Study Desk

God arranged for a broad-leafed tree to spring up. It grew over Jonah to cool him off and get him out of his angry sulk. Jonah was pleased and enjoyed the shade. Life was looking up.

Listen, people—all of you. Listen, earth, and everyone in it: The Master, God , takes the witness stand against you, the Master from his Holy Temple.

Look, here he comes! God , from his place! He comes down and strides across mountains and hills. Mountains sink under his feet, valleys split apart; The rock mountains crumble into gravel, the river valleys leak like sieves. All this because of Jacob's sin, because Israel's family did wrong. You ask, "So what is Jacob's sin?" Just look at Samaria—isn't it obvious? And all the sex-and-religion shrines in Judah— isn't Jerusalem responsible?

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.

"Don't preach," say the preachers. "Don't preach such stuff. Nothing bad will happen to us. Talk like this to the family of Jacob? Does God lose his temper? Is this the way he acts? Isn't he on the side of good people? Doesn't he help those who help themselves?"

The time's coming, though, when these same leaders will cry out for help to God , but he won't listen. He'll turn his face the other way because of their history of evil.

But when all is said and done, God 's Temple on the mountain, Firmly fixed, will dominate all mountains, towering above surrounding hills. People will stream to it and many nations set out for it, Saying, "Come, let's climb God 's mountain. Let's go to the Temple of Jacob's God. He will teach us how to live. We'll know how to live God's way." True teaching will issue from Zion, God 's revelation from Jerusalem. He'll establish justice in the rabble of nations and settle disputes in faraway places. They'll trade in their swords for shovels, their spears for rakes and hoes. Nations will quit fighting each other, quit learning how to kill one another. Each man will sit under his own shade tree, each woman in safety will tend her own garden. God -of-the-Angel-Armies says so, and he means what he says.

So why the doomsday hysterics? You still have a king, don't you? But maybe he's not doing his job and you're panicked like a woman in labor. Well, go ahead—twist and scream, Daughter Jerusalem. You are like a woman in childbirth. You'll soon be out of the city, on your way and camping in the open country. And then you'll arrive in Babylon. What you lost in Jerusalem will be found in Babylon. God will give you new life again. He'll redeem you from your enemies.

But you, Bethlehem, David's country, the runt of the litter— From you will come the leader who will shepherd-rule Israel. He'll be no upstart, no pretender. His family tree is ancient and distinguished. Meanwhile, Israel will be in foster homes until the birth pangs are over and the child is born, And the scattered brothers come back home to the family of Israel. He will stand tall in his shepherd-rule by God 's strength, centered in the majesty of God -Revealed. And the people will have a good and safe home, for the whole world will hold him in respect— Peacemaker of the world!

And if some bullying Assyrian shows up, invades and violates our land, don't worry. We'll put him in his place, send him packing, and watch his every move. Shepherd-rule will extend as far as needed, to Assyria and all other Nimrod-bullies. Our shepherd-ruler will save us from old or new enemies, from anyone who invades or violates our land.

Don't, enemy, crow over me. I'm down, but I'm not out. I'm sitting in the dark right now, but God is my light. I can take God 's punishing rage. I deserve it—I sinned. But it's not forever. He's on my side and is going to get me out of this. He'll turn on the lights and show me his ways. I'll see the whole picture and how right he is. And my enemy will see it, too, and be discredited—yes, disgraced! This enemy who kept taunting, "So where is this God of yours?" I'm going to see it with these, my own eyes— my enemy disgraced, trash in the gutter.

God is serious business. He won't be trifled with. He avenges his foes. He stands up against his enemies, fierce and raging. But God doesn't lose his temper. He's powerful, but it's a patient power. Still, no one gets by with anything. Sooner or later, everyone pays. Tornadoes and hurricanes are the wake of his passage, Storm clouds are the dust he shakes off his feet. He yells at the sea: It dries up. All the rivers run dry. The Bashan and Carmel mountains shrivel, the Lebanon orchards shrivel. Mountains quake in their roots, hills dissolve into mud flats. Earth shakes in fear of God . The whole world's in a panic. Who can face such towering anger? Who can stand up to this fierce rage? His anger spills out like a river of lava, his fury shatters boulders.

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?

You're treating men and women as so many fish in the ocean, Swimming without direction, swimming but not getting anywhere. Then this evil Babylonian arrives and goes fishing. He pulls in a good catch. He catches his limit and fills his creel— a good day of fishing! He's happy! He praises his rod and reel, piles his fishing gear on an altar and worships it! It's made his day, and he's going to eat well tonight!

"Note well: Money deceives. The arrogant rich don't last. They are more hungry for wealth than the grave is for cadavers. Like death, they always want more, but the ‘more' they get is dead bodies. They are cemeteries filled with dead nations, graveyards filled with corpses. Don't give people like this a second thought. Soon the whole world will be taunting them: "‘Who do you think you are— getting rich by stealing and extortion? How long do you think you can get away with this?' Indeed, how long before your victims wake up, stand up and make you the victim? You've plundered nation after nation. Now you'll get a taste of your own medicine. All the survivors are out to plunder you, a payback for all your murders and massacres. "Who do you think you are— recklessly grabbing and looting, Living it up, acting like king of the mountain, acting above it all, above trials and troubles? You've engineered the ruin of your own house. In ruining others you've ruined yourself. You've undermined your foundations, rotted out your own soul. The bricks of your house will speak up and accuse you. The woodwork will step forward with evidence. "Who do you think you are— building a town by murder, a city with crime? Don't you know that God -of-the-Angel-Armies makes sure nothing comes of that but ashes, Makes sure the harder you work at that kind of thing, the less you are? Meanwhile the earth fills up with awareness of God 's glory as the waters cover the sea. "Who do you think you are— inviting your neighbors to your drunken parties, Giving them too much to drink, roping them into your sexual orgies? You thought you were having the time of your life. Wrong! It's a time of disgrace. All the time you were drinking, you were drinking from the cup of God's wrath. You'll wake up holding your throbbing head, hung over— hung over from Lebanon violence, Hung over from animal massacres, hung over from murder and mayhem, From multiple violations of place and people. "What's the use of a carved god so skillfully carved by its sculptor? What good is a fancy cast god when all it tells is lies? What sense does it make to be a pious god-maker who makes gods that can't even talk? Who do you think you are— saying to a stick of wood, ‘Wake up,' Or to a dumb stone, ‘Get up'? Can they teach you anything about anything? There's nothing to them but surface. There's nothing on the inside. "But oh! God is in his holy Temple! Quiet everyone—a holy silence. Listen!"

