In the fourth year of Jehoiakim the son of Josiah, king of Judah, this word came to Jeremiah from the Lord: 2 “Take a scroll and write on it all the words that I have spoken to you against Israel and Judah and all the nations, from the day I spoke to you, from the days of Josiah until today. 3 It may be that the house of Judah will hear all the disaster that I intend to do to them, so that every one may turn from his evil way, and that I may forgive their iniquity and their sin.” (Jer. 36:1-3 ESV)
God’s been after the nation of Judah for decades. For decades, God’s been trying to change an entire realm.
- The marketplace is filled with unjust practices that hurt others. And God’s been trying to remedy that.
- The streets are filled with the poor and the helpless. And God’s been trying to remedy that.
- The worship services are filled but the people filling them seem no better off for have filled them. And God’s been trying to remedy that.
- Families are abusing children–in some cases literally sacrificing their children. And God’s been trying to remedy that.
Talk about flux! God’s trying to bring real and positive change to the nation of Judah.
And to this point, his primary change-agent has been a preacher. [We often talk about “change-agents” as a bad thing. But God viewed them as a good thing. Jeremiah was a change-agent.] God sent a preacher named Jeremiah. He didn’t send a senator, mayor or president. He didn’t send a scientist, psychologist or engineer. He didn’t send a construction crew or a demolition crew. God sent a preacher.
This, on the face of it, seems to be a strange choice–especially given our low view of preachers.
An elderly woman walked into the local country church. An usher greeted her at the door and helped her up the flight of steps. “Where would you like to sit?” he asked. “The front row please,” she answered. “You really don’t want to do that,” the usher said. “The preacher is really boring.” “Do you happen to know who I am?” asked the woman. “No,” said the usher. “I’m the preacher’s mother,” she replied indignantly. “Do you know who I am?” the usher asked. “No,” she said. “Good,” he said.
At best, preachers are loved by their mothers, and no others. So, it may seem strange that God’s strategy to bring about renewal is to send a preacher.
But now the preacher’s been stopped. We learn in vs. 5 that Jeremiah’s been “banned from going to the house of the LORD.” The preacher’s been banned from church.
So, God does another seemingly silly thing. He can’t send this saint. So, he sends a scroll. He asks Jeremiah to write on a scroll, an early form of a book, all the words he’s preached. Jeremiah enlists some help. Later in this text we learn that he’s got a friend named Baruch. Jeremiah dictates and Baruch writes it down. Together they create a book. And God sends the book.
Why? Because God’s book can change things. Did you notice the purpose of this book? Listen to this line again:
It may be that the house of Judah will hear…
so that every one may turn…,
and that I may forgive …
(Jer. 36:3 ESV)
- God hopes people will hear this book. Nothing’s ever going to change in the nation unless people first hear the words of God’s book. God has real and positive change to deliver. And it comes, first of all, by hearing this book.
- And, if they listen, they may turn. They may change. When people hear God’s book there’s a turn, a change, that happens. It starts inside. And then it changes everything outside.
- And, if they listen and turn, God will forgive. This book results in a restored relationship with God.
In other words, the purpose of God’s book is not information but transformation. Some people wrongly assume that the purpose of God’s book is information. Thus they spend all their time memorizing it and studying it. But they never experience change. The purpose of God’s book is not merely information, but transformation. God’s hoping that you will hear this book, and experience a turn in your heart, with the result that your walk with God will be revolutionized. God’s book is meant to induce good flux.
So, Baruch reads the book out loud in the house of the LORD. There, some government officials hear the book and they ask for Baruch to come and read it to a gathering of high-level officials. After they hear the book, these officials tell Baruch that this book needs to be read to the king. And for a third time in one day, the words of the book are read out loud–this time to the king himself. The one person who has the greatest potential to enact nation-wide reform is now listening to God’s book.
But the hoped-for change doesn’t come. Why? Well, it has to do with the way the king read the book. This chapter in Jeremiah gives us the opportunity to consider three ways of reading God’s book. Let’s look at three kings and three ways of reading the book.
