As you might have been able to tell from last week’s post, I’m making my way through Jeremiah again. I’ve always had a soft spot for this particular jolly prophet. I think his melancholy, dragging-his-heels approach to obedience struck a chord with me long ago, and over the years my appreciation for his own brand of bickering faithfulness has only grown. There are two specific things that I think Jeremiah grokked that are worth careful consideration:
First, saying “Yes” to God is serious business. It’s not like changing your energy supplier. It’s a solemn and sinister thing, and you can’t take those words back. Jeremiah knew that a “Yes” to God meant a “No” to a quiet life. I wonder how many of us sign up without reading the small print? Jeremiah was, at least, under no illusions about what obedience meant. There’s a wise honesty in his moaning reluctance.
Second, sometimes you just have to do what you’re told. That’s a part of the Christian walk that is hard to make sound appealing or reasonable, but that’s just the way it is. There are no short cuts, no letters from a parent excusing you from P.E. here. Sometimes God just says, “Get on with it,” and ignores your whining “Why?” In Jeremiah’s case, when he tried to blackmail God with his silence, the Holy Spirit just built up and up until the prophet thought that he would explode. This was a kindness on God’s part – honestly, if there’s something you know you have to do but don’t want to, you could try asking God to not let you have any rest until you’ve done it. But if you do, don’t blame me for the sleepless nights and fire in your bones. It’s all on you.
Does this post sounds a little heavy? Maybe it’s because I’m reading Jeremiah. But I’m reading it with a smile on my lips, because I know that it’s the story of a man who has a deep and robust relationship with God. A man who feels close enough to God to moan and complain, but then to pick himself up, dust himself down and get on with the task at hand anyway. That’s the sort of man I’d like to be.
