Yahweh, you pushed me into being a prophet, and I let you do it. You overpowered me, and now I am overcome. I have become nothing but a joke all day long, with everyone mocking me.
When I tell myself, “I’m not going to speak his message ever again or prophesy any more in his name,” then all at once you are within me like a burning, consuming fire deep in my bones. I try my best to hold your word inside, but I can’t hold it back any longer!
The moment they heard Paul bring up the topic of resurrection, some of them ridiculed him, then got up and left. But others said, “We want to hear you again later about these things.”
Philosophers of the teachings of Epicurus, and others called Stoics, debated with Paul. When they heard him speak about Jesus and his resurrection, they said, “What strange ideas is this babbler trying to present?” Others said, “He’s peddling some kind of foreign religion.”
‘After the death of Jehoiada the priest, Yahweh chose you to be the priest in charge of the temple security. You know that anyone who acts crazy and pretends to be a prophet should be arrested and put in chains and iron collars.
But I have not stopped running after you and being a true shepherd. Nor have I secretly longed for the day of disaster. You know every word my lips have spoken, for they were spoken in your presence.
Why must my pain be endless? Why are my wounds incurable? Why won’t they heal? You’ve been to me like a deceitful spring that stops flowing, like a brook that goes dry.”
My mother, how terrible that you ever bore me— a man doomed to conflict and strife with everyone against me! I have never cheated anyone, yet everyone curses me.
King Zedekiah then said to me, “I’m afraid of our own people who have already defected to the Babylonians. They might give me into their hands; then they will torture me!”