I met a cockatoo at the grocery store and asked the owner its name. Turns out the bird’s name is “Samson”…. so this is two Samson’s together….
Why Did Jesus Have to Die?
There are passages in Scripture that do not merely inform the mind, they arrest the conscience. Isaiah 52:13–53:12 is one of them.
If someone says, “The Old Testament is not really about Jesus,” or “The idea of substitutionary atonement is a later Christian invention,” this chapter stands there, unblushing, and says, “Read me again.” It is not vague. It is not sentimental. It is not a generic meditation on suffering. It is stunningly specific. And it answers one of the most important questions any human being will ever face.
How can a guilty sinner be right with a holy God?
Isaiah 53 is the first gospel. Not Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. Those came centuries later. Seven hundred years before Jesus was born, God gave us the complete story of the Messiah’s suffering, death, and vindication. The New Testament quotes or alludes to Isaiah 53 more than 40 times. Every major New Testament writer points back to this chapter. It is the most complete explanation of the atonement in all of Scripture, Old Testament or New.
Start with a simple summary line from the New Testament: “For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God” (1 Peter 3:18). That is the destination, bring us to God. That is the means, the righteous for the unrighteous. Isaiah 53 is the Old Testament chapter that lays that logic bare, with breathtaking clarity.
The Servant: exalted, then shattered
Isaiah begins with heights: “Behold, my servant shall act wisely; he shall be high and lifted up, and shall be exalted” (Isaiah 52:13). That phrase “high and lifted up” is the language Isaiah has already used of the Lord enthroned in majesty (Isaiah 6:1). The Servant is not merely impressive. He is glorious.
Then the chapter jolts you. The exalted One becomes disfigured: “His appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance” (Isaiah 52:14). Glory, then a descent. Majesty, then blood and ruin. Not the kind of “victory” anyone expects.
And yet, Isaiah insists that this suffering is not a tragic detour. It is the path. “So shall he sprinkle many nations” (Isaiah 52:15). The language is priestly. Sprinkling is cleansing language, the application of what purifies the unclean. Some note that the ancient Greek translation highlights the nations being “astonished” at Him, and in context both themes fit: the nations are cleansed, and kings are stunned into silence. “Kings shall shut their mouths because of him” (Isaiah 52:15). Why? Because their instincts about power collapse here. God conquers, not by the sword, but by sacrifice.
This is not merely Israel’s story. It is “many nations.” It is global in scope.
The confession: “We misread Him”
Isaiah 53 reads like a confession from people who finally realize how wrong they were. That matters. The verbs are largely in the past tense. It is as though a future people are looking back, saying, “How did we miss it?”
But who are these people? When does this confession happen? The prophet Zechariah gives us the answer. He describes a future day when God will pour out “a spirit of grace and supplication” on the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem. “And I will pour out on the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of grace and supplication, so that when they look on me, on him whom they have pierced, they shall mourn for him, as one mourns for an only child” (Zechariah 12:10). A day is coming when Israel will look back on the Messiah they rejected and pierced, and they will mourn. Isaiah 53 is their confession. This is what they will say when their eyes are finally opened.
“Who has believed what he has heard from us?” (Isaiah 53:1). Unbelief is the opening lament.
Then comes the description of the Servant’s unimpressive appearance: “He had no form or majesty that we should look at him” (Isaiah 53:2). No celebrity shine. No outward grandeur. Nothing that flatters human pride.
And the response is dreadful: “He was despised and rejected by men” (Isaiah 53:3). Twice Isaiah says “despised.” This is not mild indifference. This is scorn.
If you want an apologetic point that lands with force, it is this: Isaiah does not present humanity as neutral observers of God’s salvation. We do not weigh Jesus fairly and then decide. Left to ourselves, we misread true glory. We prefer outward glitter. We resist humble grace.
The center: substitution, not inspiration
Then Isaiah reaches the heart of the matter, and the pronouns begin to preach. Our, we, us… and Him.
“Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows” (Isaiah 53:4). Yet we judged Him wrongly: “We esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted” (Isaiah 53:4). In other words, we assumed God was simply punishing Him for His own guilt.
But Isaiah corrects the record with the clearest “but” in the Old Testament: “But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities” (Isaiah 53:5).
