**The Banquet on the Mountain**
The sun hung low over the ruins of Moab, casting long shadows across the broken walls and shattered towers. Once, this had been a proud city, its people defiant and secure behind their high fortresses. But now, only silence lingered where laughter had once echoed. The Lord had brought down the lofty; He had humbled the pride of the ruthless.
Yet, beyond the desolation, on a distant mountain wreathed in golden light, a feast was being prepared.
The prophet Isaiah stood upon a high ridge, his cloak billowing in the wind as he beheld the vision unfolding before him. A great table stretched across the summit, laden with the richest of foods—tender meats, aged wines, and the finest fruits of the earth. Around it gathered people from every nation, their faces alight with joy. The weak, the poor, the outcast—all were welcomed, their tears wiped away by the hand of the Lord Himself.
Isaiah fell to his knees, overcome. “This is the mountain of the Lord,” he whispered. “The place where death is swallowed up forever.”
For centuries, death had been the great enemy, the shadow that clung to every man and woman since the days of Eden. Nations rose and fell, kings ruled and perished, but death remained undefeated—until now.
A voice, deep as thunder and gentle as a father’s whisper, filled the air:
*”On this mountain, I will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations. I will swallow up death forever.”*
Isaiah trembled as the words took root in his heart. No longer would death have the final say. No longer would grief choke the voices of the broken. The Lord would wipe away every tear from every face, and the reproach of His people would be removed from the earth.
The scene shifted, and Isaiah saw the enemies of God—those who had oppressed the poor, who had trusted in their own strength—now brought low. Like a storm crushing a fragile hut, the Lord had laid them waste. Their mighty cities were reduced to dust, their pride turned to shame.
But for those who waited upon the Lord, who took refuge in Him, there was only gladness. The mountain was their sanctuary, the feast their inheritance.
As the vision faded, Isaiah rose, his heart burning with hope. The day would come when all would see the salvation of the Lord. The mourners would rejoice, the hungry would be filled, and death itself would be no more.
And so, with renewed faith, Isaiah lifted his voice to proclaim the promise:
*”Behold, this is our God; we have waited for Him, that He might save us. This is the Lord; we have waited for Him. Let us be glad and rejoice in His salvation!”*
For on that mountain, the Lord of Hosts would prepare a banquet—and all who trusted in Him would feast forever.
