Study Desk

You Who Legislate Evil Doom to you who legislate evil, who make laws that make victims— Laws that make misery for the poor, that rob my destitute people of dignity, Exploiting defenseless widows, taking advantage of homeless children. What will you have to say on Judgment Day, when Doomsday arrives out of the blue? Who will you get to help you? What good will your money do you? A sorry sight you'll be then, huddled with the prisoners, or just some corpses stacked in the street. Even after all this, God is still angry, his fist still raised, ready to hit them again. "Doom to Assyria, weapon of my anger. My wrath is a cudgel in his hands! I send him against a godless nation, against the people I'm angry with. I command him to strip them clean, rob them blind, and then push their faces in the mud and leave them. But Assyria has another agenda; he has something else in mind. He's out to destroy utterly, to stamp out as many nations as he can. Assyria says, ‘Aren't my commanders all kings? Can't they do whatever they like? Didn't I destroy Calno as well as Carchemish? Hamath as well as Arpad? Level Samaria as I did Damascus? I've eliminated kingdoms full of gods far more impressive than anything in Jerusalem and Samaria. So what's to keep me from destroying Jerusalem in the same way I destroyed Samaria and all her god-idols?'" When the Master has finished dealing with Mount Zion and Jerusalem, he'll say, "Now it's Assyria's turn. I'll punish the bragging arrogance of the king of Assyria, his high and mighty posturing, the way he goes around saying, "‘I've done all this by myself. I know more than anyone. I've wiped out the boundaries of whole countries. I've walked in and taken anything I wanted. I charged in like a bull and toppled their kings from their thrones. I reached out my hand and took all that they treasured as easily as a boy taking a bird's eggs from a nest. Like a farmer gathering eggs from the henhouse, I gathered the world in my basket, And no one so much as fluttered a wing or squawked or even chirped.'" Does an ax take over from the one who swings it? Does a saw act more important than the sawyer? As if a shovel did its shoveling by using a ditch digger! As if a hammer used the carpenter to pound nails! Therefore the Master, God -of-the-Angel-Armies, will send a debilitating disease on his robust Assyrian fighters. Under the canopy of God's bright glory a fierce fire will break out. Israel's Light will burst into a conflagration. The Holy will explode into a firestorm, And in one day burn to cinders every last Assyrian thornbush. God will destroy the splendid trees and lush gardens. The Assyrian body and soul will waste away to nothing like a disease-ridden invalid. A child could count what's left of the trees on the fingers of his two hands. And on that Day also, what's left of Israel, the ragtag survivors of Jacob, will no longer be fascinated by abusive, battering Assyria. They'll lean on God , The Holy—yes, truly. The ragtag remnant—what's left of Jacob—will come back to the Strong God. Your people Israel were once like the sand on the seashore, but only a scattered few will return. Destruction is ordered, brimming over with righteousness. For the Master, God -of-the-Angel-Armies, will finish here what he started all over the globe. Therefore the Master, God -of-the-Angel-Armies, says: "My dear, dear people who live in Zion, don't be terrorized by the Assyrians when they beat you with clubs and threaten you with rods like the Egyptians once did. In just a short time my anger against you will be spent and I'll turn my destroying anger on them. I, God -of-the-Angel-Armies, will go after them with a cat-o'-nine-tails and finish them off decisively—as Gideon downed Midian at the rock Oreb, as Moses turned the tables on Egypt. On that day, Assyria will be pulled off your back, and the yoke of slavery lifted from your neck." Assyria's on the move: up from Rimmon, on to Aiath, through Migron, with a bivouac at Micmash. They've crossed the pass, set camp at Geba for the night. Ramah trembles with fright. Gibeah of Saul has run off. Cry for help, daughter of Gallim! Listen to her, Laishah! Do something, Anathoth! Madmenah takes to the hills. The people of Gebim flee in panic. The enemy's soon at Nob—nearly there! In sight of the city he shakes his fist At the mount of dear daughter Zion, the hill of Jerusalem.

