The Boasting Axe (Isaiah 10:5-34)
Think about this for a moment: Have you ever been at the peak of your game, nailing every project at work, watching your relationships flourish, or even just feeling the joy of a well-organized sock drawer? Now, what do you do with that feeling? Do you hoard it? Do you say, "Look at me! Look at how amazing I am!" Well, if you do, this passage in Isaiah is about to school us on the perils of patting ourselves on the back too vigorously.
In our walk with Christ, we often talk about how to cope when things go south, how to trust in God when the sky is falling. But what about when the sky is clear, the sun is shining, and life seems sweet? What does our attitude during those times reveal about the state of our hearts?
We're going to unpack Assyria's story, a cautionary tale of an empire bloated with pride. But hang on, because we'll pivot towards the end to see the flip side—God's steadfast love and plan to save His remnant people. We see the powerful brought low and the weak exalted. So, let's fasten our seat belts and dive into God's Word, asking Him to cut through our pride and make us more like Him. Shall we?
Woe to Assyria (10:5-15)
Ah, Assyria—the empire that seemed to have it all. Wealth, military might, and geopolitical influence; it was the superpower of its time. The proverbial playground bully who took what it wanted, when it wanted. But here's the thing, they were convinced that they were the architects of their own destiny. In verses 12-14, Assyria boasts, saying, "By the strength of my hand I have done it, and by my wisdom, for I have understanding."
In verse 15, Assyria is called a boasting axe, as if the axe could chop down a tree without the lumberjack swinging it. It's absurd! God responds to this arrogance with a clear and direct "Woe to Assyria." This woe is not a casual lament. No, it's an ominous, prophetic warning. God is saying, "Your self-reliance and arrogance have not gone unnoticed, and judgment is on the horizon."
Just pause and think about that for a second. Assyria was the instrument of God's judgment on Israel, but they missed the point. They thought their success was all about them, that they were the ones pulling the strings. Can you see how sometimes, we do the same? How easy it is to believe that our triumphs are solely the result of our grit, determination, or smarts?
You see, God was the one who wielded Assyria as "the rod of His anger," to chastise a wayward Israel. Yet Assyria didn't realize they were being used by God; they thought they were using God, or better yet, that they had no need for God at all.
The lesson here is piercingly clear: When we start taking credit for what God is doing through us, we're treading on dangerous ground. It's like claiming you made the sun rise, or that you hold the stars in place. You're not just wrong—you're profoundly wrong. And, let's be clear, that sort of pride comes before a fall.
A Message For The Remnant (16-27)
So Assyria is the juggernaut of the ancient world at this time, but let's pivot for a moment and consider the other character in this drama—the remnant of Israel. You see, while Assyria was in the spotlight, basking in its own self-congratulatory glow, there were still faithful individuals within Israel quietly clinging to God. They were the under-the-radar, keep-the-faith, "He's-still-God-even-when-life-is-hard" people.
It's easy to focus on the big, loud stories of success or failure, but what about the quieter stories of faithfulness? Isaiah says that God will not just cut down the high and mighty Assyrians, but He will also have compassion on those who are truly His. "The remnant will return, the remnant of Jacob, to the mighty God" (Isaiah 10:21). This is an anchor of hope for everyone who feels overshadowed by the Assyrias of this world, those larger-than-life characters who seem to monopolize God's attention.
There's a note of hope woven into this narrative that we cannot afford to miss, a divine prelude that predates Israel's entanglement with Assyria. You see, God, in His boundless wisdom, knew He would reserve a remnant before Ahaz had even decided to lean on Assyria for support. We get a hint of this in Isaiah 7:3, where God instructs Isaiah to meet King Ahaz and bring along his son, Shear-Jashub, whose name means "A remnant shall return."
Why does that matter? Why bring his son with that peculiar name? It's a prophetic statement—a promise from God Himself—that despite Israel's waywardness, a faithful remnant would be preserved. The Almighty wasn't caught off guard by Israel's poor choices or Assyria's arrogance. He was, and always is, ten steps ahead.
