📘 Lesson 7: Foundations of Prophecy

7.1 “Here I Am—Send Me!”
Cleansed, called, sent—Isaiah’s response to God’s grace

…………………………………………………………………

🟦 Introduction

When God speaks, nothing remains the same. The prophet Isaiah’s calling doesn’t begin with a command but with a shattering encounter. In God’s presence, every person feels small, yet God invites us to come—not despite our impurity, but with it, so He can transform it. This lesson reminds us: whoever truly meets God is changed. And whoever is changed by God cannot remain silent, but will—like Isaiah—say, “Here am I; send me.”

………………………………………………………………….

📖 Bible Study

📌 Question 1: What was the result of Isaiah’s encounter with God?
Isaiah saw the glory of God—and at that same moment, recognized his own sin. This awareness did not lead to despair but to cleansing. A seraph touched his lips with a burning coal, a symbol that God had not only forgiven him but also empowered him. The coal came from the altar—the place of intercession, where sacrifice was made in symbol. Isaiah’s guilt was not ignored but atoned for. This purification was not an end in itself but the beginning of his mission. The order is crucial: encounter, cleansing, calling. Only those who have personally experienced God’s grace can speak of it credibly.

📌 Question 2: How can we respond to God’s grace as Isaiah did?
Our response to forgiveness should never be passive. Jesus’ sacrifice wipes away our sin—but it also changes our perspective. When we realize what has been forgiven, a desire awakens within us to pass that grace on. “Send me” is not a heroic cry but the natural response of someone touched by love. Like Isaiah, our calling begins with humility—with the willingness to set aside our own agenda and carry God’s word into the world—courageously, lovingly, credibly.

………………………………………………………………….

✨ Spiritual Principles

• God’s holiness confronts but does not destroy.

• God reveals Himself not to condemn us but to save us.

• Forgiveness leads to calling.

• Our mission begins when we experience God’s grace most deeply.

• Calling is a response, not a merit.

• Isaiah volunteered only after God had cleansed him—not before.

………………………………………………………………….

🧩 Application for Daily Life

• If you feel unworthy, remember that God isn’t looking for perfection but for willingness.

• Begin your prayers not with activity but with worship. Mission follows encounter.

• Speak about your experiences of grace—people don’t need perfect heroes but credible witnesses.

………………………………………………………………….

✅ Conclusion

God doesn’t call perfect people—He calls those who have been cleansed. Isaiah’s story shows that in God’s presence our masks are shattered, but there we also find healing and purpose. The world doesn’t need more opinions but more people who say, “Here am I; send me.”

………………………………………………………………….

💭 Thought of the Day

“God doesn’t call the qualified; He qualifies the called.”

………………………………………………………………….

🎨 Illustration—“Here Am I; Send Me”—The Story of Elias

The rain pounded against the windowpane as Elias pressed his forehead to the cold glass. Down on the street, passing car lights flickered like restless thoughts. It was Friday night. Life was roaring outside. Inside, there was silence—that loud, oppressive silence that drapes itself over your heart.

Elias was twenty-nine. A communications designer, a freelancer, a visionary talent. Admired on Instagram, praised in meetings. But inside, there was emptiness. For weeks it had crept into his mind like a shadow chasing the light. He couldn’t explain it to anyone. Maybe it was overwork. Maybe meaninglessness. Maybe… it was God.

Three weeks earlier, for reasons he couldn’t name, he had wandered into an old brick building on the city’s edge—a small prayer center. It didn’t look planned. A friend had dragged him along. “Just come,” Ben had said. “Just listen.” Elias had laughed inside. He wasn’t a churchgoer. He was “spiritual but not religious,” as they say. And yet—something gripped him.

It wasn’t the music. Not even the simple worship. It was that feeling as if a veil had been pulled aside for a moment. As if someone saw right into his soul—didn’t judge, just saw. And that was worse. Because there were things in Elias’s life he didn’t want to see.

He was successful, yes. But behind that success was a man who had lied too often. Who had done things he had to bury. An affair with his best friend’s wife. An abortion he never healed from. He had hurt people. Manipulated careers. And all with a charming smile.

That night in the prayer room, the speaker spoke of Isaiah. Of that scene where a man—a real person—stands before God’s throne. Not as a hero. Not as a prophet. But as someone who says, “I am lost.” And Elias had felt: That’s me. I am that man.

He saw no angels. Heard no voices. But he wept. For the first time in years. Tears that could not be explained, only felt.

The next evening, he couldn’t sleep. He googled “Isaiah 6” and read it over and over. The image of the seraph, the burning coal, the cleansing—it burned itself into him. What if forgiveness were real? Not symbolic, not religious—but real?

He began to pray. Haltingly. Like a child learning a new language. First stammering, then more fluid. One night—around three a.m.—he sat on his bedroom floor when something happened. No light. No thunder. Just a quiet, holy moment. As if someone spoke right into his heart:

“Your guilt is taken away. Your lips are cleansed.”

Elias fell to his knees. He didn’t know how long he prayed there. But when he rose, he was no longer the same.

Three months later, Elias stood in a gym in the city’s rough neighborhood. No Instagram. No stage. Just a table with sandwiches, a few kids in worn jackets—and a story he could now tell. Not as a hero. But as one who had known forgiveness.

“I was no better than you,” he said that afternoon to the teenagers. “I had everything—and was still empty. Until God met me. Not with accusations. But with grace.”

One boy, maybe sixteen, stared at him. “And what do you want from us?”

Elias smiled. “Nothing. I’m just here to say: If God can use someone like me, He can use you too.”

He knew: this was his “send me” moment. No trumpet fanfare. Just a whisper in his heart—and an open door.

Late that night, back alone in his room, he looked at the sky once more.

“Here am I,” he whispered. “Not because I’m strong. But because you have cleansed me. Send me.”