for he will not be able to save you. Don’t let Hezekiah make you rely on GOD, saying, ‘GOD will surely save us; this city will not fall into the hands of Assyria!’ Don’t listen to Hezekiah. For thus said the king of Assyria: Make your peace with me and come out to me, so that you may all eat from your vines and your fig trees and drink water from your cisterns, until I come and take you away to a land like your own, a land of bread and wine, of grain [fields] and vineyards. Beware of letting Hezekiah mislead you by saying, ‘GOD will save us.’ Did any of the gods of the other nations save their land from the king of Assyria? Where were the gods of Hamath and Arpad? Where were the gods of Sepharvaim? And did they save Samaria from me? Which among all the gods of those countries saved their countries from me, that GOD should save Jerusalem from me?” But they were silent and did not answer him with a single word; for the king’s order was: “Do not answer him.” And so Eliakim son of Hilkiah who was in charge of the palace, Shebna the scribe, and Joah son of Asaph the recorder came to Hezekiah with their clothes rent, and they reported to him what the Rabshakeh had said.

Isaiah 36:1–20 records the psychological siege of Jerusalem by Rabshakeh on behalf of Sennacherib. The passage layers three taunts—military weakness, theological slander, and claimed divine sanction—upon a people already under pressure. Suffering here is not abstract; it is verbal, public, and aimed at the heart of faith. The comfort of the chapter, though delayed in narrative, is the quiet assurance that the God being mocked is the very One who reigns and will answer.

Narration

Historical Background: The Fourteenth Year of Hezekiah

Isaiah 36 places us in a precise moment: the fourteenth year of King Hezekiah of Judah, when Sennacherib of Assyria swept through the fortified cities of Judah and finally dispatched a psychological weapon to the gates of Jerusalem. The Rabshakeh—likely a high court official, not a mere translator—planted himself by the Upper Pool, the very location where Isaiah earlier met Ahaz in counsel (Isaiah 7:3). Geography is intentional: this is the same ground where covenant decisions are weighed. The delegation sent to meet him is telling. Eliakim son of Hilkiah, Shebna the scribe, and Joah the recorder are the same trio mentioned in Isaiah 22, where Shebna is judged and Eliakim is given the key of David. They go out under orders of a king who has already purged idolatry and trusted the Lord (2 Kings 18:4–7), and they are immediately met with a fourfold taunt designed to dismantle that trust: (1) hollow words are not strategy, (2) Egypt is a broken reed, (3) trusting YHWH is foolish because Hezekiah himself removed the high places, and (4) the Lord Himself has commissioned Assyria's invasion. Suffering in this chapter is corporate, civic, and auditory. The men on the wall (verse 11) are the suffering audience. They will, the Rabshakeh promises, eat their own dung and drink their own urine. The comfort is not yet articulated in these verses—it comes in the chapters that follow—but the historical context assures the reader that the city does not fall. Josephus records the broader campaign and the sudden lifting of the siege, a detail that the canonical narrative will interpret theologically as divine rescue.

Spacetime Setting: The Conduit of the Upper Pool

Isaiah chapter 36 is set in the First Temple period, spanning the geopolitical tension between the Davidic city of Jerusalem and the Assyrian threat from Nineveh.

Meaning: Three Faces of Suffering and the Foreshadowing of Comfort

The suffering in Isaiah 36:1–20 is structured around three theological temptations, and each one carries a corresponding form of comfort that the rest of Isaiah will unfold. First, the temptation of futility. 'Mere talk' cannot deliver you, says Rabshakeh. Suffering here is the experience that words, plans, and conferences are insufficient. The comfort that answers this is God's own word spoken in the night: 'Be still, and know that I am God' (Psalm 46:10). Isaiah will later pronounce, 'The virgin daughter of Zion has despised you and laughed you to scorn' (Isaiah 37:22). The Lord will answer with a word that dismantles the Assyrian's rhetoric. Second, the temptation of misplaced trust. Egypt is a splintered reed; the world will always wound the hand that leans on it. Suffering here is the painful discovery that human alliances cannot bear the weight we put on them. The comfort is Christ's invitation, 'Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden' (Matthew 11:28), and Paul's 'God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble' (Psalm 46:1; quoted in 2 Corinthians 1:3–4 as the grammar of all true comfort). Third, the deepest wound: the suggestion that God Himself is against His people. 'It was the LORD who told me: Go up and destroy it.' Suffering at this level is theological—the feeling that heaven has signed off on our disaster. The comfort, already latent in verse 7, is that the God who supposedly sent the Assyrian is the same God 'whose shrines and altars Hezekiah did away with'—i.e., a God who accepts obedient worship rather than multiplied locations. Hezekiah's reformation is not evidence of divine displeasure but of divine zeal. The comfort is this: the Lord's discipline and the Lord's comfort are never finally at odds. 'For the LORD will not cast off forever, but, though he causes grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love' (Lamentations 3:31–32). The passage leaves the sufferer at the foot of the wall, mouth shut, ears ringing, but standing on ground that will, before the chapter ends, be the very place where God speaks.

