Readings:
Jeremiah 20:7-13
Psalm 69:7-18
Romans 6:1-11
Devotional:
A very bad, no good day. If you’ve read the children’s book, you know the reference. Some days, nothing is going right. But instead of a dropped ice cream cone or not getting the window seat, the bad escalates to grown-up proportions, and the day extends into weeks or months or years. It’s the stuff that exhausts us and weighs on us heavily. It’s being stuck without an escape, mired with no visible path forward. It’s the truly big feelings of insecurity, discredit and estrangement that haunt our rest and overwhelm our sanity.
It’s in this kind of consuming heaviness and desperation that we find Jeremiah and David. We hear it in their words, and we can identify with the frustrations and anger.
In David’s case, he is running from enemies that hate him without cause, forced to repay debts that aren’t his. He is the king, but surely isn’t being treated like one. Accused and isolated, he’s saddled with unjust expense, and his life is threatened. All his efforts of trying to follow God seem to be met with dishonor and isolation. His words are pained as he tells God, “Because of you, I’ve experienced reproach and dishonor!” He begs to not be swallowed up and overtaken.
Jeremiah’s situation is similar. He has been diligently trying to tell the people of Judah to refocus their attention on God, to seek Him instead of Baal (or as he would later be called, Beelzebul, lord of the flies/dung). He’s warned Judah that the high life that they think they’re living in is actually harmful. The ways they’ve chosen to worship and the rituals they’ve cluttered around the house of God all stink of manure and rubbish. It’s festering and overdue for change.
That message doesn’t land well, and he finds himself thrown in prison. There he is, the prophet of God, imprisoned right outside the Temple, where everyone could see and mock him. The people of Judah are more than ready to get rid of him, and even his trusted friends are just waiting for him to slip up. He’s isolated, disgraced and derided. He cries at God, “You deceived me!” and “I was overtaken with shame!” as passersby laugh at him.
With our hindsight, we can easily encourage, “Hang in there David!” or “Just wait, it works out, Jeremiah!” But in our own moments of desperation, hope seems much further removed from our mental narrative. We can even chide the people of Judah/Israel with confidence, “If you just realized what Jeremiah and David are trying to lead you into, you would be so much better off! Don’t resist it!”
We do resist though. After all, we are programmed to reject discomfort and to maintain ease. If it’s that difficult, it can’t be healthy (or so we are told repeatedly). Things should be effortless and hassle-free and go with the flow. The people of Judah don’t appreciate Jeremiah’s criticism and right-sizing of their worship. They like what they know. David’s enemies are threatened. Whether in preservation of power or wealth or prestige, they’re not interested in abandoning the life they’ve built. They’re king of the hill and quite content to stay at the top. They prefer what is familiar, what they’ve worked hard for, everything that they have strived to accomplish.
Before we pity our ancestors too deeply, let’s have a moment of self-awareness. If we’re honest, we defend our spiritual comforts too. We preserve what we know and what has gotten us to where we are. We like theology that is easy to understand and familiar. We prefer that one style of music or lyric writing. We’ll uphold what is true and right, fighting mentalities across the aisle and across the street. We also reinforce the habits that we think will keep us secure and protected. We have a tradition we learned from spiritual fathers that we shouldn’t abandon… right?
It becomes really easy to fight things we perceive as threats to the life we’re striving for. We’ve got a definition of good, and we’re not interested in seeing suffering or loss. However, in the fighting, we start to find enemies in other people, and our relationships start to weaken. Our very systems and rules we erected to maintain life start to erode it, chipping away at our happiness and health. The mountain we have built upon starts to feel less like a rock and more like a rotten dumpster fire.
So what motivates Jeremiah and David then? Why endure all the fighting against and the isolation, disgrace and discomfort? I think it’s because they have a different definition of good. Good is not circumstantial, and it certainly doesn’t have to be traditional or comfortable.
Now we get to cheat a bit and look ahead, because defining good is quite a large philosophical question for a weekly devotional. We’ll take Paul’s definition. In Romans 8, he writes, “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose. For those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son.”
