10 Again the Lord spoke to Ahaz, saying, 11 “Ask a sign of the Lord your God; let it be deep as Sheol or high as heaven.” 12 But Ahaz said, “I will not ask, and I will not put the Lord to the test.” 13 Then Isaiah said, “Hear then, O house of David! Is it too little for you to weary mortals that you weary my God also? 14 Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son and shall name him Immanuel. 15 He shall eat curds and honey by the time he knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good. 16 For before the child knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land before whose two kings you are in dread will be deserted.
Isaiah 7:10-16 (NRSVue)
“What is my job?” an eager child asked during the Carols and Lessons service at a seminary chapel, as she was coloring a unicorn with all the colors of a rainbow. In that sacred environment, she sensed she was part of something much larger than herself—a communion with the Divine and all who had gathered to celebrate. As she looked around at the vibrant colors of the stained glass and listened to the choir and soloists, observing the readers behind the tall pulpit, she began searching for ways to actively participate in that moment. In the context of that service, her most important role was to be present and visible. There is undeniable power in a child’s presence, particularly in spaces where children are not usually expected, where their sincerity and courage can break established routines.
In 735 BCE, the Assyrian Empire posed a significant threat to neighboring small kingdoms, projecting its strength and demanding allegiance and submission. The leaders of Aram and the northern kingdom of Israel, Ephraim, sought to forge a coalition to resist the Assyrian advances. Meanwhile, King Ahaz of the Southern Kingdom of Judah stood resolute, declining their invitation to join forces. In retaliation, the armies of Aram and Ephraim marched toward Judah with the intent to depose King Ahaz and install a more compliant ruler. Amid these escalating tensions, “the heart of Ahaz and the heart of his people shook as the trees of the forest shake before the wind” (Isaiah 7:2). This fear enveloped the king, rendering him hopeless and afraid of the future.
In response to Ahaz’s turmoil, God called upon the prophet Isaiah, instructing him to deliver a message of hope and assurance. Isaiah was commanded to take his son, Shear-jashub, whose name means “a remnant shall return,” as a sign of God’s unwavering commitment to God’s people. The presence of this child conveyed a profound message—amid fear and doubt, God was at work, instilling hope and faith in the possibility of redemption. Shear-jashub visually represented the generation of Israelites whose present and future were in the hands of king Ahaz. His name announced to the world that the war and the loss was unavoidable, but God’s salvific presence would ensure the survival of the nation and a way forward. King Ahaz was challenged to align himself with God’s work in his kingdom through deepening of his faith and devotion to God. Although Isaiah’s prophetic words clarified this message, Ahaz tragically ignored the counsel of the prophet and the presence of his son.
Isaiah returned to King Ahaz yet again, reproaching the king’s perception of God as helpless against his adversaries. The prophet boldly proclaimed that another child would be born, one who would be named Immanuel, meaning “God with us.” This name carried immense significance, symbolizing God’s continuous presence among the people. The sign of Immanuel was two-fold, embodying both divine protection and a conviction against injustice and oppression—that God was not only a source of comfort but also a catalyst for change and an advocate for justice.
Fast forward three centuries, an anticipation grew for another child expected to enter a world ruled by the Roman Empire. By invoking the prophecy of Isaiah the Gospel writer announced the arrival of a new era—a proclamation of Good News meant for a people enduring harsh realities of oppression and systemic injustice. Resource extraction and the corruption of ethnic and religious identities plagued the Israelites under Roman rule. Taxes kept the majority population at or below the sustenance level, during war times they were raised up to 25%. All authoritative figures were selected by the Romans – from the king to a tax collector. The Israelites lived in constant fear of a violent Roman response if there was any perceived risk of rebellion. Amidst this oppression, poverty, and violence, Jesus was born. His birth disrupted the status quo. The Magi, authoritative figures from the East, recognized the star as a sign of a powerful king’s birth and traveled to Jerusalem to find him, seeking an alliance. Upon learning from them about the ruler marked by the new star, King Herod reacted with fear and violence, killing many innocents and forcing Joseph, Mary, and Jesus to seek refuge in Egypt.
Children’s presence can wield immense power, especially in spaces where they customarily do not belong, such as palaces of kings, spacious offices of government officials, and the secured communication channels of the powerful. Yet there are moments when their bodies and names appear, confronting the orchestrators of their lives. Their cries become too loud, or their silence grows unbearable.
Who are the children whose presence boldly declares that God is with us? Their stories resonate, calling the world’s attention to both suffering and hope.
Consider a starving child in Gaza—a horrifying embodiment of innocence caught in the crossfire of conflict. This child endures unimaginable trauma marked by loss, violence, and the devastation of her home. In this harrowing reality, God is present, witnessing the cruelty inflicted upon her and her community, urging a call for ceasefire and peace. The sheer existence of this child serves as a poignant reminder to those of us who enjoy the relative safety of our homes and communities.
Remember a brown child filled with anxiety as he walks home from school, his mind racing with worry about whether mama, papa, and tío have been detained by ICE today. This child feels, in his every breath, the constricting uncertainties of an immigration system that keeps his family in a perpetual state of unknowns and dead ends. The label “illegal” weighs heavily, eroding his sense of humanity and belonging. God walks with this child in his worry and fear, pleading for compassionate, timely solutions.
See a sick child who is acutely aware of a medical treatment that could restore her health and quality of life. She listens day after day as her mother battles with insurance companies, crying out in frustration and helplessness over the growing stack of unpaid medical bills. In her young mind, she grapples with the unfairness of a system that prioritizes profits over her healing and wholeness. The presence of this child becomes yet another powerful testament to the urgent call for justice in healthcare, reminding us of the need for advocacy and change in how we value the God-given life of all.
All around the world, children carry potent messages of God’s presence, articulated in various tones and contexts. Through their stories, we hear expressions of hope, reassurance, and a compelling call to deepen our faith amid adversity. Their realities challenge us to confront our societal indifference and complacency. We are called to recognize the devastating consequences of inaction and to actively engage with the pressing issues that surround us.
Moreover, these children’s stories are a reminder of God’s dream for all humanity. Biblically, this vision is often described as the Kingdom of God—a realm where justice, mercy, and love reign supreme, transcending borders, cultures, and socioeconomic divides. The innocence and purity of children invite us to reclaim this vision, reminding us that every person, regardless of their background, has inherent dignity and worth.
Let every child carry the prophetic name Immanuel—God with us. And let us, children of God, fully live into the reality of this name.
