When it can't get any worse, it can get better than ever

Lessons from Hezekiah's shameless longing to live in the face of annihilation

An image for Andrew Kooman’s new work Remnant. Art by J.E. Serait.

When it can't get any worse, it can get better than ever

This was King Hezekiah’s experience as the armies of Assyria surrounded him and violently threatened his people. The threats levelled against him were not so subtle end-of-life-as-you-know-it threats: surrender to us or you will “eat your own dung, drink your own urine.” (Is 36:12)

The Rabshakeh, the Assyrian king’s mouthpiece, was clever. He craftily used the language and vocabulary of Judah for intimidation. He knew enough about Israel’s God and their belief in Him to sound like he was an expert in what he discussed. He was versatile enough in the language and bold enough in his threats to make what seemed a reputable claim: that he was sent by God himself to punish Hezekiah and the people. 

Hadn’t Isaiah done the very same thing, for decades? 

Much of Isaiah’s prophetic pronouncements (captured in the very book that bears his name) record a message of warning and judgment that the idolatry in the land would finally bring about the natural consequence of embracing other gods: Israel would be embraced in the strong arms of those foreign gods’ kings. An embrace of death.

In fact, for more than 20 years before Hezekiah came to the throne, Isaiah had been warning of the impending doom awaiting Israel if they clung to gods like the gods of Assyria.

And now Assyria was on Hezekiah’s doorstep.

Imperial Assisted Dying  

So what did Hezekiah do? 

A less discerning man might have mistaken the messages and the mouthpieces. But the messengers operated under entirely different spirits that delivered different outcomes. Hezekiah discerned that embracing the fatalistic words of the Assyrian king would be to accept the natural outcome of his nation’s waywardness: a life dominated and turned over to evil.

But he didn’t even engage the threatening voice. No dialogue. No back and forth. Instead Hezekiah “laid it all out before the LORD¹” (Is 37:14). He spread the threatening words of Assyria in the temple, the very building that his own heart was led to clean, restore and re-dedicate (2 Chron 29-30).

He knew that with God, there was always a chance to experience both life and redemption. 

Hezekiah desired to live and he asked to become a survivor. He prayed that his people would live and escape destruction. 

And this prayer God happily answered. 

Note that Hezekiah didn’t get distracted by an existential or theological conversation about judgment (what it means, who deserves it, its medium and its messenger). He grabbed hold and held tight to the meaning of the name of the LORD² and didn’t try to solve the problem on his own. He put his life and death into the merciful hands of God.

As Heaven and hell throttled the remaining settlements of Israel, Hezekiah simply tore his clothes (a sign of mourning and an acknowledgment of his desire to be in step with God’s way) and made a humble request to Isaiah. He asked the prophet to inquire if God had anything to say to the emissary of doom who threatened his repentant people. 

And it turns out God sent Assyria away, defended Israel by routing that enemy, saved Hezekiah and his people, granted them life.

Nice story. But what can it mean for us today?

The throttling is real.

In the last few years can you blame anyone for wondering if the throttling is coming from Heaven or hell? In this age of tension, perhaps it's always both; there’s a battle and a pull; a tug-of-war for each soul.

Perhaps you never believed it before, but the last few years have brought a clarity that there’s something “going on,” always. All around us. Exhibit A: Read some of the stats and figures I shared last week about medically assisted dying in Canada.

This old story from ancient Israel feels fresh and relevant for me today. In it, I think there is an important lesson about what it means to be Remnant. 

To be Remnant is to become rooted in grace, like Hezekiah, not routed by the enemy.³ And it’s clearly not to whimper or cower in the midst of the epic battle faced by our self-same souls and the lives embattled around us. 

In Hezekiah’s act of laying out the words of his enemy before the LORD in the temple, I read a bold and brave choice. His nation’s moral failings were bitterly real and his ability for self-protection and preservation were pathetically inadequate. 

And yet there was no act of self-pitying or cynical surrender to the circumstances. Hezekiah became Remnant, a survivor, simply by declaring to God that he wanted to be one. 

His unadulterated, lusty longing to have life, live it to the full in the midst of such challenging circumstances, to me, is defiant and heroic.

And it’s a posture that any of us who seek to make it through challenging times ought to note.

---

Would you consider supporting the journey of Andrew’s new work: Remnant: Cultivating Faith and Faithfulness in Challenging Times.

Choose any amount! With a gift of $50 or more, you’ll receive the first edition of the book for helping me complete the original work. Every bit of support is a massive encouragement and helps make this content possible.

1. The merciful God, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin, but by no means clearing the guilty… the very meaning and nature of God whenever it appears as “LORD” (in all caps) in the English Bible; from the explosive revelation of God to Moses in Exodus 34:6 - 7.

2. See the definition in the footnote above.

3. The surviving remnant of the house of Judah shall again take root downward, and bear fruit upward… the zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this” (Is 37:31-32).