Jeremiah 13:18-22 – Subtly Abdicating Authority
18
Say to the king and to the queen mother,
“Humble yourselves;
Sit down,
For your rule shall collapse, the crown of your glory.”
19
The cities of the South shall be shut up,
And no one shall open them;
Judah shall be carried away captive, all of it;
It shall be wholly carried away captive.
20
Lift up your eyes and see
Those who come from the north.
Where is the flock that was given to you,
Your beautiful sheep?
21
What will you say when He punishes you?
For you have taught them
To be chieftains, to be head over you.
Will not pangs seize you,
Like a woman in labor?
22
And if you say in your heart,
“Why have these things come upon me?”
For the greatness of your iniquity
Your skirts have been uncovered,
Your heels made bare.
Peter Schjeldahl detailed in a New Yorker reflection his deep aversion to writing about himself, even when he had a grant to write a memoir. "I could never sustain an expedient I for more than a paragraph."
When I jotted that down and thought, as I often do, about the nexus between the wisdom of our age as displayed in the New Yorker and the ageless wisdom of the Bible, I thought they would overlay one another in upholding Schjeldahl's reluctance to make life's story about himself. I could see him unwittingly endorsing Christ's teaching of losing one's life in order to gain it, moving to a close that we focus on His work in others in order to find the richest meaning in our own existence.
Schjeldahl's reluctance looks different, though, when laid against Jeremiah 13:18-22. There, there's a place for the "I." From Adam forward, and certainly from King Saul, God has commissioned individual men with a sense of dominion, and influence, and purpose, with a sense of responsibility to push back against meaninglessness.
None of them, certainly not Adam who originally fell, nor Saul who was given to the Israelites as a sort of concession, are going to reflect Divine authority perfectly. It might be said that human dominion points to Him as often in its weakness and wrongheaded exercise as it is moments of rightful image-bearing.
Still, the heads that where the crowns of authority in a house, a classroom, an office, a city, or a country as in Jeremiah 13:18-22 wear that authority for a reason. Grace's gift is perspective, an opportunity to see a little more than those they served by leading. The leader's eyes are opened to see the health or vulnerability of cultures, not just the quickest and easiest way for an individual to get through the day comfortably.
The humbled leader should see, Jeremiah 13:19 predicts, the impending demise of the cities of the South. The leader's eyes lifted up from the perspective of Jeremiah 13:20 can take in an impending invasion.
Jeremiah 13:21 brings us back to the subtle, incipient abdication that takes place in the lives of kings, queen mothers, writers for the New Yorker, and us. How are we using the influence, authority, and resources God gives us?
That verse says that instead of marshaling them to demonstrate God's character to those over whom He has given us a shepherding responsibility, that these authorities to whom Jeremiah speaks, like us, are actively giving away influence. We are teaching others to be our chieftains. We don't want to be bothered and would rather shepherds take turns indiscriminately.
We are exposed, then, with Judah's royalty. We have been given much, and we have used it to cover ourselves and our moment sumptuously. We often haven't asked to see the signs of the times, our suffering, shut up cities and how we might be used to bring new life to at least a small section of them.
Empowered and invited in prayer to see beyond our own shuffle, we often haven't lifted up our eyes to see the principalities, and powers of darkness who have designs on those over whom we should care particularly. It's enough, as with Hezekiah in his pitiful twilight, that it should be well with us.
How great, then, is the iniquity of indifference? As Christ has bought the day and raised His sun opponent, delivering His new mercies, so He has imbued it with urgent purpose. Let us hear, brothers and sisters, fellow kings and queens in His royal line, what He would have us do with it.
There is, at the last, an expedient I, a pressing of purpose that could teach Esther to presuppose she might be called for such a time as this. Let us discipline ourselves, then, as she did herself and her circle, that we might be directed as to how to use the authority we have been given in these drifting days. The alternative is to train our worldly chieftains, and we were not redeemed for such a purpose.
