Isaiah 35 and the Promise of Everlasting Joy
An AI generated synopsis of Dan Roukema’s December 14 message
Introduction: Joy, the Wheel of Fortune, and the Highway Out of the Wilderness
Joy is often misunderstood. We tend to associate it with circumstances going well—health, stability, success. But Scripture tells a deeper story.
In the ancient Roman world, people believed life was governed by fate, often personified as the goddess Fortuna. This belief was famously illustrated through the Wheel of Fortune. At the top of the wheel stood a king. On one side, a figure falling. At the bottom, a pauper crushed beneath the wheel. On the other side, someone climbing upward again. Inscribed around the wheel were phrases like: I reign. I have reigned. I am without a kingdom. I shall reign again.
The message was clear: life goes up and down, beyond your control. One year you thrive; the next, everything collapses. This is simply how the wheel turns.
What is surprising is that during the medieval period, images of the Wheel of Fortune began appearing inside Christian churches. Why would Christians place a symbol of fate and instability within sacred spaces?
The answer has everything to do with joy—and with Isaiah 35.
Life Beneath the Wheel: Isaiah 35 and Desert Hope
Isaiah 35 opens not from a place of abundance, but from the wilderness:
“The desert and the parched land will be glad;
the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.” (Isaiah 35:1)
This chapter is overflowing with joy—but it speaks from beneath the wheel, not above it. The desert will be glad, not isglad. Hope is proclaimed in the middle of desolation.
Throughout Advent, we often pray a simple plea: Make a way.
Make a way out of the wilderness.
Make a way where we cannot see one.
Isaiah speaks into that very space, naming a future joy while standing in present barrenness.
“Be Strong, Do Not Fear”: God Comes to the Weak
Isaiah continues:
“Strengthen the feeble hands,
steady the knees that give way;
say to those with fearful hearts,
‘Be strong, do not fear; your God will come.’” (Isaiah 35:3–4)
This is a vision of what the church is meant to be: a community that comes alongside those whose hands are weak and whose knees buckle under fear and anxiety.
These images are not merely physical. They describe the inability to take the next step. The exhaustion of prolonged uncertainty. The quiet fear that nothing will change.
None of us can endure the wilderness alone. We need one another to speak hope when faith feels thin—to say, “Be strong. Do not fear. Your God will come.”
For that to be true, the church must be a place where imperfection is safe. When gatherings demand polish and composure, people begin to believe they must arrive already healed. But Jesus never demanded that. He simply said, “Come.”
Come tired.
Come frustrated.
Come doubting.
Come with feeble hands and knees that give way.
I think we’d understand: it’s better to stay home than to come to church and be unnoticed. The Spirit calls us to see—to reach beyond our usual patterns and speak hope where it is most needed.
How God Comes: Vengeance, Justice, and the Cross
Isaiah then says something unsettling:
“He will come with vengeance;
with divine retribution he will come to save you.” (Isaiah 35:4)
We may want to skip past those words, but they matter—especially to those who live under oppression. Scripture’s language of vengeance is not for the comfortable. It is for those crushed by injustice, abuse, illness, or unrelenting grief.
When suffering does not let up, people rightly ask: Why isn’t God angry about this?
The good news is that God is not indifferent. He is not detached. He is passionately opposed to everything that destroys his beloved.
The shock of the gospel is how that vengeance is enacted. God’s justice does not arrive like a cinematic revenge story. It arrives at the cross.
God’s vengeance is satisfied not by destroying enemies, but by bearing judgment himself. “Vengeance is mine,” says the Lord—so that it will not spiral endlessly through human hands. At the cross, vengeance is absorbed, exhausted, and finished.
This is not indifference. It is holy love.
Signs of the New Age: Healing, Restoration, and Hope
Isaiah describes how we will recognize God’s arrival:
“Then will the eyes of the blind be opened
and the ears of the deaf unstopped.
Then will the lame leap like a deer,
and the mute tongue shout for joy.” (Isaiah 35:5–6)
These signs—physical and spiritual healing—signal the dawning of God’s kingdom.
They are deeply personal. As a parent of a nonverbal son, I hold onto Isaiah’s promise that one day the mute will shout for joy. Scripture gives us glimpses now of what will one day be true for all.
Jesus did not heal everyone. Instead, he revealed the future breaking into the present—enough to make his promises trustworthy.
The Highway in the Wilderness: Jesus the Way
Isaiah goes on to describe a highway in the desert, the Way of Holiness—safe, cleansed, and leading somewhere.
This image echoes directly in the ministry of John the Baptist, the “voice crying in the wilderness,” preparing the way for Jesus. Repentance—being made clean—was preparation for travel.
Jesus is that highway. He is not merely a guide through the wilderness; he is the way out of it.
Waiting for Jesus—and Waiting With Him
Waiting is hard. Even John the Baptist, imprisoned and facing death, asked Jesus if he truly was the one to come.
Jesus answered by pointing to Isaiah’s signs: the blind see, the lame walk, the deaf hear, the poor receive good news.
We still wait. People we love suffer. Death still intrudes. The wilderness remains.
But we do not wait alone.
Jesus promises not only a future joy, but a present presence. Through the Spirit, he waits with us. Like bread from heaven in the desert, his presence sustains us day by day.
This is why Scripture dares to say, “Rejoice always.”
Not because circumstances are easy—but because joy is anchored deeper than circumstance.
Christ at the Center of the Wheel
This brings us back to the Wheel of Fortune.
Medieval Christians did not deny life’s ups and downs. Instead, they placed Christ at the center of the wheel—the unmoving hub. The wheel still turns. Circumstances still rise and fall. But Christ remains steady.
Live on the edges of the wheel, and you are captive to circumstance.
Live at the center, and you encounter Christ in every season.
Joy is not happiness. It does not fluctuate with fortune.
Joy is the knowledge that history is going somewhere.
Conclusion: Everlasting Joy on the Highway of God
Isaiah offers two images: the wheel and the highway.
The wheel suggests endless repetition.
The highway leads somewhere.
Biblical hope is not cyclical—it is linear and purposeful. God is moving history toward a future unlike anything before.
Your life will rise and fall. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. But the wheel is on a highway—and that highway leads to joy.
“They will enter Zion with singing;
everlasting joy will crown their heads.” (Isaiah 35:10)
Wait for Jesus, yes.
But also wait with Jesus.Be strong. Do not fear.
Be strong. Do not fear.
Your God will come to you.
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