His thoughts towards us... Looking at Jeremiah 29

It's probably one of the most popular Old Testament passages of Scripture. You see it on posters, cards, notebooks, bookmarks, plaques... But as I've been reading through Jeremiah, it's really made me rethink what God's promises in chapter 29 actually mean and signify.

Firstly, in the run-up to chapter 29, there are a number of chapters which document Jeremiah's struggle to be heard as a true prophet, and the prominence of false prophets amongst God's people at that time. It was a turbulent political time; Nebuchadnezzar had already carried off certain articles from the temple and members of the royal family along with others to be exiles. The false prophets were giving the people left in Judah false assurances, like Hananiah, who breaks the yoke Jeremiah had made as a visual image and declares that God says he will 'break the yoke of the king of Babylon' (28.4). But God tells Jeremiah that He has 'put a yoke of iron on the neck of all these nations, that they may serve Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon' (28.14). The impossible unthinkable circumstances that God's people were in - where their land and their identity were under threat - was actually being engineered by God Himself to punish them for their unfaithfulness to Him. Jeremiah's message, that they should submit to exile and not rebel, and seek the peace of the pagan land of Babylon (29.7), was not what the people wanted to hear. They wanted deliverance from Babylon, not a deliverance that featured 70 years of captivity.

And yet, even the fact that they were going into captivity with a promise of deliverance was incredible grace from God to them. As Jeremiah writes in Lamentations, 'Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness.' (3:22-23). All God's people deserved was annihilation by foreign powers; they didn't deserve even to be exiled. In this light, the letter which God tells Jeremiah to write to the captives in chapter 29 is full of hope and promise: 'Build houses and dwell in them; plant gardens and eat their fruit.' (29.5) Exile was not meant to crush them but to give them an opportunity to seek the Lord again.

'For thus says the LORD: After seventy years are completed at Babylon, I will visit you and perform My good word toward you, and cause you to return to this place. For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the LORD, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me, and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.' (29.10-13)

Although there was little positive reception to Jeremiah's words at the time (see verses 27-32, which show Shemaiah's objection to the letter and God's judgement upon him), godly men like Daniel would take Jeremiah's words very seriously and use them as a spur to seek the Lord as the seventy years drew to a close (see Daniel 9). This is such an encouragement, that the Word of the Lord has power and truth. Even if the majority don't see or accept it, there will be a godly remnant who do.

I don't think we can take verse 11 out of chapter 29 and use it as some kind of promise to anyone that God has plans for their good, as a kind of lucky charm, because the rest of Jeremiah and indeed the letter itself in chapter 29 is about obedience to the Lord. Only if we have true respect for God and honour Him in our lives can promises like these ones of hope apply to us. It's also worth remembering that in the New Testament, the 'living hope' that writers such as Peter refer to (see 1 Peter 1:3) is first and foremost a hope of resurrection, a heavenly inheritance, rather than earthly prosperity. Jeremiah has a compelling message for us today, and if we relegate our study of this book to a few verses pulled out of context and put onto a kitchen wall plaque, we do this to our detriment. I am loving the freshness of this book, and I'm seeing more and more how the different chapters tie together, even though they are not always in chronological order and mix up oracles and messages with narrative story about Jeremiah's life. Praise God for the depth and breadth of His Word, and for its power.

'Is not my word like fire, declares the LORD, and like a hammer that breaks the rock in pieces?' (Jer 23:29)

Walking through grief

'But I know
That the silence
Has brought me to His voice'
(Selah, 'I will carry you')

I've been reading the book of Jeremiah, and what's really striking me is the way that this prophet faithfully witnessed for forty years when virtually no one listened, and went through the catastrophic events of the fall of Jerusalem. He walked through a long time of great sorrow. He wept for the state of his nation and his people. They were rebellious, yet he identified with them. He did not distance himself and shut off his emotions, even though that would have been easier, because he shared God's heart for His broken and faithless people.

Grief and sorrow are hard to bear. Recently I lost my nan, and last July I had a miscarriage. These two experiences of grief have been really different for me, but in both situations I have found it hard to grieve. I have not found myself to be particularly articulate about it, or to understand it, or to find much of anything tangible in it. That's why the lyric I quoted about silence for me really sums up the whole experience. Through miscarriage particularly, I felt a heavy silence. I had no words to talk about it and few to pray about it, but I did hear His voice in certain ways through that time, reassuring me of His presence even though I did not always feel that He was close by.

This verse really struck me today:

'Thus says the LORD: "Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, let not the mighty man boast in his might, let not the rich man boast in his riches, but let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows Me, that I am the LORD who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in all the earth."' Jeremiah 9:23-24

Grief decisively breaks through all of my so-called wisdom and all of my supposed strength. My riches -possessions, accomplishments- mean nothing when faced with death. But as I am stripped bare and faced with my own inadequacy, I am compelled towards God's sufficiency and grace. He is 'the LORD'. I know that my suffering is not meaningless, because He is a God of 'love, justice, and righteousness'. He doesn't always stop the path from being dark, but He gives me assurance that there will be light at the end.

The most valuable aspect of grief, for me, is that it rocks my world and fractures me away from thinking this is my home and my resting place. It reminds me, with a harsh jolt, that life is full of pain because we have been dislocated from our God through sin. And I get a tiny glimpse of the grief the Father's heart endures when He sees His children suffering through their own rebellion, and ultimately the suffering Christ had to endure to redeem us from this state of dislocation. I think generally, I am way too focused on the here and now. Most of my grief for my miscarried baby centred around the fact that I was never going to be able to do all the things I expected I was going to be able to do: experience a full term pregnancy, give birth to a healthy child, take the baby home, and so on into the future. That's a legitimate reason for grief. But the hope of the New Testament is in the new creation that Christ will bring when He returns, the world put right again, where suffering and death are no more and He wipes every tear from our eyes. My grief made me long for that new creation in a way that I probably should be longing for it all the time; I just don't think about it enough. I get too distracted in the busy-ness of everyday life. Grief forces me to stop.

The story behind Selah's song 'I will carry you' is movingly recorded in an interview with Angie Smith, available on Revive our Hearts.com. Her baby Audrey Caroline had abnormalities with her kidneys and heart, and only lived for 2.5 hours after she was born. When I come across stories like this, part of me shrinks away and doesn't want to hear about it. I'd rather lose myself in a novel or watching a romantic comedy. But Jeremiah has challenged me: is this a godly response to the suffering that is all around us in this broken world? No, it isn't. If we're ever going to get a glimpse of God's heart, it's going to be in sharing these stories of brokenness with the rock-solid hope of Christ, as Angie testifies.

Angie calls for women to break the silence and share their experiences of miscarriage and losing a baby, because too many women out there suffer in silence. Walking through grief is often lonely, and there are times when it just has to be you and God. But reaching out to others, sharing your grief and sorrow, is a necessary part of the healing process and why God has placed us in the loving community that is the Church. We are urged to 'Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn' (Romans 12:15), which beautifully and succinctly sums up the paradox of life in Christ here on earth. We have a bittersweet mix of joy and sadness in our lives, but we know that ultimately, our sadness is temporal; our joy is eternal.

'For his anger is but for a moment, and his favour is for a lifetime. Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.' Ps 30:5