When God has given you time to recover from the abuse and trouble and harsh servitude that you had to endure, you can amuse yourselves by taking up this satire, a taunt against the king of Babylon: Can you believe it? The tyrant is gone! The tyranny is over! God has broken the rule of the wicked, the power of the bully-rulers That crushed many people. A relentless rain of cruel outrage Established a violent rule of anger rife with torture and persecution. And now it's over, the whole earth quietly at rest. Burst into song! Make the rafters ring! Ponderosa pine trees are happy, giant Lebanon cedars are relieved, saying, "Since you've been cut down, there's no one around to cut us down." And the underworld dead are all excited, preparing to welcome you when you come. Getting ready to greet you are the ghostly dead, all the famous names of earth. All the buried kings of the nations will stand up on their thrones With well-prepared speeches, royal invitations to death: "Now you are as nothing as we are! Make yourselves at home with us dead folks!" This is where your pomp and fine music led you, Babylon, to your underworld private chambers, A king-size mattress of maggots for repose and a quilt of crawling worms for warmth. What a comedown this, O Babylon! Daystar! Son of Dawn! Flat on your face in the underworld mud, you, famous for flattening nations! You said to yourself, "I'll climb to heaven. I'll set my throne over the stars of God. I'll run the assembly of angels that meets on sacred Mount Zaphon. I'll climb to the top of the clouds. I'll take over as King of the Universe!" But you didn't make it, did you? Instead of climbing up, you came down— Down with the underground dead, down to the abyss of the Pit. People will stare and muse: "Can this be the one Who terrorized earth and its kingdoms, turned earth to a moonscape, Wasted its cities, shut up his prisoners to a living death?" Other kings get a decent burial, honored with eulogies and placed in a tomb. But you're dumped in a ditch unburied, like a stray dog or cat, Covered with rotting bodies, murdered and indigent corpses. Your dead body desecrated, mutilated— no state funeral for you! You've left your land in ruins, left a legacy of massacre. The progeny of your evil life will never be named. Oblivion! Get a place ready to slaughter the sons of the wicked and wipe out their father's line. Unthinkable that they should own a square foot of land or desecrate the face of the world with their cities! "I will confront them"—Decree of God -of-the-Angel-Armies—"and strip Babylon of name and survivors, children and grandchildren." God 's Decree. "I'll make it a worthless swamp and give it as a prize to the hedgehog. And then I'll bulldoze it out of existence." Decree of God -of-the-Angel-Armies. God -of-the-Angel-Armies speaks: "Exactly as I planned, it will happen. Following my blueprints, it will take shape. I will shatter the Assyrian who trespasses my land and stomp him into the dirt on my mountains. I will ban his taking and making of slaves and lift the weight of oppression from all shoulders." This is the plan, planned for the whole earth, And this is the hand that will do it, reaching into every nation. God -of-the-Angel-Armies has planned it. Who could ever cancel such plans? His is the hand that's reached out. Who could brush it aside? In the year King Ahaz died, this Message came: Hold it, Philistines! It's too soon to celebrate the defeat of your cruel oppressor. From the death throes of that snake a worse snake will come, and from that, one even worse. The poor won't have to worry. The needy will escape the terror. But you Philistines will be plunged into famine, and those who don't starve, God will kill. Wail and howl, proud city! Fall prostrate in fear, Philistia! On the northern horizon, smoke from burned cities, the wake of a brutal, disciplined destroyer. What does one say to outsiders who ask questions? Tell them, " God has established Zion. Those in need and in trouble find refuge in her."

