The musings of Peter

who is it for

In our Bible study, we’ve been exploring the opening chapters of Isaiah, and they’ve always held a special place for me. They often lead to rich conversations with my Jewish friends, though we sometimes see the prophecies differently.

Take one of the most famous:

“Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14, ESV)

My Jewish friends argue that the Hebrew word ‘almah’ simply means “young woman,” not necessarily “virgin.” But in ancient Israel, weren’t young unmarried women generally expected to be virgins? (Deuteronomy 22:13–21). If not, who would marry them? Whether Isaiah is pointing to a virgin in the strict sense or simply a young woman, the prophecy still conveys something pure, extraordinary, and set apart.

But who was this prophecy for? Isaiah spoke it more than 700 years before Jesus and Mary. Those who first heard it were long gone by the time Matthew wrote:

“Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel” (which means, God with us). (Matthew 1:23, quoting Isaiah 7:14)

Were the people of Isaiah’s time expected to wait centuries for fulfillment? Many Jewish interpreters see an immediate fulfillment in Isaiah’s day—perhaps in the birth of a royal child, such as Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz (Isaiah 8:3–4). Yet Christians see layer upon layer of Isaiah’s prophecies—forty or more—that find their ultimate fulfillment in Jesus (Luke 24:27, 44).

Perhaps these promises were given so that we might marvel at a God who plans the end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:10), proving that His word endures (Isaiah 40:8). Consider this: how many writings from 700 BC still transform lives today? Very few survive, yet Isaiah’s words endured the Assyrian conquest (2 Kings 17), the exile of Judah, and the disappearance of the northern tribes. That survival itself feels miraculous, and their fulfillment in Christ makes them even more so.

Throughout history, even when God seemed distant, a faithful remnant remained. Adam and Eve turned aside when His presence was hidden (Genesis 3:8). Israel forgot the God who parted the Red Sea (Exodus 14:21–31; Psalm 106:13). Even as manna fell in the wilderness, they built a golden calf (Exodus 32:1–4). Eventually, God allowed ten tribes to be scattered and the Temple destroyed (2 Kings 17:18–20), yet He preserved a remnant (Isaiah 10:20–22).

Their faithfulness, often born out of fear of forsaking God, made it hard to accept a Messiah who came in love (John 1:11). Yet that same faithfulness preserved the Law and the promises so that we might receive them (Romans 3:1–2).

When Christ came, God no longer remained hidden:

“And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20)
“Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?” (1 Corinthians 3:16).

Yet we still wander. Why? Because God no longer rules us by fear (2 Timothy 1:7). Fear can restrain, but only love teaches trust. True faith is trust that endures uncertainty and clings to God even when we don’t fully understand (Hebrews 11:1).

I don’t yet know exactly how this deepens my faith, but I sense the riverbed of my soul has deepened. There’s now room to swim, not just wade (Ezekiel 47:5).