Jeremiah 26:12 – The Prevailing Sense of Sent
12 Then Jeremiah spoke to all the princes and all the people, saying: “The Lord sent me to prophesy against this house and against this city with all the words that you have heard." Jeremiah 26:12, New King James Version
"Faith is as much the rule of temporal as of spiritual life," equates Charles Spurgeon in Morning and Evening. "We ought to have faith in God for our earthly affairs as well as for our heavenly business. It is only as we learn to trust in God for the supply of all our daily need," he lifts, "that we shall live above the world."
Jeremiah 26:12 shows a man learning to live above the world. How impressive must Jerusalem's spires have seemed to this small-town boy? How readily must his forming mind and affections have associated the Temple's splendor on countless ascents of the Temple Mount with well-being before God? Yet, maturing into, as the New Testament will phrase it, walking by faith rather than by sight, Jeremiah's focus is now on his steadying sense of sent.
The city of Jerusalem for which Jehovah proclaims His Scriptural love is a landmark, not a locus of affection for this pilgrim prophet. Her splendor, still extant, will make her downfall more memorable, both to her one-time adherents and to the nations passing by. These people were so blessed by His favoring hand. How could they forsake Him? He must value His reputation, His holiness, above any material status and security He can give to or take away from His own.
Toward the goal of imparting this realization to Jerusalem's citizens, to passersby, and to the ages, Jeremiah becomes a sent one to deliver his message against this backdrop. He seeks to contrast the impending splendor of the One Who Abraham knew would make him at home in a city not made with hands to the twilight splendor in which his contemporaries place their hope. He is sent to this spot, and says so, that he might show its limitations. This is not, truly, a place of reflection and safety. God is, even in exile.
If we could preserve but part of the civil estate as unto man's religious inclinations, and protests that herein, surely, was a remnant of man's righteousness, we would. We would, but Jeremiah knows better. He was sent to this haunted setting to foretell that not just the city will fall despite protection from surrounding mountains and walls, not just the city but very Temple. This house, he is present to say, is coming down.
Man is so resistant to this message that our spiritual forbearers the disciples spent time in Christ's very Presence, hearing His words, awash in His perfect, yet approachable righteousness, and they STILL but for His appointed intervention would have had their hearts stolen by another Temple edifice. As the better, even braver Jeremiah, our Lord foretold that that structure of man's self-satisfaction would also come down. As the Godhead will brook no rival, not one stone would be left upon another.
Yet, beloved, we can see the hope beyond Jerusalem's doomed precincts even more clearly than Jeremiah could. He foresaw and foretold specifically the restoration after the exile, and in this he pointed to the resilience God's people can draw from His never-quite-suppressed mercy. Yet, we know of Christ as the perfect Temple, torn down and rebuilt in three days, never to be toppled again.
We know of the new Jerusalem, coming down from above by God's fiat, as splendid as His accompanying dictate that His dwelling is not with men. What was once foreshadowed, as instructive in its limits as in its pretenses to perfection will one day be fulfilled.
We live in light of that day. We handle earthly goods and keep cherished earthly sights in perspective because we know they serve their turn. We are, like Jeremiah, sent ones, pilgrims, who reference this and that which, wholesale, have the eyes of men. We reference the landmarks of the day, but we attest that they point to better, and more permanent.
"Faith is as much the rule of temporal as of spiritual life," equates Charles Spurgeon in Morning and Evening. "We ought to have faith in God for our earthly affairs as well as for our heavenly business. It is only as we learn to trust in God for the supply of all our daily need," he lifts, "that we shall live above the world."
Jeremiah 26:12 shows a man learning to live above the world. How impressive must Jerusalem's spires have seemed to this small-town boy? How readily must his forming mind and affections have associated the Temple's splendor on countless ascents of the Temple Mount with well-being before God? Yet, maturing into, as the New Testament will phrase it, walking by faith rather than by sight, Jeremiah's focus is now on his steadying sense of sent.
The city of Jerusalem for which Jehovah proclaims His Scriptural love is a landmark, not a locus of affection for this pilgrim prophet. Her splendor, still extant, will make her downfall more memorable, both to her one-time adherents and to the nations passing by. These people were so blessed by His favoring hand. How could they forsake Him? He must value His reputation, His holiness, above any material status and security He can give to or take away from His own.
Toward the goal of imparting this realization to Jerusalem's citizens, to passersby, and to the ages, Jeremiah becomes a sent one to deliver his message against this backdrop. He seeks to contrast the impending splendor of the One Who Abraham knew would make him at home in a city not made with hands to the twilight splendor in which his contemporaries place their hope. He is sent to this spot, and says so, that he might show its limitations. This is not, truly, a place of reflection and safety. God is, even in exile.
If we could preserve but part of the civil estate as unto man's religious inclinations, and protests that herein, surely, was a remnant of man's righteousness, we would. We would, but Jeremiah knows better. He was sent to this haunted setting to foretell that not just the city will fall despite protection from surrounding mountains and walls, not just the city but very Temple. This house, he is present to say, is coming down.
Man is so resistant to this message that our spiritual forbearers the disciples spent time in Christ's very Presence, hearing His words, awash in His perfect, yet approachable righteousness, and they STILL but for His appointed intervention would have had their hearts stolen by another Temple edifice. As the better, even braver Jeremiah, our Lord foretold that that structure of man's self-satisfaction would also come down. As the Godhead will brook no rival, not one stone would be left upon another.
Yet, beloved, we can see the hope beyond Jerusalem's doomed precincts even more clearly than Jeremiah could. He foresaw and foretold specifically the restoration after the exile, and in this he pointed to the resilience God's people can draw from His never-quite-suppressed mercy. Yet, we know of Christ as the perfect Temple, torn down and rebuilt in three days, never to be toppled again.
We know of the new Jerusalem, coming down from above by God's fiat, as splendid as His accompanying dictate that His dwelling is not with men. What was once foreshadowed, as instructive in its limits as in its pretenses to perfection will one day be fulfilled.
We live in light of that day. We handle earthly goods and keep cherished earthly sights in perspective because we know they serve their turn. We are, like Jeremiah, sent ones, pilgrims, who reference this and that which, wholesale, have the eyes of men. We reference the landmarks of the day, but we attest that they point to better, and more permanent.
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