Imagine being part of that remnant, aware that your leaders have made some questionable alliances, watching as Assyria flexes its muscles and puffs up its chest. It could be disheartening. But then you hear that God has promised to reserve a remnant, and suddenly your focus sharpens. Your circumstances might not have changed, but your perspective has. You realize that even if the nation goes astray, your faithfulness to God puts you in a different category. You are part of the remnant.
The remnant God is speaking of isn't just a random selection of individuals. It's a group marked by faithfulness, by an unwavering commitment to trust God, even when it's unpopular, even when it's difficult. I want you to hear this clearly: Not everyone who claims to be part of God's people really is. Not all who call themselves Israel are Israel, just like not all who call themselves Christians are really Christians, as we read in Romans 9:27-28. The remnant are those who, despite the odds, choose to align themselves with God's heart, God's purposes, and God's glory. They trust and depend on God. They humbly acknowledge that, "I am not the axis on which the world turns. God is." It's the recognition that our lives, our successes, and even our struggles, are orchestrated by a loving God for our good and His glory.
In a world where many are carried away by the currents of culture, the remnant stands steadfast, anchored in the unchanging nature of God. And for that remnant, God has a message of salvation, a future, and a hope.
Cut Assyria Down (28-34)
As we draw near to the climax of this narrative, we find that God's patience with Assyria's arrogance has reached its limit. The curtain is about to fall on this empire's grandiose performance. In verses 33-34, the imagery is vivid: "Behold, the Lord God of hosts will lop the boughs with terrifying power; the great in height will be hewn down, and the lofty will be brought low. He will cut down the thickets of the forest with an axe, and Lebanon will fall by the Majestic One."
This isn't a simple trimming; this is a chopping down at the roots. Assyria, the boasting axe, is about to feel the weight of divine irony. The tool is broken; the instrument of God's judgment is itself judged. The empire that stood tall, convinced of its own invincibility, will be brought low. There's a solemn finality here, but also a just reversal.
You see, God won't allow His glory to be stolen. He won't allow His plans to be thwarted by human arrogance or shortsightedness. As James says, "God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble."
Assyria serves as a warning to any who would claim the glory that belongs to God alone. This should stir a holy fear in us, a reverence that leads us to attribute our success, not to our own brilliance, but to the One who gives us breath, talent, and opportunity.
Remember that remnant we talked about? Well, when the axe falls on Assyria, it will be this remnant, this faithful few, who will stand tall amid the ruins—not because of their own strength, but because they leaned on the everlasting arms of the God who saves.
Application
So, here we are, having explored the story of Assyria's rise and fall, and the prophetic promise to God's remnant. But what does this mean for us? How do we apply these ancient narratives to our modern lives? It's tempting to relegate these stories to the realm of history, to see them as cautionary tales or inspiring anecdotes. But these Scriptures are more than that; they are alive and active, cutting to the heart.
Firstly, we need to examine our attitudes towards our successes and blessings. Are we like Assyria, deluded in thinking that we've orchestrated our own triumphs? If so, it's time for a posture change. We should be humbled by the realization that it's God who equips us, God who opens doors, and God who blesses us. Our achievements are not for our glory, but for His.
Let's dig deeper into this facet of being like Assyria, proud of our successes, and how it applies to us in a concrete way.
Career and Ambitions: Maybe you've climbed the corporate ladder swiftly and you're proud of the empire you've built. It's tempting to look down from that high office floor and think, "I did this. All me." Before you know it, your job becomes an idol, and you start to believe that your accomplishments are solely the result of your own talent and hard work. Remember, it's God who gave you those abilities in the first place.
Relationships: Ever feel like you've got the perfect family, the perfect friends, the perfect life? It's easy to feel a sense of ownership over that, isn't it? But even our relationships are gifts from God, intended not for our pride but for mutual edification and for His glory.
