Scripture: Isaiah 36:11-22
"Then Eliakim, Shebna, and Joah said to the Rabshakeh, “Please speak to your servants in Aramaic, for we understand it. Do not speak to us in the language of Judah within the hearing of the people who are on the wall.” 12 But the Rabshakeh said, “Has my master sent me to speak these words to your master and to you, and not to the men sitting on the wall, who are doomed with you to eat their own dung and drink their own urine?” 13 Then the Rabshakeh stood and called out in a loud voice in the language of Judah: “Hear the words of the great king, the king of Assyria! 14 Thus says the king: ‘Do not let Hezekiah deceive you, for he will not be able to deliver you. 15 Do not let Hezekiah make you trust in the Lord by saying, “The Lord will surely deliver us. This city will not be given into the hand of the king of Assyria.” 16 Do not listen to Hezekiah. For thus says the king of Assyria: Make your peace with me and come out to me. Then each one of you will eat of his own vine, and each one of his own fig tree, and each one of you will drink the water of his own cistern, 17 until I come and take you away to a land like your own land, a land of grain and wine, a land of bread and vineyards. 18 Beware lest Hezekiah mislead you by saying, “The Lord will deliver us.” Has any of the gods of the nations delivered his land out of the hand of the king of Assyria? 19 Where are the gods of Hamath and Arpad? Where are the gods of Sepharvaim? Have they delivered Samaria out of my hand? 20 Who among all the gods of these lands have delivered their lands out of my hand, that the Lord should deliver Jerusalem out of my hand?’” 21 But they were silent and answered him not a word, for the king's command was, “Do not answer him.” 22 Then Eliakim the son of Hilkiah, who was over the household, and Shebna the secretary, and Joah the son of Asaph, the recorder, came to Hezekiah with their clothes torn, and told him the words of the Rabshakeh."
Most of you are familiar with the movie, It’s a Wonderful Life. This is about George Bailey, a man who has spent his entire life sacrificing his dreams to help others in his small town of Bedford Falls. When a financial crisis and a lifetime of disappointments push him to the edge, George believes the world would be better off without him.
On Christmas Eve, an angel named Clarence is sent to save George. Clarence shows George what life in Bedford Falls would look like if he had never been born, and the picture is bleak. Without George’s quiet acts of kindness, courage, and sacrifice, countless lives unravel and the town falls into darkness.
Seeing the impact he’s had, George realizes his life truly matters. He returns home with a new sense of meaning, and the community he spent his life serving rallies around him, saving him from ruin. Clarence earns his wings, and George discovers that he really does have a “wonderful life.”
George’s problem wasn’t his circumstances, however. It was his vision. See, he believed the lie that there was a “better life” out there that God had withheld from him. That lie is exactly what the Rabshakeh preaches in Isaiah 36 that we will cover today. In our story, Judah is starving, terrified, and surrounded. Into that desperation, the Rabshakeh offers a simple but seductive message, “There’s a better life waiting for you if you just stop trusting God and do it yourself.
From our perspective, it’s easy to see that George did have a good life. He was making a tremendous difference in the lives of others, even if he didn’t see it. But how many of us are like George? We look around at our lives and only see the things we don’t have, the adventures we have missed, or the opportunities that go to other people. We respond by pursuing a “better life,” or by wanting to sink into despair.
The Rabshakeh has been building toward one central accusation, “Don’t let Hezekiah make you trust in the Lord.” That line is the dagger to the heart of Isaiah 7–39. This accusation is designed to cast doubt and disbelief upon all the questions Isaiah has been pressing for decades such as, “Can God be trusted? Is He strong enough? Is He good enough? Is He faithful enough?
But we know that God can be trusted, unlike anything else. Hezekiah’s officials know the danger they are up against. They beg the Assyrian official to speak in Aramaic, the diplomatic language, so the common people won’t understand. But he refuses. The Rabshakeh wants the people terrified. He wants panic to spread. He wants them to turn against Hezekiah and ultimately God.
The commander begins with a bold claim: “Hezekiah cannot deliver you.” Then he adds the deeper accusation: “The Lord will not deliver you.” But before he gets there, he tries a different tactic, inviting the people to trust his master, Sennacherib. He paints surrender as a reasonable, even attractive option. “You’ll get your farms back. “You’ll have food and water again. You’ll be relocated to a land just as good as this one.” He’s selling exile like it’s a vacation package. But make no mistake, this captivity will be no picnic.
Just think of how doubt works this way in your mind. Sin always advertises comfort. It never advertises chains and devastation. Doubt works in these sneaky, comfortable ways. A husband who feels unseen in his marriage can be tempted to believe the lie, “I’d be happier if I just stopped trying.” The woman who is lonely is attacked with the appeal doubt makes with, “Lowering my standards will finally get me the relationship I want.” Or the believer who is exhausted by waiting thinks, “If I stop praying and take matters into my own hands, at least something will happen.” Doubt always tries to sow seeds of the “wonderful life” that God hasn’t yet given us.
The Assyrian leader contrasts Hezekiah and Sennacherib as part of his strategy. Sennacherib is called “the great king,” while Hezekiah is not even called “king.” Sennacherib offers comfort and abundance, while he says that Hezekiah offers only suffering and starvation. Sennacherib promises a good land, but what can Hezikiah promise? Seemingly nothing. This is the moment where faith looks most irrational. The Rabshakeh’s message is the same message the world still preaches, “Why trust a God you cannot see when human power is right in front of you?”
