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Cross References

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Hosea 8:1

The Message

“Blow the trumpet! Sound the alarm! Vultures are circling over God’s people Who have broken my covenant and defied my revelation. Predictably, Israel cries out, ‘My God! We know you!’ But they don’t act like it. Israel will have nothing to do with what’s good, and now the enemy is after them.

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34 Cross References  

But the Rabshakeh said, “We weren’t sent with a private message to your master and you; this is public—a message to everyone within earshot. After all, they’re involved in this as well as you; if you don’t come to terms, they’ll be eating their own turds and drinking their own pee right along with you.”

Everybody everywhere, all earth-dwellers: When you see a flag flying on the mountain, look! When you hear the trumpet blown, listen!

Earth is polluted by its very own people, who have broken its laws, Disrupted its order, violated the sacred and eternal covenant. Therefore a curse, like a cancer, ravages the earth. Its people pay the price of their sacrilege. They dwindle away, dying out one by one. No more wine, no more vineyards, no more songs or singers. The laughter of castanets is gone, the shouts of celebrants, gone, the laughter of fiddles, gone. No more parties with toasts of champagne. Serious drinkers gag on their drinks. The chaotic cities are unlivable. Anarchy reigns. Every house is boarded up, condemned. People riot in the streets for wine, but the good times are gone forever— no more joy for this old world. The city is dead and deserted, bulldozed into piles of rubble. That’s the way it will be on this earth. This is the fate of all nations: An olive tree shaken clean of its olives, a grapevine picked clean of its grapes.

“Shout! A full-throated shout! Hold nothing back—a trumpet-blast shout! Tell my people what’s wrong with their lives, face my family Jacob with their sins! They’re busy, busy, busy at worship, and love studying all about me. To all appearances they’re a nation of right-living people— law-abiding, God-honoring. They ask me, ‘What’s the right thing to do?’ and love having me on their side. But they also complain, ‘Why do we fast and you don’t look our way? Why do we humble ourselves and you don’t even notice?’

Look at them! Like banks of storm clouds, racing, tumbling, their chariots a tornado, Their horses faster than eagles! Woe to us! We’re done for! Jerusalem! Scrub the evil from your lives so you’ll be fit for salvation. How much longer will you harbor devious and malignant designs within you?

“Sound the alarm in Judah, broadcast the news in Jerusalem. Say, ‘Blow the ram’s horn trumpet through the land!’ Shout out—a bullhorn bellow!— ‘Close ranks! Run for your lives to the shelters!’ Send up a flare warning Zion: ‘Not a minute to lose! Don’t sit on your hands!’ Disaster’s descending from the north. I set it off! When it lands, it will shake the foundations. Invaders have pounced like a lion from its cover, ready to rip nations to shreds, Leaving your land in wrack and ruin, your cities in rubble, abandoned. Dress in funereal black. Weep and wail, For God’s sledgehammer anger has slammed into us head-on.

God’s verdict on Moab. Indeed! “Look! An eagle is about to swoop down and spread its wings over Moab. The towns will be captured, the fortresses taken. Brave warriors will double up in pain, helpless to fight, like a woman giving birth to a baby. There’ll be nothing left of Moab, nothing at all, because of his defiant arrogance against me.

“Raise the signal in the land, blow the shofar-trumpet for the nations. Consecrate the nations for holy work against her. Call kingdoms into service against her. Enlist Ararat, Minni, and Ashkenaz. Appoint a field marshal against her, and round up horses, locust hordes of horses! Consecrate the nations for holy work against her— the king of the Medes, his leaders and people.

“Run for your lives, children of Benjamin! Get out of Jerusalem, and now! Give a blast on the ram’s horn in Blastville. Send up smoke signals from Smoketown. Doom pours out of the north— massive terror! I have likened my dear daughter Zion to a lovely meadow. Well, now ‘shepherds’ from the north have discovered her and brought in their flocks of soldiers. They’ve pitched camp all around her, and plan where they’ll ‘graze.’ And then, ‘Prepare to attack! The fight is on! To arms! We’ll strike at noon! Oh, it’s too late? Day is dying? Evening shadows are upon us? Well, up anyway! We’ll attack by night and tear apart her defenses stone by stone.’”