Now You Are Nothing But not so with Jacob. God will have compassion on Jacob. Once again he'll choose Israel. He'll establish them in their own country. Outsiders will be attracted and throw their lot in with Jacob. The nations among whom they lived will actually escort them back home, and then Israel will pay them back by making slaves of them, men and women alike, possessing them as slaves in God 's country, capturing those who had captured them, ruling over those who had abused them. When God has given you time to recover from the abuse and trouble and harsh servitude that you had to endure, you can amuse yourselves by taking up this satire, a taunt against the king of Babylon: Can you believe it? The tyrant is gone! The tyranny is over! God has broken the rule of the wicked, the power of the bully-rulers That crushed many people. A relentless rain of cruel outrage Established a violent rule of anger rife with torture and persecution. And now it's over, the whole earth quietly at rest. Burst into song! Make the rafters ring! Ponderosa pine trees are happy, giant Lebanon cedars are relieved, saying, "Since you've been cut down, there's no one around to cut us down." And the underworld dead are all excited, preparing to welcome you when you come. Getting ready to greet you are the ghostly dead, all the famous names of earth. All the buried kings of the nations will stand up on their thrones With well-prepared speeches, royal invitations to death: "Now you are as nothing as we are! Make yourselves at home with us dead folks!" This is where your pomp and fine music led you, Babylon, to your underworld private chambers, A king-size mattress of maggots for repose and a quilt of crawling worms for warmth. What a comedown this, O Babylon! Daystar! Son of Dawn! Flat on your face in the underworld mud, you, famous for flattening nations! You said to yourself, "I'll climb to heaven. I'll set my throne over the stars of God. I'll run the assembly of angels that meets on sacred Mount Zaphon. I'll climb to the top of the clouds. I'll take over as King of the Universe!" But you didn't make it, did you? Instead of climbing up, you came down— Down with the underground dead, down to the abyss of the Pit. People will stare and muse: "Can this be the one Who terrorized earth and its kingdoms, turned earth to a moonscape, Wasted its cities, shut up his prisoners to a living death?" Other kings get a decent burial, honored with eulogies and placed in a tomb. But you're dumped in a ditch unburied, like a stray dog or cat, Covered with rotting bodies, murdered and indigent corpses. Your dead body desecrated, mutilated— no state funeral for you! You've left your land in ruins, left a legacy of massacre. The progeny of your evil life will never be named. Oblivion! Get a place ready to slaughter the sons of the wicked and wipe out their father's line. Unthinkable that they should own a square foot of land or desecrate the face of the world with their cities! "I will confront them"—Decree of God -of-the-Angel-Armies—"and strip Babylon of name and survivors, children and grandchildren." God 's Decree. "I'll make it a worthless swamp and give it as a prize to the hedgehog. And then I'll bulldoze it out of existence." Decree of God -of-the-Angel-Armies. God -of-the-Angel-Armies speaks: "Exactly as I planned, it will happen. Following my blueprints, it will take shape. I will shatter the Assyrian who trespasses my land and stomp him into the dirt on my mountains. I will ban his taking and making of slaves and lift the weight of oppression from all shoulders." This is the plan, planned for the whole earth, And this is the hand that will do it, reaching into every nation. God -of-the-Angel-Armies has planned it. Who could ever cancel such plans? His is the hand that's reached out. Who could brush it aside? In the year King Ahaz died, this Message came: Hold it, Philistines! It's too soon to celebrate the defeat of your cruel oppressor. From the death throes of that snake a worse snake will come, and from that, one even worse. The poor won't have to worry. The needy will escape the terror. But you Philistines will be plunged into famine, and those who don't starve, God will kill. Wail and howl, proud city! Fall prostrate in fear, Philistia! On the northern horizon, smoke from burned cities, the wake of a brutal, disciplined destroyer. What does one say to outsiders who ask questions? Tell them, " God has established Zion. Those in need and in trouble find refuge in her."

"I will confront them"—Decree of God -of-the-Angel-Armies—"and strip Babylon of name and survivors, children and grandchildren." God 's Decree. "I'll make it a worthless swamp and give it as a prize to the hedgehog. And then I'll bulldoze it out of existence." Decree of God -of-the-Angel-Armies.

