Jeremiah 31:23 – Same Sights, New Eyes
Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: “They shall again use this speech in the land of Judah and in its cities, when I bring back their captivity: ‘The Lord bless you, O home of justice, and mountain of holiness! Jeremiah 31:23, New King James Version
I used to enjoy going to summer camp. For nine days, I was seen apart from from my relationships at home. I was related to not as son of a particular father and mother, or as a particular person's brother, or as having reached this status in school. Uprooting and replanting, even temporarily, prompted a different kind of flourishing.
I also, for this nine-day stretch, was planted separate from many of the comforts of home. For that time, I didn't have regular access to television, carpet on the floor, or complete privacy in the shower. The cabins were even rustic enough not to include a bathroom.
Every year, upon returning, home looked different. The same sights and amenities which had been routine a fortnight before were luxuries now. Gratitude sprang up again, both for the return home and for the chance to have experienced something different. I saw the same setting differently.
So will God's people of whom He speaks in Jeremiah 31:23. The exile, among its benefits by His sovereign grace, will give this people, once prideful enough to presume that God would not chastise them BECAUSE they were in the land and had the Temple, a chance to see with new eyes. Back in the land, they will greet one another with reference to the home of justice, which they once twisted into entitlement, and of the mountain which reminds them of God's holiness.
How will we prove T.S. Eliot right, as his sentiments were related on the Netflix series The Crown? "We shall not cease from exploration," he insists, "in the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."What sameness, brothers and sisters, will we see differently because, by His grace, we realize it is His gift freely given as a small token of love shown through Christ His Son, rather than our entitlement?
Will we see, as Benjamin Franklin speaks of travel in HW Brands's The First American that it is one way of lengthening life – at least in appearance, that the changes through which God brings us renew our youth and enthusiasm? Are we storing stories of His goodness toward us in each locale?
As integrated gratitude dawns on our renewed hearts, how will our speech to one another be different? Out of the fullness of the heart, His Word says, the mouth speaks. Sure, this is true of Word-centered sermons, and prayers, and blogs.
But by the Jeremiah 31:23 example, we can really see what is in our hearts collectively by what we discuss in the streets. Will, as Joni Mitchell sings in her song "All I Want," life be our cause once we have freshly realized that every particular of the life we have is by God's mercy and grace?
Will we subsist on exchanged trivia, for the original Latin derivation of that word came from what was discussed where the three ways meet? Or, do our "chance" encounters with one another give us the opportunity to celebrate the specific goodness of God. My friend Chuck insists upon the latter, reminding himself in his questioner at every greeting that he is better than he deserves.
Shall we put our smalltalk to such a large purpose? Shall we announce the Lord's blessing upon those we pass, confident that as He can move mountains, or move us nearer to them with a renewed appreciation, He can change the hearts and eyes with which our neighbors see?
I used to enjoy going to summer camp. For nine days, I was seen apart from from my relationships at home. I was related to not as son of a particular father and mother, or as a particular person's brother, or as having reached this status in school. Uprooting and replanting, even temporarily, prompted a different kind of flourishing.
I also, for this nine-day stretch, was planted separate from many of the comforts of home. For that time, I didn't have regular access to television, carpet on the floor, or complete privacy in the shower. The cabins were even rustic enough not to include a bathroom.
Every year, upon returning, home looked different. The same sights and amenities which had been routine a fortnight before were luxuries now. Gratitude sprang up again, both for the return home and for the chance to have experienced something different. I saw the same setting differently.
So will God's people of whom He speaks in Jeremiah 31:23. The exile, among its benefits by His sovereign grace, will give this people, once prideful enough to presume that God would not chastise them BECAUSE they were in the land and had the Temple, a chance to see with new eyes. Back in the land, they will greet one another with reference to the home of justice, which they once twisted into entitlement, and of the mountain which reminds them of God's holiness.
How will we prove T.S. Eliot right, as his sentiments were related on the Netflix series The Crown? "We shall not cease from exploration," he insists, "in the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."What sameness, brothers and sisters, will we see differently because, by His grace, we realize it is His gift freely given as a small token of love shown through Christ His Son, rather than our entitlement?
Will we see, as Benjamin Franklin speaks of travel in HW Brands's The First American that it is one way of lengthening life – at least in appearance, that the changes through which God brings us renew our youth and enthusiasm? Are we storing stories of His goodness toward us in each locale?
As integrated gratitude dawns on our renewed hearts, how will our speech to one another be different? Out of the fullness of the heart, His Word says, the mouth speaks. Sure, this is true of Word-centered sermons, and prayers, and blogs.
But by the Jeremiah 31:23 example, we can really see what is in our hearts collectively by what we discuss in the streets. Will, as Joni Mitchell sings in her song "All I Want," life be our cause once we have freshly realized that every particular of the life we have is by God's mercy and grace?
Will we subsist on exchanged trivia, for the original Latin derivation of that word came from what was discussed where the three ways meet? Or, do our "chance" encounters with one another give us the opportunity to celebrate the specific goodness of God. My friend Chuck insists upon the latter, reminding himself in his questioner at every greeting that he is better than he deserves.
Shall we put our smalltalk to such a large purpose? Shall we announce the Lord's blessing upon those we pass, confident that as He can move mountains, or move us nearer to them with a renewed appreciation, He can change the hearts and eyes with which our neighbors see?
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