“Oppose them, son of man. Preach against them.”

“‘God, the Master, says, I’ll do to you just as you have already done, you who have treated my oath with contempt and broken the covenant. All the same, I’ll remember the covenant I made with you when you were young and I’ll make a new covenant with you that will last forever. You’ll remember your sorry past and be properly contrite when you receive back your sisters, both the older and the younger. I’ll give them to you as daughters, but not as participants in your covenant. I’ll firmly establish my covenant with you and you’ll know that I am God. You’ll remember your past life and face the shame of it, but when I make atonement for you, make everything right after all you’ve done, it will leave you speechless.’” Decree of God, the Master.

“‘The trumpet signals the call to battle: “Present arms!” But no one marches into battle. My wrath has them paralyzed! On the open roads you’re killed, or else you go home and die of hunger and disease. Either get murdered out in the country or die of sickness or hunger in town. Survivors run for the hills. They moan like doves in the valleys, Each one moaning for his own sins.

“Blow the ram’s horn shofar in Gibeah, the bugle in Ramah! Signal the invasion of Sin City! Scare the daylights out of Benjamin! Ephraim will be left wasted, a lifeless moonscape. I’m telling it straight, the unvarnished truth, to the tribes of Israel.

“All their evil came out into the open at the pagan shrine at Gilgal. Oh, how I hated them there! Because of their evil practices, I’ll kick them off my land. I’m wasting no more love on them. Their leaders are a bunch of rebellious adolescents. Ephraim is hit hard— roots withered, no more fruit. Even if by some miracle they had children, the dear babies wouldn’t live—I’d make sure of that!”

Blow the ram’s horn trumpet in Zion! Trumpet the alarm on my holy mountain! Shake the country up! God’s Judgment’s on its way—the Day’s almost here! A black day! A Doomsday! Clouds with no silver lining! Like dawn light moving over the mountains, a huge army is coming. There’s never been anything like it and never will be again. Wildfire burns everything before this army and fire licks up everything in its wake. Before it arrives, the country is like the Garden of Eden. When it leaves, it is Death Valley. Nothing escapes unscathed.

Blow the ram’s horn trumpet in Zion! Declare a day of repentance, a holy fast day. Call a public meeting. Get everyone there. Consecrate the congregation. Make sure the elders come, but bring in the children, too, even the nursing babies, Even men and women on their honeymoon— interrupt them and get them there. Between Sanctuary entrance and altar, let the priests, God’s servants, weep tears of repentance. Let them intercede: “Have mercy, God, on your people! Don’t abandon your heritage to contempt. Don’t let the pagans take over and rule them and sneer, ‘And so where is this God of theirs?’” * * *

“The royal singers will wail when it happens.” My Master God said so. “Corpses will be strewn here, there, and everywhere. Hush!”

I saw my Master standing beside the altar at the shrine. He said: “Hit the tops of the shrine’s pillars, make the floor shake. The roof’s about to fall on the heads of the people, and whoever’s still alive, I’ll kill. No one will get away, no runaways will make it. If they dig their way down into the underworld, I’ll find them and bring them up. If they climb to the stars, I’ll find them and bring them down. If they hide out at the top of Mount Carmel, I’ll find them and bring them back. If they dive to the bottom of the ocean, I’ll send Dragon to swallow them up. If they’re captured alive by their enemies, I’ll send Sword to kill them. I’ve made up my mind to hurt them, not help them.”

Open your borders to the immigrants, proud Lebanon! Your sentinel trees will burn. Weep, great pine trees! Mourn, you sister cedars! Your towering trees are cordwood. Weep Bashan oak trees! Your thick forest is now a field of stumps. Do you hear the wailing of shepherds? They’ve lost everything they once owned. Do you hear the outrage of the lions? The mighty jungle of the Jordan is wasted. Make room for the returning exiles!

Then God will come into view, his arrows flashing like lightning! Master God will blast his trumpet and set out in a whirlwind. God-of-the-Angel-Armies will protect them— all-out war, The war to end all wars, no holds barred. Their God will save the day. He’ll rescue them. They’ll become like sheep, gentle and soft, Or like gemstones in a crown, catching all the colors of the sun. Then how they’ll shine! shimmer! glow! the young men robust, the young women lovely!




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