Then I announced a fast there at the Ahava River so that we might humble ourselves in the presence of our God to ask him for a safe journey for ourselves, for our little ones, and for all our goods.
Then we left the Ahava River on the twelfth day of the first month to go to Jerusalem. God was guiding us, and he rescued us from our enemies and from ambushes along the way.
“May the king live forever!” I said to the king. “Why shouldn’t I look sad when the city, the place where my ancestors are buried, is in ruins and its gates are burned down?”
I will remember these things as I pour out my soul: how I used to walk with the crowd and lead it in a procession to God’s house. ⌞I sang⌟ songs of joy and thanksgiving while crowds of people celebrated a festival.
The cry from my dear people comes from a distant land: “Isn’t the Lord in Zion? Isn’t Zion’s king still there?” They make me furious with their idols, with their foreign gods.
I’m crying because of ⌞all⌟ these things. My eyes—my eyes flow with tears. No one can give me the comfort I need to keep me alive. Everyone is too far away from me. My children are devastated because my enemies have won.”
The hearts of Jerusalem’s people cried out to the Lord, the wall of Zion’s people. Let your tears run down like a river day and night. Don’t let them stop. Don’t let your eyes rest.
On the fifth day of the fourth month in the thirtieth year, while I was living among the exiles by the Chebar River, the sky opened, and I saw visions from God.