To a starving, terrified city, the supposed offer of help the Assyrians make if Judah surrenders must have sounded like water to a dying man. Siege conditions were horrific with overcrowding, starvation, disease, violence, fear, and hopelessness. People from the countryside had fled into Jerusalem, making the city unbearably cramped. Supplies were limited. Morale was low. So when the Rabshakeh says, “Open the gates and go home for a while,” it must have been deeply tempting.
Think of how doubt does the same with us, tempting us with a counterfeit peace, a peace that comes from surrendering, compromising, or giving up. It looks easier. It looks safer. It looks reasonable. But it always leads to bondage. But God knew what the Assyrians were not saying. Your surrender means you are gone, for deportation was standard policy. Families would be torn apart. Leaders would be exiled. The culture would be completely changed. Life would never be the same again. And doubt does the same with us. It won’t tell us everything that is going to happen if we surrender to it and give in. It doesn’t want us to see the devastation that is awaiting.
The Rabshakeh’s final argument is that Judah’s God is too weak. He boasts that the Lord cannot deliver you because He is just one more god, and we’ve defeated them all. In support he lists all the other gods the Assyrians have defeated, such as Hamath, Arpad, Sepharvaim, Samaria. All of them have been conquered. All of them were proven powerless. So his logic is simple: “If their gods couldn’t save them, your God can’t save you.”
Human success often seduces people into believing they are invincible. It blinds them to their need for God. It leads them to challenge God Himself. This is why Scripture warns that pride goes before destruction. The Rabshakeh is not just mocking Judah — he is mocking Yahweh. And God will not let that stand.
Just as the Assyrian commander used Judah’s weaknesses against them, the enemy loves to use your past disappointments as “proof” that God won’t come through. He points to unanswered prayers, past failures, painful losses, long delays. And he whispers, “See? God didn’t help then. Why would He help now?” But the commander’s argument has a fatal flaw. He assumes Yahweh is just another god, like all the ones he has defeated. But he has no idea who the true God is, or what He is like. And Isaiah has been shouting this truth for 35 chapters, that the Lord is not one of the gods. He is the God. He is in a category of His own.
The Rabshakeh has unintentionally exposed the core issue of the human heart: Will we trust God or human power? Will we trust divine glory or human glory? Will we trust the unseen God or the visible empire? This is not just Judah’s crisis, it’s ours. Every temptation, every fear, every crisis eventually boils down to this: Who will you trust?
Every fear, every temptation, every disappointment eventually becomes a crisis of trust. And this is where doubt hits us hardest. When the job you prayed for goes to someone else, when the marriage you hoped for feels stuck, when the healing you begged for hasn’t come, or when obedience feels like loss instead of life, we face a crisis of trust. And in those moments, doubt whispers the same lines the Rabshakeh used: “God won’t deliver you. Your faith is pointless. You’re missing out. There’s a better life out there—just not with God.”
The Rabshakeh’s arrogance sets the stage for God to act. When human pride reaches its peak, and when human power claims supremacy, and when the world says, “There is no God but humanity,” God steps in. God has no problem humbling us as a reminder of who is truly in control.
Hezekiah had commanded the people not to answer the Rabshakeh. Why? Because some arguments are not meant to be answered. You don’t debate blasphemy. You don’t negotiate with arrogance. You don’t reason with spiritual intimidation. In response, the envoys return to Hezekiah with torn garments, the sign of grief, fear, and shock. Sometimes the wisest thing you can do is refuse to argue with voices that oppose God. One of the best ways to defeat doubt is not to debate it, but to take it to the Lord.
And this is where the resurrection puts a nail through the heart of doubt. Doubt says, “There’s a better life out there—just not with God.” But the resurrection responds, “The best life possible is found only in the God who conquered death.” Doubt says, “God is holding out on you.” But the resurrection says, “God holds out to you eternal life through His Son.” Doubt says, “There’s a better life without obedience.” The resurrection replies, “Life is found in obedience to the risen King.”
Doubt tells us, “You’re missing out.” The resurrection reminds us, “You have an inheritance that cannot perish.” Doubt screams, “Trusting God is irrational.” But the resurrection fires back, “Trusting the One who defeated death is the most rational thing in the world.” And in these resurrection truths are where the greatest real-life battles are won.
When a single mom keeps trusting God with her future because the resurrection proves He hasn’t abandoned her. When a man tempted to compromise chooses obedience because the empty tomb tells him God’s way leads to life. When a weary believer keeps praying because the resurrection proves God works in the dark. Or when a discouraged heart keeps hoping because Jesus’ victory guarantees that suffering is never the end of the story.
May I remind you that the resurrection is not just a holiday on your calendar. No, it is a
weapon. The Rabshakeh’s voice of doubt still speaks today, but so does the voice of the risen Christ. One voice promises comfort without God, while the other voice promises life through God. One of these voices leads to captivity, while the other leads to resurrection. At the end of the day, the question Judah faced is the question you face today. Who will you trust?
Pastor Josh
Where have you recently felt the pull of a “better life” that seems easier than trusting God?
When has doubt offered you a counterfeit peace—something that looked comforting on the surface but would have led to bondage if you followed it?
How does the resurrection reshape the way you see the situation where doubt is loudest right now?
Identify one place where doubt is promising you an easier life and bring the resurrection into it. Maybe it’s the temptation to take a shortcut because obedience feels too costly. Maybe it’s the urge to give up on prayer because nothing seems to change. Maybe it’s the desire to compromise because loneliness feels unbearable. Name that specific place, and then remind your heart of what the empty tomb declares: God is not withholding good from you, His way leads to life, and every alternative path—no matter how comforting it looks—leads to chains.
