By Dr. Robert C Crowder
Reading:
1 Peter 2:24-25 Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed. For ye were as sheep going astray; but are now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls.
Isaiah 53:1-6 Who hath believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the LORD revealed? 2 For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him. 3 He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
4 Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. 5 But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. 6 All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.
Reflection:
Merged Version:
Isaiah 53 stands as the pinnacle of Old Testament prophecy concerning the suffering of the Messiah. Written seven centuries before Christ’s birth, it describes with stunning precision the rejection, affliction, and substitutionary death of the Servant of the Lord. This is not merely predictive; it is deeply theological. Every phrase reveals something essential about the nature of God’s love and the cost of our redemption. Isaiah prophesied with stunning precision: “He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities… with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray.” Seven centuries later, Peter declared the fulfillment: “Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree… by whose stripes ye were healed. For ye were as sheep going astray.” What Isaiah foretold as prophecy, Peter proclaimed as accomplished fact. The Servant Isaiah saw suffering and dying for sinners was Jesus Christ. The stripes Isaiah described were inflicted at Calvary. The sheep who went astray were you and me. And the healing Isaiah promised has been secured by the blood of the Lamb. The love that sent Christ to the cross was not sentimental sympathy but sovereign determination to save sinners at infinite personal cost.
The prophecy begins with unbelief: “Who hath believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the LORD revealed?” Isaiah anticipated what would happen; most who heard it would reject the message of a suffering servant. The “arm of the LORD” refers to God’s power to save, but that power would be revealed in an unexpected way. The world expects divine power to manifest in conquest, dominance, and display. Instead, God’s saving power was revealed in weakness, humiliation, and sacrifice. This is the scandal of the gospel; God’s strength made perfect in weakness, God’s wisdom displayed in what the world calls foolishness.[1]
The Servant’s origins and appearance would inspire no confidence: “For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.” Jesus did not come with outward majesty, royal pomp, or physical attractiveness that would draw crowds. He grew up in obscurity, in Nazareth; a town so insignificant that Nathanael asked, “Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?”[2] The metaphor of a tender plant in dry ground speaks to the fragile, unlikely nature of His earthly beginnings. Yet from that humble root came the world’s only hope.
The rejection was comprehensive: “He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.” This was not passive indifference but active contempt. Jesus was despised; treated with scorn, regarded as worthless. He was rejected; pushed away, refused, cast out. He was “a man of sorrows,” intimately familiar with suffering, grief, and pain. The Hebrew word for “sorrows” (makob) speaks of physical and emotional anguish. Isaiah saw that the Messiah would not be welcomed as a conquering king but spurned as an outcast. And humanity’s response would be to hide their faces, to turn away in revulsion or shame, refusing even to look upon Him.
Then comes the great reversal; the explanation of what was actually happening in the Servant’s suffering: “Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.” The surface interpretation was that God was punishing Him for His own sins. People assumed He was stricken, smitten, and afflicted by God because of something He had done. But the reality was the opposite; He bore our griefs and carried our sorrows. The word “borne” (nasa) means to lift, to carry, to bear the weight of. Jesus took upon Himself the full burden of human sin and suffering. Matthew applies this verse to Christ’s healing ministry: “That it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Esaias the prophet, saying, Himself took our infirmities, and bare our sicknesses.”[3] But the ultimate fulfillment is at the cross, where He bore not just physical sickness but the spiritual disease of sin.
The heart of the passage declares the doctrine of substitutionary atonement with breathtaking clarity: “But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.” Every phrase is loaded with theological precision. He was “wounded, pierced through, fatally injured. The Hebrew word (chalal) suggests a violent, penetrating wound, fulfilled literally when the nails pierced His hands and feet and the spear pierced His side. He was wounded for our transgressions, our rebellions, our willful violations of God’s law. He was “bruised,” crushed, broken. He was bruised for our iniquities, our moral crookedness, our twisted nature, our bent toward evil.
The phrase “the chastisement of our peace was upon him” reveals that the punishment required to secure our peace; our reconciliation with God, our shalom; fell on Him. He endured the full weight of divine judgment so that we could have peace with God. And “with his stripes we are healed.” The wounds inflicted on Him bring spiritual healing to us. Peter echoes this: “Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed”[4] This is not physical healing guaranteed in the atonement (though God can heal physically), but spiritual healing; the forgiveness of sins and the restoration of our relationship with God.
Isaiah then gives the reason this sacrifice was necessary: “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.” This is universal sinfulness and particular redemption in one verse. Every human being has gone astray like sheep—wandering from the Shepherd, following our own path, doing what is right in our own eyes. The picture is both corporate (“all we”) and individual (“every one”). We are not innocent victims of circumstance; we are guilty rebels who have turned to our own way. Sin is not merely a mistake or weakness; it is willful self-determination in defiance of God.
But God intervened. “The LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.” The Hebrew word for “laid” (paga) means to cause to meet, to encounter, to intercede. God caused all our iniquity to meet; to converge, to fall upon, His Servant. This was divine intention, not a tragic accident. It was the plan from eternity past.[5] The Father’s plan laid our sins on the Son so that the Son could bear them away and satisfy divine justice on our behalf.
This is the most concentrated expression of God’s love. Not a sentimental love that ignores sin, but a holy love that challenges sin, condemns sin, and suffers the penalty for sin through a substitute. Love was the cause of every wound that Christ endured. Every stripe was love in action. Every moment of agony on the cross was love enduring what we could not endure so that we might have what we do not deserve: forgiveness, righteousness, peace with God, and eternal life.
The Servant’s loving mission was singular in purpose: to seek and to save the lost.[6] He came not to be served but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many (Mark 10:45). The cross was not Plan B after humanity ruined Plan A. It was the eternal purpose of God, the demonstration of His love, and the only means by which sinners could be reconciled to a holy God. Because of that mission, which was accomplished fully and finally at Calvary, He brought us who were far off near, made us who were enemies friends, and justified us who were condemned.
This Advent meditate deeply on the cost of your salvation. It was not cheap grace or easy forgiveness. It cost God everything. The suffering Servant bought you every benefit you have as a believer: forgiveness, adoption, the Spirit, and eternal life, by bearing your sins on the tree.
Prayer:
- Thank Jesus for loving you enough to bear what you could not bear.
- Ask Him to teach you to value His sacrifice, and pray that the reality of what He suffered would produce deep gratitude, humble worship, and selfless love for others.
Consider:
Write a note or message to someone who needs to know that they are loved by God and that Christ died for their sins. Be specific about the gospel—what Jesus did, why He did it, and how they can receive the gift of salvation. Pray for boldness and clarity and trust the Holy Spirit to use your words to draw them to the Savior.
[1] 1 Corinthians 1:23-25
[2] John 1:46
[3] Matthew 8:17
[4] 1 Peter 2:24
[5] Acts 2:23; Revelation 13:8
[6] Luke 19:10
Robert C. Crowder Ministries 
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