Isaiah 38:9 - Meaning and Application

Here we have Hezekiah’s song of thanksgiving, which he wrote, by God’s direction, after his recovery. He could have used some of David’s psalms, and many of them would have fit his situation well. In fact, he had earlier appointed the Levites, the temple singers and servants, to praise the Lord with David’s words (2 Chronicles 29:30). But this was an unusual event, and his heart was full of worship. So he did not limit himself to older inspired songs, but poured out his own devotion in his own words, which is natural and sincere.

He also put this thanksgiving in writing so he could read it later and keep the lesson fresh in his mind. He wanted the good effects of this mercy to stay with him, and he wanted others to use it in a similar time of need. There are some records we should make after we have been sick and then restored. It is good to write down the trouble itself, and the state of our hearts in it, the thoughts we had while sick, and the feelings that were active in us. It is also good to record God’s mercies on a sickbed and our release from it, so they are not forgotten.

We should write a thanksgiving to God, and in a sense, write a firm covenant with him, sealing it with our own hand. We should also commit ourselves in writing, so that we never return to folly. Hezekiah left a good record after his recovery, though we later read that he did not repay God as he should have according to the kindness shown to him (2 Chronicles 32:25). One would think the lesson would have stayed with him forever, and yet it seems to have faded. Thanksgiving is good, but thanksgiving lived out is better.

In this writing, he records, first, the sad condition he was in when his disease was strongest, and his fear that he would not recover (Isaiah 38:10-13). He tells us what he thought about himself when he was at his worst. He keeps those thoughts in memory partly to blame himself for giving in to despair, since while there is life there is hope, and room for prayer and mercy from God. It is right to think of sickness as a warning that we may soon go to the grave, so that we become serious about preparing for the next world. But we should not make our condition seem worse than it is, as if every sick person must soon die. God can bring low, and he can also raise up.

He may also be reminding himself of how close death seemed, so that he would always know his own weakness and mortality. Even though he was given fifteen more years, it was still only a reprieve. The stroke he feared would still come in time. Or he may be magnifying God’s power in restoring him when his case looked hopeless, and God’s goodness in doing far more for him than his own fears expected. David did something similar after he was delivered, when he looked back on the dark conclusions he had made about himself in trouble, and on what he had said in his haste (Psalm 31:22; Psalm 77:7-9).

Hezekiah says that he thought the number of his months had been cut off in the middle. He was about thirty-nine or forty years old, and he had every reason to expect many more good years ahead. But this sudden sickness made him think his days were ending, and that the rest of his years would be taken from him. He also felt that with those years he would lose not only the comforts of life, but also the chance to serve God and his generation. He says in the same sense, “My age has gone, and has been taken from me like a shepherd’s tent” (Isaiah 38:12). Our present life is like a shepherd’s tent, a poor, temporary dwelling where we stay only for duty and stewardship. It can be taken down easily, with just one or two pins removed.

Yet this is not the final end of life, only a removal to another world. The rough tents of Kedar, which are taken down now, will be raised again in the New Jerusalem, beautiful as Solomon’s curtains. He adds another picture: “I have cut off my life like a weaver.” He does not mean he ended his own life. Rather, once he was told he must die, all his plans had to stop. His purposes were broken off, and the thoughts of his heart were brought to nothing, as Job’s were (Job 17:11). Our days are also like the weaver’s shuttle, moving quickly back and forth (Job 7:6). When the work is finished, the thread is cut, and the cloth is taken out of the loom to be shown to the Master, who will judge whether it was well woven and reward us according to what we did in the body.

But as the weaver’s work ends when the thread is cut, so the good person’s weariness and burdens end when life ends. He rests from his labor. Still, Hezekiah corrects himself in effect: “Did I say I cut off my life? No, my times are not in my own hand. They are in God’s hand. He will cut me off from the loom when he has fixed the length of my life.” God has appointed the measure of the piece, and when it reaches that measure, he will cut it off.

He also thought he would go to the gates of the grave, the place whose gates are always open. The grave is pictured here not only as the burial place of his fathers, though he would have been buried with honor in the chief tombs of the kings and all Judah would have honored him at his death (2 Chronicles 32:33). He had not even given thought to that while sick. He means more than the tomb. He means the state of the dead, the unseen world, to which he thought his soul was going.

He also believed he was being cut off from every opportunity to worship God and do good in the world (Isaiah 38:11). “I shall not see the Lord,” he says, meaning he would no longer see God as he showed himself in the temple, in his words and worship, in this land of the living. He still hoped to see God on the other side of death, but he feared he would not see him again on this side of death as he had in the sanctuary (Psalm 63:2). He would no more see, that is, serve, the Lord in the land of the living, this place where God’s kingdom and Satan’s kingdom are in conflict. He dwells on this thought: “I shall no more see the Lord, even the Lord.” For a good man wants to live for no other purpose than to serve God and enjoy fellowship with him.