Wail, ships of Tarshish, your strong seaports all in ruins! When the ships returned from Cyprus, they saw the destruction. Hold your tongue, you who live on the seacoast, merchants of Sidon. Your people sailed the deep seas, buying and selling, Making money on wheat from Shihor, grown along the Nile— multinational broker in grains! Hang your head in shame, Sidon. The Sea speaks up, the powerhouse of the ocean says, "I've never had labor pains, never had a baby, never reared children to adulthood, Never gave life, never worked with life. It was all numbers, dead numbers, profit and loss."

And finally this, God 's Message for the family of Jacob, the same God who redeemed Abraham: "No longer will Jacob hang his head in shame, no longer grow gaunt and pale with waiting. For he's going to see his children, my personal gift to him—lots of children. And these children will honor me by living holy lives. In holy worship they'll honor the Holy One of Jacob and stand in holy awe of the God of Israel. Those who got off-track will get back on-track, and complainers and whiners learn gratitude."

"Doom, rebel children!" God 's Decree. "You make plans, but not mine. You make deals, but not in my Spirit. You pile sin on sin, one sin on top of another, Going off to Egypt without so much as asking me, Running off to Pharaoh for protection, expecting to hide out in Egypt. Well, some protection Pharaoh will be! Some hideout, Egypt! They look big and important, true, with officials strategically established in Zoan in the north and Hanes in the south, but there's nothing to them. Anyone stupid enough to trust them will end up looking stupid— All show, no substance, an embarrassing farce."

O Master, these are the conditions in which people live, and yes, in these very conditions my spirit is still alive— fully recovered with a fresh infusion of life! It seems it was good for me to go through all those troubles. Throughout them all you held tight to my lifeline. You never let me tumble over the edge into nothing. But my sins you let go of, threw them over your shoulder—good riddance! The dead don't thank you, and choirs don't sing praises from the morgue. Those buried six feet under don't witness to your faithful ways. It's the living—live men, live women—who thank you, just as I'm doing right now. Parents give their children full reports on your faithful ways.

"So don't be afraid: I'm with you. I'll round up all your scattered children, pull them in from east and west. I'll send orders north and south: ‘Send them back. Return my sons from distant lands, my daughters from faraway places. I want them back, every last one who bears my name, every man, woman, and child Whom I created for my glory, yes, personally formed and made each one.'"

"But for now, dear servant Jacob, listen— yes, you, Israel, my personal choice. God who made you has something to say to you; the God who formed you in the womb wants to help you. Don't be afraid, dear servant Jacob, Jeshurun, the one I chose. For I will pour water on the thirsty ground and send streams coursing through the parched earth. I will pour my Spirit into your descendants and my blessing on your children. They shall sprout like grass on the prairie, like willows alongside creeks. This one will say, ‘I am God 's,' and another will go by the name Jacob; That one will write on his hand ‘ God 's property'— and be proud to be called Israel."

Our Redeemer speaks, named God -of-the-Angel-Armies, The Holy of Israel: "Shut up and get out of the way, daughter of Chaldeans. You'll no longer be called ‘First Lady of the Kingdoms.' I was fed up with my people, thoroughly disgusted with my progeny. I turned them over to you, but you had no compassion. You put old men and women to cruel, hard labor. You said, ‘I'm the First Lady. I'll always be the pampered darling.' You took nothing seriously, took nothing to heart, never gave tomorrow a thought. Well, start thinking, playgirl. You're acting like the center of the universe, Smugly saying to yourself, ‘I'm Number One. There's nobody but me. I'll never be a widow, I'll never lose my children.' Those two things are going to hit you both at once, suddenly, on the same day: Spouse and children gone, a total loss, despite your many enchantments and charms. You were so confident and comfortable in your evil life, saying, ‘No one sees me.' You thought you knew so much, had everything figured out. What delusion! Smugly telling yourself, ‘I'm Number One. There's nobody but me.' Ruin descends— you can't charm it away. Disaster strikes— you can't cast it off with spells. Catastrophe, sudden and total— and you're totally at sea, totally bewildered! But don't give up. From your great repertoire of enchantments there must be one you haven't yet tried. You've been at this a long time. Surely something will work. I know you're exhausted trying out remedies, but don't give up. Call in the astrologers and stargazers. They're good at this. Surely they can work up something!