Application: Finding Comfort Beneath the Taunt

1. Name the voice. Rabshakeh's strategy is to overwhelm with noise until you forget whose voice you were made to obey. When suffering comes as a torrent of accusations—about your weakness, your foolish choices, your insufficient resources—pause and ask: 'Whose voice is this, and whose child am I?' The application is the discipline of silence before the Lord that the officials model when they ask for Aramaic. Not every argument must be answered in the language the enemy chooses. 2. Refuse the splinters. Egypt will always look like a reasonable ally—familiar, available, impressive. But every leaning on a 'splintered reed' is a pre-paid wound. The application is an honest audit: where am I leaning on chariots and horses rather than on the name of the Lord (Psalm 20:7)? Suffering often begins as a result of a misplaced lean; comfort often begins with confession. 3. Let the doctrine of God correct the doctrine of God. The most unsettling line in the chapter is 'It was the LORD who told me.' Suffering teaches us that Providence and permission are not the same as approval. God can use an Assyrian without becoming an Assyrian. The application is to read our hardest providences through the larger canon, not through the press release of the moment. Hezekiah does this in Isaiah 37 by spreading Sennacherib's letter before the Lord—turning the taunt into a prayer. 4. Sit on the wall and keep eating. The citizens on the wall are told they will 'eat their own dung.' The application is the Eucharistic one: in the darkest hour, the Lord gives His people bread that the world knows nothing of. Isaiah 55:2 stands behind this scene: 'Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread?' The comfort of the Christian is that the Lord who fed Israel in the wilderness (Deuteronomy 8:3) is the same Lord who feeds the besieged church. 5. Trust the delay. The comfort in this passage is delayed. Isaiah 36 ends in suspense. Most Christian comfort works the same way—arriving not at the moment of the wound, but in the long obedience that follows. 'Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning' (Psalm 30:5).

Reflection

There is a strange providence in the placement of Isaiah 36 in the canon. It comes after thirty-five chapters of promise and before thirty-seven chapters of redemption. The reader is asked to dwell in the worst part of the story—the part where the enemy speaks loudest—before the answer arrives. Perhaps this is mercy. Perhaps the Spirit of God, who inspired the arrangement, knows that most of our lives are lived in chapter 36, not chapter 37. We are people besieged, listening to voices that promise devastation, holding on to a God whose answer has not yet come. The comfort of this text is not the absence of Rabshakeh but the presence of a different conversation. While the Assyrian shouts, Isaiah is in the temple. While officials negotiate, the Lord is enthroned. While the city eats its fear, heaven is preparing a meal. The pattern is the same one Paul describes in 2 Corinthians 1:3–7: 'Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.' Suffering is not the last word. It is, more often than not, the porch before the door. So bring your Isaiah 36 to the Lord. Spread the letter, like Hezekiah, on the floor of the sanctuary. Let the taunts of the enemy become the prayers of the saint. And wait—because the God who let Rabshakeh finish his speech is the same God who, one chapter later, will not let him finish his march.

FAQ

Why does the Rabshakeh mock the very God Hezekiah trusts?

Rabshakeh aims to collapse morale by attacking faith at its source. When a people believe their God has turned against them, walls no longer hold. This is the deepest layer of suffering—the sense of theological abandonment.

Why is Egypt compared to a splintered reed?

Egypt's promises look solid but pierce the hand that leans on them when pressure comes. The Rabshakeh states a spiritual fact: human security often wounds its own users before it wounds the enemy.

Where is the comfort in this passage?

Comfort is delayed in the narrative but embedded in its structure. The text pauses at the darkest moment and trains us to wait for God's response. True comfort is this: the Lord lets the enemy finish speaking, but never lets the enemy finish marching.

How did Hezekiah respond to this suffering?

He did not argue back, nor did he lean on Egypt. He spread the letter before the Lord in the temple and prayed. The first move after suffering is not rebuttal but worship.

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