First, like King Jehoiakim, you can read with a blade and cut God’s book. The King who hears Jeremiah’s scroll is King Jehoiakim. And he reads with a blade:
22 It was the ninth month, and the king was sitting in the winter house, and there was a fire burning in the fire pot before him. 23 As Jehudi read three or four columns, the king would cut them off with a knife and throw them into the fire in the fire pot, until the entire scroll was consumed in the fire that was in the fire pot. 24 Yet neither the king nor any of his servants who heard all these words was afraid, nor did they tear their garments. 25 Even when Elnathan and Delaiah and Gemariah urged the king not to burn the scroll, he would not listen to them. (Jer. 36:22-25 ESV)
God’s desire is to bring about change. To do this, he sends a book. But Jehoiakim reads with a blade. And what he does like (which is everything) he cuts off and burns. And as a result, the change never happens.
Still today, we sometimes read with a blade and cut God’s book.
Sometimes the blade is our own culture. Randolph Richards and Brandon O’Brien have written a book entitled Misreading Scripture with Western Eyes (IVP, 2012, 14). They refer to an experiment conducted by Mark Allan Powell. Powell had 12 students in a seminary class read the story of the prodigal son in Luke. After these 12 students read the story of the prodigal son in Luke, they closed their Bibles. They were asked to retell what they had read with as much detail as they could recall. And as they gave their summaries, all 12 failed to remember a crucial part of the story. All 12 students failed to mention the famine which precipitated the prodigal son’s return.
Powell conducted the experiment again with 100 people. They read in a Bible the story of the prodigal son in Luke. They closed their Bible and they retold the story. 94 out of 100 failed to mention the famine.
The one thing which all of these people had in common was this: they were all from the United States.
Later, Powell tried the experiment in Russia. He gathered 50 people. They read the story in Luke. They closed their Bibles. They retold the story. 42 of the 50 mentioned the famine. Why did those from Russia see and remember the famine in the biblical story while the Americans forgot it? Just a few years earlier, 670,000 people died of starvation due to a famine. Famine was very much a part of the history of the Russian readers. And that history and culture shaped what they saw in Scripture.
Sometimes our own history and culture becomes a blade which cut portions of Scripture and keeps us from seeing them. This is true in many ways. Our gender can be a blade. Our race can be a blade. Our country of origin can be a blade. Our church background can be a blade. Even our age can be a blade. These things can keep us from seeing things in Scripture, effectively cutting them off. That’s why it is so important to read Scripture with people who are different from us, because they can help us see things we’d miss.
But there are other blades as well, aren’t there? Sometimes our personal preferences become a blade. A few weeks ago, Eric and I were at a small gathering of Memphis preachers on the campus of Harding School of Theology. After the get-together Eric and I were talking to a preaching-friend. He told us about a family-friend of his. This family-friend was a God-fearing and church-going man. But recently, in the wake of the killings in Paris caused by Islamic fundamentalists, this family-friend had posted questionable things online. The family-friend wrote things like, “Is anyone else sick of these stupid Muslims? Why don’t these stupid Muslims just go back to the Middle East?” Our preaching-friend reached out to this family-friend. He wrote, “That’s probably not the most appropriate way to address this issue.” And then he pointed the family-friend to some Scripture. He wrote, “After all, what about Jesus’ teaching to ‘Love your enemy and pray for those who persecute you’?” Our preaching-friend believed that if this family-friend just heard some Scripture, he might experience some change of heart, or at least a change of practice. But here’s what the family-friend wrote in response: “You have your way, and I’ve got mine.” This church-going man believed that loving someone considered an enemy was an option. It was a preference. And it wasn’t his preference. “You have your way, and I’ve got mine.” He read his Bible with a blade. And what he didn’t like, what he didn’t care for, he just cut right out.
And that’s the more common blade. Every one of us reads with a blade. And what we don’t like, what we don’t care for, we just cut right out. And as a result, we never experience the real flux which God is hoping to bring into our lives.
But there are other ways of reading this book—ways that lead to the real and positive change God wants to bring to us and through us. We see those ways in two other kings.
Second, like King Josiah, you can read with a brokenness and conform to God’s book.
