Unwrapping Hope: Light Has Come

Isaiah 9:1–7 (NLT)

INTRODUCTION – THE GIFT OF HOPE

Every gift tells you something about the giver.

Some gifts say, “I thought of you.” Some gifts say, “I know you.” And some gifts say, “I love you enough to step into your world.”

That’s what Christmas is.

Not sentiment. Not nostalgia. Not lights, music, or moments alone.

Christmas is God unwrapping hope for a world that had run out of it.

And Isaiah 9 reminds us of something critical for this series:

Hope didn’t arrive when things were improving — it arrived when things were at their darkest.

READING OF THE TEXT (NLT)

“Nevertheless, that time of darkness and despair will not go on forever. The land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali will be humbled, but there will be a time in the future when Galilee of the Gentiles, which lies along the road that runs between the Jordan and the sea, will be filled with glory.

The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine.

You will enlarge the nation of Israel, and its people will rejoice. They will rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest, and like warriors dividing the plunder.

For you will break the yoke of their slavery and lift the heavy burden from their shoulders. You will break the oppressor’s rod, just as you did when you destroyed the army of Midian.

The boots of the warrior and the uniforms bloodstained by war will all be burned. They will be fuel for the fire.

For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

His government and its peace will never end. He will rule with fairness and justice from the throne of his ancestor David for all eternity. The passionate commitment of the Lord of Heaven’s Armies will make this happen.”

— Isaiah 9:1–7 (NLT)**

BACKGROUND – THE WORLD ISAIAH PREACHES INTO

Isaiah is not speaking into peace — he is preaching into collapse.

The nation of Israel is divided. The northern kingdom is unraveling both politically and spiritually, marked by unstable leadership, compromised worship, and a people drifting from covenant faithfulness. Assyria—the most violent and feared superpower of the ancient world—is advancing rapidly, swallowing nations with ruthless efficiency. Cities are falling, families are being displaced, and entire regions are being erased from the map. What Israel is experiencing is not just political threat, but the terrifying sense that everything familiar is slipping away.

Zebulun and Naphtali — mentioned in verse 1 — are border territories, geographically exposed and culturally vulnerable. They sit on the fault lines of invasion. When Assyria marches, these regions feel it first. They are the first hit, the first conquered, and the first exiled. Families are uprooted, livelihoods destroyed, and hope feels like a distant memory. These people know fear intimately. They know loss personally. They know what it feels like to pray with sincerity — and to feel like heaven is silent.

Spiritually, the nation is worse than it is politically. Kings are corrupt, leading for their own gain rather than for God’s glory. Worship is hollow — the rituals remain, but the reverence is gone. God’s people are trusting foreign alliances, military strategies, and human solutions instead of the Lord Himself. What should have been a people marked by faith are now marked by fear. Darkness isn’t coming — it has already settled in, shaping how they think, how they worship, and what they trust.

And into that moment — not revival, not reform, not moral improvement — God speaks hope.

The passage opens with one of the most powerful gospel words in Scripture:

“Nevertheless…”

That word is a turning point. It signals divine interruption. It means that what God is about to say is not determined by the darkness that came before it.

“Nevertheless” is heaven’s refusal to let despair have the final word. It is God stepping into a storyline that looks finished and saying, I’m not done yet.

In other words, judgment is real — but it is not ultimate. Darkness is heavy — but it is not permanent. What looks like the end is actually the setup for redemption.

This is how biblical hope works. It doesn’t deny reality; it declares that God is greater than it.

And for a weary, exiled, afraid people, that single word would have landed like oxygen in their lungs:

God is not done.

MOVEMENT 1 – HOPE BREAKS INTO DARKNESS (vv. 1–2)

“The people who walk in darkness will see a great light.”

Notice the language Isaiah uses. God does not say the people who escape darkness will see light. He does not say the people who finally figure it out, clean themselves up, or outrun their pain will experience hope. Isaiah is clear and deliberate: light comes to people who are still walking in it — still struggling, still doubting, still hurting, still carrying questions they cannot answer.

