Study Desk

Danger ahead! God 's about to ravish the earth and leave it in ruins, Rip everything out by the roots and send everyone scurrying: priests and laypeople alike, owners and workers alike, celebrities and nobodies alike, buyers and sellers alike, bankers and beggars alike, the haves and have-nots alike. The landscape will be a moonscape, totally wasted. And why? Because God says so. He's issued the orders.

But there are some who will break into glad song. Out of the west they'll shout of God 's majesty. Yes, from the east God 's glory will ascend. Every island of the sea Will broadcast God 's fame, the fame of the God of Israel. From the four winds and the seven seas we hear the singing: "All praise to the Righteous One!" But I said, "That's all well and good for somebody, but all I can see is doom, doom, and more doom." All of them at one another's throats, yes, all of them at one another's throats. Terror and pits and booby traps are everywhere, whoever you are. If you run from the terror, you'll fall into the pit. If you climb out of the pit, you'll get caught in the trap. Chaos pours out of the skies. The foundations of earth are crumbling. Earth is smashed to pieces, earth is ripped to shreds, earth is wobbling out of control, Earth staggers like a drunk, sways like a shack in a high wind. Its piled-up sins are too much for it. It collapses and won't get up again. That's when God will call on the carpet rebel powers in the skies and Rebel kings on earth. They'll be rounded up like prisoners in a jail, Corralled and locked up in a jail, and then sentenced and put to hard labor. Shamefaced moon will cower, humiliated, red-faced sun will skulk, disgraced, Because God -of-the-Angel-Armies will take over, ruling from Mount Zion and Jerusalem, Splendid and glorious before all his leaders.

The Landscape Will Be a Moonscape Danger ahead! God 's about to ravish the earth and leave it in ruins, Rip everything out by the roots and send everyone scurrying: priests and laypeople alike, owners and workers alike, celebrities and nobodies alike, buyers and sellers alike, bankers and beggars alike, the haves and have-nots alike. The landscape will be a moonscape, totally wasted. And why? Because God says so. He's issued the orders. The earth turns gaunt and gray, the world silent and sad, sky and land lifeless, colorless. Earth is polluted by its very own people, who have broken its laws, Disrupted its order, violated the sacred and eternal covenant. Therefore a curse, like a cancer, ravages the earth. Its people pay the price of their sacrilege. They dwindle away, dying out one by one. No more wine, no more vineyards, no more songs or singers. The laughter of castanets is gone, the shouts of celebrants, gone, the laughter of fiddles, gone. No more parties with toasts of champagne. Serious drinkers gag on their drinks. The chaotic cities are unlivable. Anarchy reigns. Every house is boarded up, condemned. People riot in the streets for wine, but the good times are gone forever— no more joy for this old world. The city is dead and deserted, bulldozed into piles of rubble. That's the way it will be on this earth. This is the fate of all nations: An olive tree shaken clean of its olives, a grapevine picked clean of its grapes. But there are some who will break into glad song. Out of the west they'll shout of God 's majesty. Yes, from the east God 's glory will ascend. Every island of the sea Will broadcast God 's fame, the fame of the God of Israel. From the four winds and the seven seas we hear the singing: "All praise to the Righteous One!" But I said, "That's all well and good for somebody, but all I can see is doom, doom, and more doom." All of them at one another's throats, yes, all of them at one another's throats. Terror and pits and booby traps are everywhere, whoever you are. If you run from the terror, you'll fall into the pit. If you climb out of the pit, you'll get caught in the trap. Chaos pours out of the skies. The foundations of earth are crumbling. Earth is smashed to pieces, earth is ripped to shreds, earth is wobbling out of control, Earth staggers like a drunk, sways like a shack in a high wind. Its piled-up sins are too much for it. It collapses and won't get up again. That's when God will call on the carpet rebel powers in the skies and Rebel kings on earth. They'll be rounded up like prisoners in a jail, Corralled and locked up in a jail, and then sentenced and put to hard labor. Shamefaced moon will cower, humiliated, red-faced sun will skulk, disgraced, Because God -of-the-Angel-Armies will take over, ruling from Mount Zion and Jerusalem, Splendid and glorious before all his leaders.