"Come everybody, gather around, listen: Who among the gods has delivered the news? I, God , love this man Cyrus, and I'm using him to do what I want with Babylon. I, yes I, have spoken. I've called him. I've brought him here. He'll be successful. Come close, listen carefully: I've never kept secrets from you. I've always been present with you." And now, the Master, God , sends me and his Spirit with this Message from God , your Redeemer, The Holy of Israel: "I am God , your God, who teaches you how to live right and well. I show you what to do, where to go. If you had listened all along to what I told you, your life would have flowed full like a river, blessings rolling in like waves from the sea. Children and grandchildren are like sand, your progeny like grains of sand. There would be no end of them, no danger of losing touch with me." Get out of Babylon! Run from the Babylonians! Shout the news. Broadcast it. Let the world know, the whole world. Tell them, " God redeemed his dear servant Jacob!" They weren't thirsty when he led them through the deserts. He made water pour out of the rock; he split the rock and the water gushed. "There is no peace," says God , "for the wicked."

Tested in the Furnace of Affliction "And now listen to this, family of Jacob, you who are called by the name Israel: Who got you started in the loins of Judah, you who use God 's name to back up your promises and pray to the God of Israel? But do you mean it? Do you live like it? You claim to be citizens of the Holy City; you act as though you lean on the God of Israel, named God -of-the-Angel-Armies. For a long time now, I've let you in on the way I work: I told you what I was going to do beforehand, then I did it and it was done, and that's that. I know you're a bunch of hardheads, obstinate and flint-faced, So I got a running start and began telling you what was going on before it even happened. That is why you can't say, ‘My god-idol did this.' ‘My favorite god-carving commanded this.' You have all this evidence confirmed by your own eyes and ears. Shouldn't you be talking about it? And that was just the beginning. I have a lot more to tell you, things you never knew existed. This isn't a variation on the same old thing. This is new, brand-new, something you'd never guess or dream up. When you hear this you won't be able to say, ‘I knew that all along.' You've never been good listeners to me. You have a history of ignoring me, A sorry track record of fickle attachments— rebels from the womb. But out of the sheer goodness of my heart, because of who I am, I keep a tight rein on my anger and hold my temper. I don't wash my hands of you. Do you see what I've done? I've refined you, but not without fire. I've tested you like silver in the furnace of affliction. Out of myself, simply because of who I am, I do what I do. I have my reputation to keep up. I'm not playing second fiddle to either gods or people. "Listen, Jacob. Listen, Israel— I'm the One who named you! I'm the One. I got things started and, yes, I'll wrap them up. Earth is my work, handmade. And the skies—I made them, too, horizon to horizon. When I speak, they're on their feet, at attention. "Come everybody, gather around, listen: Who among the gods has delivered the news? I, God , love this man Cyrus, and I'm using him to do what I want with Babylon. I, yes I, have spoken. I've called him. I've brought him here. He'll be successful. Come close, listen carefully: I've never kept secrets from you. I've always been present with you." And now, the Master, God , sends me and his Spirit with this Message from God , your Redeemer, The Holy of Israel: "I am God , your God, who teaches you how to live right and well. I show you what to do, where to go. If you had listened all along to what I told you, your life would have flowed full like a river, blessings rolling in like waves from the sea. Children and grandchildren are like sand, your progeny like grains of sand. There would be no end of them, no danger of losing touch with me." Get out of Babylon! Run from the Babylonians! Shout the news. Broadcast it. Let the world know, the whole world. Tell them, " God redeemed his dear servant Jacob!" They weren't thirsty when he led them through the deserts. He made water pour out of the rock; he split the rock and the water gushed. "There is no peace," says God , "for the wicked."

