The Land of Nothing: Ashley Palmer
The streams of Edom will be filled with burning pitch,
and the ground will be covered with fire.
This judgment on Edom will never end;
the smoke of its burning will rise forever.
The land will lie deserted from generation to generation.
No one will live there anymore.
It will be haunted by the desert owl and the screech owl,
the great owl and the raven.
For God will measure that land carefully;
he will measure it for chaos and destruction.
It will be called the Land of Nothing,
and all its nobles will soon be gone.
Thorns will overrun its palaces;
nettles and thistles will grow in its forts.
The ruins will become a haunt for jackals
and a home for owls.
Desert animals will mingle there with hyenas,
their howls filling the night.
Wild goats will bleat at one another among the ruins,
and night creatures will come there to rest.
There the owl will make her nest and lay her eggs.
She will hatch her young and cover them with her wings.
And the buzzards will come, each one with its mate.
(Isaiah 34:9-15, NLT)
I’ve written about Edom in Isaiah here on the Harvest Initiative blog before. In the section of Isaiah that deals with prophecies specific to a particular place (or a symbolic version of that place), someone from Edom is crying out, wondering when at last the night will be over. The watchman appointed by God answers that day is coming, but night will soon return.
Here in Isaiah 34 we see an ultimate and eternal night descending upon the land of Edom. In premodern society, fire was the only light that could break through the night. But in Edom, that fire replaces the other thing humans so desperately need to live: the cool streams of water. In the wake of the fire, plants and animals that do not typically coexist alongside humans take up residence. Thorns and nettles overtake the most important worldly structures, plants that we throw into the fire or cut away to walk through forests because they can pierce our skin, make us bleed. Owls, jackals, hyenas, and wild goats are creatures we hear rather than see, because they flee the light.
Being a lover of all of (or at least most of) God’s creation, not just the appealing plants and creatures, it’s interesting how the Land of Nothing is teeming with life. And in the final verse, we learn that the owl will cover her young with her wings. That she will be fruitful and multiply, and that she will care gently for the baby birds. And when it’s time for them to die, the buzzards will come, each one with its mate. They too will be fruitful and multiply. Their descendants will always possess the land, because it has been deeded over to them by God. Edom, the Land of Nothing, will no longer be a place for humans.
As noted last time I talked about Edom, Edomites are the descendants of Esau. One of many estranged brother pairs in Genesis, Esau and Jacob are twins. After Esau sells his birthright to Jacob for a bowl of soup and Jacob later tricks his elderly father into blessing him in all the best ways, Jacob runs from Esau, knowing that his brother might kill him for it just as Cain killed Abel.
Where Babylon in the Book of Isaiah represents the sinful empires of the world, Edom represents sin closer to home: the betrayals and hatred of brothers who were both sons of Isaac, grandsons of Abraham. Jacob became Israel, chosen by God, while Esau surely felt abandoned by the God of his fathers. Unless you’re a descendant of Jacob yourself—like Esau, you and I weren’t part of God’s chosen people. Instead, we are adopted back into His family as sons and daughters through the blood of Jesus Christ, who wore a crown of thorns, who was pierced for our transgressions, whose death darkened the sun and tore the veil in the Holy of Holies. Who has delivered us from God’s rightful wrath in the face of sin, so that we might enter into the joy of the next chapter, where spring crocuses blossom in the desert and those who cannot walk leap like deer and those who cannot speak sing the praises of the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.
As we enter into Lent, if we do not acknowledge the damage of sin and death, we can’t truly rejoice in the resurrection we celebrate each year at Easter. Isaiah 34 calls Edom by name, but it opens with an address to all nations. The land of the betrayers is given over to the night creatures. There are consequences for betrayal, for sin. This calls us to repentance, but also can be a comfort when we ourselves are betrayed.
God loves all people. And because He loves us, when we are betrayed and hurt by the people that should love us too, God is in pain alongside us. That is what drives this passage. God measures the land carefully. He does not act without knowing each person’s heart. He does not exact his wrath indiscriminately, like we humans often do. The descriptions of chaos and destruction in this chapter and elsewhere in Isaiah’s prophecies can be jarring, difficult to reconcile with an all-loving God. But He measures carefully.
So in this season of repentance, we who are betrayers and we who prize worldly things can humbly draw near to God and receive for the first time- or once again- our adoption into the family of God. And there, we will see life spring forth from death.
Ashley Palmer (a LA Tech graduate of Computer Science and English) is a blessing to The Wesley. As she continues to live in Ruston, she works as a remote Software Developer for Praeses, LLC in Shreveport. She is also a fantasy novelist currently editing her first novel: Among the Skies. In addition to writing, Ashley enjoys making attractive websites and apps, digital art, reading, and good food. She is kind, knowledgeable, and devoted to her relationship with the Lord. She is also a member of our Wesley Discipleship Team. We love her and are thankful to have her in our community!