Jeremiah 23:9 – The Greater Glimpse and the Gutting Grief
My heart within me is broken
Because of the prophets;
All my bones shake.
I am like a drunken man,
And like a man whom wine has overcome,
Because of the Lord,
And because of His holy words. Jeremiah 23:9, New King James Version
"There is a spiritual selfishness which even poisons the good act of giving to another. Spiritual goods are greater than the material," appraises Thomas Merton in No Man Is an Island, of manipulative, self-serving discipleship, "and it is possible for me to love selfishly in the very act of depriving myself of material things for the benefit of another. If my gift is intended to bind him to me, to put him under an obligation, to exercise a kind of hidden moral tyranny over his soul, then in loving him I am really loving myself. And this is a greater and more insidious selfishness, since it traffics not in flesh and blood but in other persons' souls."
This sort of discipleship especially grieves Jeremiah in Jeremiah 23:9. Why? He has spent the book contending with the powers that be, the corrupt state of the culture, and was told even in advance of this that people would not listen. Should he not be jaded by now? Or, should he not be encouraged by the Lord's assurances in the preceding verse that God can use even the scattering and gathering of the exile to make true disciples?
Perhaps the comparison between real and false discipleship lands particularly heavily on Jeremiah, and on us, when we spend an especially sweet time in His Presence. When we begin to measure as His Word measures, the transition back to Earthly realities can be a rough one. Perhaps, as we begin to reflect on and rejoice in the ways He has discipled us, as He certainly has Jeremiah, our hearts break for those who settle for secondary experience, those whose contact with God's glory is solely through human agency with its various agendae.
We are stuck in such a state between what Kevin DeYoung in The Mission of the Church calls the already and the not yet. We know the day is coming when no one will say to his neighbor, know the Lord, because we will relate to Him directly, will know Him as we are known. But how much of today will lapse before we realize this is not that day, that most men are indifferent to the things of God and that many of those who hunger and thirst for them are misled by false shepherds?
There's a hangover there more severe than anything alcohol can render, a squinting headache to the sun's rays on such a predicament, with John after being reacquainted with Jesus on Patmos, a vehement longing for His quick return. But if He doesn't come back today, if He doesn't directly draw those we care about, what then?
Then we follow after His exhibited empathy in the in-between. Much of Christ's earthly ministry was prompted from such a place, from passion and zeal for scattered sheep and against shepherds who prioritized their own comfort.
With Christ in us, we can be bread to the spiritually hungry, even as we lament they are not better fed by those more credentialed and more influential. With Christ in us, we can take up the shepherd's rod and staff and guide others in the relationships He has granted us and supply them from the bounty He has given us in the presence of our enemies. Even as we long for, plead for, more insight for the victimized, more widely evident glory, we can respond gratefully to what He reveals of Himself in and through us.
Because of the prophets;
All my bones shake.
I am like a drunken man,
And like a man whom wine has overcome,
Because of the Lord,
And because of His holy words. Jeremiah 23:9, New King James Version
"There is a spiritual selfishness which even poisons the good act of giving to another. Spiritual goods are greater than the material," appraises Thomas Merton in No Man Is an Island, of manipulative, self-serving discipleship, "and it is possible for me to love selfishly in the very act of depriving myself of material things for the benefit of another. If my gift is intended to bind him to me, to put him under an obligation, to exercise a kind of hidden moral tyranny over his soul, then in loving him I am really loving myself. And this is a greater and more insidious selfishness, since it traffics not in flesh and blood but in other persons' souls."
This sort of discipleship especially grieves Jeremiah in Jeremiah 23:9. Why? He has spent the book contending with the powers that be, the corrupt state of the culture, and was told even in advance of this that people would not listen. Should he not be jaded by now? Or, should he not be encouraged by the Lord's assurances in the preceding verse that God can use even the scattering and gathering of the exile to make true disciples?
Perhaps the comparison between real and false discipleship lands particularly heavily on Jeremiah, and on us, when we spend an especially sweet time in His Presence. When we begin to measure as His Word measures, the transition back to Earthly realities can be a rough one. Perhaps, as we begin to reflect on and rejoice in the ways He has discipled us, as He certainly has Jeremiah, our hearts break for those who settle for secondary experience, those whose contact with God's glory is solely through human agency with its various agendae.
We are stuck in such a state between what Kevin DeYoung in The Mission of the Church calls the already and the not yet. We know the day is coming when no one will say to his neighbor, know the Lord, because we will relate to Him directly, will know Him as we are known. But how much of today will lapse before we realize this is not that day, that most men are indifferent to the things of God and that many of those who hunger and thirst for them are misled by false shepherds?
There's a hangover there more severe than anything alcohol can render, a squinting headache to the sun's rays on such a predicament, with John after being reacquainted with Jesus on Patmos, a vehement longing for His quick return. But if He doesn't come back today, if He doesn't directly draw those we care about, what then?
Then we follow after His exhibited empathy in the in-between. Much of Christ's earthly ministry was prompted from such a place, from passion and zeal for scattered sheep and against shepherds who prioritized their own comfort.
With Christ in us, we can be bread to the spiritually hungry, even as we lament they are not better fed by those more credentialed and more influential. With Christ in us, we can take up the shepherd's rod and staff and guide others in the relationships He has granted us and supply them from the bounty He has given us in the presence of our enemies. Even as we long for, plead for, more insight for the victimized, more widely evident glory, we can respond gratefully to what He reveals of Himself in and through us.
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