Study Desk

You who sit down in the High God's presence, spend the night in Shaddai's shadow, Say this: " God , you're my refuge. I trust in you and I'm safe!" That's right—he rescues you from hidden traps, shields you from deadly hazards. His huge outstretched arms protect you— under them you're perfectly safe; his arms fend off all harm. Fear nothing—not wild wolves in the night, not flying arrows in the day, Not disease that prowls through the darkness, not disaster that erupts at high noon. Even though others succumb all around, drop like flies right and left, no harm will even graze you. You'll stand untouched, watch it all from a distance, watch the wicked turn into corpses. Yes, because God 's your refuge, the High God your very own home, Evil can't get close to you, harm can't get through the door. He ordered his angels to guard you wherever you go. If you stumble, they'll catch you; their job is to keep you from falling. You'll walk unharmed among lions and snakes, and kick young lions and serpents from the path.

A David Psalm My theme song is God's love and justice, and I'm singing it right to you, God . I'm finding my way down the road of right living, but how long before you show up? I'm doing the very best I can, and I'm doing it at home, where it counts. I refuse to take a second look at corrupting people and degrading things. I reject made-in-Canaan gods, stay clear of contamination. The crooked in heart keep their distance; I refuse to shake hands with those who plan evil. I put a gag on the gossip who bad-mouths his neighbor; I can't stand arrogance. But I have my eye on salt-of-the-earth people— they're the ones I want working with me; Men and women on the straight and narrow— these are the ones I want at my side. But no one who traffics in lies gets a job with me; I have no patience with liars. I've rounded up all the wicked like cattle and herded them right out of the country. I purged God 's city of all who make a business of evil.

Send the Evil One to accuse my accusing judge; dispatch Satan to prosecute him. When he's judged, let the verdict be "Guilty," and when he prays, let his prayer turn to sin. Give him a short life, and give his job to somebody else. Make orphans of his children, dress his wife in widow's weeds; Turn his children into begging street urchins, evicted from their homes—homeless. May the bank foreclose and wipe him out, and strangers, like vultures, pick him clean. May there be no one around to help him out, no one willing to give his orphans a break. Chop down his family tree so that nobody even remembers his name. But erect a memorial to the sin of his father, and make sure his mother's name is there, too— Their sins recorded forever before God , but they themselves sunk in oblivion. That's all he deserves since he was never once kind, hounded the afflicted and heartbroken to their graves. Since he loved cursing so much, let curses rain down; Since he had no taste for blessing, let blessings flee far from him. He dressed up in curses like a fine suit of clothes; he drank curses, took his baths in curses. So give him a gift—a costume of curses; he can wear curses every day of the week! That's what they'll get, those out to get me— an avalanche of just deserts from God.

The one who stays on the job has food on the table; the witless chase whims and fancies.

A lazy life is an empty life, but "early to rise" gets the job done.

But in the end, does it really make a difference what anyone does? I've had a good look at what God has given us to do—busywork, mostly. True, God made everything beautiful in itself and in its time—but he's left us in the dark, so we can never know what God is up to, whether he's coming or going. I've decided that there's nothing better to do than go ahead and have a good time and get the most we can out of life. That's it—eat, drink, and make the most of your job. It's God's gift.

After looking at the way things are on this earth, here's what I've decided is the best way to live: Take care of yourself, have a good time, and make the most of whatever job you have for as long as God gives you life. And that's about it. That's the human lot. Yes, we should make the most of what God gives, both the bounty and the capacity to enjoy it, accepting what's given and delighting in the work. It's God's gift! God deals out joy in the present, the now. It's useless to brood over how long we might live.

Oh yes, people of Zion, citizens of Jerusalem, your time of tears is over. Cry for help and you'll find it's grace and more grace. The moment he hears, he'll answer. Just as the Master kept you alive during the hard times, he'll keep your teacher alive and present among you. Your teacher will be right there, local and on the job, urging you on whenever you wander left or right: "This is the right road. Walk down this road." You'll scrap your expensive and fashionable god-images. You'll throw them in the trash as so much garbage, saying, "Good riddance!"

"Who got things rolling here, got this champion from the east on the move? Who recruited him for this job, then rounded up and corralled the nations so he could run roughshod over kings? He's off and running, pulverizing nations into dust, leaving only stubble and chaff in his wake. He chases them and comes through unscathed, his feet scarcely touching the path.

"Far-flung ocean islands see it and panic. The ends of the earth are shaken. Fearfully they huddle together. They try to help each other out, making up stories in the dark. The godmakers in the workshops go into overtime production, crafting new models of no-gods, Urging one another on—‘Good job!' ‘Great design!'— pounding in nails at the base so that the things won't tip over.

