And now, our God, the great God, God majestic and terrible, loyal in covenant and love, Don’t treat lightly the trouble that has come to us, to our kings and princes, our priests and prophets, Our ancestors, and all your people from the time of the Assyrian kings right down to today. You are not to blame for all that has come down on us; You did everything right, we did everything wrong. None of our kings, princes, priests, or ancestors followed your Revelation; They ignored your commands, dismissed the warnings you gave them. Even when they had their own kingdom and were enjoying your generous goodness, Living in that spacious and fertile land that you spread out before them, They didn’t serve you or turn their backs on the practice of evil. And here we are, slaves again today; and here’s the land you gave our ancestors So they could eat well and enjoy a good life, and now look at us—no better than slaves on this land. Its wonderful crops go to the kings you put over us because of our sins; They act like they own our bodies and do whatever they like with our cattle. We’re in deep trouble.
Psalm 60:3The MessageYou made your people look doom in the face, then gave us cheap wine to drown our troubles. Then you planted a flag to rally your people, an unfurled flag to look to for courage. Now do something quickly, answer right now, so the one you love best is saved. See the chapter |
16 Cross References
Remember how you brought a young vine from Egypt, cleared out the brambles and briers and planted your very own vineyard? You prepared the good earth, you planted her roots deep; the vineyard filled the land. Your vine soared high and shaded the mountains, even dwarfing the giant cedars. Your vine ranged west to the Sea, east to the River. So why do you no longer protect your vine? Trespassers pick its grapes at will; Wild pigs crash through and crush it, and the mice nibble away at what’s left. God-of-the-Angel-Armies, turn our way! Take a good look at what’s happened and attend to this vine. Care for what you once tenderly planted— the vine you raised from a shoot. And those who dared to set it on fire— give them a look that will kill! Then take the hand of your once-favorite child, the child you raised to adulthood. We will never turn our back on you; breathe life into our lungs so we can shout your name!
So wake up! Rub the sleep from your eyes! Up on your feet, Jerusalem! You’ve drunk the cup God handed you, the strong drink of his anger. You drank it down to the last drop, staggered and collapsed, dead-drunk. And nobody to help you home, no one among your friends or children to take you by the hand and put you in bed. You’ve been hit with a double dose of trouble —does anyone care? Assault and battery, hunger and death —will anyone comfort? Your sons and daughters have passed out, strewn in the streets like stunned rabbits, Sleeping off the strong drink of God’s anger, the rage of your God.