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Lamentations 2:10

The Message

The elders of Daughter Zion sit silent on the ground. They throw dust on their heads, dress in rough penitential burlap— the young virgins of Jerusalem, their faces creased with the dirt.

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26 Cross References  

Instead of wearing seductive scents, these women are going to smell like rotting cabbages; Instead of modeling flowing gowns, they’ll be sporting rags; Instead of their stylish hairdos, scruffy heads; Instead of beauty marks, scabs and scars.

Then Eliakim son of Hilkiah, the palace administrator, Shebna the secretary, and Joah son of Asaph, the court historian, tearing their clothes in defeat and despair, went back and reported what the Rabshekah had said to Hezekiah.

“Get off your high horse and sit in the dirt, virgin daughter of Babylon. No more throne for you—sit on the ground, daughter of the Chaldeans. Nobody will be calling you ‘charming’ and ‘alluring’ anymore. Get used to it. Get a job, any old job: Clean gutters, scrub toilets. Pawn your gowns and scarves, put on your working pants—the party’s over. Your nude body will be on public display, exposed to vulgar taunts. It’s vengeance time, and I’m taking vengeance. No one gets let off the hook.”

So why are we sitting here, doing nothing? Let’s get organized. Let’s go to the big city and at least die fighting. We’ve gotten God’s ultimatum: We’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t— damned because of our sin against him. We hoped things would turn out for the best, but it didn’t happen that way. We were waiting around for healing— and terror showed up! From Dan at the northern borders we hear the hooves of horses, Horses galloping, horses neighing. The ground shudders and quakes. They’re going to swallow up the whole country. Towns and people alike—fodder for war.

Oh, oh, oh . . . How empty the city, once teeming with people. A widow, this city, once in the front rank of nations, once queen of the ball, she’s now a drudge in the kitchen.

Zion’s roads weep, empty of pilgrims headed to the feasts. All her city gates are deserted, her priests in despair. Her virgins are sad. How bitter her fate.

When life is heavy and hard to take, go off by yourself. Enter the silence. Bow in prayer. Don’t ask questions: Wait for hope to appear. Don’t run from trouble. Take it full-face. The “worst” is never the worst.

God himself scattered them. No longer does he look out for them. He has nothing to do with the priests; he cares nothing for the elders.

People used to the finest cuisine forage for food in the streets. People used to the latest in fashions pick through the trash for something to wear.

Weep like a young virgin dressed in black, mourning the loss of her fiancé. Without grain and grapes, worship has been brought to a standstill in the Sanctuary of God. The priests are at a loss. God’s ministers don’t know what to do. The fields are sterile. The very ground grieves. The wheat fields are lifeless, vineyards dried up, olive oil gone.

Justice is a lost cause. Evil is epidemic. Decent people throw up their hands. Protest and rebuke are useless, a waste of breath.

“On Judgment Day, lovely young girls will faint of Word-thirst, robust young men will faint of God-thirst, Along with those who take oaths at the Samaria Sin-and-Sex Center, saying, ‘As the lord god of Dan is my witness!’ and ‘The lady goddess of Beer-sheba bless you!’ Their lives will fall to pieces. They’ll never put it together again.”

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

When the message reached the king of Nineveh, he got up off his throne, threw down his royal robes, dressed in burlap, and sat down in the dirt. Then he issued a public proclamation throughout Nineveh, authorized by him and his leaders: “Not one drop of water, not one bite of food for man, woman, or animal, including your herds and flocks! Dress them all, both people and animals, in burlap, and send up a cry for help to God. Everyone must turn around, turn back from an evil life and the violent ways that stain their hands. Who knows? Maybe God will turn around and change his mind about us, quit being angry with us and let us live!”

Joshua ripped his clothes and fell on his face to the ground before the Chest of God, he and the leaders throwing dirt on their heads, prostrate until evening.




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