The description of King Jehoiakim in Jer. 36 is written with a nod toward the story of another king. As we heard earlier, King Jehoiakim was the son of King Josiah. And one day, while repairs were being made in the temple, a book was found, probably a copy of the book of Deuteronomy. For years King Josiah and the people had been without this book, or any similar book. And here’s what happened when King Josiah found God’s book:
8 And Hilkiah the high priest said to Shaphan the secretary, “I have found the Book of the Law in the house of the Lord.” And Hilkiah gave the book to Shaphan, and he read it. 9 And Shaphan the secretary came to the king, and reported to the king, “Your servants have emptied out the money that was found in the house and have delivered it into the hand of the workmen who have the oversight of the house of the Lord.” 10 Then Shaphan the secretary told the king, “Hilkiah the priest has given me a book.” And Shaphan read it before the king. 11 When the king heard the words of the Book of the Law, he tore his clothes.(2 Kings 22:8-11 ESV)
King Jehoiakim reads God’s book and cuts it to pieces. King Josiah reads God’s book and is cut to pieces. King Josiah tears his clothes. He breaks his clothing. It was an external way of showing what was happening internally. His heart was breaking, so he his clothes were broken. And, if we had time to read the rest of that story, we’d find that that Josiah goes on to conform his life and the nation’s life, as much as possible, to the book. He doesn’t read with a blade and cut God’s book. He reads with a break in his heart and on his clothes and conforms to God’s book.
And that’s the great challenge. The flux God desires to bring into our lives only comes when we read with a break and conform to God’s book. When we let these words cut our hearts and shape our lives.
That’s why I’m grateful for the brief story you’ll hear this morning from Kristen Shoulders. Kristen, one of our youth ministers, is someone who reads not with a blade, but with a break. She opens her heart to this book. She attempts to conform to this book. And even if that conforming calls for significant change, she’s willing to do it, as she will share this morning.
All of this leads to a third and final consideration about reading God’s book. Third, like King David, you can read with a bone and consume God’s book. [PP Like King David, you can read with a bone and consume God’s book.] No one read the book like King David, a king referred to in Jeremiah, like Jer. 33. David wasn’t perfect in conforming to God’s book. But he did demonstrate a healthy way of reading it.
Repeatedly in the Psalms, David writes of how he “meditates” on God’s book. The word “meditate” is a rich word. As Eugene Peterson points out in his book Eat This Book, the word “meditate” is elsewhere used to describe the way an animal might chew and gnaw on a bone. It refers to consuming every morsel from a bone. David writes in Psalms that this is how he reads Scripture. He meditated on it. Consumed it. Crunched it. Scraped it. Chewed it.
I was reminded of this recently. Since last fall, I have met with a small group of Catholics each week. It’s part of an attempt to read Scripture with people who are different than me so that I can see things I’d normally miss. Each Thursday we gather at a parsonage across the street from St. Ann’s Catholic Church on Highland Street. Each week when we walk through the door we are greeted by two dogs. They are shorthaired dogs each about as tall as my waist. One dog named Molly usually howls in joy when she sees us. The other dog is named Monsignor or Mons for short.
The two priests who live there struggle each Thursday to keep these animals under control. As we gather for prayer these dogs will walk under the table where we are gathered. I’ve seen one of them jump up on the table. They will scratch to get into the room where we meet. And then they will scratch to get out of the room where we meet.
One recent Thursday, as we walked into the room, we were met by Monsignor. He was holding a bone in his mouth that was about 3 feet long. It looked like it came from Paul Bunyan’s blue ox “Babe.” It is one of the largest bones I’ve ever seen in the mouth of a dog. We moved into the room with the table where we usually gather. Monsignor followed us and curled up under the table.
David, who leads our group, began. The other priest collected Monsignor and dragged him and his monster bone out of the room and put him in a nearby room. The structure is old and poorly built, so it is easy to hear what is happening in the other rooms. David was instructing us in prayer and Scripture reading. And as he talked, I could hear Monsignor in the adjoining room: Crunch. Scrape. Chew. Mons was going to chew on that bone until there was absolutely nothing left.
David concluded his instruction. It was then time for each of us to share the results of our weeks’ worth of meditating on Scriptures. I was asked to begin the sharing. And as I spoke, the sound of Mons slipped into the room: Crunch. Scrape. Chew.
Martha went next. She spoke of things she was learning from meditating on the temptations Jesus. And as she spoke, we could all hear Mons: Crunch. Scrape. Chew.
Caroline went next. She also revealed things she learned meditating on the temptations of Jesus. And as she shared, Mons shared the sounds of his labor: Crunch. Scrape. Chew.
David finally led us in our closing prayer: “Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.” And, as if offering his own “Amen,” Mons responded with: Crunch. Scrape. Chew.
That’s how David read God’s book. He read with a bone and consumed it. And that approach is one which will lead to the change God desires.
How about you? How are you reading God’s book? Are you reading with a blade and cutting God’s book? Are you reading with a break and conforming to God’s book? Are you reading with a bone and consuming God’s book? God has some tremendous change he desires to bring into your life. And this book can be the way in which that happens. But it all depends on how you read God’s book.
