Commentary on Isaiah 40

Isaiah 40 marks a dramatic pivot in the book, shifting from judgment to comfort. The prophet announces that Jerusalem’s warfare is ended and her iniquity pardoned, preparing the way for the Lord in the wilderness. This chapter introduces the incomparable God—His majesty, sovereignty, and tender care for His people. It is a theological high point, declaring that God is not like idols; He is the Creator who never grows faint and who strengthens the weary. The chapter sets the stage for the Servant Songs and the hope of restoration, pointing ultimately to Christ as the fulfillment of God’s comfort.

Historical context

Isaiah 40 opens what scholars often call “Second Isaiah” (chapters 40–55), though the book is a unified work from the prophet Isaiah of Jerusalem. The historical setting has shifted: Isaiah ministered in the 8th century BC, warning Judah of Assyrian judgment. But chapter 40 speaks to a people already in exile in Babylon (ca. 586–539 BC). The prophet, by divine inspiration, addresses a future generation who have experienced the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple. They are weary, discouraged, and questioning God’s faithfulness.

Culturally, the exiles lived surrounded by Babylonian idols and imperial power. The great processions of Marduk and the claims of Babylonian gods would have tempted them to doubt Yahweh’s supremacy. Isaiah’s message is a direct challenge: the God of Israel is not like the idols of wood and stone. He is the Creator who sits above the circle of the earth (Isa 40:22). The chapter also echoes the Exodus tradition—preparing a way in the wilderness (Isa 40:3) recalls the journey from Egypt. This is a new exodus, a return from Babylon, and ultimately a foreshadowing of the redemption Christ would bring.

Verse by verse

• 1:

  “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.” The double imperative emphasizes urgency and depth. God speaks directly to His people, not through a mediator. The word “comfort” (nachamu נחמו) carries the sense of breathing deeply again after grief. This is not mere sympathy but active restoration. The exile is not the final word; comfort is.

• 3:

  “A voice cries: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD.’” This verse is quoted in all four Gospels (Matt 3:3; Mark 1:3; Luke 3:4; John 1:23) applied to John the Baptist. The “way” is a royal highway for Yahweh’s return to Zion. In the ancient Near East, kings would send forerunners to level roads before a royal procession. Here, the wilderness itself—symbol of chaos and judgment—becomes the place of divine visitation.

• 5:

  “And the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.” The glory (kavod כבוד) of God is His visible presence, as in the tabernacle and temple. Now it will be seen universally, not just in Jerusalem. This anticipates the incarnation: “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory” (John 1:14). The promise is cosmic in scope.

• 6:

  “All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field.” The contrast is stark: human frailty versus God’s enduring word. The Hebrew word for “beauty” (chesed חסד) can mean covenant loyalty, but here it likely refers to human glory or reliability. Everything we trust in—power, wealth, life itself—withers. Only God’s word stands forever (v. 8).

• 9:

  “Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good news.” Zion (Jerusalem) is personified as a messenger. She is not to cower in shame but to climb the mountain and shout. The “good news” (besorah בשורה) is the announcement of God’s reign and return. This is the gospel before the Gospel—the same root word used in Isaiah 52:7 and quoted in Romans 10:15.

• 11:

  “He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms.” After the majestic imagery of God as warrior and king (v. 10), the metaphor shifts to tender care. The shepherd is a royal image in the ancient Near East (e.g., David, the shepherd-king). Jesus identifies Himself as the Good Shepherd (John 10:11). The arms that hold the lambs are the same arms that measure the waters (v. 12).

• 12:

  “Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand?” This rhetorical question begins a series that establishes God’s incomparability. The image is staggering: the oceans are a handful; the heavens are a handbreadth; the dust of the earth is a mere measure. No idol or human ruler can compare. The Creator is utterly transcendent, yet He shepherds His people.

• 18:

  “To whom then will you liken God, or what likeness compare with him?” This is the central question of the chapter. The surrounding verses (vv. 18–20) mock idolatry: a craftsman makes an idol, chooses wood that won’t rot, and sets it up so it won’t topple. The absurdity is that humans create gods who need human help to stand. The true God needs no such props.

• 28:

  “Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.” The repetition (“Have you not known… heard”) is gentle rebuke. The exiles had forgotten who God is. He does not faint or grow weary—unlike the idols, unlike human strength. His understanding is unsearchable. This is the foundation for hope.

• 31:

  “But they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles.” The word “wait” (qavah קוה) means to hope, to look expectantly. It is not passive resignation but active trust. The promise is not that troubles will vanish but that God gives strength to endure. The eagle imagery suggests soaring above the storm, not escaping it. This verse has comforted countless believers in trial.

Key themes

• Comfort and restoration after judgment
• The incomparability of God
• The fleeting nature of human life
• God as Shepherd and King
• The new exodus and preparation for the Lord

Application

Isaiah 40 speaks directly to seasons of weariness and doubt. When life feels like exile—when circumstances seem to contradict God’s promises—the chapter calls us to lift our eyes. The God who measures the oceans in His hand is not threatened by our problems. He does not grow tired of our struggles. The call to “wait on the Lord” is not a suggestion but a lifeline. It means actively hoping in His character, not in our ability to fix things.

This waiting is not passive. It is the posture of a child who trusts a father’s timing. The promise of renewed strength is for those who admit their weakness. The gospel connection is clear: the One who prepared the way in the wilderness is Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd who gathers the lambs. In Him, the glory of the Lord is revealed, and all flesh can see it. Our comfort is not in circumstances but in the unchanging God who speaks a word that stands forever.

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