This is critical for understanding biblical hope. Hope is not a reward for spiritual performance; it is a rescue mission for the spiritually exhausted. Darkness here is not merely emotional hardship — it is spiritual exile, separation from God, and the weight of judgment. And yet, God promises light there.

He says the people walking in it will see a great light.

This is not optimism. This is intervention.

Herman Ridderbos once observed that the coming of the kingdom is not humanity’s upward climb toward God, but God’s decisive invasion into a world that cannot save itself. That is exactly what Isaiah is describing. God does not wait on human readiness; He brings divine initiative.

Think about how light actually works. You don’t flip on a light and then wait for darkness to cooperate. Light enters a room and darkness retreats immediately. Darkness never defeats light — it only reveals how badly light is needed.

That’s the promise here. God does not negotiate with darkness; He overcomes it.

Tim Keller put it this way: “The gospel is not that we move from darkness to light by our own effort, but that the Light moves into our darkness to claim us as His own.” Christmas is the moment that Light steps into the world.

Unwrapping Hope truth:

Hope does not wait for darkness to lift — hope enters it.

MOVEMENT 2 – HOPE BREAKS THE WEIGHT WE CARRY (vv. 3–5)

Isaiah describes life as a crushing burden — a yoke, a rod, an oppressor.

This is slavery language. It is the imagery of forced labor, bowed backs, and lives lived under constant pressure. A yoke rubs raw. A rod strikes repeatedly. An oppressor never lets up. Isaiah is naming a reality where life feels heavier than your strength and tomorrow feels no lighter than today.

And notice what God promises to do. He does not say He will ease the weight. He does not say He will help you manage it better. He says He will break it.

“You will break the yoke… as you did when you destroyed the army of Midian.”

That reference matters. Midian was not defeated by strategy, strength, or numbers. Gideon’s army was reduced, not reinforced. God intentionally stripped away every human reason for confidence so that deliverance could only be attributed to Him. Victory came not because Israel became strong, but because God proved faithful.

This is how hope works in Scripture. God does not add Himself to our strength; He replaces it. As Paul Tripp often reminds us, “Grace is not a supplement to your effort; it is a substitute for your righteousness.” What God breaks, we could never carry off on our own.

This hits closer to home than we often admit. Many of us are not crushed by blatant rebellion — we are crushed by weight. The weight of expectations we can’t meet. The weight of shame we can’t shake. The weight of regret that keeps replaying. The weight of pressure to hold it all together while quietly falling apart.

John Piper once said, “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him,” but that satisfaction only comes when we stop pretending we can save ourselves. Until the yoke is broken, joy remains out of reach.

Think about someone carrying a load far beyond their capacity. At some point, the issue is no longer strength — it is survival. And Christmas declares that God did not send better instructions for carrying the load. He sent a Deliverer who steps underneath it, lifts it, and snaps it in two.

Christmas doesn’t send advice. It sends deliverance.

MOVEMENT 3 – HOPE ARRIVES AS A PERSON (vv. 6–7)

“For a child is born to us, a son is given to us…”

This may be the most astonishing turn in the entire passage.

After talking about darkness, oppression, warfare, and national collapse, Isaiah does not announce a strategy, a system, or a reform movement. He announces a person.

Hope does not arrive as a plan — it arrives as a child.

Born — humanity. Given — grace.

That distinction matters deeply. “Born” tells us this King fully enters our condition. He does not stand above suffering; He steps into it. He knows hunger, fatigue, temptation, rejection, grief. Christmas is God refusing to save us from a distance.

“Given” tells us this is pure gift. No earning. No deserving. No bargaining. As Tim Keller often said, “The gospel is this: we are more sinful and flawed than we ever dared believe, yet more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope.” You do not earn a gift — you receive it.

Isaiah then slows down and gives us the names of this King, because titles reveal character.