Tested in the Furnace of Affliction "And now listen to this, family of Jacob, you who are called by the name Israel: Who got you started in the loins of Judah, you who use God 's name to back up your promises and pray to the God of Israel? But do you mean it? Do you live like it? You claim to be citizens of the Holy City; you act as though you lean on the God of Israel, named God -of-the-Angel-Armies. For a long time now, I've let you in on the way I work: I told you what I was going to do beforehand, then I did it and it was done, and that's that. I know you're a bunch of hardheads, obstinate and flint-faced, So I got a running start and began telling you what was going on before it even happened. That is why you can't say, ‘My god-idol did this.' ‘My favorite god-carving commanded this.' You have all this evidence confirmed by your own eyes and ears. Shouldn't you be talking about it? And that was just the beginning. I have a lot more to tell you, things you never knew existed. This isn't a variation on the same old thing. This is new, brand-new, something you'd never guess or dream up. When you hear this you won't be able to say, ‘I knew that all along.' You've never been good listeners to me. You have a history of ignoring me, A sorry track record of fickle attachments— rebels from the womb. But out of the sheer goodness of my heart, because of who I am, I keep a tight rein on my anger and hold my temper. I don't wash my hands of you. Do you see what I've done? I've refined you, but not without fire. I've tested you like silver in the furnace of affliction. Out of myself, simply because of who I am, I do what I do. I have my reputation to keep up. I'm not playing second fiddle to either gods or people. "Listen, Jacob. Listen, Israel— I'm the One who named you! I'm the One. I got things started and, yes, I'll wrap them up. Earth is my work, handmade. And the skies—I made them, too, horizon to horizon. When I speak, they're on their feet, at attention. "Come everybody, gather around, listen: Who among the gods has delivered the news? I, God , love this man Cyrus, and I'm using him to do what I want with Babylon. I, yes I, have spoken. I've called him. I've brought him here. He'll be successful. Come close, listen carefully: I've never kept secrets from you. I've always been present with you." And now, the Master, God , sends me and his Spirit with this Message from God , your Redeemer, The Holy of Israel: "I am God , your God, who teaches you how to live right and well. I show you what to do, where to go. If you had listened all along to what I told you, your life would have flowed full like a river, blessings rolling in like waves from the sea. Children and grandchildren are like sand, your progeny like grains of sand. There would be no end of them, no danger of losing touch with me." Get out of Babylon! Run from the Babylonians! Shout the news. Broadcast it. Let the world know, the whole world. Tell them, " God redeemed his dear servant Jacob!" They weren't thirsty when he led them through the deserts. He made water pour out of the rock; he split the rock and the water gushed. "There is no peace," says God , "for the wicked."

Tested in the Furnace of Affliction "And now listen to this, family of Jacob, you who are called by the name Israel: Who got you started in the loins of Judah, you who use God 's name to back up your promises and pray to the God of Israel? But do you mean it? Do you live like it? You claim to be citizens of the Holy City; you act as though you lean on the God of Israel, named God -of-the-Angel-Armies. For a long time now, I've let you in on the way I work: I told you what I was going to do beforehand, then I did it and it was done, and that's that. I know you're a bunch of hardheads, obstinate and flint-faced, So I got a running start and began telling you what was going on before it even happened. That is why you can't say, ‘My god-idol did this.' ‘My favorite god-carving commanded this.' You have all this evidence confirmed by your own eyes and ears. Shouldn't you be talking about it? And that was just the beginning. I have a lot more to tell you, things you never knew existed. This isn't a variation on the same old thing. This is new, brand-new, something you'd never guess or dream up. When you hear this you won't be able to say, ‘I knew that all along.' You've never been good listeners to me. You have a history of ignoring me, A sorry track record of fickle attachments— rebels from the womb. But out of the sheer goodness of my heart, because of who I am, I keep a tight rein on my anger and hold my temper. I don't wash my hands of you. Do you see what I've done? I've refined you, but not without fire. I've tested you like silver in the furnace of affliction. Out of myself, simply because of who I am, I do what I do. I have my reputation to keep up. I'm not playing second fiddle to either gods or people. "Listen, Jacob. Listen, Israel— I'm the One who named you! I'm the One. I got things started and, yes, I'll wrap them up. Earth is my work, handmade. And the skies—I made them, too, horizon to horizon. When I speak, they're on their feet, at attention. "Come everybody, gather around, listen: Who among the gods has delivered the news? I, God , love this man Cyrus, and I'm using him to do what I want with Babylon. I, yes I, have spoken. I've called him. I've brought him here. He'll be successful. Come close, listen carefully: I've never kept secrets from you. I've always been present with you." And now, the Master, God , sends me and his Spirit with this Message from God , your Redeemer, The Holy of Israel: "I am God , your God, who teaches you how to live right and well. I show you what to do, where to go. If you had listened all along to what I told you, your life would have flowed full like a river, blessings rolling in like waves from the sea. Children and grandchildren are like sand, your progeny like grains of sand. There would be no end of them, no danger of losing touch with me."

