Part 7 of “Paths in the Wilderness”
Isaiah 43:25–28
(25)“I, I am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins. (26)Put me in remembrance; let us argue together; set forth your case, that you may be proved right. (27)Your first father sinned, and your mediators transgressed against me. (28)Therefore I will profane the princes of the sanctuary, and deliver Jacob to utter destruction and Israel to reviling.”(ESV)
Everything in Isaiah 43 builds to this moment. Not to judgment. Not to wrath. But to mercy.
Isaiah 43:25
I, I am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins.(ESV)
God isn’t overlooking sin. He’s erasing it—for His own sake. Not because you earned it. Not because you cleaned yourself up. But because He refuses to let your story end in destruction.
Mercy is not sentimental. It’s sovereign.
This isn’t soft love. This is the God of justice, holiness, and power saying: “I choose to forgive. I choose to forget.”
And the reason? “For my own sake.” God ties His name to your redemption. Because when He forgives, He gets the glory. Not the cleaned-up sinner. Not the disciplined believer. Only Him.
God doesn’t forget because He’s forgetful. He forgets because He’s faithful.
Psalm 103:12
as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us.(ESV)
This is scandalous grace. And yet He doesn’t stop there. He says: “Put me in remembrance; let us argue together…”
That’s not sarcasm. That’s invitation. God invites us to wrestle with Him—to bring our case, to plead our cause—not because we can win, but because in the process we remember that He already won.
The wilderness ends here—but the path forward begins with mercy.
The chapter ends with a sober reminder of Israel’s past failures. But the tone was already set: “I will not remember your sins.”
The final verses aren’t the point. The blotting out is. It’s the exclamation mark that God gets the last word—and that word is mercy.
Call to Action
You’ve walked the wilderness. You’ve seen the patterns. You’ve heard the invitation. Now the question is this: Will you live like you’ve been claimed, refined, and forgiven?
Don’t stay in the desert when the door to rivers has been opened. Let this be the week you stop explaining your past and start declaring His promises.
Father, You are the one who called us from the wilderness, we remember who You are—our Redeemer, our Creator, our King. You led us through fire and flood, not to destroy us, but to reveal Yourself to us. Thank You for not letting go when we forgot You. Thank You for blotting out our sins, not for our sake—but for Yours. We confess our forgetfulness, our distraction, our drift into silence. We lay down our old names, our false identities, and every shadow of shame. Give us eyes to see the new thing You are doing. Help us walk paths we cannot see, trust promises we cannot yet feel,
and drink from rivers we didn’t dig. Let our lives declare Your praise—not because we are worthy, but because You are faithful. We belong to You. And that alone is enough.
In Jesus’ name we pray, amen!
Walking With Christ 
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