Good—and we know this already but so often need to be reminded—is connected to God. It’s who He is, what he does. And God works things for good for those who love Him, who are becoming conformed to the image of His Son. We remember that His message of rightness and compassion is for everyone, everywhere, that we were intended to belong and that we are welcomed at His table. Everyone may love and be loved. So what is the goodness God intends for us? That we would be like Him. And the best way to be like Him? Be with Him.
The “with” part is covered back in Romans 6, from today’s reading. We love to share in the resurrection of Christ, but Paul is reminding us that we also share in the burial. We get a renewed life with Him because we left the old thing. We’re united with Christ, and united is like being grafted in and planted together. Being in His likeness is co-surviving. It’s having faith—God’s inwrought persuasion—pulling us toward Christ.
We are no longer defending or clutching at our old definitions. His likeness is letting the dead and stinking things fall away, and walking in actual life. It’s like realizing this whole time you’ve been playing king of the hill on a trash heap or a pile of excrement, and you look down to realize there’s nothing worth defending or holding on to — it’s all just flies and dung. Get it off of us! This mess of fighting for fake life is no longer lorded over us. It no longer persuades our actions or convinces us of what should be.
And if it should try? If we find ourselves threatened with all those same feelings and desperate cries? Well, now the plea for God’s vengeance makes sense. The fullness of the resurrection is the compassion of Christ’s sword against the things that would entrap us in dumpster fires. God moves on our behalf against the lies, the attitudes, the mindsets, the lifelessness that would actually deceive us, overtake us and swallow us up. His sword is on our side, not against humanity. There’s no threatening of hell, as though our missteps are permanent, where His actual words were “Do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows.” No, we are valued so much that He overcomes what would overcome us. He swallows what would try to swallow us. He strikes down the mountain of rubbish that would try to keep us stuck. And we get to relax into His chest, planted in life together, not striving for life but fully embraced by it.
David and Jeremiah see this, leaving us little clues mixed in their outcries of grief. They know they need God’s intervention, and they also know He’s with them.
Jeremiah writes that if he tries to contain the word of God, it builds up in him like a fire, exhausting to contain such that he can’t. He declares proudly that God is his dread (or mighty) champion (man of valor). Even his phrase “deceive” gets new context, because the word can also mean wooed by God toward His graciousness. It is grace to be overcome by God, grace to be prevailed upon by Him. Grace to be drawn toward His goodness and life. He ends this passage saying that the Lord is with Him, and that God delivers the soul of the needy one.
David says much the same. In the few verses just before our reading, he desperately wishes that those who seek and wait for God wouldn’t look at his own life and be ashamed or dishonored. His heart is to know God, both himself and those around him. He says zeal for Your house—the many dwelling places where God would meet with us—has consumed him. It’s a good consuming. Because God is kind, David knows he will answer with truth and compassion. For all that the mire and deep and flood would try to do to David, he yet declares that God’s lovingkindness is good. God moves toward us in compassion, draws near to us, restores us.
It’s the tiniest nuance that changes us. We could force life, aggressively defending the things we think will save us. Or we could let that “life” go and find rest, comfort and renewed definitions as we are with Christ. His kindness extends on our behalf, His faith fills us to persuade us toward life, His goodness overcomes us. He is mightily on our side, hearing our desperation and overwhelming it with His compassion. Let us be free, taking hold of the life with Him and by Him and through Him.
A Prayer for Each Moment
God Who Overcomes,
You see the death and dread that would cause us to stumble, and you best it with your prevailing strength and persuading voice. Surround us with reminders of Your goodness, so many that we can’t help but talk about it, for there is no containing You. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.
Amen.
A Prayer for Each Other
Our Father,
Where death would consume us or disgrace destroy us, we know you avenge and restore. Overtake us with vitality. Revive us to dwell and abide with Christ, for from Him and through Him and for Him are all things.
Amen
Blessing
May we find rest knowing God’s abundant mercy, His exceeding love and loyalty, overcome anything that would keep us from drawing near to Him.