“I shall see man no more.” He would no longer see his own people, whom he once protected and judged for. He would no longer see the poor, whom he could help, or his friends, who often sharpened one another by their fellowship, as iron sharpens iron. Death ends conversation and takes our acquaintances away into darkness (Psalm 88:18).

He also expected the pain of death to be sharp and severe. He thought God would cut him off with a wasting sickness that would quickly wear him down. The illness grew so fast, with no easing by day or night, morning or evening, that he believed it would soon reach its end point and finish him. He felt that God, whose servants all diseases are, would break his bones with crushing pain, like a lion (Isaiah 38:13). He thought he might only live until the next morning, and then, after surviving one day of sickness, he feared the next night would be his last. When we are sick, we are very likely to count our remaining time like this, but in the end we still do not know. We should care more about reaching the next world safely than about how long we may live in this one.

He then describes the complaints he made in that condition (Isaiah 38:14). “Like a crane or a swallow, so I chattered.” His voice was like the frightened cries of those birds. This shows how quickly sickness can change a person. He who had spoken with such freedom and dignity only a short time before now chattered like a crane or swallow because of severe pain and weakness. Some think he means his prayers in his suffering were so broken and interrupted, with groans that could not be put into words, that they sounded like bird cries. Even so, he had a low opinion of his prayers, though God accepted them and answered them. He mourned like a dove, quietly and patiently.

He had seen God answer him before, so he kept looking up for help now, but in vain. His eyes grew weak, and he saw no sign of relief or lessening of his illness. So he prayed, “I am oppressed. Lord, take my side and help me. Be surety for your servant for good” (Psalm 119:122). In other words, “Come between me and the gates of the grave, where I am being dragged.” When we recover from sickness, God’s kindness has, as it were, asked for a day’s delay for us and promises we will appear later to answer fully. But when we receive the sentence of death within ourselves, we are helpless unless God’s grace undertakes for us, carries us through the valley of the shadow of death, and keeps us faithful until the heavenly kingdom. If Christ does not take our cause in hand, bring us safely through judgment, present us to the Father, and do all we need and cannot do for ourselves, we are lost. “I am oppressed, ease me,” some read it. When guilt troubles us and we fear God’s wrath, nothing can truly calm us except Christ taking up our case.

He next gives a thankful response to God’s goodness in his recovery. He begins as one unsure how to speak. “What shall I say?” he says. Why keep complaining when one fact is enough to silence all complaints, God has spoken to me? God sent his prophet to tell me I would recover and live fifteen more years, and God himself has made it sure. What God says, he will do, for none of his words fail. Since God has spoken, he is confident of it: “You will restore me and make me live.” That means not only healing him from this sickness, but bringing him through the years appointed for him.

Because of that hope, he makes three promises. First, he says he will always remember the weight of his affliction (Isaiah 38:15). “I will go softly all my years in the bitterness of my soul.” He means he will walk humbly and thoughtfully, remembering his sinful distrust and complaining under suffering, and showing by his life that God’s mercy has truly done him good. He will not live carelessly, as many do after they recover. Some understand him to mean, “I will go pleasantly,” since God has delivered him, and he will now walk cheerfully with God in holy conduct, having learned that the Lord is gracious. Others take it as, “Even after the bitterness of my soul, I will go softly,” meaning he will keep the lessons of his trouble and still think soberly about life.

Second, he will use his own experience to encourage himself and others (Isaiah 38:16). “By these things you have done for me they live,” that is, the kingdom lives, because the life of such a king was the life of the kingdom. “All who hear of it will live and be comforted.” By the same power and goodness that restored him, all people have their lives held up, and they should acknowledge it. “In all these things is the life of my spirit.” His spiritual life is supported and renewed by what God has done to preserve his natural life. The more we taste God’s loving-kindness in every providence, the more our hearts will grow to love him and live for him, and that is the life of the spirit. So our souls live, and they will praise him.

Third, he praises the mercy of his recovery for several reasons. First, he had been brought low in a severe crisis (Isaiah 38:17). “For peace I had great bitterness.” After the defeat of Sennacherib, the Assyrian king, he expected peace for himself and his kingdom, but sickness suddenly struck him and turned all his comforts bitter. It rose so high that it felt like the bitterness of death itself, bitter beyond words. That was the condition he was in when God gave him timely help.

Second, the help came from God’s love, love for his soul. Some people are spared for a time in anger, only to face greater judgment later after their sin is full. But earthly mercies are truly sweet when we can see God’s love in them. “You have delivered my soul from the pit of corruption” means, “You loved my soul deeply and brought me up from death.” God’s love is enough to rescue a soul from the pit of corruption. This also points us to Christ’s work of redemption. It was out of love for our souls, our poor, dying souls, that he delivered them from the bottomless pit and snatched them like brands from everlasting fire.