The Landscape Will Be a Moonscape Danger ahead! God 's about to ravish the earth and leave it in ruins, Rip everything out by the roots and send everyone scurrying: priests and laypeople alike, owners and workers alike, celebrities and nobodies alike, buyers and sellers alike, bankers and beggars alike, the haves and have-nots alike. The landscape will be a moonscape, totally wasted. And why? Because God says so. He's issued the orders. The earth turns gaunt and gray, the world silent and sad, sky and land lifeless, colorless. Earth is polluted by its very own people, who have broken its laws, Disrupted its order, violated the sacred and eternal covenant. Therefore a curse, like a cancer, ravages the earth. Its people pay the price of their sacrilege. They dwindle away, dying out one by one. No more wine, no more vineyards, no more songs or singers. The laughter of castanets is gone, the shouts of celebrants, gone, the laughter of fiddles, gone. No more parties with toasts of champagne. Serious drinkers gag on their drinks. The chaotic cities are unlivable. Anarchy reigns. Every house is boarded up, condemned. People riot in the streets for wine, but the good times are gone forever— no more joy for this old world. The city is dead and deserted, bulldozed into piles of rubble. That's the way it will be on this earth. This is the fate of all nations: An olive tree shaken clean of its olives, a grapevine picked clean of its grapes. But there are some who will break into glad song. Out of the west they'll shout of God 's majesty. Yes, from the east God 's glory will ascend. Every island of the sea Will broadcast God 's fame, the fame of the God of Israel. From the four winds and the seven seas we hear the singing: "All praise to the Righteous One!" But I said, "That's all well and good for somebody, but all I can see is doom, doom, and more doom." All of them at one another's throats, yes, all of them at one another's throats. Terror and pits and booby traps are everywhere, whoever you are. If you run from the terror, you'll fall into the pit. If you climb out of the pit, you'll get caught in the trap. Chaos pours out of the skies. The foundations of earth are crumbling. Earth is smashed to pieces, earth is ripped to shreds, earth is wobbling out of control, Earth staggers like a drunk, sways like a shack in a high wind. Its piled-up sins are too much for it. It collapses and won't get up again. That's when God will call on the carpet rebel powers in the skies and Rebel kings on earth. They'll be rounded up like prisoners in a jail, Corralled and locked up in a jail, and then sentenced and put to hard labor. Shamefaced moon will cower, humiliated, red-faced sun will skulk, disgraced, Because God -of-the-Angel-Armies will take over, ruling from Mount Zion and Jerusalem, Splendid and glorious before all his leaders.

The Landscape Will Be a Moonscape Danger ahead! God 's about to ravish the earth and leave it in ruins, Rip everything out by the roots and send everyone scurrying: priests and laypeople alike, owners and workers alike, celebrities and nobodies alike, buyers and sellers alike, bankers and beggars alike, the haves and have-nots alike. The landscape will be a moonscape, totally wasted. And why? Because God says so. He's issued the orders. The earth turns gaunt and gray, the world silent and sad, sky and land lifeless, colorless. Earth is polluted by its very own people, who have broken its laws, Disrupted its order, violated the sacred and eternal covenant. Therefore a curse, like a cancer, ravages the earth. Its people pay the price of their sacrilege. They dwindle away, dying out one by one. No more wine, no more vineyards, no more songs or singers. The laughter of castanets is gone, the shouts of celebrants, gone, the laughter of fiddles, gone. No more parties with toasts of champagne. Serious drinkers gag on their drinks. The chaotic cities are unlivable. Anarchy reigns. Every house is boarded up, condemned. People riot in the streets for wine, but the good times are gone forever— no more joy for this old world. The city is dead and deserted, bulldozed into piles of rubble. That's the way it will be on this earth. This is the fate of all nations: An olive tree shaken clean of its olives, a grapevine picked clean of its grapes. But there are some who will break into glad song. Out of the west they'll shout of God 's majesty. Yes, from the east God 's glory will ascend. Every island of the sea Will broadcast God 's fame, the fame of the God of Israel. From the four winds and the seven seas we hear the singing: "All praise to the Righteous One!" But I said, "That's all well and good for somebody, but all I can see is doom, doom, and more doom." All of them at one another's throats, yes, all of them at one another's throats. Terror and pits and booby traps are everywhere, whoever you are. If you run from the terror, you'll fall into the pit. If you climb out of the pit, you'll get caught in the trap. Chaos pours out of the skies. The foundations of earth are crumbling. Earth is smashed to pieces, earth is ripped to shreds, earth is wobbling out of control, Earth staggers like a drunk, sways like a shack in a high wind. Its piled-up sins are too much for it. It collapses and won't get up again. That's when God will call on the carpet rebel powers in the skies and Rebel kings on earth. They'll be rounded up like prisoners in a jail, Corralled and locked up in a jail, and then sentenced and put to hard labor. Shamefaced moon will cower, humiliated, red-faced sun will skulk, disgraced, Because God -of-the-Angel-Armies will take over, ruling from Mount Zion and Jerusalem, Splendid and glorious before all his leaders.