Photo by Saad Chaudhry on Unsplash
Jeremiah 20:7-13
Psalm 69:7-18
Romans 6:1-11
Devotional:
A very bad, no good day. If you’ve read the children’s book, you know the reference. Some days, nothing is going right. But instead of a dropped ice cream cone or not getting the window seat, the bad escalates to grown-up proportions, and the day extends into weeks or months or years. It’s the stuff that exhausts us and weighs on us heavily. It’s being stuck without an escape, mired with no visible path forward. It’s the truly big feelings of insecurity, discredit and estrangement that haunt our rest and overwhelm our sanity.
It’s in this kind of consuming heaviness and desperation that we find Jeremiah and David. We hear it in their words, and we can identify with the frustrations and anger.
In David’s case, he is running from enemies that hate him without cause, forced to repay debts that aren’t his. He is the king, but surely isn’t being treated like one. Accused and isolated, he’s saddled with unjust expense, and his life is threatened. All his efforts of trying to follow God seem to be met with dishonor and isolation. His words are pained as he tells God, “Because of you, I’ve experienced reproach and dishonor!” He begs to not be swallowed up and overtaken.
Jeremiah’s situation is similar. He has been diligently trying to tell the people of Judah to refocus their attention on God, to seek Him instead of Baal (or as he would later be called, Beelzebul, lord of the flies/dung). He’s warned Judah that the high life that they think they’re living in is actually harmful. The ways they’ve chosen to worship and the rituals they’ve cluttered around the house of God all stink of manure and rubbish. It’s festering and overdue for change.
That message doesn’t land well, and he finds himself thrown in prison. There he is, the prophet of God, imprisoned right outside the Temple, where everyone could see and mock him. The people of Judah are more than ready to get rid of him, and even his trusted friends are just waiting for him to slip up. He’s isolated, disgraced and derided. He cries at God, “You deceived me!” and “I was overtaken with shame!” as passersby laugh at him.
With our hindsight, we can easily encourage, “Hang in there David!” or “Just wait, it works out, Jeremiah!” But in our own moments of desperation, hope seems much further removed from our mental narrative. We can even chide the people of Judah/Israel with confidence, “If you just realized what Jeremiah and David are trying to lead you into, you would be so much better off! Don’t resist it!”
We do resist though. After all, we are programmed to reject discomfort and to maintain ease. If it’s that difficult, it can’t be healthy (or so we are told repeatedly). Things should be effortless and hassle-free and go with the flow. The people of Judah don’t appreciate Jeremiah’s criticism and right-sizing of their worship. They like what they know. David’s enemies are threatened. Whether in preservation of power or wealth or prestige, they’re not interested in abandoning the life they’ve built. They’re king of the hill and quite content to stay at the top. They prefer what is familiar, what they’ve worked hard for, everything that they have strived to accomplish.
Before we pity our ancestors too deeply, let’s have a moment of self-awareness. If we’re honest, we defend our spiritual comforts too. We preserve what we know and what has gotten us to where we are. We like theology that is easy to understand and familiar. We prefer that one style of music or lyric writing. We’ll uphold what is true and right, fighting mentalities across the aisle and across the street. We also reinforce the habits that we think will keep us secure and protected. We have a tradition we learned from spiritual fathers that we shouldn’t abandon… right?
It becomes really easy to fight things we perceive as threats to the life we’re striving for. We’ve got a definition of good, and we’re not interested in seeing suffering or loss. However, in the fighting, we start to find enemies in other people, and our relationships start to weaken. Our very systems and rules we erected to maintain life start to erode it, chipping away at our happiness and health. The mountain we have built upon starts to feel less like a rock and more like a rotten dumpster fire.
So what motivates Jeremiah and David then? Why endure all the fighting against and the isolation, disgrace and discomfort? I think it’s because they have a different definition of good. Good is not circumstantial, and it certainly doesn’t have to be traditional or comfortable.
Now we get to cheat a bit and look ahead, because defining good is quite a large philosophical question for a weekly devotional. We’ll take Paul’s definition. In Romans 8, he writes, “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose. For those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son.”
