Deuteronomy 21:18The MessageWhen a man has a stubborn son, a real rebel who won’t do a thing his mother and father tell him, and even though they discipline him he still won’t obey, his father and mother shall forcibly bring him before the leaders at the city gate and say to the city fathers, “This son of ours is a stubborn rebel; he won’t listen to a thing we say. He’s a glutton and a drunk.” See the chapter |
31 Cross References
Pay close attention, friend, to what your father tells you; never forget what you learned at your mother’s knee. Wear their counsel like a winning crown, like rings on your fingers. Dear friend, if bad companions tempt you, don’t go along with them. If they say—“Let’s go out and raise some hell. Let’s beat up some old man, mug some old woman. Let’s pick them clean and get them ready for their funerals. We’ll load up on top-quality loot. We’ll haul it home by the truckload. Join us for the time of your life! With us, it’s share and share alike!”— Oh, friend, don’t give them a second look; don’t listen to them for a minute. They’re racing to a very bad end, hurrying to ruin everything they lay hands on. Nobody robs a bank with everyone watching, Yet that’s what these people are doing— they’re doing themselves in. When you grab all you can get, that’s what happens: the more you get, the less you are.
Heaven and earth, you’re the jury. Listen to God’s case: “I had children and raised them well, and they turned on me. The ox knows who’s boss, the mule knows the hand that feeds him, But not Israel. My people don’t know up from down. Shame! Misguided God-dropouts, staggering under their guilt-baggage, Villainous gang, band of vandals— My people have walked out on me, their God, turned their backs on The Holy of Israel, walked off and never looked back.
“Why bother even trying to do anything with you when you just keep to your bullheaded ways? You keep beating your heads against brick walls. Everything within you protests against you. From the bottom of your feet to the top of your head, nothing’s working right. Wounds and bruises and running sores— untended, unwashed, unbandaged. Your country is laid waste, your cities burned down. Your land is destroyed by outsiders while you watch, reduced to rubble by barbarians. Daughter Zion is deserted— like a tumbledown shack on a dead-end street, Like a tarpaper shanty on the wrong side of the tracks, like a sinking ship abandoned by the rats. If God-of-the-Angel-Armies hadn’t left us a few survivors, we’d be as desolate as Sodom, doomed just like Gomorrah.
“I’ve heard the contrition of Ephraim. Yes, I’ve heard it clearly, saying, ‘You trained me well. You broke me, a wild yearling horse, to the saddle. Now put me, trained and obedient, to use. You are my God. After those years of running loose, I repented. After you trained me to obedience, I was ashamed of my past, my wild, unruly past. Humiliated, I beat on my chest. Will I ever live this down?’
But you, God, you have an eye for truth, don’t you? You hit them hard, but it didn’t faze them. You disciplined them, but they refused correction. Hardheaded, harder than rock, they wouldn’t change. Then I said to myself, “Well, these are just poor people. They don’t know any better. They were never taught anything about God. They never went to prayer meetings. I’ll find some people from the best families. I’ll talk to them. They’ll know what’s going on, the way God works. They’ll know the score.” But they were no better! Rebels all! Off doing their own thing. The invaders are ready to pounce and kill, like a mountain lion, a wilderness wolf, Panthers on the prowl. The streets aren’t safe anymore. And why? Because the people’s sins are piled sky-high; their betrayals are past counting.
“‘Your encrusted filth is your filthy sex. I wanted to clean you up, but you wouldn’t let me. I’ll make no more attempts at cleaning you up until my anger quiets down. I, God, have said it, and I’ll do it. I’m not holding back. I’ve run out of compassion. I’m not changing my mind. You’re getting exactly what’s coming to you. Decree of God, the Master.’”
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