His love and pity redeemed us. The preservation of our bodies, and the care God gives them, are doubly comforting when they come from love for our souls. It is sweet to know that God repairs the house because he cares for the one who lives in it.

This healing was also the result of sin being forgiven. “You have put all my sins behind your back,” and so you have delivered my soul from the pit of decay, in love to it. When God forgives sin, he puts it behind his back, meaning he will not look on it with a judging eye. He does not remember it to bring it up in court. Forgiveness does not make the sin unreal or harmless, but it does mean it will not be punished as it deserves.

If we hide our sins from ourselves and do not truly repent, God sets them before his face and is ready to deal with them. But when we bring them before our face in true repentance, as David did when he said his sin was always before him, God puts them behind his back. When God forgives, he forgives all of it. Even sins as red as scarlet and crimson are cast away. The forgiving of sin is the same as delivering the soul from the pit of corruption. It is a great comfort to see recovery from sickness flowing from the pardon of sin, because then the cause is removed and the healing is shown to be love for the soul.

This healing also gave Hezekiah more time to glorify God in this world, which he made the work, joy, and aim of life. If this sickness had ended in death, it would have stopped the course of service he was then pursuing for God’s glory and the church’s good (Isaiah 38:18). Heaven certainly praises God, and the souls of the faithful do that work there with the angels. But what benefit does that bring to the world still under struggle? The grave cannot praise God, and those who lie in it cannot announce his goodness or his favor to others. The dead cannot speak of his power to invite people into his service. Those who have gone down to the pit are no longer in a time of testing, and they no longer live by faith in his promises, so they cannot honor him by hoping in his truth. Until the last day, when they are raised again, they cannot receive more mercy or offer more praise.

Since he had recovered, Hezekiah resolved not only to go on praising and serving God, but to do so more fully (Isaiah 38:19). “The living, the living, he will praise you.” The living can do it, and that chance is the main thing that makes life precious to a godly person. Hezekiah was glad to live, not so he could keep his royal position, his honor, or the pleasure of his recent victories, but so he could keep praising God. The living must praise God. They live in vain if they do not.

Those who have been near death and are still alive, whose life has come back from death, are especially bound to praise God, because they feel his goodness most deeply. Hezekiah himself, now restored, would make praise his work: “I do it today; let others do the same.” Those who urge others well should set a good example themselves. Hezekiah says that the Lord was ready to save him, not only willing, but ready at the very moment of his greatest need. His help came at the right time. He showed himself eager to save.

So first, Hezekiah says, “I will declare and proclaim his praise.” He and his household, his friends, and his people will join together in praise to God’s glory. He will sing his songs with stringed instruments so others may hear them and be moved by them when they are in a serious and worshipful frame in the house of the Lord. Special mercies should be openly thanked for in public praise, especially mercies given to public leaders (Psalm 116:18-19).

Second, “I will continue and remain in his praise.” We should do this all our days, because every day is itself a fresh mercy and brings fresh mercies with it. New mercies call for new praise, and great blessings from the past call for repeated praise. Since we live by God’s mercy, we must keep praising him as long as we live, while we have breath, yes, while we have being.

Third, “I will spread and preserve his praise.” We should not only praise him all our lives, but fathers should make God’s truth known to their children, so future generations will trust it and give God glory for it. Parents should fill their children with confidence in God’s truth, because that helps keep them close to God’s ways. Hezekiah surely did this, even though his son Manasseh did not follow his example. Parents can give children many good things, like teaching, examples, and books, but they cannot give them grace.

The last two verses of the chapter include two details from this story that were left out of the earlier account, though they appear in 2 Kings 20. We should notice two lessons from them. First, God’s promises are meant to encourage the use of means, not replace them. Hezekiah was sure to recover, and yet he had to take a lump of figs and lay it on the boil (Isaiah 38:21). We do not trust God, but test him, if we pray for help and do nothing ourselves. We must not put doctors or medicine in God’s place, but use them under God and his providence. Help yourself, and God will help you.

Second, the main goal we should have in asking for life and health is that we may glorify God, do good, grow in knowledge and grace, and become ready for heaven. When Hezekiah asked, “What is the sign that I shall recover?” he was really asking what sign there would be that he would go up to the house of the Lord to honor God, keep fellowship with him, and encourage others to serve him (Isaiah 38:22). It is assumed that if God restored him, he would at once go up to the temple with his thank offerings. There, Christ found the man he had healed (John 5:14). For a good man, the duties of religion are such a joy and necessity that being kept from them is his greatest sorrow, and being restored to them is his greatest comfort. Let my soul live, and it will praise you.