A Feast of Well-Aged Wine

Isaiah 25

O Lord, you are my God;
I will exalt you; I will praise your name,
for you have done wonderful things,
plans formed of old, faithful and sure.
For you have made the city a heap,
the fortified city a ruin;
the foreigners' palace is a city no more;
it will never be rebuilt.
Therefore strong peoples will glorify you;
cities of ruthless nations will fear you.
For you have been a stronghold to the poor,
a stronghold to the needy in his distress,
a shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat;
for the breath of the ruthless is like a storm against a wall,
like heat in a dry place.
You subdue the noise of the foreigners;
as heat by the shade of a cloud,
so the song of the ruthless is put down.

On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples
a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine,
of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined.
And he will swallow up on this mountain
the covering that is cast over all peoples,
the veil that is spread over all nations.
He will swallow up death forever;
and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces,
and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the Lord has spoken.
It will be said on that day,
“Behold, this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us.
This is the Lord; we have waited for him;
let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.

There are words that are spoken at the grave. There are words that are spoken in memorial. There are words that wait until the shadow of grief has passed.


Witnessing the death of a family member, someone close and dearly loved, brings out one of two responses. For the one who trusts in the Lord Jesus, and believes the words of Isaiah, it is a strange mix of deep, heartfelt sorrow, and rich, abundant joy. To the ears who have not heard, and to the heart that will not listen, there is nothing but frightening blackness.

This blackness, I can only imagine, produces the deepest feelings of fear, despair, and meaninglessness. What is the point of all of life, after all, if all we are, all we ever become, all we remain for endless days, is simple clay? To watch a loved one enter into oblivion, if there is no hope in Christ and therefore life ever after, must unearth in the very core of a crying man, the terror of mortality. We die. We must die. It is one of the worlds most certain of facts. We are mortal creatures. Witnessing the finality of that aspect, reminds us that this is the case. We cannot live forever, on this earth, and we should not live as if we could. But the heart of man is wicked, who can comprehend it? We want to live as if death were not a factor. Hardened hearts will quickly forget the lessons learned at the side of the grave.

Deep inside every person, there is a God-given instinct, which assures us that we have meaning. We instinctively know that killing innocent people is wrong. We know that death is sad, and final. However, apart from Christ, death obliterates all meaning, putting us deep into the ground, never to resurface. There is no point to life, if there is no point to death.

The "fortified city" in the beginning of the passage above is a metaphor for man. God is the one who brings the man back to a pile of earth, never to be rebuilt again. This is why the peoples and nations will fear the Lord. He is to be feared for He has the power to destroy not only the body, but the soul as well. But our God is a gracious God, and good. He is "a shelter from the storm, and a shade from the heat." This testifies to God's Godness. Were He not God, He would not have the power to save, and bring new life. But He is God, and He desires that not one should perish, but that all reach repentance. In God-given repentance, we find that we will be rebuilt, but not in the same way, nor in the same place. The construction will be eternal, and will shine in the glory of the Christ.

Therfore, death in the eyes of the believer is rich in meaning. It is the doorway to the better country. It is the passage from a sin-cursed world, to eternal glory in Christ the Lord. John 12:24 assures us of this meaning: “Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.” Our own passing is a picture of the death of death, the death brought on the shoulders of Christ. In that death, “the covering that is cast over all peoples, the veil that is spread over all nations,” is swallowed up forever. That death is what grants us confidence, assurance, and hope.

Thus we can stand at the side of the grave, and mourn the loss of a friend, but at the same time we see the glory of God reenacted. It is the portal through which we ascend from glory to final glory. It is fitting that God should use the instrument that separated us from His presence in the Garden, so long ago, to bring His children home. By means of the death that entered the young creation, we were expelled from our place of rest. By means of that same death, the recipients of God’s grace are returned to a place of final rest. Rest from sin. Rest from sorrow. Rest from the veiled reality of God’s loving immediacy.

Here we find a mountain where the Lord of hosts has made for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine, of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined. And it will be said on that day,

“Behold, this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us.
This is the Lord; we have waited for him;
let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.”