Study Desk

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.

Attention! God calls out to the city! If you know what's good for you, you'll listen. So listen, all of you! This is serious business.

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.

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?

God , you're from eternity, aren't you? Holy God, we aren't going to die, are we? God , you chose Babylonians for your judgment work? Rock-Solid God, you gave them the job of discipline? But you can't be serious! You can't condone evil! So why don't you do something about this? Why are you silent now? This outrage! Evil men swallow up the righteous and you stand around and watch!

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!

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.

"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!"

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.

"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.

"Quiet now! Reverent silence before me, God , the Master! Time's up. My Judgment Day is near: The Holy Day is all set, the invited guests made holy. On the Holy Day, God 's Judgment Day, I will punish the leaders and the royal sons; I will punish those who dress up like foreign priests and priestesses, Who introduce pagan prayers and practices; And I'll punish all who import pagan superstitions that turn holy places into hellholes. Judgment Day!" God 's Decree! "Cries of panic from the city's Fish Gate, Cries of terror from the city's Second Quarter, sounds of great crashing from the hills! Wail, you shopkeepers on Market Street! Moneymaking has had its day. The god Money is dead. On Judgment Day, I'll search through every closet and alley in Jerusalem. I'll find and punish those who are sitting it out, fat and lazy, amusing themselves and taking it easy, Who think, ‘ God doesn't do anything, good or bad. He isn't involved, so neither are we.' But just wait. They'll lose everything they have, money and house and land. They'll build a house and never move in. They'll plant vineyards and never taste the wine.

"The Great Judgment Day of God is almost here. It's countdown time:... seven, six, five, four... Bitter and noisy cries on my Judgment Day, even strong men screaming for help. Judgment Day is payday—my anger paid out: a day of distress and anguish, a day of catastrophic doom, a day of darkness at noon, a day of black storm clouds, a day of bloodcurdling war cries, as forts are assaulted, as defenses are smashed. I'll make things so bad they won't know what hit them. They'll walk around groping like the blind. They've sinned against God ! Their blood will be poured out like old dishwater, their guts shoveled into slop buckets. Don't plan on buying your way out. Your money is worthless for this. This is the Day of God 's Judgment—my wrath! I care about sin with fiery passion— A fire to burn up the corrupted world, a wildfire finish to the corrupting people."

So get yourselves together. Shape up! You're a nation without a clue about what it wants. Do it before you're blown away like leaves in a windstorm, Before God 's Judgment-anger sweeps down on you, Before God 's Judgment Day wrath descends with full force.

Then God will reach into the north and destroy Assyria. He will waste Nineveh, leave her dry and treeless as a desert. The ghost town of a city, the haunt of wild animals, Nineveh will be home to raccoons and coyotes— they'll bed down in its ruins. Owls will hoot in the windows, ravens will croak in the doorways— all that fancy woodwork now a perch for birds. Can this be the famous Fun City that had it made, That boasted, "I'm the Number-One City! I'm King of the Mountain!" So why is the place deserted, a lair for wild animals? Passersby hardly give it a look; they dismiss it with a gesture.

"So I cut off the godless nations. I knocked down their defense posts, Filled her roads with rubble so no one could get through. Her cities were bombed-out ruins, unlivable and unlived in.

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!

Then God said: "Here's what I want you to do: Climb into the hills and cut some timber. Bring it down and rebuild the Temple. Do it just for me. Honor me. You've had great ambitions for yourselves, but nothing has come of it. The little you have brought to my Temple I've blown away—there was nothing to it. "And why?" (This is a Message from God -of-the-Angel-Armies, remember.) "Because while you've run around, caught up with taking care of your own houses, my Home is in ruins. That's why. Because of your stinginess. And so I've given you a dry summer and a skimpy crop. I've matched your tight-fisted stinginess by decreeing a season of drought, drying up fields and hills, withering gardens and orchards, stunting vegetables and fruit. Nothing—not man or woman, not animal or crop—is going to thrive." Then the governor, Zerubbabel son of Shealtiel, and the high priest, Joshua son of Jehozadak, and all the people with them listened, really listened, to the voice of their God . When God sent the prophet Haggai to them, they paid attention to him. In listening to Haggai, they honored God . Then Haggai, God 's messenger, preached God 's Message to the people: "I am with you!" God 's Word. This is how God got Zerubbabel, Joshua, and all the people moving—got them working on the Temple of God -of-the-Angel-Armies. This happened on the twenty-fourth day of the sixth month in the second year of King Darius.

Caught Up with Taking Care of Your Own Houses On the first day of the sixth month of the second year in the reign of King Darius of Persia, God 's Message was delivered by the prophet Haggai to the governor of Judah, Zerubbabel son of Shealtiel, and to the high priest, Joshua son of Jehozadak: A Message from God -of-the-Angel-Armies: "The people procrastinate. They say this isn't the right time to rebuild my Temple, the Temple of God ." Shortly after that, God said more and Haggai spoke it: "How is it that it's the ‘right time' for you to live in your fine new homes while the Home, God 's Temple, is in ruins?" And then a little later, God -of-the-Angel-Armies spoke out again: "Take a good, hard look at your life. Think it over. You have spent a lot of money, but you haven't much to show for it. You keep filling your plates, but you never get filled up. You keep drinking and drinking and drinking, but you're always thirsty. You put on layer after layer of clothes, but you can't get warm. And the people who work for you, what are they getting out of it? Not much— a leaky, rusted-out bucket, that's what. That's why God -of-the-Angel-Armies said: "Take a good, hard look at your life. Think it over." Then God said: "Here's what I want you to do: Climb into the hills and cut some timber. Bring it down and rebuild the Temple. Do it just for me. Honor me. You've had great ambitions for yourselves, but nothing has come of it. The little you have brought to my Temple I've blown away—there was nothing to it. "And why?" (This is a Message from God -of-the-Angel-Armies, remember.) "Because while you've run around, caught up with taking care of your own houses, my Home is in ruins. That's why. Because of your stinginess. And so I've given you a dry summer and a skimpy crop. I've matched your tight-fisted stinginess by decreeing a season of drought, drying up fields and hills, withering gardens and orchards, stunting vegetables and fruit. Nothing—not man or woman, not animal or crop—is going to thrive." Then the governor, Zerubbabel son of Shealtiel, and the high priest, Joshua son of Jehozadak, and all the people with them listened, really listened, to the voice of their God . When God sent the prophet Haggai to them, they paid attention to him. In listening to Haggai, they honored God . Then Haggai, God 's messenger, preached God 's Message to the people: "I am with you!" God 's Word. This is how God got Zerubbabel, Joshua, and all the people moving—got them working on the Temple of God -of-the-Angel-Armies. This happened on the twenty-fourth day of the sixth month in the second year of King Darius.