Scriptural Consideration – Isaiah 33:24

“No resident will say: ‘I am sick.’ The people dwelling in the land will be pardoned for their error.” — Isaiah 33:24

The wind had settled. The sky, once troubled and bruised by the fury of judgment, now stretched wide with peace. Ashes had given way to shoots of green. And among the quiet survivors of a world reborn stood a man—aged in body but alive with wonder. He blinked as the fog of cataracts cleared from his eyes, then wept as the sharp outline of a distant mountain came into view… for the first time in decades.

Nearby, a little girl set her hearing aid down on a rock—unneeded. A grandmother dropped her cane and began to walk faster than she had in twenty years. Across the field, wheelchairs rested like forgotten relics in the tall grass. The world was healing, and so were its people. Just as promised.

Jesus had given us glimpses of this day.

He had touched the eyes of the blind. The ears of the deaf opened like flowers at sunrise. The paralyzed stood, ran, danced. His miracles were never mere displays—they were declarations. Declarations of Jehovah’s mercy. Of the Kingdom’s reality. Of a time when “no resident will say: ‘I am sick.’”

Those moments were not random acts of kindness, but previews of a coming certainty. Jesus, the compassionate Shepherd, mirrored the care of his Father in every healing, every embrace, every tear wiped away. “The Son cannot do a single thing of his own initiative,” he said, “but only what he sees the Father doing.” (John 5:19) When Jesus healed, it was Jehovah’s tenderness we were witnessing.

So what about us—those still waiting in the shadowlands of sickness?

Some carry the weight of chronic pain. Others feel the fading of their strength. Many more wrestle with emotional scars invisible to others. We pray. We endure. We hold fast. And all the while, our hope pulses with quiet power.

Because we are not waiting for if. We are waiting for when.

The “great crowd” of Revelation 7:9—people of all languages, nations, and conditions—already stand firm, trusting in the promise. They anticipate not just surviving Armageddon but living through the miracle that follows: the transformation of body, mind, and spirit.

And what will we do with that healing?

We will build. We will sing. We will laugh like children discovering joy for the first time. No longer limited by wheelchairs or worn hearts, we will take our hands and put them to holy work—restoring the earth, tending to its beauty, sharing in the global joy of life as Jehovah meant it to be. (Psalm 115:16)

And the most beautiful part?

We will never fear sickness again. Never brace for the next test result, never watch a loved one fade, never feel helpless before disease. The words of Isaiah will ring true, not just as prophecy, but as our lived reality: “No resident will say: ‘I am sick.’”

Pain has its season, but healing has no end. And Jehovah walks with you, not just to the threshold—but all the way home.

w15 6/15 2:16, 17