Not His sin. Ours.
And notice what His suffering achieves: “Upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace” (Isaiah 53:5). That peace is not mainly a mood. It is an objective reconciliation. It is the kind of peace Paul describes: “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 5:1).
But there’s something even deeper in verse 6. Verses 4-5 focus on what we have done: our transgressions, our iniquities, the specific sins we have committed. Those are behavioral. But verse 6 goes deeper: “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned, every one, to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”
Now we’re not just talking about behavior. We’re talking about nature. This is what sheep do. They wander. They go astray. It’s characteristic of sheep. We’re not sinners because we sin; we sin because we’re sinners. We have a sin problem at the very core of our humanity. David confessed this: “Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me” (Psalm 51:5). He didn’t mean the conception was sinful. He meant he was a sinner from conception.
So Christ on the cross is bearing both: the sins we have committed and the sinful nature we inherited. He died for all of it. That is the gospel, in Old Testament clothing.
And Isaiah is stunningly specific about how this suffering would unfold. The Servant would be “numbered with the transgressors” (Isaiah 53:12). That happened when Jesus was crucified between two criminals (Luke 23:32-33). His grave was “assigned with the wicked,” yet He was “with a rich man in his death” (Isaiah 53:9). That happened when Joseph of Arimathea, a wealthy member of the council, took Jesus’ body and laid it in his own new tomb (Matthew 27:57-60). These are not vague poetic images. These are verifiable details that came true seven centuries later.
Not “God looked the other way.” Not “God lowered the standard.” Not “God forgave by pretending sin is not serious.” No. The guilt is laid on Another. The Servant becomes the Substitute.
The riddle resolved: mercy and justice meet
Here we touch the great tension that runs through the Old Testament. It’s what we might call the riddle of Exodus 34. When Moses asked to see God’s glory, the Lord proclaimed His name: “The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin” (Exodus 34:6-7). That sounds like pure grace, doesn’t it? But the very next phrase turns the riddle sharp: “but who will by no means clear the guilty” (Exodus 34:7).
Wait. How can both be true? How can God be merciful, gracious, forgiving, AND refuse to clear the guilty? How can He forgive sinners and still remain just?
Every religion in the world offers a wrong answer to that question. Some say God lowers the standard. Some say He looks the other way. Some say our good deeds outweigh our bad. But none of those answers solve the riddle. They all leave God either unjust or unforgiving.
Isaiah 53 gives the answer: the guilt is not cleared by being ignored. It is dealt with by being transferred. Justice is satisfied by a true penalty borne by a true substitute. God shows grace to the penitent, believing sinner AND punishes His Son in that sinner’s place. Both sides of Exodus 34 are upheld. Mercy and justice meet at the cross.
This is why Christians speak of penal substitution. Penal, because a real penalty is paid. Substitution, because Another stands in the guilty one’s place. Isaiah does not blush to say “crushed” (Isaiah 53:10). He does not soften the edges. Sin is so serious it required this. Grace is so deep it provided this.
And here the New Testament shines a bright light on what Isaiah is describing: “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Corinthians 5:21). Not that Jesus became sinful in His own character, but that He was treated as the sin-bearer, so that sinners could be treated as righteous in Him.
Here’s an astonishing truth: in three hours of darkness, Jesus bore the sins of His people. But if sinners in hell bear their own sins forever and the debt is never paid, how can Jesus pay it fully in three hours? The answer: Jesus is an infinite person. His divine nature means His suffering has infinite worth. What finite sinners can never satisfy in eternity, the infinite Son of God satisfied completely for all who believe.
The Lamb who submits, and then triumphs
Isaiah’s Servant is not only crushed. He is quiet. “Like a lamb that is led to the slaughter… so he opened not his mouth” (Isaiah 53:7). He does not defend Himself. He yields Himself.
He dies: “He was cut off out of the land of the living” (Isaiah 53:8). And yet, remarkably, he also lives on: “He shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days” (Isaiah 53:10). Death, then life. Cut off, then prolonged days. Isaiah has resurrection written into the texture of the prophecy.
And what is the result? “By his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous, and he shall bear their iniquities” (Isaiah 53:11). Justification is there. A righteous Servant making many righteous, because He bears their iniquities.