Spiritual Achievements: This one might sting a bit. Even in the church, it's possible to be like Assyria. Maybe you've led many people to Christ, or you've been a Christian for many years, and you start to feel entitled, perhaps a bit superior to those 'new believers.' That's a dangerous place to be. Spiritual pride can be the most insidious form of arrogance because it masquerades as piety.
Social Media: Let's not overlook this modern platform for self-exaltation. Each 'like' and 'share' can subtly feed our ego until we start to measure our worth based on online affirmation, forgetting that our real worth is found in God alone.
Intellectual Pride: For some, it might not be about material or relational success, but intellectual achievements. Whether it's academic degrees or simply knowing more than the next person, the temptation is to see ourselves as the 'boasting axe,' cutting down anyone who doesn't measure up to our intellectual standards.
In all of these scenarios, the call to humility remains the same. Recognize the source of all your blessings and talents. Credit where credit's due; give God the glory. Don't let success become a stumbling block that blinds you to the giver of all good gifts.
Before you go thinking any of these spheres of success make you invincible or somehow better, let the story of Assyria serve as a stark reminder: God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.
God of Impossible
How will he do that? As a side note, there's an incredibly rich detail in verse 26: "The Lord of hosts will wield against them a whip, as when he struck Midian at the rock of Oreb." And again, God refers to "his staff over the sea," a clear allusion to the parting of the Red Sea in the time of Moses.
Friends, this isn't a random historical footnote. This is a powerful assurance to the remnant of God's people. God is saying, "Remember how I did the impossible before? Remember how I reduced Gideon's army to a mere 300 men and then routed the Midianites at the rock of Oreb? Remember how I parted the Red Sea and led my people out of Egypt?" He's making a promise to His remnant: "I can and will do the impossible again."
Now fast forward to King Hezekiah, who found himself besieged by the Assyrians. All of the other fortified cities were destroyed and yet he clung to God, waiting for the fulfillment. What did he do? He prayed. He didn't lean on his own understanding or military might. He leaned on God. And God's response? He struck down 185,000 Assyrian soldiers in one night. Gone. Just like that. The boasting empire was humbled, not by human strength but by divine intervention.
It's a sobering reminder that when we align ourselves with God, when we're part of that faithful remnant, we're not just leaning on historical tales of deliverance. We're leaning on a God who is actively making history, a God who continues to do the impossible to accomplish His purposes.
In these ancient stories, we find a God who's as alive and active today as He was then. We see the same God who cut down Assyria is ready and willing to act decisively for those who trust in Him today. So as we look at Assyria cut down, remember this: The same God who performed miracles at Oreb and the Red Sea is the same God who stands with His remnant today.
Conclusion
As we close, I want you to sit with these truths, to let them sink deep into the marrow of your being. This isn't just the tale of an ancient empire and a faithful remnant; it's your story, and it's my story. Each of us stands at a crossroads every single day. Will we claim glory for ourselves, or will we humbly attribute it to God? Will we stand aloof, assuming we're automatically part of God's people, or will we strive to truly be part of His faithful remnant?
Ask yourself: Are you part of the remnant? Do you trust God to do the impossible in your life, just as He did for Gideon, Moses, and Hezekiah? Being part of the remnant is about faithfulness, about trusting God when the odds seem stacked against you. It's about remaining steadfast in faith, even when society drifts away from God. You have to decide if you'll merely call yourself a Christian or if you'll truly be one, living out your faith in a tangible way.
Let's embrace the promise of divine intervention. The God who struck down 185,000 Assyrians is not a passive observer; He's a God who acts. Just as He heard Hezekiah's prayer, He hears yours. Are you facing insurmountable challenges? Are you staring at your own version of the Assyrian Army? Take it to God in prayer, and trust Him to do what only He can do.
My prayer for each of us is that we choose wisely, that we cultivate an attitude of humility and trust in the God who still does wonders, who still hears prayers, who still saves. And as you go out this week, may you not just call yourself a Christian but truly be one, leaning not on your own understanding, but on the everlasting arms of the God who never fails.