Knowing God vs Knowing About Him
A conversation on Isaiah
Last week, we finished up Haggai, a minor prophetic book in the Old Testament. One of the remarkable things that stood out to me in the book of Haggai was the response of the people. When they had been saying that it wasn’t yet time to build, and Haggai, said, “No, it IS time to start building,” they responded: YES! Let’s do this. They responded obediently to God, and God said, “ I am with you.”
And He gave them what they needed to re-built the temple. He gave them energy. He made sure they returned to Jerusalem with the looted goods that had been stolen when they were brought into exile. And when they didn’t think what they had was enough, or the new temple wouldn’t be as grand as the old temple, He told them He was with them. He encouraged them and told them to be strong, because He was the owner of all the silver and all the gold. When they were still unclean, and defiled, when their offerings didn’t mean anything, they repented. They did the work to reconnect with God.
This story is not that story.
Isaiah is the other side of this situation. It comes before the book of Haggai, before the Babylonian exile, before the Assyrian exile.
Isaiah’s message is a wake-up call. It’s a warning about the impact of not truly knowing God—a reality that can lead to brokenness, emptiness, and loss of hope. But Isaiah doesn’t stop at warning. It’s also a book about the exploration of God’s holiness, and how His holiness offers not only judgment but a path to reconciliation, restoration, and hope for those who feel completely hopeless.
Have you ever thought about the difference between knowing about someone and truly knowing them?
For example, I might know something about some famous person. I could probably tell you some facts about their life, their achievements, maybe even their likes and dislikes. But do I really know them? No, I don’t. I’ve never had a conversation with them, shared experiences, or spent time in their presence. I just know about them.
Now imagine that dynamic in a relationship with God. At the time Isaiah was written, the Israelites were very good at knowing about God. They could recite the stories, repeat the laws, and go through the motions of worship. But as Isaiah reveals, it’s painfully clear that they didn’t truly know Him. Their hearts were distant, their lives reflected rebellion, and their understanding of God was surface-level.
What’s an example of something you thought you really knew but later realized you didn’t understand at all? How did that change your perspective or approach?
About 200 years before the book of Haggai, about 740 BC, we enter the prophetic book of Isaiah, when the Israelites were in a bit of a pickle.
And actually, let’s back up many years before that and start at the beginning of the Israelites’ story. We start at the story of creation—the book of Genesis—a book that repeatedly shows this family focused on self-preservation above all else—above their brothers, above their neighbors, above their towns, above even their relationship with God. And immediately the spiral of relationship between God and people begins.
First they spiral away from God, then God intervenes. They listen for a moment, they spiral again, God calls them back, there are consequences—and then there is repentance and right relationship with God. Until they do it all over again. (And I think we’re probably still doing it.)
The spiral begins in Genesis when they ate the fruit they weren’t supposed to eat. It runs through Exodus, when Moses was leading them out of Egypt on their way to the Promised Land. At one point, Moses headed up the mountain for a few days, and when he got back they were making idols out of gold. The spiral continues into Judges, where the stories show the same thing over and over: Israel sins and worships idols, they face tough consequences and cry out to God for help, and God brings a judge to rescue them—someone who helps deliver them. Peace lasts for a while—usually until the judge dies—and the process begins again.
When the last of the Judges, Samuel, was getting old, the Israelites asked for a king like the other nations around them. Samuel wasn’t happy about it. They were supposed to view God as their King, and of course a king would make demands of the people. But they insisted. So they began to have kings. Some were good, but many were bad, leading the people into idolatry or over-taxing the people or practicing child sacrifice or oppressing the people.
Through all of this time, there were also prophets—from the stories in Genesis, through the Judges and into the Kings—there were prophets. In Genesis, this included Enoch and Noah, and the first to be explicitly called a prophet—Abraham, who was also the father of Israel. Later, there was Moses, the prophet who was the most written about. And others, like Miriam, Deborah, and Samuel.
