Study Desk

Do two people walk hand in hand if they aren't going to the same place? Does a lion roar in the forest if there's no carcass to devour? Does a young lion growl with pleasure if he hasn't caught his supper? Does a bird fall to the ground if it hasn't been hit with a stone? Does a trap spring shut if nothing trips it? When the alarm goes off in the city, aren't people alarmed? And when disaster strikes the city, doesn't God stand behind it? The fact is, God , the Master, does nothing without first telling his prophets the whole story.

Announce to the forts of Assyria, announce to the forts of Egypt— Tell them, "Gather on the Samaritan mountains, take a good, hard look: what a snake pit of brutality and terror! They can't—or won't—do one thing right." God said so. "They stockpile violence and blight. Therefore"—this is God 's Word—"an enemy will surround the country. He'll strip you of your power and plunder your forts."

Woe to you who are rushing headlong to disaster! Catastrophe is just around the corner! Woe to those who live in luxury and expect everyone else to serve them! Woe to those who live only for today, indifferent to the fate of others! Woe to the playboys, the playgirls, who think life is a party held just for them! Woe to those addicted to feeling good—life without pain! those obsessed with looking good—life without wrinkles! They could not care less about their country going to ruin.

I saw my Master standing beside the altar at the shrine. He said: "Hit the tops of the shrine's pillars, make the floor shake. The roof's about to fall on the heads of the people, and whoever's still alive, I'll kill. No one will get away, no runaways will make it. If they dig their way down into the underworld, I'll find them and bring them up. If they climb to the stars, I'll find them and bring them down. If they hide out at the top of Mount Carmel, I'll find them and bring them back. If they dive to the bottom of the ocean, I'll send Dragon to swallow them up. If they're captured alive by their enemies, I'll send Sword to kill them. I've made up my mind to hurt them, not help them."

My Master, God -of-the-Angel-Armies, touches the earth, a mere touch, and it trembles. The whole world goes into mourning. Earth swells like the Nile at flood stage; then the water subsides, like the great Nile of Egypt. God builds his palace—towers soaring high in the skies, foundations set on the rock-firm earth. He calls ocean waters and they come, then he ladles them out on the earth. God , your God, does all this.

"If thieves crept up on you, they'd rob you blind—isn't that so? If they mugged you on the streets at night, they'd pick you clean—isn't that so? Oh, they'll take Esau apart, piece by piece, empty his purse and pockets. All your old partners will drive you to the edge. Your old friends will lie to your face. Your old drinking buddies will stab you in the back. Your world will collapse. You won't know what hit you. So don't be surprised"—it's God 's sure Word!— "when I wipe out all sages from Edom and rid the Esau mountains of its famous wise men. Your great heroes will desert you, Teman. There'll be nobody left in Esau's mountains. Because of the murderous history compiled against your brother Jacob, You will be looked down on by everyone. You'll lose your place in history. On that day you stood there and didn't do anything. Strangers took your brother's army into exile. Godless foreigners invaded and pillaged Jerusalem. You stood there and watched. You were as bad as they were. You shouldn't have gloated over your brother when he was down-and-out. You shouldn't have laughed and joked at Judah's sons when they were facedown in the mud. You shouldn't have talked so big when everything was so bad. You shouldn't have taken advantage of my people when their lives had fallen apart. You of all people should not have been amused by their troubles, their wrecked nation. You shouldn't have taken the shirt off their back when they were knocked flat, defenseless. And you shouldn't have stood waiting at the outskirts and cut off refugees, And traitorously turned in helpless survivors who had lost everything.

But God sent a huge storm at sea, the waves towering. The ship was about to break into pieces. The sailors were terrified. They called out in desperation to their gods. They threw everything they were carrying overboard to lighten the ship. Meanwhile, Jonah had gone down into the hold of the ship to take a nap. He was sound asleep. The captain came to him and said, "What's this? Sleeping! Get up! Pray to your god! Maybe your god will see we're in trouble and rescue us."

But no. The men tried rowing back to shore. They made no headway. The storm only got worse and worse, wild and raging.

Then they prayed to God , "O God! Don't let us drown because of this man's life, and don't blame us for his death. You are God . Do what you think is best."

They took Jonah and threw him overboard. Immediately the sea was quieted down.

The sailors were impressed, no longer terrified by the sea, but in awe of God . They worshiped God , offered a sacrifice, and made vows.

The people of Nineveh listened, and trusted God. They proclaimed a citywide fast and dressed in burlap to show their repentance. Everyone did it—rich and poor, famous and obscure, leaders and followers.

Doom to those who plot evil, who go to bed dreaming up crimes! As soon as it's morning, they're off, full of energy, doing what they've planned. They covet fields and grab them, find homes and take them. They bully the neighbor and his family, see people only for what they can get out of them. God has had enough. He says, "I have some plans of my own: Disaster because of this interbreeding evil! Your necks are on the line. You're not walking away from this. It's doomsday for you. Mocking ballads will be sung of you, and you yourselves will sing the blues: ‘Our lives are ruined, our homes and lands auctioned off. They take everything, leave us nothing! All is sold to the highest bidder.'" And there'll be no one to stand up for you, no one to speak for you before God and his jury.

Meanwhile, all the other people live however they wish, picking and choosing their gods. But we live honoring God , and we're loyal to our God forever and ever.

But for right now, they're ganged up against you, many godless peoples, saying, "Kick her when she's down! Violate her! We want to see Zion grovel in the dirt." These blasphemers have no idea what God is thinking and doing in this. They don't know that this is the making of God 's people, that they are wheat being threshed, gold being refined.

