The prophet Jeremiah served God in the most difficult of times. Jerusalem, the holy city, is in the midst of crumbling all around him. Before it is all over, God’s chosen people will be in exile in Babylon, and the Temple – that sacred building that served to remind all of the world, not just Israel, that God was the God of Israel – would soon be no more.
From Jeremiah’s inspired point of view, both politicians and religious leaders have much to answer to God for. Every commercial system seems corrupt, and the priests seem comfortable having gone to bed with the corrupt political leaders as they suggest repentance is not that big of a deal.
That is the world of Jeremiah where, for the first among multiple times in his prophecy, he declares on behalf of the Lord, “They have treated the wound of my people carelessly, saying ‘Peace, Peace,’ when there is no peace.” It is as though a relatively small bandage is being wrapped around a gaping, arterial wound, and that always means the prospects for recovery are dim. If you know the rest of the story, then you know “the plans God has for them” (Jeremiah 29:11) are that they will spend the next seventy years as exiles in Babylon.
It is a dangerous thing to cry “Peace, peace, when there is no peace.”
Fast forward half a millennium or so, and we discover God Himself, in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, the Word who became flesh – sitting on a hillside overlooking Jerusalem. Within days, He will find Himself hanging on a cross just outside the city walls. How could that have happened? The religious leaders of the day, confident they knew more than God, went to bed with the Roman leaders in the name of “protecting our place” (John 11:46-48), and when all was said and done, Jesus was crucified.
But on that hillside, Jesus – again, just days before His death – laments the waywardness of His people. “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing.” (Matthew 23:37-39)
Could there be a paradigm for how I should feel about people I consider my enemies to be found in how Jesus feels about those determined to crucify Him?
It is a dangerous thing to forget the idea that God loves the whole world, including those I would consider on the “wrong side” of politics and theology.
Fast forward again, this time just over two millennia, and I find myself sitting on a hillside of sorts, overlooking our culture. I see much to lament.
For example, the immigration issue is certainly a matter for lament. How could I live a “life of luxury” – at least compared to most of the world – without awareness of the pain and suffering so many who dream of coming to our country have faced? If I truly believe the gospel of Jesus brings new life, why have so many believers been reluctant to take the good news to places where pain and suffering are the norm? My reading of Scripture suggests that the God who created the world and everything in it determined that all humans are created in His image. And, more than that, He seems to be an exodus kind of God. Is it possible that God could be involved in the great exodus movements of our times, bringing people to us because we wouldn’t go to them?
I’m asking myself questions that are beyond my pay grade. I know that. But the answers Scripture might give to those questions breaks my own heart. That brings about lament. You will need to decide about your own heart.
It seems to be a dangerous thing to ever ignore the question, “Who was Jesus and what difference does He make?”
Sitting on the hillside overlooking our culture, I see great tension about the proper role of government. I’ve read what both sides of the political divide in our culture have to say about Romans 13 and other texts. I do believe that the idea of government is “of God,” and that it became necessary as soon as Adam and Eve picked that untouchable fruit in the Garden. But I don’t believe that every government or every act of certain governments is actually “of God.” I’ve been to Cuba, where the believers I taught lived in daily fear of what their government might do. I’ve been to Albania, where I saw the horrendous outcomes of government gone amuck for decades. I’ve been to Thailand, where a student in my class from Laos was notified his parents had been arrested because they were found to have had a Bible.
My stories could continue. But the broken line between justice and injustice is always easier to point out in someone else’s heart than in my own – our own. I’ve looked over my own hillside, where I can see unknown numbers of children who will go to bed tonight hungry or people sleeping out in the cold. I have watched our government fail to enforce reasonable laws regarding immigration, and I have watched our government treat illegal immigrants in ways that are unequivocally inhumane. All of this is complicated by the fact that, at least since the Vietnam War and Watergate, trust between citizens and the government has eroded – and for good reason.
It is a dangerous thing for me as a follower of Jesus to think that any government – including my own – can fix the world’s problems.
All of this and more is a reason for lament. But lamentation ought to lead to repentance. It doesn’t matter if my political views are far left or far right; the temptation is to think that when I vote, I’ve done my part to fix the world. If my candidates win, I can assume all is well. If my candidates lose, all is hopeless.
When that happens, the Lord might accuse us, as He did with the people of Israel during Jeremiah’s time, of crying, “peace, peace, and there is no peace.”
The same Paul who wrote Romans 13 said, in the opening paragraphs of this great epistle, “For I am not ashamed of the gospel; it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who had faith, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. For in it the righteousness of God is revealed through faith for faith; as it is written ‘The one who is righteous will live by faith.’” (Romans 1:16, 17)
The Roman emperor – at this time, Nero – likely thought he was the power unto salvation. Paul is throwing down a gauntlet of sorts to the whole world system, including the government. God trumps government every time.
It is a dangerous thing to allow government to attempt to do what God has called the church to be and to do.
It seems to me that the church – the body of Christ, the people of God – is being called to be Jesus to the world. Doing so is the only thing that will fix the mess we are in.
Image by David Sieberg from Pixabay
Wye Huxford 