Experiencing God
“But on this one will I look: on him who is poor and of a contrite spirit, and who trembles at My word.” Isaiah 66:2
There is something unsettling—and deeply life-giving—about realizing that the living God still speaks. Isaiah’s words confront us with a posture that is increasingly rare, even among sincere believers: trembling at the Word of the Lord. The prophet is not describing a paralyzing fear but a reverent responsiveness, a heart that understands the weight of divine speech. The Hebrew verb often translated “trembles” carries the sense of quivering attentiveness, the kind that comes when one recognizes they are standing on holy ground. God declares that He “looks” upon such a person—not impressed by status, intellect, or achievement, but drawn to humility and teachability. As I sit with this text, I am reminded that the primary question is not whether God is speaking, but whether I am listening in a way that allows His Word to shape me.
Scripture consistently shows that when God speaks clearly, the human response is rarely casual. John, overwhelmed by the risen Christ, writes, “When I saw Him, I fell at His feet as though dead” (Rev. 1:17). Paul, confronted by the voice of Jesus on the Damascus road, collapses to the ground, his entire trajectory altered in a moment (Acts 9:4). Moses trembles before the burning bush, aware that the God of Abraham is addressing him personally (Acts 7:32). Peter, having witnessed the authority of Jesus over creation itself, falls to his knees and confesses his unworthiness (Luke 5:8). These encounters share a common thread: when God’s Word is truly heard, it reorders the listener. As A. W. Tozer once observed, “The Bible was written in tears, to tears, and for tears.” God’s Word is not informational alone; it is relational and transformative.
This sense of awe is closely tied to what Scripture calls the fear of the Lord. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Prov. 9:10). Biblical fear is not terror that drives us away but reverence that draws us nearer with humility. When that fear diminishes, our reading of Scripture can become hurried, overly familiar, or merely academic. We may still gather information, but we lose expectation. Yet Jesus’ own ministry reminds us that divine speech carries creative and restorative power. A word from Him raises the dead, stills storms, and heals what medicine cannot. If that same Christ speaks through Scripture by the Holy Spirit, then opening the Bible is never a neutral act. C. S. Lewis captured this tension well when he wrote that we often approach God “as if He were a tame lion,” forgetting that holiness is both beautiful and unsettling.
As I reflect on Isaiah’s call, I find myself asking not when I last studied the Bible, but when I last approached it with holy expectancy. Do I pause long enough to recognize that the God who spoke light into existence is now addressing my heart, my habits, my assumptions? Experiencing God in this way requires slowing down, allowing silence, and admitting that His Word may confront as much as it comforts. Yet it is precisely here that discipleship deepens. When we tremble at God’s Word, we are not weakened; we are made receptive. Wisdom, discernment, and obedience grow in ways that cannot be manufactured by effort alone. The invitation before us is simple yet demanding: the next time we open Scripture, to do so with the awareness that God intends not merely to inform us, but to encounter us.
For further reflection on reverence and Scripture, see the article “The Fear of the Lord” at Desiring God:
https://www.desiringgod.org/topics/fear-of-the-lord
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