WHEN ‘WOE IS ME’ IS THE ONLY PROPER RESPONSE TO A GLIMPSE OF GOD

Picture this: You’re a prophet of God, chosen and called to speak His words. You’ve walked with the Lord, delivered His messages, and considered yourself among the righteous. Then suddenly, you find yourself in the throne room of heaven itself, face to face with the Almighty.

Your response? Pure terror. “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” (Isaiah 6:5)

This isn’t the reaction we’d expect from a modern Christian meeting Jesus. We picture warm embraces, peaceful feelings, maybe tears of joy. But Isaiah’s response was immediate despair—he was utterly undone, certain he would die.

What did Isaiah see that we’ve forgotten?

 

THE VISION THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING

In Isaiah 6, the prophet receives a vision of God’s throne room that defies imagination. Seraphim—perfect, sinless beings—surround the throne, but even they cannot look directly at God. They cover their faces with their wings, crying out “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory!”

The triple repetition of “holy” in Hebrew represents the absolute superlative—God is not just holy, but infinitely, perfectly, transcendently holy. The very foundations of the temple shake at the sound of their voices, and the room fills with smoke.

Even the sinless seraphim cannot bear to look upon God’s holiness. What chance does a sinful human have?

 

WHY ISAIAH WAS TERRIFIED

Isaiah’s terror wasn’t irrational—it was the only rational response to encountering infinite holiness while being finite and fallen. In that moment, Isaiah experienced what the Reformed tradition calls the collision between total depravity and absolute holiness.

The Hebrew word Isaiah uses for “lost” is nidmeithi—it means to be utterly ruined, silenced, destroyed. Isaiah wasn’t being dramatic; he was recognising cosmic reality. In the presence of perfect holiness, imperfection cannot survive. Sin cannot coexist with the divine nature any more than darkness can coexist with light.

John Calvin understood this well. He wrote that when we truly encounter God’s holiness, our natural sense of our own righteousness is obliterated. Isaiah had likely considered himself relatively righteous—after all, he was a prophet! But in God’s presence, he saw himself as God sees him: a man of unclean lips among an unclean people.

This is the great reversal that happens when finite, fallen creatures encounter infinite, perfect holiness. All our comparisons with other people become meaningless. Our self-congratulations evaporate. We’re left with the stark reality of our condition before a holy God.

 

HOW THIS CONTRADICTS OUR MODERN THINKING

Isaiah’s response feels foreign to us because we’ve domesticated God. Our contemporary Christianity often presents a “buddy Jesus” who’s primarily interested in our happiness and self-esteem. We’ve embraced what could be called therapeutic deism—God as cosmic life coach rather than sovereign judge.

We’ve lost the biblical understanding of God’s transcendence. Yes, God is immanent and personal, but He’s also utterly other, infinitely majestic, and morally perfect beyond our comprehension. The Westminster Shorter Catechism captures this: “God is a spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth.”

Modern Christianity has also minimised sin. We tend to view our failures as mistakes rather than cosmic treason against a holy God. We measure ourselves against other people rather than against God’s perfect standard. We’ve lost the category of genuine conviction of sin that leads to the kind of terror Isaiah experienced.

The Puritan Jonathan Edwards understood this better than most. He wrote about the “awful majesty” of God—awful in the old sense of inspiring awe and fear. Edwards recognised God’s holiness is both beautiful and terrifying, attractive and overwhelming. He knew that without proper conviction of sin, we cannot appreciate the gospel.

 

THE BIBLE’S ANSWER: WHY THIS TERROR IS GOOD NEWS

Here’s where the Reformed tradition provides crucial insight: Isaiah’s terror wasn’t a bug in the system—it was a feature. Without a proper understanding of God’s holiness, we cannot appreciate the gospel. The cross makes sense only in light of God’s holiness and human sinfulness.

Think about it: if God’s holiness isn’t that serious, then our sin isn’t that bad, and Christ’s death wasn’t that necessary. But Isaiah’s vision reveals the truth—God’s holiness is so pure, so absolute, so overwhelming that sinful humanity should expect nothing but destruction in His presence.

This is why the next part of Isaiah’s vision is so remarkable. A seraph flies to him with a burning coal from the altar and touches his lips, saying, “Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for” (Isaiah 6:7).