The Landscape Will Be a Moonscape Danger ahead! God 's about to ravish the earth and leave it in ruins, Rip everything out by the roots and send everyone scurrying: priests and laypeople alike, owners and workers alike, celebrities and nobodies alike, buyers and sellers alike, bankers and beggars alike, the haves and have-nots alike. The landscape will be a moonscape, totally wasted. And why? Because God says so. He's issued the orders. The earth turns gaunt and gray, the world silent and sad, sky and land lifeless, colorless. Earth is polluted by its very own people, who have broken its laws, Disrupted its order, violated the sacred and eternal covenant. Therefore a curse, like a cancer, ravages the earth. Its people pay the price of their sacrilege. They dwindle away, dying out one by one. No more wine, no more vineyards, no more songs or singers. The laughter of castanets is gone, the shouts of celebrants, gone, the laughter of fiddles, gone. No more parties with toasts of champagne. Serious drinkers gag on their drinks. The chaotic cities are unlivable. Anarchy reigns. Every house is boarded up, condemned. People riot in the streets for wine, but the good times are gone forever— no more joy for this old world. The city is dead and deserted, bulldozed into piles of rubble. That's the way it will be on this earth. This is the fate of all nations: An olive tree shaken clean of its olives, a grapevine picked clean of its grapes. But there are some who will break into glad song. Out of the west they'll shout of God 's majesty. Yes, from the east God 's glory will ascend. Every island of the sea Will broadcast God 's fame, the fame of the God of Israel. From the four winds and the seven seas we hear the singing: "All praise to the Righteous One!" But I said, "That's all well and good for somebody, but all I can see is doom, doom, and more doom." All of them at one another's throats, yes, all of them at one another's throats. Terror and pits and booby traps are everywhere, whoever you are. If you run from the terror, you'll fall into the pit. If you climb out of the pit, you'll get caught in the trap. Chaos pours out of the skies. The foundations of earth are crumbling. Earth is smashed to pieces, earth is ripped to shreds, earth is wobbling out of control, Earth staggers like a drunk, sways like a shack in a high wind. Its piled-up sins are too much for it. It collapses and won't get up again.

That's when God will call on the carpet rebel powers in the skies and Rebel kings on earth. They'll be rounded up like prisoners in a jail, Corralled and locked up in a jail, and then sentenced and put to hard labor. Shamefaced moon will cower, humiliated, red-faced sun will skulk, disgraced, Because God -of-the-Angel-Armies will take over, ruling from Mount Zion and Jerusalem, Splendid and glorious before all his leaders.

At that time, this song will be sung in the country of Judah: We have a strong city, Salvation City, built and fortified with salvation. Throw wide the gates so good and true people can enter. People with their minds set on you, you keep completely whole, Steady on their feet, because they keep at it and don't quit. Depend on God and keep at it because in the Lord God you have a sure thing. Those who lived high and mighty he knocked off their high horse. He used the city built on the hill as fill for the marshes. All the exploited and outcast peoples build their lives on the reclaimed land.

You hold your hand up high, God , but they don't see it. Open their eyes to what you do, to see your zealous love for your people. Shame them. Light a fire under them. Get the attention of these enemies of yours. God , order a peaceful and whole life for us because everything we've done, you've done for us. O God , our God, we've had other masters rule us, but you're the only Master we've ever known. The dead don't talk, ghosts don't walk, Because you've said, "Enough—that's all for you," and wiped them off the books. But the living you make larger than life. The more life you give, the more glory you display, and stretch the borders to accommodate more living!

O God , they begged you for help when they were in trouble, when your discipline was so heavy they could barely whisper a prayer. Like a woman having a baby, writhing in distress, screaming her pain as the baby is being born, That's how we were because of you, O God . We were pregnant full-term. We writhed in labor but bore no baby. We gave birth to wind. Nothing came of our labor. We produced nothing living. We couldn't save the world.

Come, my people, go home and shut yourselves in. Go into seclusion for a while until the punishing wrath is past, Because God is sure to come from his place to punish the wrong of the people on earth. Earth itself will point out the bloodstains; it will show where the murdered have been hidden away.

