I’ve been so long tending this old fire in my chest, that I forget what sparked it. But it still keeps me warm when I worry that I might someday be wrong.
I’ve been so long raging against things I couldn’t know, like a line of cleansing fire taking field and forest too, like a pyre for the witch, for the stranger, for the son.
I am angry at so many things and none of them at all. I can’t look straight enough along the lines to see the source. But I fear it’s nearer still than all of these.
ii. look, the sky
Look, the sky is unfolding like a magnolia blossom and the long tender ears of corn are reaching up and up to touch it, bounty to bounty, sea green to rose gold, but this idiot is driving five under in the passing lane.
iii. wrath is a man
Wrath is a man
who is righteous
but was just told
otherwise.
Wrath is a man
who has never
lost anything
until now.
Wrath is a man
who loves for
what he gets
not receiving.
Wrath is a man
on the brink of
seeing himself
for the first time.
iv. whales and worms
I am too easy with anger for someone with no control, like a prophet under a broad green leaf, hands extended in hope of brimstone warmth.
And the heat is in the word: the tip of a whip opening your cheek. How is it that I pierce this heart that I hold so close to my own, beating together after the blow? How is it that we ever recover from these wounds?
Sometimes it takes whales and worms, sometimes different words. Sometimes it takes long and lonesome to quench this flame until you matter more than me.
Over the last few months I’ve been digging into the book of Jeremiah.
I’ve read Jeremiah before, but what drew me to it this time was the desire to soak in God’s judgment, to understand more clearly the scope and reality of His wrath. This is part of God’s person that I’ve always known to be true but have had difficulty accepting. I would rather turn away from His judgment and focus on His love — which should be a perennial resting place for all of us. But after spending the better part of the last three months in deep with the weeping prophet, I think God’s wrath is something to rest in as well.
Along the way, I also received something of a surprising side quest in my study — what it means to be a messenger of wrath.
I’m not precisely sure where the idea of artist as prophet came from originally, but it’s not new, nor is it original. For eons poets, musicians, novelists, and other artistic types have been looking closely at their societies and telling them what they see. And because artists are, by definition, good at seeing beyond the surface of a thing, the truths they tell are often discerning, uncomfortable, and eerily prescient.
And Jeremiah was in a position to share some uncomfortable and downright appalling truth.
I believe that for Christian artists, this sort of forth-telling is divinely directed. Or at least, it should be. What are we doing with our art if we are not proclaiming with every stroke, with every note, with every letter, the glories and mercies of our Lord and Savior? When we speak the truth, we are speaking God’s truth. And He has given many of us — and definitely not just artistic people — ears to hear and eyes to see. Would that we also have mouths to sing, hands to write and paint and play, and bodies to dance the truth so that others may also see, hear, and know the truth of God.
So without further ado:
PART 1: RESTING IN WRATH
God’s wrath is righteous.
“Your evil will chastise you, and your apostasy will reprove you. Know and see that it is evil and bitter for you to forsake the LORD your God; the fear of me is not in you,” declares the LORD God of hosts. (Jeremiah 2:19)
This might be an obvious statement, but it bears repeating: God is fully justified when He judges, and we have no recourse but acceptance of it.
I think that one of the primary difficulties I face when I try to accept the wrath of God is my own confusion. I don’t have the mind of God, nor do I know the reasons or results of the judgment. Because of this, any cognitive dissonance I’m experiencing at the time might make it seem like God is doling out unjust judgment. I don’t think we can ever overstate the importance of clinging to God’s righteousness. He does not act on capricious whims or petty vendettas. He deliberately chooses what is right, because He is holy and true. If I begin to believe that whatever is happening is an unjust act on God’s part, I must rewind and find a different solution — because God cannot be unrighteous.
If we ever begin to downplay the weight of our rebellious actions, let us read Jeremiah and remember how utterly wrong it is to turn from our loving Father.
God does not delight in hurting people.
Go, and proclaim these words toward the north, and say, “Return, faithless Israel,”declares the Lord. “I will not look on you in anger, for I am merciful,” declares the Lord; “I will not be angry forever.” (Jeremiah 3:12)
God spends swaths of Jeremiah repeating His plea to His people: turn back from your sins and come to me. The agony of Jeremiah is clear and unequivocal: the pain God’s people are experiencing is not something that pleases God. He is not vindictive.