Finally, the Servant is vindicated and exalted, and He continues to act for His people: “He bore the sin of many, and makes intercession for the transgressors” (Isaiah 53:12). The Substitute is also the Intercessor.
So what do we do with this?
You can call it coincidence if you like, but the coherence is overwhelming. A suffering, silent lamb. Rejected, despised. Pierced, crushed. Bearing sins not His own. Bringing peace. Cleansing many nations. Death, then prolonged days. Justifying the many. Interceding for transgressors.
Listen to how the New Testament summarizes it: “For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God” (1 Peter 3:18). When you lay that verse next to Isaiah 53, the pieces lock together. Seven hundred years apart, same gospel.
May I ask you plainly: when you look at the cross, do you see a moral example only, or do you see your Substitute? Have you come to the place where you stop saying, “Look what I have done,” and begin to say, “Lord Jesus, You stood in my place”?
Isaiah 53 is not merely ancient prophecy. It is a question directed at you: Will you let these words be yours? Will you say, “He bore my griefs, carried my sorrows, was pierced for my transgressions, crushed for my iniquities”? That is what it means to believe.
We come with empty hands. We come as sinners. And we look away from ourselves to the Servant of the Lord, the Lamb who was slain, and we find that a fountain has been opened for cleansing.
Seven hundred years before the cross, God wrote Isaiah 53. And when Jesus hung there, every word was fulfilled. The Servant was exalted, shattered, vindicated. The Substitute bore our sins. The Lamb opened not His mouth. And now He lives forever, making intercession for us.
“Behold, my servant…” (Isaiah 52:13). Look. Do not look away.
Is Jesus the Promised Messiah?
Christianity rises or falls on a claim: Jesus of Nazareth is the Christ.
That word “Christ” is not Jesus’ last name. Jesus was not born to Joseph and Mary Christ! Christ is a title. It means “Anointed One.” Same idea as “Messiah.” In the Old Testament, anointing with oil set someone apart as God’s chosen king. So when the New Testament calls Jesus “the Christ,” it is saying: He is God’s promised Savior-King.
But here’s the question: promised where?
The answer is: all over the Old Testament. A set of themes runs through the entire story like bright threads woven through one long tapestry. And those threads converge in one Person.
1) Messiah means King, and the King is promised from David
God promised that a true king would come from the line of David, a king whose kingdom would not collapse like all the others.
A key passage is 2 Samuel 7. God makes a covenant with David. He promises a descendant who will sit on a throne, and God says, “I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever” (2 Sam. 7:13). The immediate context includes David’s son Solomon, but the “forever” language reaches beyond Solomon. Solomon’s kingdom did not last forever. The promise is reaching forward.
That’s why the New Testament keeps calling Jesus “Son of David” (Matt. 1:1). It is not random. It is a claim: Jesus is the heir to the Davidic promise.
The prophets pick this up too. Isaiah speaks of a coming ruler from David’s line (Isa. 11:1). Jeremiah says, “I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king” (Jer. 23:5). The Messiah is not a vague spiritual idea. He is a real king promised to come at a real time in real history.
And that raises the next question.
If this is a king, what kind of king is He?
2) The Old Testament gives the Messiah divine names and divine authority
This is where many people get surprised. The Old Testament not only promises a Davidic king. It speaks of a Messiah whose identity and authority are far bigger than a merely human ruler.
Start with Psalm 110. David writes, “The LORD says to my Lord: ‘Sit at my right hand, until I make your enemies your footstool'” (Ps. 110:1). Notice what David is doing. He calls the Messiah “my Lord.” David is the king, yet he looks up to someone greater than himself. And this greater one is invited to sit at God’s right hand, the place of divine authority.
Jesus Himself used Psalm 110 to make a point: if the Messiah is only David’s son, why does David call Him “Lord”? (See Matt. 22:41–45.) Jesus was not playing word games. He was pressing the logic. The Messiah is David’s son, yes, but He is also David’s Lord.
