A Year Held in His Hands| A New Year Sermon
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You know, sometimes you read a chapter in the Bible and it just feels like it jumps between two worlds. Zechariah 9 is like that. On one hand, it’s talking about God’s judgment over certain cities and nations, and on the other hand, it swings into this beautiful prophecy of the coming King—the one we know now as Jesus. The chapter is like a picture that starts with thunderclouds and ends with a bright, golden sunrise. And honestly, it’s one of those chapters where you can feel both the justice of God and the mercy of God standing side-by-side.
Let’s take it slow and walk through what’s happening here. Because if we rush, we’ll miss the deep, layered stuff.
The chapter opens with these words:
"The burden of the word of the LORD is against the land of Hadrach and Damascus its resting place (for the eyes of men and all the tribes of Israel are toward the LORD), and Hamath also, which borders on it; Tyre and Sidon, though they are very wise."
This is basically setting the stage. “The burden of the word of the Lord” means this is a prophetic message that’s heavy. Not heavy in the sense of hard to understand—but heavy because it’s serious, weighty, and will happen. God starts naming places—Hadrach, Damascus, Hamath, Tyre, Sidon. These are cities up in the north, in regions like Syria and Phoenicia.
Something to note—when it says, “the eyes of men… are toward the Lord,” that’s not a casual glance. This is the kind of gaze when you know something is about to happen, and everyone is watching God to see what He will do. It's like the whole region is holding its breath.
The cities mentioned here weren’t small villages. Tyre and Sidon especially—they were powerhouses in trade, wealthy, and proud of their wisdom. Tyre in particular was famous for its ability to resist attackers. But God is saying, “I see them. I see their wisdom, their pride, and their strength—but I also see their downfall.”
God’s message takes direct aim at Tyre:
“Tyre has built herself a rampart, and heaped up silver like dust, and fine gold like the mud of the streets. But behold, the Lord will dispossess her and cast her wealth into the sea, and she will be devoured by fire.”
Tyre was a fortress city. Part of it was on the mainland, but most of it was on an island about a half-mile off the coast. It was surrounded by strong walls and thought to be almost untouchable. They piled up wealth—gold and silver—as if it would protect them forever.
But God says something shocking: I will throw your wealth into the sea. That’s not poetic exaggeration—history shows us this happened when Alexander the Great conquered Tyre. He literally took the rubble from the mainland city, threw it into the sea, and built a causeway to reach the island fortress. After seven months of siege, Tyre fell. The prophecy came true to the letter.
Here’s the lesson—no matter how strong we think we’ve made our walls, whether they’re made of money, intelligence, or influence—if they’re built on pride instead of God, they can crumble in an instant.
God’s judgment then moves down the coastline:
Ashkelon will see it and fear.
Gaza will be in anguish.
Ekron will lose its hope.
These were Philistine cities, long-time enemies of Israel. God says their kings will perish, and the cities will be emptied. There’s a grimness in these verses, but then—right in the middle—God inserts hope.
In verse 7 He says He will take away their blood from their mouths and their abominations from between their teeth. That’s symbolic language for removing idolatry and pagan practices. And then this part hits hard—those who are left will belong to our God. Even people from these enemy cities will one day be part of God’s people.
That’s the thing about God’s judgment—it’s never just about destroying; it’s also about restoring. He can take enemies and make them family.
“I will encamp at my house as a guard, so that none shall march to and fro; no oppressor shall again march over them, for now I see with my own eyes.”
This verse is just beautiful. God says He’s going to camp around His house—basically, He’ll pitch His tent like a warrior around Jerusalem to protect it. No more enemy armies running back and forth through it. And He says, “for now I see with my own eyes.”
We often talk about God seeing everything, but here He’s talking about watching closely in a protective way. It’s not just seeing—it’s guarding. Imagine the God of the universe saying, “I’m right here, watching, protecting.” That’s the kind of security no human army can give.
Here comes the heart of the chapter—the famous prophecy:
“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”
This is the verse the Gospels quote when Jesus enters Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. This isn’t the image of a king riding in with chariots and war horses. This is a humble king, riding on a donkey. In those days, a donkey was actually a royal animal for peaceful missions, but not for war. So this is a king who’s bringing peace—not conquest.
Verse 10 goes further—this king will remove the chariot from Ephraim and the war horse from Jerusalem. He will speak peace to the nations, and His rule will go from sea to sea. This isn’t just for Israel—this is for the whole earth.
I love how this prophecy came centuries before Jesus and yet describes Him perfectly. Humble. Righteous. Bringing salvation. A ruler who wins by peace, not by the sword.
God then talks to His people directly:
“Because of the blood of my covenant with you, I will set your prisoners free from the waterless pit. Return to your stronghold, O prisoners of hope; today I declare that I will restore to you double.”
The “blood of my covenant” refers back to the covenant God made with Israel—sealed with sacrifice. And here’s this striking phrase: prisoners of hope. Normally, being a prisoner is bad. But here, hope is the thing holding them captive. That’s poetic—it means even in their captivity, they’ve still got something worth holding on to.
God promises to restore double. That’s His heart—when He redeems, He doesn’t just give back what was lost; He multiplies it.
These verses shift into battle imagery again. God says He will bend Judah as His bow and make Ephraim its arrow. He’s basically saying, “I will use my people as my weapon to bring justice.” There’s even this intense picture of God appearing over them, His arrow flashing like lightning.
Verse 15 says the Lord will protect them, and they will “devour and tread down the sling stones.” That’s probably symbolic for defeating their enemies completely. The end of the verse talks about them drinking and roaring like with wine—but this is victory celebration imagery, not drunkenness. It’s the overwhelming joy after God’s deliverance.
The chapter closes on a high note:
“On that day the LORD their God will save them, as the flock of His people; for like the jewels of a crown they shall shine on His land. For how great is His goodness, and how great His beauty!”
You can almost hear the joy in Zechariah’s words. God’s people aren’t just barely rescued—they’re treasured, shining like jewels in a crown. And then he bursts into this praise: How great is His goodness, and how great His beauty! That’s the natural response when you realize the King who is coming is also the Shepherd who loves you.
Zechariah 9 is a reminder that God’s plans weave judgment and mercy together. He tears down prideful strongholds, but He also opens His arms to anyone—yes, even former enemies—who turn to Him. It’s also a crystal-clear prophecy that Jesus is the promised King, not coming in to crush with military power, but to bring lasting peace.
For us, it’s worth asking—where have I built walls like Tyre? What “fortresses” in my life do I think make me untouchable? And am I living as a “prisoner of hope,” holding onto God’s promises even in hard seasons?
Because here’s the thing—this humble King is coming again. And when He does, His rule will cover the whole earth. There will be no more war, no more oppression, and no more enemies. Just peace. Forever.
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