class="poetry"> What's God going to say to my questions? I'm braced for the worst. I'll climb to the lookout tower and scan the horizon. I'll wait to see what God says, how he'll answer my complaint. And then God answered: "Write this. Write what you see. Write it out in big block letters so that it can be read on the run. This vision-message is a witness pointing to what's coming. It aches for the coming—it can hardly wait! And it doesn't lie. If it seems slow in coming, wait. It's on its way. It will come right on time. "Look at that man, bloated by self-importance— full of himself but soul-empty. But the person in right standing before God through loyal and steady believing is fully alive, really alive. "Note well: Money deceives. The arrogant rich don't last. They are more hungry for wealth than the grave is for cadavers. Like death, they always want more, but the ‘more' they get is dead bodies. They are cemeteries filled with dead nations, graveyards filled with corpses. Don't give people like this a second thought. Soon the whole world will be taunting them: "‘Who do you think you are— getting rich by stealing and extortion? How long do you think you can get away with this?' Indeed, how long before your victims wake up, stand up and make you the victim? You've plundered nation after nation. Now you'll get a taste of your own medicine. All the survivors are out to plunder you, a payback for all your murders and massacres. "Who do you think you are— recklessly grabbing and looting, Living it up, acting like king of the mountain, acting above it all, above trials and troubles? You've engineered the ruin of your own house. In ruining others you've ruined yourself. You've undermined your foundations, rotted out your own soul. The bricks of your house will speak up and accuse you. The woodwork will step forward with evidence. "Who do you think you are— building a town by murder, a city with crime? Don't you know that God -of-the-Angel-Armies makes sure nothing comes of that but ashes, Makes sure the harder you work at that kind of thing, the less you are? Meanwhile the earth fills up with awareness of God 's glory as the waters cover the sea. "Who do you think you are— inviting your neighbors to your drunken parties, Giving them too much to drink, roping them into your sexual orgies? You thought you were having the time of your life. Wrong! It's a time of disgrace. All the time you were drinking, you were drinking from the cup of God's wrath. You'll wake up holding your throbbing head, hung over— hung over from Lebanon violence, Hung over from animal massacres, hung over from murder and mayhem, From multiple violations of place and people. "What's the use of a carved god so skillfully carved by its sculptor? What good is a fancy cast god when all it tells is lies? What sense does it make to be a pious god-maker who makes gods that can't even talk? Who do you think you are— saying to a stick of wood, ‘Wake up,' Or to a dumb stone, ‘Get up'? Can they teach you anything about anything? There's nothing to them but surface. There's nothing on the inside. "But oh! God is in his holy Temple! Quiet everyone—a holy silence. Listen!"

"But oh! God is in his holy Temple! Quiet everyone—a holy silence. Listen!"

God's on his way again, retracing the old salvation route, Coming up from the south through Teman, the Holy One from Mount Paran. Skies are blazing with his splendor, his praises sounding through the earth, His cloud-brightness like dawn, exploding, spreading, forked-lightning shooting from his hand— what power hidden in that fist! Plague marches before him, pestilence at his heels! He stops. He shakes Earth. He looks around. Nations tremble. The age-old mountains fall to pieces; ancient hills collapse like a spent balloon. The paths God takes are older than the oldest mountains and hills. I saw everyone worried, in a panic: Old wilderness adversaries, Cushan and Midian, were terrified, hoping he wouldn't notice them.

God , is it River you're mad at? Angry at old River? Were you raging at Sea when you rode horse and chariot through to salvation? You unfurled your bow and let loose a volley of arrows. You split Earth with rivers. Mountains saw what was coming. They twisted in pain. Flood Waters poured in. Ocean roared and reared huge waves. Sun and Moon stopped in their tracks. Your flashing arrows stopped them, your lightning-strike spears impaled them. Angry, you stomped through Earth. Furious, you crushed the godless nations. You were out to save your people, to save your specially chosen people. You beat the stuffing out of King Wicked, Stripped him naked from head to toe, Set his severed head on his own spear and blew away his army. Scattered they were to the four winds— and ended up food for the sharks! You galloped through the Sea on your horses, racing on the crest of the waves. When I heard it, my stomach did flips. I stammered and stuttered. My bones turned to water. I staggered and stumbled. I sit back and wait for Doomsday to descend on our attackers.

So sing, Daughter Zion! Raise the rafters, Israel! Daughter Jerusalem, be happy! celebrate! God has reversed his judgments against you and sent your enemies off chasing their tails. From now on, God is Israel's king, in charge at the center. There's nothing to fear from evil ever again!