“Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce… multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare [shalom] of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare… Do not let your prophets and your diviners who are among you deceive you, and do not listen to the dreams that they dream, for it is a lie… For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord…” - Jeremiah 29: 4-11
Jeremiah’s letter comes during one of the worst parts of the story of God’s people. They were in exile. The land was lost, the temple plundered, the law long ignored. Most people would probably be thinking: we’re not where we’re supposed to be. It was not supposed to be like this. Life will be better when we get out, when things change. And false prophets like Hananiah (Jeremiah 28) were promising that very thing: liberation within two years.
But Jeremiah says something radically different. Don’t live life in a holding pattern, fixating upon when your circumstances will change. It won’t be two years, but seventy. Stop thinking about how to get out, and start being present where you are. His definition of being present is, on one hand, imminently practical: build and live. Plant and eat. On the other hand, it’s imminently spiritual: don’t seek cultural norms or the dreams of the majority. Be intentional about how you define meaning and success. Seek shalom, wholeness, peace and realize that this only comes from God. Be engaged in prayer. Don’t lose your worldview.
The reason we can be present is because we know how the future will ultimately go. Jeremiah is basically saying, look, your current circumstances are going to be worse than you were told. But your ultimate future is going to be far better. Circumstances are secondary to relationship. In your worst place, God visits you. His thoughts are towards you. He hears you. Call on him, come to him, find him with all your inner self, all your understanding and will and feeling. You will have hope, not based on circumstantial manipulation, but hope that is given to you.
It’s ironic that verse 11, one of the most oft-quoted verses from this book, is so easily interpreted in an individualistic, prosperity-focused fashion, when in reality, it’s a promise given to a community in one of their worst moments, many of whom would die in exile. The verse is less about fortune than about a God who is radically faithful. Who keeps all his promises to us solely because of who he is. Who is completely sovereign. Who reached out to a people crushed by circumstances, through a man who had himself suffered repeatedly for the sake of what he believed, to renew a covenant and hope. The same covenant and hope we have now through the Prophet to whom all other prophets pointed, Jesus Christ.
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