The pattern is clear: conviction, cleansing, commission. Isaiah couldn’t be cleansed until he was properly convicted. He couldn’t appreciate the mercy until he understood the justice. He couldn’t receive the gospel until he understood his desperate need for it.

 

THE TERROR OF MEETING GOD: THE VISION WE NEED

Isaiah’s response reveals what we’ve lost: a true vision of God’s transcendent holiness. Until we see God as He truly is, we cannot see ourselves as we truly are. Until we understand the infinite distance between Creator and creature, holy and unholy, we cannot appreciate the infinite love that bridges that gap through Christ.

The gospel is not just that God loves us—it’s that God loves us despite what we are, loves us enough to satisfy His own holy justice through the cross, loves us enough to make us what we could never become on our own.

Isaiah screamed when he saw God because he understood something we’ve forgotten: meeting the holy God should terrify us. That this terror can be transformed into wonder, worship, and love is the miracle of the gospel. The terror of divine holiness isn’t the end of the story. It’s the beginning of understanding why the gospel is spectacular good news.

 

THE TERROR OF MEETING GOD: RELATED FAQs

Did Isaiah actually see God physically, or was this a vision? Most Reformed theologians, including contemporary scholars Michael Horton and RC Sproul, understand this as a theophany—a real manifestation of God’s presence, not just a dream or metaphor. While Isaiah didn’t see God’s essence (which is impossible for humans), he encountered God’s glory in a way that was genuinely terrifying and transformative. This wasn’t merely symbolic; it was a real encounter with divine holiness that had physical and spiritual effects.

• How do contemporary theologians view Isaiah’s terror? John Piper emphasises Isaiah’s terror demonstrates “Christian hedonism” in reverse—we cannot properly enjoy God until we properly fear Him. Tim Keller argued Isaiah’s response shows why modern people struggle with the gospel; without understanding God’s holiness, we see Christianity as life enhancement rather than life rescue. Both agree this terror is necessary preparation for experiencing God’s love authentically.
• Why didn’t Isaiah die if “no one can see God and live” (Exodus 33:20)? Theologians point out God’s mercy intervened immediately through the cleansing coal, representing atonement. RC Sproul noted Isaiah experienced what we all deserve—death in God’s presence—but also experienced God’s provision for that problem. This prefigures the gospel: we should die for our sin, but God provides substitutionary atonement through Christ.

How does Isaiah’s vision relate to the Trinity? Many scholars, including contemporary theologian Kevin Vanhoozer, see trinitarian implications in Isaiah 6. The threefold “holy” may hint at the Trinity, and John 12:41 suggests Isaiah saw Christ’s glory specifically. This means Isaiah’s terror was partly a response to the pre-incarnate Christ—the same Jesus who would later bear the wrath that Isaiah feared. The vision thus reveals both the problem of sin and God’s solution through the incarnation.

• What about Christians who claim to feel only love and peace in God’s presence? Reformed theologian Sinclair Ferguson distinguishes between authentic spiritual experience and emotional manipulation. True encounters with God’s holiness produce appropriate fear even in believers, though it’s mixed with love and wonder. Ferguson argues experiences of pure comfort without any sense of awe or holy fear may indicate we’re encountering our idea of God rather than God Himself. Genuine Christian experience includes both terror and love.
• How does this vision apply to believers who’re already forgiven? Contemporary Reformed thinkers like Michael Horton emphasise even justified believers should maintain holy fear because sanctification is ongoing. We’re declared righteous but still being made righteous. Isaiah’s pattern—conviction, cleansing, commission—repeats throughout Christian life. Each deeper encounter with God’s holiness reveals new areas needing grace, making the gospel more precious rather than less relevant.

Is this kind of terrifying encounter necessary for salvation today? Reformed theologians generally agree that while the emotional experience may vary, the spiritual reality Isaiah encountered must be present for genuine conversion. John MacArthur argues that without conviction of sin and recognition of God’s holiness, we cannot have saving faith. However, this doesn’t mean everyone must have Isaiah’s exact emotional experience—the Holy Spirit can produce deep conviction in various ways, but the underlying recognition of our desperate need for God’s mercy is essential.

 

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