"And your ruined land? Your devastated, decimated land? Filled with more people than you know what to do with! And your barbarian enemies, a fading memory. The children born in your exile will be saying, ‘It's getting too crowded here. I need more room.' And you'll say to yourself, ‘Where on earth did these children come from? I lost everything, had nothing, was exiled and penniless. So who reared these children? How did these children get here?'"

Can plunder be retrieved from a giant, prisoners of war gotten back from a tyrant? But God says, "Even if a giant grips the plunder and a tyrant holds my people prisoner, I'm the one who's on your side, defending your cause, rescuing your children. And your enemies, crazed and desperate, will turn on themselves, killing each other in a frenzy of self-destruction. Then everyone will know that I, God , have saved you—I, the Mighty One of Jacob."

So wake up! Rub the sleep from your eyes! Up on your feet, Jerusalem! You've drunk the cup God handed you, the strong drink of his anger. You drank it down to the last drop, staggered and collapsed, dead-drunk. And nobody to help you home, no one among your friends or children to take you by the hand and put you in bed. You've been hit with a double dose of trouble —does anyone care? Assault and battery, hunger and death —will anyone comfort? Your sons and daughters have passed out, strewn in the streets like stunned rabbits, Sleeping off the strong drink of God 's anger, the rage of your God.

"Sing, barren woman, who has never had a baby. Fill the air with song, you who've never experienced childbirth! You're ending up with far more children than all those childbearing women." God says so! "Clear lots of ground for your tents! Make your tents large. Spread out! Think big! Use plenty of rope, drive the tent pegs deep. You're going to need lots of elbow room for your growing family. You're going to take over whole nations; you're going to resettle abandoned cities. Don't be afraid—you're not going to be embarrassed. Don't hold back—you're not going to come up short. You'll forget all about the humiliations of your youth, and the indignities of being a widow will fade from memory. For your Maker is your bridegroom, his name, God -of-the-Angel-Armies! Your Redeemer is The Holy of Israel, known as God of the whole earth. You were like an abandoned wife, devastated with grief, and God welcomed you back, Like a woman married young and then left," says your God.

"Afflicted city, storm-battered, unpitied: I'm about to rebuild you with stones of turquoise, Lay your foundations with sapphires, construct your towers with rubies, Your gates with jewels, and all your walls with precious stones. All your children will have God for their teacher— what a mentor for your children! You'll be built solid, grounded in righteousness, far from any trouble—nothing to fear! far from terror—it won't even come close! If anyone attacks you, don't for a moment suppose that I sent them, And if any should attack, nothing will come of it. I create the blacksmith who fires up his forge and makes a weapon designed to kill. I also create the destroyer— but no weapon that can hurt you has ever been forged. Any accuser who takes you to court will be dismissed as a liar. This is what God 's servants can expect. I'll see to it that everything works out for the best." God 's Decree.