But it will be your enemies who are beaten to dust, the mob of tyrants who will be blown away like chaff. Because, surprise, as if out of nowhere, a visit from God -of-the-Angel-Armies, With thunderclaps, earthquakes, and earsplitting noise, backed up by hurricanes, tornadoes, and lightning strikes, And the mob of enemies at war with Ariel, all who trouble and hassle and torment her, will turn out to be a bad dream, a nightmare. Like a hungry man dreaming he's eating steak and wakes up hungry as ever, Like a thirsty woman dreaming she's drinking iced tea and wakes up thirsty as ever, So that mob of nations at war against Mount Zion will wake up and find they haven't shot an arrow, haven't killed a single soul.

The Master said: "These people make a big show of saying the right thing, but their hearts aren't in it. Because they act like they're worshiping me but don't mean it, I'm going to step in and shock them awake, astonish them, stand them on their ears. The wise ones who had it all figured out will be exposed as fools. The smart people who thought they knew everything will turn out to know nothing."

So, go now and write all this down. Put it in a book So that the record will be there to instruct the coming generations, Because this is a rebel generation, a people who lie, A people unwilling to listen to anything God tells them. They tell their spiritual leaders, "Don't bother us with irrelevancies." They tell their preachers, "Don't waste our time on impracticalities. Tell us what makes us feel better. Don't bore us with obsolete religion. That stuff means nothing to us. Quit hounding us with The Holy of Israel."

Therefore, The Holy of Israel says this: "Because you scorn this Message, Preferring to live by injustice and shape your lives on lies, This perverse way of life will be like a towering, badly built wall That slowly, slowly tilts and shifts, and then one day, without warning, collapses— Smashed to bits like a piece of pottery, smashed beyond recognition or repair, Useless, a pile of debris to be swept up and thrown in the trash."

Then Isaiah son of Amoz sent this word to Hezekiah: " God 's Message, the God of Israel: Because you brought King Sennacherib of Assyria to me in prayer, here is my answer, God 's answer: "‘She has no use for you, Sennacherib, nothing but contempt, this virgin daughter Zion. She spits at you and turns on her heel, this daughter Jerusalem. "‘Who do you think you've been mocking and reviling all these years? Who do you think you've been jeering and treating with such utter contempt All these years? The Holy of Israel! You've used your servants to mock the Master. You've bragged, "With my fleet of chariots I've gone to the highest mountain ranges, penetrated the far reaches of Lebanon, Chopped down its giant cedars, its finest cypresses. I conquered its highest peak, explored its deepest forest. I dug wells and drank my fill. I emptied the famous rivers of Egypt with one kick of my foot.

"‘I know all about your pretentious poses, your officious comings and goings, and, yes, the tantrums you throw against me. Because of all your wild raging against me, your unbridled arrogance that I keep hearing of, I'll put my hook in your nose and my bit in your mouth. I'll show you who's boss. I'll turn you around and take you back to where you came from.

"Count on it: Everyone who had it in for you will end up out in the cold— real losers. Those who worked against you will end up empty-handed— nothing to show for their lives. When you go out looking for your old adversaries you won't find them— Not a trace of your old enemies, not even a memory. That's right. Because I, your God , have a firm grip on you and I'm not letting go. I'm telling you, ‘Don't panic. I'm right here to help you.'

"Set out your case for your gods," says God . "Bring your evidence," says the King of Jacob. "Take the stand on behalf of your idols, offer arguments, assemble reasons. Spread out the facts before us so that we can assess them ourselves. Ask them, ‘If you are gods, explain what the past means— or, failing that, tell us what will happen in the future. Can't do that? How about doing something—anything! Good or bad—whatever. Can you hurt us or help us? Do we need to be afraid?' They say nothing, because they are nothing— sham gods, no-gods, fool-making gods.

But now, God 's Message, the God who made you in the first place, Jacob, the One who got you started, Israel: "Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you. I've called your name. You're mine. When you're in over your head, I'll be there with you. When you're in rough waters, you will not go down. When you're between a rock and a hard place, it won't be a dead end— Because I am God , your personal God, The Holy of Israel, your Savior. I paid a huge price for you: all of Egypt, with rich Cush and Seba thrown in! That's how much you mean to me! That's how much I love you! I'd sell off the whole world to get you back, trade the creation just for you.