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"You’ve Made Your Bed" is a poetic reflection and reimagining of what it may have been like for Isaiah to endure the public opinion of his peers. Set during the reign of Ahaz, it is written from the perspective of a man who enjoys the privilege of sitting in the court of the king. In this man’s opinion, Isaiah is a false prophet, a hindrance to their plans for the people, and a disturber of the peace. The poem is heavily inspired by Isaiah 28, springing from contemplation on what Isaiah meant when he assures King Ahaz and his circle of advisors that they have made a “covenant with death.”

We read that King Rezin of Aram, and Pekah son of Remaliah, had combined their strength with Syria, and were prepared to conquer Judah unless they joined them in rebellion against the powerful empire of Assyria. King Ahaz and his council saw this growing terror to the North and would not wait on YHWH to save them. Instead, they took matters into their own hands and allied themselves with the king of Assyria, Tiglath-Pileser III. They congratulated themselves on their political maneuver and reassured one another that they had wisely avoided death. All the while, that raving lunatic Isaiah would have had them do nothing political?!

In repentance and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength,
but you would have none of it. (Isa 30:15)

Isaiah insisted they remain faithful in their covenant with God. If they waited on him, trusted in his wisdom, and repented of their wickedness, he would protect them. However, we learn in 2 Kings 16 that Ahaz had long allied himself to his own desires, and in Isaiah 28 we are offered a vivid image of what Ahaz and those he included in his circle prioritized. The rulers of Judah are men drunk with power. They continually turn away the weary from Jerusalem’s gates, laugh when they hear YHWH speak to them, and shelter themselves with the bravado of their own falsehoods and lies. Isaiah assures his reader that the crowning wreath that represents the position and power of this privileged elite—which included prophets and priests—would soon be trampled underfoot. 

The violent waters of war would breach their high towers and they would have no sanctuary to run to. Long had they forsaken YHWH, and to turn to him would require the kind of repentance they were unwilling to practice. How could they do otherwise than run to Assyria? A terrible and violent empire, Assyria was the unapologetic representative of all that they prized. It was a power with which they were both familiar and comfortable. When Isaiah urged them to repent, they mocked him, and when disaster crashed at their gates, they intoxicated themselves with the only security they had left. All the while, Isaiah is incredibly uninterested in the security which they have chosen to protect themselves. According to him, their failure to obey YHWH was most visible in their neglect for the fatherless, the widow, and the foreigner, a pattern which we see all throughout the book.

The poetry of Isaiah lingers with the insignificant, enamoured with what we overlook, aware that YHWH’s call demands obedience. Isaiah is persistent in his hope that all is not lost; that there is a chance for change in Jerusalem if YHWH’s people will repent, turn away from their idols and instead practice the obedient attention that cares for the naked stranger, the hungry child, and the unwanted widow. YHWH is eager to share what he loves with his people, and there are many instances in which the promise of apocalyptic punishment breaks out with sudden and frightening glory (Isa 5:1; 6:13; 28:5–6; 43:1–7; 58:9–14)! In spite of Jerusalem's despondency and disobedience, YHWH will make all things new. The wreath which has been trampled will be a beautiful crown for those who remain true to him (Isa 28:5–6). He will lay a precious cornerstone, tested and sure—it will cause all those who flee from him to stumble (Isa 28:16). When Isaiah witnesses the ruling elite’s decision to run to Assyria, he names not only the folly of their false security but also our own. In truth, we all believe that we have secured peace for ourselves, when in fact, we have made our bed with death. All the while, salvation is not far off. YHWH is always near and for the rulers of Judah he was as near as his faithful servant Isaiah.

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I left the temple–  having fasted and prayed,
plucked the fruit from a passing fig tree and
knowing, swallowed. ¹ Ripe for the time of taking.
Harvest and sowing belong to the people of God. ²

When there, standing, in the beggard street
stood that false prophet, who daily promised ruin.
Righteous indignation inflamed my stride– 
with swift feet ³ I turned and struck hard.

Hateful face, set deep with some senseless grief.
Who was he to raid his voice against all sense? ⁴
Unclean lips, his words were a leprous spot,
troubled speech, that should not meet the public ear.

Bent like a broken reed his blood sprinkled the dirt,⁵
was it remorse? frustrated-fury in my gut.
Damned-guilt, ⁶ mingled with my bloodied fist.
“Tame your tongue!” I voiced my violent frenzy.

His eyes met mine. And I, not being a heartless man,
recoiled — lacking not imagination I saw sanity.
Recalled the banquet in the court of the Ahaz;
when we rejoiced in our newfound security.

That night our eyes swam deep with rich wine.
One could hear our hearts swell with pride
until they burst with the plenty of our peace!
Shalom! Shalom in the streets of Jerusalem.

Tomorrow the markets too would swell with silver,
burst with the returning feast of commerce.
The tables in the Temple would testify with sacrifice.
A testament with ourselves; all is well again.

When he, an unwelcome flame, joined our company.
With an ember of nonsense on his tongue;
in ceasing on Sabbath he promised salvation? ⁷
in uncertain trust, strength at the ravaged gate? ⁸

“Ask for a sign!” He despised our court of council.
We, he called weary, who had proved our arm’s length.
We, he named weak, who had shown our strength.
The work of our hands, ⁹ tempered by two firebrands. ¹⁰

With lips unadorned and a wreathless brow he dared
teach us? We, being wise pupils, mocked his lessons.
Rain or ruin or reign– where there is rubble we will raise a wall!
Dread, ¹¹ dross, ¹² and death? ¹³– when we have preserved life!

It was I who longed for justice! came to terms
with my lot, “Lord save us, Lord grant us success.” ¹⁴
I sang the Psalm, “The Lord has done it this very day;
let us rejoice today and be glad.” ¹⁵

If gladness, he will deny the people, let him hear;
that we, denying death its charge have made a covenant,
prolonged life in our time and made peace.
This was the complaint I brought to a face of flint. ¹⁶

His eyes met mine and swallowed my fervor. ¹⁷
His words I recalled afresh, at the king’s table,
“This is the resting place, let the weary rest”;
and, “This is the place of repose”— ¹⁸
but you will not heed these words.”

Sheer terror seized my chest and my mind raced,
restless nights revisited me, disregarding the day.
Peace was a foreigner in my fleeting sleep,
“If I make my bed in Sheol, are you there?” ¹⁹

A terrible hand took mine, trembling tenderness.
“Behold, this is our God; we have waited for him,” ²⁰
He lays a stone in Zion, a tested stone, precious
seed sacred and alone. A stump, surely growing;” ²¹

And in haste I fled, staggering through the street,
“If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!” ²²
How can I, being wise, look back and perceive fear? ²³
Fear, it was fear that unraveled my faithful fist in his.