Firestorm
based on
Jeremiah 4:11-12,22-28
by Rev. Randy L Quinn
Some of you know that
I use the Lectionary in my preaching. Some of you even know what “the
Lectionary” is. Others do not. So before we begin today, let me explain
a little about the scriptures we read each Sunday.
From the Latin for lesson, the
Lectionary is a given reading for a particular day. There is an international
and interdenominational committee that has selected scriptures to be read for
each Sunday and each holiday in the year, repeating the lessons at the end of a
3 year cycle.
Like a coherent curriculum
program, the goal of the Lectionary Committee is that after attending worship
faithfully for three years, we will have heard almost all of the Gospels, most
of the New Testament and a broad sampling of the major themes of the Old
Testament. In order to do that effectively, not all of the scripture lessons
will follow a common theme each week, so I generally choose one of the texts as
the beginning point for my sermons. (By the way, at our Tuesday evening Bible
Study, we explore all of the texts for each week – you're welcome to join us!)
The use of the Lectionary is
not required for our use as it is in some churches; it is merely offered as a
suggestion. And some pastors choose to follow their own sense of God's leading
in finding a scripture lesson for each week. But because my call to ministry
came through the use of the Lectionary, I am fairly convinced God speaks through
this discipline, so I rarely deviate from it.
Over the course of my
ministry, in fact, I have tried to remain faithful to the concept of the whole
Lectionary and preached from each of the lessons at one point in time or
another. I tell you all of that, I guess, as my “excuse” for the text for today.
It's the one that gives Jeremiah his reputation as a “doom and gloom” preacher.
At that time
it will be said to this people and to Jerusalem: A hot wind comes from me out of
the bare heights in the desert toward my poor people, not to winnow or
cleanse--a wind too strong for that. Now it is I who speak in judgment against
them.
"For my people
are foolish, they do not know me; they are stupid children, they have no
understanding. They are skilled in doing evil, but do not know how to do good."
I looked on the earth, and lo, it was waste and void; and to the heavens, and
they had no light. I looked on the mountains, and lo, they were quaking, and all
the hills moved to and fro. I looked, and lo, there was no one at all, and all
the birds of the air had fled. I looked, and lo, the fruitful land was a desert,
and all its cities were laid in ruins before the LORD, before his fierce anger.
For thus says the LORD: The whole land shall be a desolation; yet I will not
make a full end. Because of this the earth shall mourn, and the heavens above
grow black; for I have spoken, I have purposed; I have not relented nor will I
turn back.
Jer. 4:11-12,
22-28
Paul Tillich, a renowned
theologian from the mid-20th Century, began his sermon on Jeremiah by
saying, “It is hard to speak after the prophets have spoken as they have in
these pronouncements. Every word is like the stroke of a hammer.”
I couldn't agree more. It is
hard to speak after hearing these words. In fact, I found myself sitting in
silence most of the week wrestling with these disturbing images. Like a night
terror that keeps coming back, I began to recognize what he saw and I was
terrified.
My mind went from scene to
scene as I imagined the kind of devastation Jeremiah describes. First I
remembered the charred wheat fields after what we called “Firestorm '91,” a
wildfire that eventually engulfed 35,000 acres and over 100 homes in and around
Spokane, Washington. The fire began when 50- and 60-mile an hour winds toppled
power lines after what had been a dry summer. On Wednesday afternoon, I found
myself on the back of a fire truck in that wind, a wind that stirred up dust as
well as smoke. With my eyes closed much of the time, I pointed the fire hose
nozzle towards the heat and hoped I was making a difference.
It was October 16, 1991. I
remember the date because it was also the day our daughter was born.
Jeremiah describes a hot wind
that blows too hard to be helpful (Jer. 4:11-12). In fact, it brings
devastation. His words bring that day to mind, as I saw the wind creating a
firestorm.
I suspect the recent fires in
Detroit and Colorado have a similar feel to them, even though I've not been in
either place. For the people there, especially those whose lives are touched
directly by the fire, this week will be remembered for many years to come.