Say to the king and to the queen mother,
“Humble yourselves;
Sit down,
For your rule shall collapse, the crown of your glory.”
19
The cities of the South shall be shut up,
And no one shall open them;
Judah shall be carried away captive, all of it;
It shall be wholly carried away captive.
20
Lift up your eyes and see
Those who come from the north.
Where is the flock that was given to you,
Your beautiful sheep?
21
What will you say when He punishes you?
For you have taught them
To be chieftains, to be head over you.
Will not pangs seize you,
Like a woman in labor?
22
And if you say in your heart,
“Why have these things come upon me?”
For the greatness of your iniquity
Your skirts have been uncovered,
Your heels made bare.
Peter Schjeldahl detailed in a New Yorker reflection his deep aversion to writing about himself, even when he had a grant to write a memoir. "I could never sustain an expedient I for more than a paragraph."
When I jotted that down and thought, as I often do, about the nexus between the wisdom of our age as displayed in the New Yorker and the ageless wisdom of the Bible, I thought they would overlay one another in upholding Schjeldahl's reluctance to make life's story about himself. I could see him unwittingly endorsing Christ's teaching of losing one's life in order to gain it, moving to a close that we focus on His work in others in order to find the richest meaning in our own existence.
Schjeldahl's reluctance looks different, though, when laid against Jeremiah 13:18-22. There, there's a place for the "I." From Adam forward, and certainly from King Saul, God has commissioned individual men with a sense of dominion, and influence, and purpose, with a sense of responsibility to push back against meaninglessness.
None of them, certainly not Adam who originally fell, nor Saul who was given to the Israelites as a sort of concession, are going to reflect Divine authority perfectly. It might be said that human dominion points to Him as often in its weakness and wrongheaded exercise as it is moments of rightful image-bearing.
Still, the heads that where the crowns of authority in a house, a classroom, an office, a city, or a country as in Jeremiah 13:18-22 wear that authority for a reason. Grace's gift is perspective, an opportunity to see a little more than those they served by leading. The leader's eyes are opened to see the health or vulnerability of cultures, not just the quickest and easiest way for an individual to get through the day comfortably.
The humbled leader should see, Jeremiah 13:19 predicts, the impending demise of the cities of the South. The leader's eyes lifted up from the perspective of Jeremiah 13:20 can take in an impending invasion.
Jeremiah 13:21 brings us back to the subtle, incipient abdication that takes place in the lives of kings, queen mothers, writers for the New Yorker, and us. How are we using the influence, authority, and resources God gives us?
That verse says that instead of marshaling them to demonstrate God's character to those over whom He has given us a shepherding responsibility, that these authorities to whom Jeremiah speaks, like us, are actively giving away influence. We are teaching others to be our chieftains. We don't want to be bothered and would rather shepherds take turns indiscriminately.
We are exposed, then, with Judah's royalty. We have been given much, and we have used it to cover ourselves and our moment sumptuously. We often haven't asked to see the signs of the times, our suffering, shut up cities and how we might be used to bring new life to at least a small section of them.
Empowered and invited in prayer to see beyond our own shuffle, we often haven't lifted up our eyes to see the principalities, and powers of darkness who have designs on those over whom we should care particularly. It's enough, as with Hezekiah in his pitiful twilight, that it should be well with us.
How great, then, is the iniquity of indifference? As Christ has bought the day and raised His sun opponent, delivering His new mercies, so He has imbued it with urgent purpose. Let us hear, brothers and sisters, fellow kings and queens in His royal line, what He would have us do with it.
There is, at the last, an expedient I, a pressing of purpose that could teach Esther to presuppose she might be called for such a time as this. Let us discipline ourselves, then, as she did herself and her circle, that we might be directed as to how to use the authority we have been given in these drifting days. The alternative is to train our worldly chieftains, and we were not redeemed for such a purpose.
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