Isaiah 28 is a sobering passage. The prophet cries out against leaders who have built “refuges of lies” (Isaiah 28:15), making false covenants that cannot save them. They claim security, but it is built on deception and violence. Isaiah declares that such foundations cannot last: ‘I will make justice the measuring line and righteousness the plummet; hail will sweep away your refuge of lies, and water will overwhelm the shelter’ (Isaiah 28:17).
A clear message is delivered in tonight’s reading: God is the true architect of community life. God lays “a precious cornerstone, a sure foundation” (Isaiah 28:16), and everything not aligned with his justice will collapse. For Israel’s leaders in Isaiah’s day, the sin was arrogance, corruption, and disregard for God’s teaching. For us, the warning is clear: societies built on cruelty, oppression, or false promises of peace through violence cannot endure.
These words pierce especially when we think of the ongoing conflict in the world, in Gaza and Israel. Leaders and nations continue to trust in weapons, in bombs, in narratives that demonise others, instead of the plummet of God’s justice. The result is devastation: thousands of lives lost, children buried in rubble, families torn apart. Here we see Isaiah’s words come alive: “The bed is too short to stretch oneself on it, the covering too narrow to wrap oneself in it” (Isaiah 28:20)—false promises of security never satisfy, and the people remain exposed to suffering.
This sets the stage for the New Testament, where Paul reminds us that God’s people are called not to trust in false securities, but to live out justice through concrete acts of generosity and solidarity. This is where Paul’s teaching in 2 Corinthians speaks so powerfully.
He tells the Corinthians about the Macedonian churches, who, despite poverty and affliction, overflowed in generosity: ‘They voluntarily gave according to their means, and even beyond their means, begging us earnestly for the privilege of sharing in this ministry to the saints’ (2 Corinthians 8:3–4).
Paul’s message is simple: true community is measured by solidarity with the suffering. Wealth, privilege, and power are not foundations; generosity, humility, and accountability are. And at the centre is Christ himself: ‘For you know the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he/Jesus was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich’ (2 Corinthians 8:9).
How different this is from the logic of war! Human powers hoard resources, drop bombs, and call it security. Christ gives himself away, descends into poverty, and calls it salvation. Leaders of nations build walls and weapons; Christ builds a community of generosity where each bears the other’s burden.
So what does this mean for us, watching the cruelty of war unfold in Gaza, in Ukraine, in Myanmar, in Sudan? It means first, we must reject the lies that any people’s suffering is expendable. Every child buried under rubble in Gaza is precious to God. Every Israeli living in fear of rockets or violence is beloved of God. To mock, to dismiss, to grow numb to these lives is to harden our hearts against the prophetic word: ‘Now do not scoff, or your bonds will be made stronger’ (Isaiah 28:22).
Second, it means we must embrace accountability. We cannot control world leaders and dictators, but we can refuse to be silent. We can pray, we can give to relief efforts, we can advocate for peace rooted in justice. Like the Macedonians, we can give ‘beyond our ability’ and ‘generously’ because we first give ourselves to the Lord (2 Corinthians 8:5).
Finally, it means our hope is in the cornerstone—Jesus Christ. He is God’s plummet of justice, God’s living foundation of mercy. The structures of cruelty and violence will one day fall, but those who build on Christ will endure. In Christ, we shall glimpse the justice that does not destroy, but restores. In Christ, we shall see the mercy that makes enemies into neighbours.
The prophet and the apostle do not give us easy answers, but they invite us to examine ourselves. They call us to listen for God’s plummet of justice, to notice where our lives lean away from righteousness, and to allow Christ to set us level again.
May we become a people who refuse the refuges of lies, who dare to stand with the vulnerable, and who live out the generous mercy of Christ. And may our lives, and our communities, be built on that sure foundation which cannot be shaken.
Amen.