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Cross References

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Lamentations 2:3

The Message

His anger blazing, he knocked Israel flat, broke Israel’s arm and turned his back just as the enemy approached, came on Jacob like a wildfire from every direction.

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25 Cross References  

“I sewed myself a shroud and wore it like a shirt; I lay facedown in the dirt. Now my face is blotched red from weeping; look at the dark shadows under my eyes, Even though I’ve never hurt a soul and my prayers are sincere!

Don’t raise your fist against High God. Don’t raise your voice against Rock of Ages. He’s the One from east to west; from desert to mountains, he’s the One.

How long do we have to put up with this, God? Do you have it in for us for good? Will your smoldering rage never cool down? If you’re going to be angry, be angry with the pagans who care nothing about you, or your rival kingdoms who ignore you. They’re the ones who ruined Jacob, who wrecked and looted the place where he lived.

“Moab’s link to power is severed. Moab’s arm is broken.” God’s Decree.

“Here’s what the Master God has to say: ‘My white-hot anger is about to descend on this country and everything in it—people and animals, trees in the field and vegetables in the garden—a raging wildfire that no one can put out.’

“He struck me with lightning, skewered me from head to foot, then he set traps all around so I could hardly move. He left me with nothing—left me sick, and sick of living.

God let all his anger loose, held nothing back. He poured out his raging wrath. He set a fire in Zion that burned it to the ground.

“And that’s exactly what will happen. I, God, the Master, say so: ‘I’ll let the hurricane of my wrath loose, a torrent of my hailstone-anger. I’ll make that wall you’ve slapped with whitewash collapse. I’ll level it to the ground so that only the foundation stones will be left. And in the ruin you’ll all die. You’ll realize then that I am God.

“‘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.

“Count on it: The day is coming, raging like a forest fire. All the arrogant people who do evil things will be burned up like stove wood, burned to a crisp, nothing left but scorched earth and ash—a black day. But for you, sunrise! The sun of righteousness will dawn on those who honor my name, healing radiating from its wings. You will be bursting with energy, like colts frisky and frolicking. And you’ll tromp on the wicked. They’ll be nothing but ashes under your feet on that Day.” God-of-the-Angel-Armies says so.




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