Isaiah 6:1 — “In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw also the Lord.”
There are moments in our spiritual lives when God allows the “heroes” — the people or things we’ve leaned on — to fall away. It may be a mentor, a parent, a pastor, a dream, or even a sense of security that once held our world together. When that pillar collapses, we are faced with a question: will we crumble with it, or will we look up and see the Lord?
Isaiah’s vision came in a year of loss. King Uzziah had been a symbol of stability and strength for Judah, yet when he died, the prophet’s eyes were opened to a greater throne — one that never shakes, one that reigns forever. The passing of what we depended on often becomes the doorway to a deeper revelation of who God is.
Our walk with God is often marked by this rhythm: the passing of the hero, the unveiling of the Holy. God removes our props so we can finally stand before Him alone. When He strips away what substitutes for His presence, He isn’t being cruel — He’s being kind. He’s preparing us to see Him clearly.
Our ability to see God depends on the condition of our character. Until we are purified — until our self-reliance, pride, and prejudice are burned away — our eyes remain dim. New birth opens spiritual sight; suffering sharpens it. The external events that break us and the internal work that cleanses us are both part of God’s surgery to reveal Himself.
So the question echoes: when loss comes, what do I see?
Do I see emptiness and despair, or do I see the Lord high and lifted up?
Faith matures when God becomes our first, our second, and our third — when every other voice fades and only His remains. “In all the world there is none but Thee, my God, there is none but Thee.”
Keep paying the price of vision. Stay faithful when the familiar falls. Let God see that you are willing to live up to what He has shown you — even when it costs. For in every “year that Uzziah dies,” there waits a throne still occupied, and a King still holy.
Reflection Prayer
Lord, when You remove what I’ve relied on, help me not to faint but to look up. Purify my heart until I can see You clearly. Teach me to find You not after the loss is healed, but in the very moment of it. May my cry be not “I gave up,” but “I saw the Lord.” Amen