"Get off your high horse and sit in the dirt, virgin daughter of Babylon. No more throne for you—sit on the ground, daughter of the Chaldeans. Nobody will be calling you ‘charming' and ‘alluring' anymore. Get used to it. Get a job, any old job: Clean gutters, scrub toilets. Hock your gowns and scarves, put on overalls—the party's over. Your nude body will be on public display, exposed to vulgar taunts. It's vengeance time, and I'm taking vengeance. No one gets let off the hook."

"And now," God says, this God who took me in hand from the moment of birth to be his servant, To bring Jacob back home to him, to set a reunion for Israel— What an honor for me in God 's eyes! That God should be my strength! He says, "But that's not a big enough job for my servant— just to recover the tribes of Jacob, merely to round up the strays of Israel. I'm setting you up as a light for the nations so that my salvation becomes global! "

God reached out, touched my mouth, and said, "Look! I've just put my words in your mouth—hand-delivered! See what I've done? I've given you a job to do among nations and governments—a red-letter day! Your job is to pull up and tear down, take apart and demolish, And then start over, building and planting."

Demolish, and Then Start Over The Message of Jeremiah son of Hilkiah of the family of priests who lived in Anathoth in the country of Benjamin. God 's Message began to come to him during the thirteenth year that Josiah son of Amos reigned over Judah. It continued to come to him during the time Jehoiakim son of Josiah reigned over Judah. And it continued to come to him clear down to the fifth month of the eleventh year of the reign of Zedekiah son of Josiah over Judah, the year that Jerusalem was taken into exile. This is what God said: "Before I shaped you in the womb, I knew all about you. Before you saw the light of day, I had holy plans for you: A prophet to the nations— that's what I had in mind for you." But I said, "Hold it, Master God ! Look at me. I don't know anything. I'm only a boy!" God told me, "Don't say, ‘I'm only a boy.' I'll tell you where to go and you'll go there. I'll tell you what to say and you'll say it. Don't be afraid of a soul. I'll be right there, looking after you." God 's Decree. God reached out, touched my mouth, and said, "Look! I've just put my words in your mouth—hand-delivered! See what I've done? I've given you a job to do among nations and governments—a red-letter day! Your job is to pull up and tear down, take apart and demolish, And then start over, building and planting." God 's Message came to me: "What do you see, Jeremiah?" I said, "A walking stick—that's all." And God said, "Good eyes! I'm sticking with you. I'll make every word I give you come true." God 's Message came again: "So what do you see now?" I said, "I see a boiling pot, tipped down toward us." Then God told me, "Disaster will pour out of the north on everyone living in this land. Watch for this: I'm calling all the kings out of the north." God 's Decree. "They'll come and set up headquarters facing Jerusalem's gates, Facing all the city walls, facing all the villages of Judah. I'll pronounce my judgment on the people of Judah for walking out on me—what a terrible thing to do!— And courting other gods with their offerings, worshiping as gods sticks they'd carved, stones they'd painted.

Unlucky mother—that you had me as a son, given the unhappy job of indicting the whole country! I've never hurt or harmed a soul, and yet everyone is out to get me. But, God knows, I've done everything I could to help them, prayed for them and against their enemies. I've always been on their side, trying to stave off disaster. God knows how I've tried!

"Have any of these prophets bothered to meet with me, the true God ? bothered to take in what I have to say? listened to and then lived out my Word? Look out! God 's hurricane will be let loose— my hurricane blast, Spinning the heads of the wicked like tops! God's raging anger won't let up Until I've made a clean sweep, completing the job I began. When the job's done, you'll see that it's been well done.

Look out! God 's hurricane is let loose, his hurricane blast, Spinning the heads of the wicked like dust devils! God's raging anger won't let up Until he's made a clean sweep completing the job he began. When the job's done you'll see it's been well done.

Then Jeremiah the prophet received this Message from God : "I, the God of Israel, want you to give this Message to the king of Judah, who has just sent you to me to find out what he should do. Tell him, ‘Get this: Pharaoh's army, which is on its way to help you, isn't going to stick it out. No sooner will they get here than they'll leave and go home to Egypt. And then the Babylonians will come back and resume their attack, capture this city and burn it to the ground. I, God , am telling you: Don't kid yourselves, reassuring one another, "The Babylonians will leave in a few days." I tell you, they aren't leaving. Why, even if you defeated the entire attacking Chaldean army and all that was left were a few wounded soldiers in their tents, the wounded would still do the job and burn this city to the ground.'"

"My job is to stay here in Mizpah and be your advocate before the Chaldeans when they show up. Your job is to take care of the land: Make wine, harvest the summer fruits, press olive oil. Store it all in pottery jugs and settle into the towns that you have taken over."

"Israel is a scattered flock, hunted down by lions. The king of Assyria started the carnage. The king of Babylon, Nebuchadnezzar, Has completed the job, gnawing the bones clean."