Before the period of the kings, the prophet’s role was to pray for the people, to lead Israel, to establish covenants between God and His people, and to serve as both judges and prophets. They also sometimes performed miracles to demonstrate God’s power. Once the kings arrived and Israel became a monarchy, the prophets’ roles shifted—they no longer held the same leadership positions but took on new roles, becoming advisers to the kings. They still called for repentance of the people and the kings, and they reminded the people of their covenants—their promises, responsibilities, and commitments to God. And they still performed miracles to show God’s power, and sometimes the miracles were signs of judgment and hope.
The purpose of the prophets throughout the Old Testament is to help Israel stay faithful to God. They were God’s messengers. They spoke on God’s behalf, they called for justice and mercy, and they condemned oppression and corruption. They called kings and nations to repentance. They encouraged the faithful, warned of future judgment, and told of hope and restoration. They revealed God’s character—that he is holy, just, merciful, and sovereign.
And today, we’re talking about the prophet Isaiah. Isaiah’s story unfolds during a turbulent time in Israel’s history—a time marked by division, destruction, and uncertainty. After the death of King Solomon, the son of David, the united kingdom of Israel split into two: Israel in the north and Judah in the south (931 BC). This division didn’t just create two political entities; it fractured the spiritual identity of God’s people. The northern kingdom, Israel, spiraled into idolatry and rebellion; they ignored God’s covenant and chose their own way. By 722 BC, the northern kingdom had fallen to the Assyrians. Meanwhile, Isaiah’s ministry takes place in the southern kingdom of Judah during the reigns of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah.
Although Judah had moments of faithfulness, they were far from perfect. We see political alliances, a broken covenant, the rich oppressing the poor, no one caring for orphans or widows, corrupt leadership, and moral decay, which left them on shaky ground, staring down the same potential fate as their northern neighbors. It’s into this context of uncertainty and fear that Isaiah speaks. His words carry both a warning and a message of hope: a call to repentance and a reminder of God’s faithfulness, even when His people falter. Isaiah’s message centers on the holiness of God and its impact—on individuals, nations, and the world.
What’s a moment in your life when things felt divided or uncertain? How did you navigate it, or how do you wish you had responded differently?
As we move into Isaiah, the first five chapters paint a vivid picture of Judah’s failures. Isaiah doesn’t hold back—he lays out all the ways Judah has missed the mark as God’s people. Their worship has become hollow, their leaders corrupt, and their actions marked by injustice and self-interest.
Isaiah 1: God raised his people with love, but they don’t even recognize Him. They’ve rebelled, abandoned him, and broken their covenant. Their sacrifices mean nothing. God calls them to repent—do what’s right, seek justice, help the oppressed. They can turn back and be blessed or keep doing harm and face judgment.
Isaiah 2: Future hope: God's temple will stand, and people will seek his ways. But right now? God has abandoned them because they’ve abandoned him, worshiping idols instead. The proud will be humbled, and the arrogant brought low.
Isaiah 3: Leaders are crushing the people, and God isn’t having it. Judgment is coming. Corrupt rulers will fall, and chaos will take over. Incompetent, selfish people will take charge, and society will collapse. War will take their men.
Isaiah 4: With so many men gone, families will struggle. But there’s hope—those who remain will thrive, the land will flourish, and God’s presence will return to protect and bless his people.
Isaiah 5: God planted his people like a vineyard, expecting good fruit, but they turned out rotten—so judgment is coming.
But even as Isaiah calls out their brokenness, there’s a thread of hope woven through his words. God hasn’t abandoned them. Despite their rebellion, God offers the possibility of renewal and restoration. This tension between judgment and hope is central to Isaiah’s message—it’s both a call to accountability and an invitation to transformation.
If we are faithless, He remains faithful, for He cannot disown Himself. (2 Timothy 2:13)
Can you think of a time when you felt like you’d fallen short but were still given a chance to make things right? How did that opportunity impact you?
In Genesis 3, after Adam and Eve disobeyed God, eating the forbidden fruit, they hid themselves when they heard God walking in the garden. God’s question, “Where are you?” wasn’t about physical location. God, being omniscient, already knew where they were and what had happened. This question wasn’t about information—it was an invitation.