Now add Daniel 7. Daniel sees “one like a son of man” coming “with the clouds of heaven” and being given “dominion” and “a kingdom” so that “all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him,” and his dominion is everlasting (Dan. 7:13–14). In the Old Testament, “coming with the clouds” is not normal human imagery. It’s God imagery. And the scale is global and eternal. This Messiah is not a local political hero. His reign reaches the whole world.
Then consider Isaiah 9:6–7. Isaiah speaks of a child who will be born, a son given, who will rule on David’s throne. And the names given are staggering: “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isa. 9:6). Whatever debates people raise about how to parse the titles, the plain meaning is weighty: this child carries divine titles.
When you put these passages together, the direction is unmistakable. The Old Testament is not only predicting a human king. It is preparing us for something deeper: God visiting His people, in and through the Messiah, with divine authority and divine saving power.
That leads to a third thread.
If this king is so great, why does the Old Testament also speak of His suffering?
3) The Messiah is promised as a suffering Savior who bears sin
Many people in Jesus’ day expected the Messiah to crush Rome and restore Israel politically. They expected glory first. They did not have categories for a Messiah who would suffer.
But the Old Testament does.
Isaiah 53 is one of the most striking passages in all of Scripture. It describes a figure who is rejected, despised, and familiar with suffering (Isa. 53:3). Then it explains why: “He was pierced for our transgressions… the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all” (Isa. 53:5–6). He is not suffering because he made mistakes. He is suffering as a substitute, bearing guilt he did not earn. His suffering is vicarious: He was punished in our place.
Isaiah 53 is so detailed, so central, and so clearly fulfilled in Jesus that it deserves extended treatment. We will examine this passage closely in the next article. For now, the key point is this: the Messiah is promised as a suffering servant who bears sin and brings salvation through substitutionary death.
Psalm 22 follows the same pattern. It begins with the cry Jesus quoted on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Ps. 22:1). Jesus was not merely quoting a psalm to express His anguish. Words were precious when every breath was a challenge in crucifixion. His cry was a declaration that He was fulfilling Psalm 22, which is clearly a messianic psalm. The psalm goes on to describe events that never occurred in David’s own life. It describes mockery and public shame (Ps. 22:7–8), including the exact words hurled at Jesus on the cross: “He trusts in the LORD; let him deliver him” (compare Ps. 22:8 with Matt. 27:43). It speaks of physical agony (Ps. 22:14–15), hands and feet pierced (Ps. 22:16), and soldiers dividing garments by casting lots (Ps. 22:18). These details would match the crucifixion of Jesus, a millennium in the future, with eerie precision.
Here is what matters: David wrote this psalm around 1000 BC, but these things never happened to David. Crucifixion did not exist. It would not be invented for hundreds of years, first by the Persians and Phoenicians, then perfected by Rome. Yet David describes it with precision: hands and feet pierced, garments divided by casting lots, specific mockery. David was never crucified. His hands and feet were never pierced. His enemies never cast lots for his garments. He was never mocked with those specific taunts. David, inspired by the Holy Spirit, was writing prophetically about someone else, the Messiah who would come from his line. Then it turns to vindication and worldwide worship (Ps. 22:27–28).
How could David and Isaiah write so precisely about events they never witnessed and suffering they never experienced? Peter explains: the Old Testament prophets were inspired by “the Spirit of Christ” or “the Spirit of the Messiah” to foretell the Messiah’s future sufferings and subsequent glory (1 Peter 1:10-12). The same Spirit who would later indwell the Messiah was already at work in the prophets, revealing what was to come. This is not human guesswork. This is divine revelation.
Isaiah 53 develops this theme of the suffering Messiah even further, and we will examine that passage in detail in the next article.
At this point, a thoughtful person might say: “Fine, but suffering doesn’t prove He is Messiah. Lots of people suffer.”
True. Which brings us to the next thread.
4) The Messiah is not defeated by death, He is vindicated and enthroned
The Old Testament does not merely say, “He will suffer.” It also points to the Messiah’s vindication after suffering.
One important text is Psalm 16: “You will not abandon my soul to Sheol, or let your holy one see corruption” (Ps. 16:10). In Acts 2, Peter argues that David’s words reach beyond David’s own grave, to the Messiah whom God raised up (Acts 2:24–32). The early church did not invent resurrection to give the story a happy ending. They proclaimed it as the act of God that confirmed Jesus’ identity. Paul puts it plainly: Jesus was “declared to be the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead” (Romans 1:4).
