Life-Giving Words of Hope & Encouragement

Have you ever had a moment so raw, so real, that it made you question everything you thought you knew about yourself? A moment where the masks fall off, the noise fades, and all you’re left with is truth? That’s what happened to Isaiah. He wasn’t just having a spiritual experience—he was having a God encounter that would wreck him… and remake him.

“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” (Isaiah 6:1). It’s more than a date stamp—it’s a turning point. A beloved king is gone, the nation is in mourning, and Isaiah walks into the temple… only to walk into heaven. What he sees defies imagination. The Lord, exalted. The temple shaking. Seraphim thundering the anthem of eternity: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of His glory” (Isaiah 6:3).

This wasn’t just awe-inspiring—it was undoing. In the face of such holiness, Isaiah doesn’t raise his hands—he falls to his knees: “Woe to me! I am ruined!” (Isaiah 6:5). The Hebrew word for ruined implies being silenced, destroyed, unraveled. Have you ever felt like that? Like standing in God’s light exposed everything you’ve tried to hide?

Isaiah’s confession is brutally honest. “I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.” He owns his sin—and the sin around him. He doesn’t excuse it. He doesn’t rationalize it. He simply admits it. And that’s where heaven moves.

A seraph takes a live coal from the altar—burning with the fire of sacrifice—and touches Isaiah’s lips: “Your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for” (Isaiah 6:7). Notice what’s touched: his lips. The very place he felt most disqualified. That’s how God works. He doesn’t just cover your sin—He transforms it. What you thought made you unworthy becomes the very place He chooses to use.

Isaiah thought his story ended at “Woe is me.” But God wasn’t finished. From the smoke and glory comes a voice: “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And Isaiah, still reeling from the fire, answers with a surrendered heart: “Here am I. Send me.”

That response—hineni in Hebrew—means more than just “I’m here.” It means, “I’m fully present. I’m all in. I’m yours.” It’s not the cry of someone who has it all together, but someone who has been touched by grace.

This story isn’t just Isaiah’s. It’s ours. We’ve all had moments when we felt too broken to be used, too flawed to be called. But Isaiah 6 shows us that holiness doesn’t just reveal our need—it releases our purpose.

The coal didn’t disqualify Isaiah—it empowered him. And the same God who purified Isaiah is still touching hearts today. He doesn’t ask for perfect people—He asks for present people. Willing people. Honest people. People who say, “God, I see my sin… but I also see Your grace. I know my limits… but I trust Your power. I’m not much, but I’m available.”

Friend, don’t run from God’s holiness. Run to it. Yes, it will undo you—but only so it can remake you. You don’t have to stay stuck in shame. You don’t have to hide behind your flaws. The God who sits enthroned in heaven is also the One who kneels down to touch your lips with cleansing fire.

So today, let’s step into that sacred space. Let’s trade our excuses for obedience. Let’s bring Him our weakness and let Him make it our witness.

Prayer:

Holy God, we stand in awe of You. Like Isaiah, we feel the weight of Your glory and the truth of our unworthiness. But we also see Your mercy—that You don’t turn away from our brokenness; You touch it with grace. Thank You for purifying what we thought disqualified us. Thank You for transforming our mess into a mission. Today, we say, “Here I am. Send me.” Use us for Your glory. Shape our lips to speak Your truth, our hands to serve Your people, and our hearts to reflect Your love. We bow before Your holiness and rise in Your calling. In Jesus’ name, Amen.