Good—and we know this already but so often need to be reminded—is connected to God. It’s who He is, what he does. And God works things for good for those who love Him, who are becoming conformed to the image of His Son. We remember that His message of rightness and compassion is for everyone, everywhere, that we were intended to belong and that we are welcomed at His table. Everyone may love and be loved. So what is the goodness God intends for us? That we would be like Him. And the best way to be like Him? Be with Him.
The “with” part is covered back in Romans 6, from today’s reading. We love to share in the resurrection of Christ, but Paul is reminding us that we also share in the burial. We get a renewed life with Him because we left the old thing. We’re united with Christ, and united is like being grafted in and planted together. Being in His likeness is co-surviving. It’s having faith—God’s inwrought persuasion—pulling us toward Christ.
We are no longer defending or clutching at our old definitions. His likeness is letting the dead and stinking things fall away, and walking in actual life. It’s like realizing this whole time you’ve been playing king of the hill on a trash heap or a pile of excrement, and you look down to realize there’s nothing worth defending or holding on to — it’s all just flies and dung. Get it off of us! This mess of fighting for fake life is no longer lorded over us. It no longer persuades our actions or convinces us of what should be.
And if it should try? If we find ourselves threatened with all those same feelings and desperate cries? Well, now the plea for God’s vengeance makes sense. The fullness of the resurrection is the compassion of Christ’s sword against the things that would entrap us in dumpster fires. God moves on our behalf against the lies, the attitudes, the mindsets, the lifelessness that would actually deceive us, overtake us and swallow us up. His sword is on our side, not against humanity. There’s no threatening of hell, as though our missteps are permanent, where His actual words were “Do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows.” No, we are valued so much that He overcomes what would overcome us. He swallows what would try to swallow us. He strikes down the mountain of rubbish that would try to keep us stuck. And we get to relax into His chest, planted in life together, not striving for life but fully embraced by it.
David and Jeremiah see this, leaving us little clues mixed in their outcries of grief. They know they need God’s intervention, and they also know He’s with them.
Jeremiah writes that if he tries to contain the word of God, it builds up in him like a fire, exhausting to contain such that he can’t. He declares proudly that God is his dread (or mighty) champion (man of valor). Even his phrase “deceive” gets new context, because the word can also mean wooed by God toward His graciousness. It is grace to be overcome by God, grace to be prevailed upon by Him. Grace to be drawn toward His goodness and life. He ends this passage saying that the Lord is with Him, and that God delivers the soul of the needy one.
David says much the same. In the few verses just before our reading, he desperately wishes that those who seek and wait for God wouldn’t look at his own life and be ashamed or dishonored. His heart is to know God, both himself and those around him. He says zeal for Your house—the many dwelling places where God would meet with us—has consumed him. It’s a good consuming. Because God is kind, David knows he will answer with truth and compassion. For all that the mire and deep and flood would try to do to David, he yet declares that God’s lovingkindness is good. God moves toward us in compassion, draws near to us, restores us.
It’s the tiniest nuance that changes us. We could force life, aggressively defending the things we think will save us. Or we could let that “life” go and find rest, comfort and renewed definitions as we are with Christ. His kindness extends on our behalf, His faith fills us to persuade us toward life, His goodness overcomes us. He is mightily on our side, hearing our desperation and overwhelming it with His compassion. Let us be free, taking hold of the life with Him and by Him and through Him.
A Prayer for Each Moment
God Who Overcomes,
You see the death and dread that would cause us to stumble, and you best it with your prevailing strength and persuading voice. Surround us with reminders of Your goodness, so many that we can’t help but talk about it, for there is no containing You. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.
Amen.
A Prayer for Each Other
Our Father,
Where death would consume us or disgrace destroy us, we know you avenge and restore. Overtake us with vitality. Revive us to dwell and abide with Christ, for from Him and through Him and for Him are all things.
Amen
Blessing
May we find rest knowing God’s abundant mercy, His exceeding love and loyalty, overcome anything that would keep us from drawing near to Him.
Photo by Saad Chaudhry on Unsplash