Wonderful Counselor — not merely good advice, but perfect wisdom. This is a King who sees all things clearly and leads His people faithfully. When you don’t know what to do next, He does.

Mighty God — not a symbol, not a moral example, not a lesser deity. This child is fully God. As John Piper says, “The glory of the gospel is that the One who saves us is the One we are saved for.” The strength you need is not borrowed — it is divine.

Everlasting Father — not a distant ruler, but a King whose reign is marked by care, protection, and commitment. Unlike every human leader, He will not abandon His people when it costs Him something.

Prince of Peace — not peace through domination or force, but peace through reconciliation. Peace with God before peace in circumstances. Paul Tripp reminds us, “Lasting change is not about behavior modification, but heart transformation.” This King doesn’t just stop wars — He heals hearts.

“His government and its peace will never end.”

This is where Isaiah lifts our eyes beyond the manger. Every government rises and falls. Every leader eventually fails. Every system cracks under the weight of human sin. But this King’s reign is endless, just, and secure.

Here’s the uncomfortable but necessary truth:

Bold truth:

If Jesus is not ruling your life, something else is — and it will crush you.

We were never designed to be ruled by fear, success, approval, money, or control. Those make terrible kings. Only Jesus can carry the weight of your life without breaking you.

Hope is not an idea. Hope is a person. And His name is Jesus.

FROM THE MANGER TO THE CROSS – THE GOSPEL TURN

Isaiah saw the light coming, but we now know how far it would go.

This child didn’t only come to rule — He came to rescue. Isaiah shows us light breaking into darkness, but the New Testament shows us how that light would ultimately win. Darkness cannot heal itself. Sin cannot undo itself. Brokenness cannot fix itself. So the Light didn’t just shine — He substituted Himself.

Peace comes because judgment would fall on Him. The oppression Isaiah describes is finally answered at the cross, where the weight of sin, shame, and judgment is placed not on us, but on Jesus. As John Stott famously said, “The essence of sin is man substituting himself for God, while the essence of salvation is God substituting Himself for man.” That is the heart of Christmas.

Think about it this way: when a power outage hits a city, candles are helpful, flashlights are useful — but what everyone is waiting for is the grid to come back online. Temporary light can comfort, but only restored power can truly change everything. Jesus did not come as a candle in the darkness; He came as the power source itself. When He went to the cross, He dealt with the root problem, not just the symptoms.

This is why the cradle always points forward. The wood of the manger leads to the wood of the cross. The child wrapped in cloths would one day be wrapped in grave clothes — and then leave them behind. As Tim Keller wrote, “Jesus was cast out so that we could be brought in; He was shut out from the presence of God so that we could have access.”

The resurrection proves that the light Isaiah promised was never in danger of being extinguished.

The cradle leads to the cross — and the cross leads to the empty tomb.

Hope has a name — Jesus.

INVITATION – UNWRAP HOPE TODAY

Some believe in Christmas, but have never received Christ.

Hope is not something you feel. Hope is Someone you trust.

So how do you receive this gift?

Not by trying harder. Not by becoming more religious. Not by cleaning yourself up first. Gifts are not achieved — they are received.

To receive this gift means you stop trusting in yourself and start trusting in Him. It means you acknowledge your need, turn from your sin, and place your full weight on Jesus — not just as a helper, but as Savior and King.

Faith is not pretending you have it all together. Faith is admitting you don’t — and trusting that Jesus does.

As Martin Luther said, “Faith is a living, daring confidence in God’s grace.” It is a step of surrender, not self-improvement.

Today, God offers you a gift — and the only question left is whether you will open your hands and receive it.

GOSPEL PRAYER

Jesus, I confess that I’ve been walking in darkness. I believe You came for me, lived for me, and died for my sin. I receive the gift of hope today. Be my Savior. Be my King. Be my peace. I give You my life. Amen.

SERIES LANDING – UNWRAPPING HOPE

Hope has been unwrapped — not as a feeling, but as a King.

And His light is still shining.