Isaiah 53 itself hints at this. After describing death, Isaiah says, “He shall see his offspring, he shall prolong his days” (Isa. 53:10). The servant dies, yet his days are prolonged. He suffers, yet “he shall see and be satisfied” (Isa. 53:11). This sounds like resurrection: vindication after death.
And then we circle back to Psalm 110, the enthronement psalm. The Messiah sits at God’s right hand until His enemies are subdued (Ps. 110:1). Peter uses that text to say something explosive: God has made Jesus “both Lord and Christ” (Acts 2:36). That means Jesus is reigning now, and He will return to bring the story to its final conclusion.
5) Even the details are not random, they fit the promised pattern
The Messiah is not only a set of big ideas. The Old Testament also includes concrete anchor points.
Micah 5:2 names Bethlehem as the birthplace of a coming ruler whose “coming forth is from of old” (Mic. 5:2). The verse ties together humility (Bethlehem is small) and greatness (his origin reaches back). Whatever someone believes about how prophecy works, it is hard to dismiss this as merely vague religious poetry.
And the “house of David” theme is not optional. The Messiah is tied to David, yet greater than David (2 Sam. 7; Ps. 110). That is exactly the tension the Gospels place before us: Jesus is born into David’s line, and yet speaks and acts with divine authority, forgiving sins, calming the sea, receiving worship, and declaring that He will judge the world.
Given this convergence of prophecies, you might expect Jesus to have announced Himself as “the Messiah” from day one. Yet He often avoided using that title publicly. Why?
6) Why Jesus avoided the title “Messiah” during His ministry, and why the church preached it loudly afterward
One of the most honest and overlooked details in the Gospels is that Jesus often avoided calling Himself “the Messiah” out loud. Not because the title was wrong, but because the word was loaded with false assumptions.
Many people expected a political strongman. Jesus knew that if He publicly led with the title, people would misunderstand the kind of kingdom He came to bring. So He often used another title, “Son of Man,” drawn from Daniel 7. This was deliberately ambiguous. The phrase could refer to an ordinary human being or prophet, but in Daniel’s vision it describes a mysterious figure who receives divine authority and an everlasting kingdom. By using this title, Jesus avoided triggering immediate political revolt. But there was something deeper at work. Jesus’ restraint with the title wasn’t evasion. It was ensuring that true recognition of His identity would come through the Father’s revelation, not human political expectations.
This becomes clear at the turning point when Peter confesses, “You are the Christ” (Matthew 16:16). Jesus responds by making clear this wasn’t the result of human reasoning or Jesus’ self-promotion. It was divine revelation: “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 16:17). Immediately Jesus begins talking about suffering and death, and Peter is horrified (Matt. 16:21–22). That reaction makes sense. Peter had a “glory now” Messiah in mind. Jesus is reshaping the definition: the Messiah must suffer, atone, rise, and then reign.
After the resurrection and ascension, they finally understood. Now the title can be preached publicly with clarity. That is exactly what happens in Acts. The apostles proclaim Jesus as the Christ, seated at God’s right hand, and coming again to judge (Acts 2:34–36; 3:19–21).
Conclusion: the prophecies do not merely match Jesus, they converge on Him
If this were one prediction, you could shrug. If it were only symbolic patterns, you could dismiss it as flexible interpretation. But what we actually have is a convergence:
A promised Davidic King whose throne endures
A Messiah who receives divine names and divine authority
A suffering servant who bears sin as a substitute
A vindicated ruler who lives after death and reigns at God’s right hand
A kingdom that expands to the nations and will one day be openly established
This is why Christians say Jesus is the Christ: not because it sounds inspiring, but because the story told in the Old Testament fits Him in a way it fits no one else.
And if Jesus is the promised Messiah, then the appropriate response is not merely, “Interesting.”
It is personal surrender.
He is not only the King Israel needed. He is the King you need. The call of Scripture is clear: repent, believe, and bow to the true King, the one who suffered for sinners, rose in victory, and will return in glory.
Prophecy is not entertainment.
It is God’s way of saying: I keep My promises. Trust My Son.