Maybe Jeremiah's words bring a
different image to your mind. Maybe you've seen the soot covered remains of a
house after it burned down. Maybe you have stood at the edge of a battle field
and seen the loss of life that took place there – even generations after the
battle was fought. Maybe you are one of those who has made the pilgrimage to New
York City's World Trade Center memorial and remembered the carnage of what
happened nine years ago – yesterday.
Maybe what you have seen are
the photographs of the Nazi death camps or the remains of a village in Central
America after a mudslide.
Maybe the devastation has
happened in your life. You look in your heart and there seems to be nothing
there. You have been worn out by old habits and lost passions. Maybe grief has
created a vacancy in your soul.
Whatever Jeremiah's
description stirs up in your mind, there is barrenness and the emptiness. It's
not something we want to look at very often or for very long.
But Jeremiah invites us to
look again. Even when we want to turn away, Jeremiah insists we look. He looks
and he looks again. Then he looks still again. Four times we hear him repeat the
refrain, “I looked”:
I looked on the earth, and lo,
it was waste and void . . .
I looked on the mountains, and
lo, they were quaking . . .
I looked, and lo, there was no
one at all, and all the birds of the air had fled.
I looked, and lo, the fruitful
land was a desert. . .
(Jer. 4:23-25)
It's as if God's plan of
creation has been reversed. The earth is empty and void. The mountains are bare
and there are no birds in the air.
In one of those emotionally
revealing responses to what he has seen, Jeremiah says, “My anguish, my anguish!
I writhe in pain! Oh, the walls of my heart! My heart is beating wildly” (Jer.
4:19).
Anguish.
It's not an emotion we like to
experience, but sometimes we feel it.
And sometimes that is God's
experience, too.
In the opening line of our
text, God refers to the inhabitants of Jerusalem as his “poor people” (Jer.
4:11). Now, this is not about economics. He is not referring to people in
poverty – except maybe spiritual poverty. The Hebrew concept is hard to capture,
though. One scholar has described it as a poetic phrase that speaks of the
sorrow of endearment.
The people are precious to God, little children who need someone to watch over
them in the midst of tragedy. Maybe the Spanish word mijos might come
close – my little child.
In agony, God says my poor
little children are suffering.
They suffer because they have
turned their back on God, because they have insisted that their way is the right
way, because they believe they don't need God to direct their lives. They have
become addicted to their own pride and are listening to the words of preachers
who are affirming what they want to believe is true
Jeremiah's message is ignored,
and the destruction of Israel comes. The temple is destroyed and the people are
carried away into slavery. In the words of Jeremiah, “The whole land shall be a
desolation” (Jer. 4:27).
But is there a message in this
for us? Can we find hope by taking a good look at the barrenness of our
existence? I think so.
Many of the people I've known
who participate in any of a number of the various 12-step programs talks about
“hitting bottom.” When things are the worst they can imagine, the turn-around in
their life begins. That turn around begins with the first of the twelve steps,
to recognize their own powerlessness.
Jeremiah's image invites us to
look at our lives more closely, to do an honest evaluation of our spiritual
health and to recognize our powerlessness. The starting point for repentance is
to see who we really are in relation to who God created us to be.
If we are honest, we will see
that without God in our lives we are people on a path that leads to devastation
and ruin. On the other hand, if God is in our hearts, there is life. Jesus says
he came to bring us life, abundant life (Jn. 10:10).
Jeremiah sees where his people
are headed and is in anguish.
Meanwhile, Jesus is offering
us a promise, a promise that will reverse the path of our lives so we don't end
up in the wasteland Jeremiah describes.
Today we are standing at a
fork in the road. A mighty wind is blowing and we have a choice to make. We can
choose to anchor our lives in the promises of grace and forgiveness that Jesus
offers, or we can choose to let the firestorm destroy what remains of our
desolate lives. We can choose to have an abundance of joy or we can experience
the barrenness of false hopes.
The choice is yours.
Let's pray:
God of Power and Might, God
of Truth and Justice, God of Grace and Forgiveness: We bare our souls before you
today. Search us and reveal to us our true nature. We know that when we are
honest with ourselves we can see the marks of sin that fill us with false pride.
Restore us into your image, O God, an image that reflects your glory, your
grace, and your goodness. We pray in Jesus' name. Amen.
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