I'm overwhelmed with sorrow! sunk in a swamp of despair! I'm like someone who goes to the garden to pick cabbages and carrots and corn And returns empty-handed, finds nothing for soup or sandwich or salad. There's not a decent person in sight. Right-living humans are extinct. They're all out for one another's blood, animals preying on each other. They've all become experts in evil. Corrupt leaders demand bribes. The powerful rich make sure they get what they want. The best and brightest are thistles. The top of the line is crabgrass. But no longer: It's exam time. Look at them slinking away in disgrace! Don't trust your neighbor, don't confide in your friend. Watch your words, even with your spouse. Neighborhoods and families are falling to pieces. The closer they are—sons, daughters, in-laws— The worse they can be. Your own family is the enemy.

Oh, that will be a day! A day for rebuilding your city, a day for stretching your arms, spreading your wings! All your dispersed and scattered people will come back, old friends and family from faraway places, From Assyria in the east to Egypt in the west, from across the seas and out of the mountains. But there'll be a reversal for everyone else—massive depopulation— because of the way they lived, the things they did.

Weapons flash in the sun, the soldiers splendid in battle dress, Chariots burnished and glistening, ready to charge, A spiked forest of brandished spears, lethal on the horizon. The chariots pour into the streets. They fill the public squares, Flaming like torches in the sun, like lightning darting and flashing. The Assyrian king rallies his men, but they stagger and stumble. They run to the ramparts to stem the tide, but it's too late. Soldiers pour through the gates. The palace is demolished. Soon it's all over: Nineveh stripped, Nineveh doomed, Maids and slaves moaning like doves, beating their breasts. Nineveh is a tub from which they've pulled the plug. Cries go up, "Do something! Do something!" but it's too late. Nineveh's soon empty—nothing. Other cries come: "Plunder the silver! Plunder the gold! A bonanza of plunder! Take everything you want!" Doom! Damnation! Desolation! Hearts sink, knees fold, stomachs retch, faces blanch. So, what happened to the famous and fierce Assyrian lion And all those cute Assyrian cubs? To the lion and lioness Cozy with their cubs, fierce and fearless? To the lion who always returned from the hunt with fresh kills for lioness and cubs, The lion lair heaped with bloody meat, blood and bones for the royal lion feast?

Do you think you're superior to Egyptian Thebes, proudly invincible on the River Nile, Protected by the great River, walled in by the River, secure? Ethiopia stood guard to the south, Egypt to the north. Put and Libya, strong friends, were ready to step in and help. But you know what happened to her: The whole city was marched off to a refugee camp, Her babies smashed to death in public view on the streets, Her prize leaders auctioned off, her celebrities put in chain gangs. Expect the same treatment, Nineveh. You'll soon be staggering like a bunch of drunks, Wondering what hit you, looking for a place to sleep it off. All your forts are like peach trees, the lush peaches ripe, ready for the picking. One shake of the tree and they fall straight into hungry mouths. Face it: Your warriors are wimps. You're sitting ducks. Your borders are gaping doors, inviting your enemies in. And who's to stop them?

Let the Nations Get Their Fill of the Ugly Truth Doom to Murder City— full of lies, bursting with loot, addicted to violence! Horns blaring, wheels clattering, horses rearing, chariots lurching, Horsemen galloping, brandishing swords and spears, Dead bodies rotting in the street, corpses stacked like cordwood, Bodies in every gutter and alley, clogging every intersection! And whores! Whores without end! Whore City, Fatally seductive, you're the Witch of Seduction, luring nations to their ruin with your evil spells. "I'm your enemy, Whore Nineveh— I, God -of-the-Angel-Armies! I'll strip you of your seductive silk robes and expose you on the world stage. I'll let the nations get their fill of the ugly truth of who you really are and have been all along. I'll pelt you with dog dung and place you on a pedestal: ‘Slut on Exhibit.' Everyone who sees you will gag and say, ‘Nineveh's a pigsty: What on earth did we ever see in her? Who would give her a second look? Ugh!'" Do you think you're superior to Egyptian Thebes, proudly invincible on the River Nile, Protected by the great River, walled in by the River, secure? Ethiopia stood guard to the south, Egypt to the north. Put and Libya, strong friends, were ready to step in and help. But you know what happened to her: The whole city was marched off to a refugee camp, Her babies smashed to death in public view on the streets, Her prize leaders auctioned off, her celebrities put in chain gangs. Expect the same treatment, Nineveh. You'll soon be staggering like a bunch of drunks, Wondering what hit you, looking for a place to sleep it off. All your forts are like peach trees, the lush peaches ripe, ready for the picking. One shake of the tree and they fall straight into hungry mouths. Face it: Your warriors are wimps. You're sitting ducks. Your borders are gaping doors, inviting your enemies in. And who's to stop them? Store up water for the siege. Shore up your defenses. Get down to basics: Work the clay and make bricks. Sorry. Too late. Enemy fire will burn you up. Swords will cut you to pieces. You'll be chewed up as if by locusts. Yes, as if by locusts—a fitting fate, for you yourselves are a locust plague. You've multiplied shops and shopkeepers— more buyers and sellers than stars in the sky! A plague of locusts, cleaning out the neighborhood and then flying off. Your bureaucrats are locusts, your brokers and bankers are locusts. Early on, they're all at your service, full of smiles and promises, But later when you return with questions or complaints, you'll find they've flown off and are nowhere to be found. King of Assyria! Your shepherd-leaders, in charge of caring for your people, Are busy doing everything else but. They're not doing their job, And your people are scattered and lost. There's no one to look after them. You're past the point of no return. Your wound is fatal. When the story of your fate gets out, the whole world will applaud and cry "Encore!" Your cruel evil has seeped into every nook and cranny of the world. Everyone has felt it and suffered.