God’s question offered Adam and Eve an opportunity to step into the light, acknowledge what had gone wrong, and move toward reconciliation. Yet, instead of responding with honesty and trust, they hid in fear, their relationship with God fractured by shame and blame.
This moment in Genesis gives us a deep glimpse into the character of God. It shows a God who doesn’t abandon His creation in its brokenness but instead seeks it out. Even in the face of sin, God’s first action is to pursue, not to punish. His question, “Where are you?” is filled with grace—it’s an open door for Adam and Eve to take a step toward healing.
Fast-forward to Isaiah 6. In this moment, Isaiah has a powerful vision of God’s holiness, seated on a throne, high and exalted.
In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphim, bird-like creatures that have a fiery appearance each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another:
“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory.”
At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke. “Woe to me!” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.” (Isaiah 6:1-5)
Isaiah—just like the people that he’s being commissioned to prophesy to, and just like Adam and Eve—In the presence of God, knows he’s defiled, knows he’s unclean, and thinks he is ruined.
Then one of the seraphim flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. (Isaiah 6:6)
I wonder if Isaiah was anticipating his own judgment here. But that’s not what happens. Instead, it’s a beautiful moment:
With it he touched my mouth and said, “See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.”
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I. Send me!” (Isaiah 6:7-8)
Here’s the critical difference between Adam and Eve’s response and Isaiah’s: when God initiates reconciliation, Isaiah accepts. The seraph touches his lips with a coal, signifying his purification, and then God asks a question: “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” This echoes God’s question to Adam and Eve, “Where are you?” Both are invitations to step into God’s purposes and embrace His path of reconciliation.
Unlike Adam and Eve, Isaiah doesn’t hide. He doesn’t deflect or blame. Instead, he responds with humility and trust: “Here am I. Send me!” Isaiah’s response is what Adam and Eve’s could have been—a willingness to face God, accept His grace, and choose His path of restoration.
God’s questions in these two moments reveal some things about His character. He is first of all a God who seeks. He doesn’t wait for us to come to Him. In the garden, He walks toward Adam and Eve. In Isaiah’s vision, God initiates Isaiah’s cleansing and call. He is also a God of grace. His questions aren’t accusatory but invitational. “Where are you?” and “Whom shall I send?” create space for us to move toward Him, even in our brokenness. And He is a God of Purpose. He doesn’t just reconcile; He calls us into His work. Both Adam and Eve and Isaiah were given the opportunity to partner with Him—one rejected it, and the other embraced it.
Adam and Eve’s choice to hide represents humanity’s natural inclination to avoid accountability, fearing the consequences of failure. Isaiah’s response, on the other hand, models what it looks like to step forward in faith, trusting in God’s provision and purpose. Both stories remind us of the consistent character of God: He is always inviting us into reconciliation and restoration, even when we feel unworthy.
For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings. (Hosea 6:6)
This is the heart of Isaiah’s message. God’s holiness is not just a fact to be acknowledged; it is an invitation to be transformed. It calls us to move from fear to trust, from shame to purpose, and from distance to closeness with Him. Let Isaiah’s response inspire us to choose God’s path of reconciliation and embrace His purposes in our lives.
How do you typically respond when you sense God inviting you into something—whether it’s a challenge, an opportunity, or a call to grow? What helps or hinders you from saying “yes” to His invitation?
The story of Isaiah, and really the story of all Scripture, is one of God’s faithfulness despite human failure. Despite Israel’s rebellion, despite Judah’s shortcomings, despite my own mistakes and yours, God remains steadfast. His purposes are unshakable. His holiness doesn’t drive us away; it draws us in. And His faithfulness means that even when we falter, His plan moves forward.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation:that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God. (2 Corinthians 5:17–20)
Isaiah reminds us that God is not just inviting us to observe His work from a distance. He’s inviting us to participate—to step into His purposes with humility and trust. Just as Isaiah responded, “Here am I. Send me,” we too are called to respond to God’s invitation, not out of fear or obligation, but out of awe for His holiness and gratitude for His grace.
In what ways do you see your role as significant in God’s plan?
How might God be inviting you to step into His purpose today?