Seeing the Lord on His Throne: an Advent 2025 devotional from Isaiah 6

This homily was preached for Capital Pres Fairfax on Sunday, December 14, 2025, during our evening communion service. Our Advent series this year is titled “Face to Face.” We are tracing the theme of seeing God face-to-face from the beginning to the end of the Bible, as a way of deepening our appreciation for the wonder of Advent, when God arrived in human history in the manger. We looked at Isaiah 6:1-8 together. A recording of this sermon will be available on Spotify and Apple Podcasts.

In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him stood the seraphim. Each had six wings: with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. And one called to another and said: 

“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; 

the whole earth is full of his glory!” 

And the foundations of the thresholds shook at the voice of him who called, and the house was filled with smoke. And I said: “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!” 

Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a burning coal that he had taken with tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth and said: “Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for.” 

And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” Then I said, “Here I am! Send me.” (Isa 6:1–8)

My parents celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary when I was a junior in high school. To celebrate, they decided the whole family was going to go on a trip to Ireland—which was wildly generous of them to bring me and my brothers. On our first full day there, we drove to the far north of Ireland, to a place called Slieve League. 

Here’s the problem: I can try to describe this place to you, but words will never do it justice. These are some of the most spectacular cliffs in all of Europe. Green rolling hills suddenly break open into steep walls of jagged stone, plummeting 2,000 feet straight into the Atlantic, which stretches as far as the eye can see into the horizon. It truly feels like you’re standing on the edge of the world—even more so because there’s no fences or guard rails or really any infrastructure. There’s just rough dirt paths as narrow as a curb, trailing along just six inches from an unimaginable drop. Seriously, can you imagine how tall 2,000 feet is? 600 meters? 

Here was the most jarring part of that hike for me: if I turned to my right as I walked, all I saw was green hills and sheep right level with me, as if I was walking through the middle of a field. I’d have had no idea that such overwhelming majesty and danger lay just six inches to my left. 

It is all too easy to live out our Christian walk facing the right. When we read our Bibles, when we come into church—we can treat it like green hills and sheep. Safe, manageable, pleasant, sentimental, sterile. Not a hint of majesty, or danger. Christmas especially can turn into this: quaint nativities with a sleeping baby and little lambs, not to mention Hallmark movies and decorated trees. This evening, from this passage, God is calling us to look left—to turn from the sentimental and rote, and to see himself. Before we come to the baby in a manger, we must see the Lord sitting upon his throne in all his glory and holiness. The only way for us to come before the Lord is by the baby in a manger. 

Before the Altar

How many times in his life do you think Isaiah had entered into the temple before this passage happened? Isaiah was a prophet; he’s remembered as perhaps the most important prophet of the Old Testament, his book is the longest of all the Bible’s prophetic literature. We don’t know much about Isaiah’s background. Scholars think he was possibly related to Uzziah and had proximity to religious and political power before he became a prophet.¹ It’s even possible Isaiah was a prophet before the events of our passage. Living in Jerusalem, engaged in ministry work—he could have gone into that temple hundreds of times. 

Every journey brought him the same view: the Holy of Holies, the innermost structure of the temple, closed off by a thick curtain and blurred behind billows of smoke arising from the altar which intentionally sat between him and God. Until one day, God pulls back the curtain. Isaiah sees not just into the innermost part of the temple, but the true temple, the heavenly original of which the earthly was just a copy. And there, as he writes in verse 1, “I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple.”

Again, here’s the problem: words fail to capture the enormity and the terror of this encounter. He sees beings so powerful the sound of their voices causes earthquakes; and yet even these beings cover their faces and feet before the Lord. Through the billowing smoke of the altar he at last sees the one whose holiness fuels its flames. And his immediate, sole response “Woe is me, I am lost—ruined—undone. I am a man of unclean lips and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the true king—not Uzziah, not David—the Lord of hosts!” Now more than ever before he understands why there’s an altar. 

Do you understand why there must be an altar? God’s holiness demands it. We are people of unclean lips. For Isaiah, his lips represented his core identity and his ultimate purpose. He was to be a prophet of the Lord, to speak God’s words on God’s behalf. Isaiah confesses, “Lord, to the core of who I am and what I was created to do, I am not worthy. I am lost.” 

What would that confession be for you? In our prayer of confession we admitted “we have not loved you with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength.” When you prayed that, were you looking to the right or to the left? Was it green hills and rote repetition, or was it face-to-face with the majesty and holiness of God? Friends, if you do not see your sin, you have not seen God. You cannot call yourself a Christian unless you know your need of cleansing. 

Before the Table

The good news of the gospel is that God provides the cleansing we need. That’s why God has given us an altar. Let me ask you a question, take a second to think about it: is the altar a place of judgment? It is, but not for the worshipper. Judgment falls on the one sacrificed upon it, but for the worshipper, the altar is the place of atonement and forgiveness and cleansing. 

Isaiah was given a coal from the altar signifying his atonement, pointing forward to an offering that would truly take away his guilt and atone for his sin. Who was that sacrifice? The baby in the manger. The one whom John the Baptist would call “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.” Isaiah himself would come to prophesy about him, 

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, 

     yet he opened not his mouth; 

like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, 

      and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, 

     so he opened not his mouth. (Is 53:7)

Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him; 

     he has put him to grief; 

when his soul makes an offering for guilt, 

     he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days; 

the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand. 

     Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied; 

by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, 

     make many to be accounted righteous, 

     and he shall bear their iniquities. (Is 53:10–11)

The entire book of Hebrews in the New Testament makes all this explicitly clear: “For Christ has entered, not into holy places made with hands, which are copies of the true things, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God on our behalf…he has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself.” (Heb 9:24,26)

To Isaiah God sent a seraph with a coal from the altar. But ultimately, God sent his own Son to the altar. God became man. Judgment became peace. And the altar became a table. Instead of separating us from God, it becomes our meeting place with God. There is no sacrifice left to offer, no guilt left to cleanse. Nothing shall separate us from the love of God who beckons us to meet him. In place of a coal, we have been given a meal. Bread and wine, representing Jesus’ body broken and blood shed for the remission of sins. A meal we share with God who meets with us here and now. 

Do you see that? It is all too easy to come to this table looking to the right, never actually seeing the unimaginable majesty and danger of God’s holiness satisfied in Christ for you! 

If you have never seen the Lord, I pray he might open your eyes this Christmas—even right now. Even if you’ve lived in proximity to God your whole life, walking the narrow path of religious practice but only ever looking to the right, heed this call: come to the altar. 

Come before the throne of God where Christ offered himself for sinners. We have a prayer in our bulletin for those searching for truth. Let that guide your conversation with God tonight. Don’t yet come to the table. You must first be reconciled with God by the blood of his Son. But you can come to the altar right now in faith. 

If your eyes have been opened—if you have seen the majesty and danger of our holy, holy, holy God—if you have pled your guilt and found forgiveness in the cleansing blood of Christ—then come to the table. As we do before all our meals, let’s pray. 

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¹ Paul D. Wegner, and Tremper Longman III. Isaiah : An Introduction and Commentary. Vol. 20. IVP Academic, 2021. EBSCOhost.