Yet this I call to
mind, and therefore I have hope: because of the Lord’s great love we are not
consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning. Great is
your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:21-23
Have you
read the book of Lamentations recently? I suspect I could go further and ask,
Have you read the Book of Lamentations ever?
I remember
the first time I did. I ended up amazed that so little is made of this short
book. And I decided that chapter 3 in general and these verses in particular are
among the most beautiful and moving in the whole Bible. If you don’t read
another word of this post, I hope saying just this might encourage you to have
a look.
The book’s
title tells us what it’s about - a lament, even a dirge, over unimaginably
terrible events. Tradition says it was written by the prophet Jeremiah after
the most dreadful catastrophe in the history of the people of Israel: the fall
of Jerusalem (God’s earthly “capital city”!) and the destruction of the temple
(God’s earthly seat!) to the cruel Babylonians about six hundred years before
Christ. How could such a thing be! Where
is God?
The first
twenty verses of chapter 3 are sheer unmitigated gloom: darkness, bitterness,
death, despair, you name it. It is the most intensely personal part of the
book, which is why it can connect so directly with our experience all these
centuries later.
But (how
important that little word can be in the Bible!) suddenly at verse 21 the mood
changes: wonderful, transforming hope
appears. It’s as if leaden, steel-grey skies have parted and the sunlight pours
down. God’s “compassions”, we are told, “never fail”; they are “new every
morning”. Every dawn is a little miracle of creation, fresh, clean, full of
possibilities; and that’s what God’s compassions are like. Great indeed is his
faithfulness!
Let me pick
out one or two highlights from the following verses.
First, there is a call for patience (verse 24): “The Lord is my portion; therefore
I will wait for him.” Yes, there are times in life when God seems to be
completely absent (didn’t even Jesus cry out “My God, my God, why have you
forsaken me?”) but such times will come to an end. “It is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the Lord” (verse 26). Is “quiet waiting” a skill you need
to learn?
Second, there is a word of encouragement for
the young, those who are likely to be the most idealistic and therefore all
the more shattered by the destruction of their dreams: “It is good for one to
bear the yoke while one is young... for men are not cast off by the Lord for ever”
(verses 27, 31). Many people would testify that severe hardships in childhood
and youth have helped shape their adult selves into something strong and good. Pain
in early life may well be traumatic; but it can make us as well as break us.
Third, there is a recognition of God’s lordship over all things: yes, he does
indeed “bring grief”, but that grief does not cancel out his “unfailing love”
(verse 32). When terrible things happen they are hard to bear, and it is
tempting and understandable to blame God, even to shake a fist at him (and his
shoulders are big enough to take it, by the way). But “he does not willingly
bring affliction or grief to the children of men” (verse 33).
There are things
which God actively makes happen; and
there are things which he, in sadness, allows
to happen for reasons only he knows - even though they bring pain to the men
and women he loves.
Fourth, there is a call to repentance. Sometimes our misfortunes are just, as it
seems to us, bad luck (see, for example, John 9:1-3 or Luke 13:1-5). But
sometimes they are the result of our own sin and rebellion. This was certainly
the case with Israel at this time. And so it may be that a radical change of
heart is needed: “Let us examine our ways and test them, and let us return to
the Lord” (verse 40). Is this a word to some of us?
I could go
on; but hopefully I have said enough to whet your appetite. I find it hard to
imagine any of us not hearing some word from God through this most moving of
Bible chapters. May God bless us all as we read.
Loving Father, thank
you that you never willingly afflict pain, and that when pain does come it can
be turned to good. Help me, please, to “trace the rainbow through the rain, /And
feel the promise is not vain /That morn shall tearless be”. Amen.
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