Jeremiah states that THIS IS NOT THE WAY IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE. This is the right and only response to sin, but this was not what God wanted for us. We should be driven to our knees by the truth that God has opened up another way. Such is the great love of our Lord, that He would rather take on Death Himself than be separated from us forever.
God’s wrath is a natural consequence of our rebellion against him.
A voice on the bare heights is heard, the weeping and pleading of Israel’s sons because they have perverted their way; they have forgotten the Lord their God… “Let us lie down in our shame, and let our dishonor cover us. For we have sinned against the Lord our God, we and our fathers, from our youth even to this day, and we have not obeyed the voice of the Lord our God.” (Jeremiah 3:21, 25)
When I discipline my children in some way for their actions, I am quick to point out that the reason I do so is to affirm for them that actions have consequences. Right now those consequences hurt in small ways, but it won’t always be that way.
When we turn away from Living Water, we will thirst. When we turn from the Bread of Life, we will hunger. When we pervert our way and forget the Lord our God, we will experience shame, dishonor, and ultimately, judgment. This is the natural state of the universe, which stems from God Himself. To turn from Him is to turn from true life toward death.
God’s wrath is always framed by and injected with mercy.
“I will set my eyes on them for good, and I will bring them back to this land. I will build them up, and not tear them down; I will plant them, and not pluck them up. I will give them a heart to know that I am the Lord, and they shall be my people and I will be their God, for they shall return to me with their whole heart.” (Jeremiah 24:6-7)
Our original rebellion shook the foundations of the universe, as an act of saying “no” to a God who has only ever wanted our good. It is an incredible mercy that He has given any of us a new, whole heart at all, so that we have the ability to say “yes” to Him.
If it was up to us to turn back to Him, we would be utterly lost. But throughout Jeremiah, God is reaching out, wrestling with, drawing Israel in, pleading with her. It is only by His mercy that we can even understand our brokenness, let alone accept Him in faith.
PART 2: SPEAKING OF JUDGMENT
Jeremiah was obedient.
But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am only a youth’ for to all to whom I send you, you shall go, and whatever I command you, you shall speak. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, declares the Lord.” (Jeremiah 1:7-8)
The deeper I dig into what could possibly qualify someone to be an emissary of God’s truth, the simpler it becomes. God’s messengers are those who are obedient. God says to go there, and they go. God says to say this, and they say it. God says to sit still, and they wait. This isn’t a revelation or a hot take, friends. God just wants obedient people to communicate His truth.
If you’ve been called to do this with your art, your words, your actions, your life — obey. Stop philosophizing about how to do it and just do it.
I’ve quoted her before, and I’m going to quote her again:
“The artist is a servant who is willing to be a birthgiver. In a very real sense the artist (male or female) should be like Mary who, when the angel told her that she was to bear the Messiah, was obedient to the command… I believe that each work of art, whether it is a work of great genius, or something very small, comes to the artist and says, “Here I am. Enflesh me. Give birth to me.” And the artist either says, “My soul doth magnify the Lord,” and willingly becomes the bearer of the work, or refuses; but the obedient response is not necessarily a conscious one, and not everyone has the humble, courageous obedience of Mary.” (Madeleine L’Engle, Walking on Water)
Jeremiah accurately communicated the message.
And the word of the Lord came to me, saying, “Jeremiah, what do you see?” And I said, “I see an almond branch.” Then the Lord said to me, “You have seen well, for I am watching over my word to perform it.” (Jeremiah 1:11-12)
It’s stunning to me that one of Jeremiah’s first acts as a prophet is simply to tell God what He sees. He does so, and God uses it as a window into His truth. Seeing is often used in Scripture as a metaphor for active faith; while the people of Israel “have eyes but do not see,” Jeremiah “sees well.”
And from here on, Jeremiah is communicating precisely what God says.
This may seem obvious, but think about what this means. Jeremiah resolved to share every word — the good, the bad, and the ugly. And God had a lot of very grievous things to say to Judah through Jeremiah, who is not called the weeping prophet for nothing.
The stories God gives us will not always be pleasant or happy or bestsellers. As artists and storytellers we must remain faithful to the truth God has laid on our hearts, not the partial truth that gets us likes and shares. It will not always be pretty, but obedience matters more than popularity and reach.
And consider starting with what’s right in front of you. What do you see? God can use it, and He can use you.
Jeremiah accepted the consequences of speaking the truth.
“But you, dress yourself for work; arise, and say to them everything that I command you. Do not be dismayed by them, lest I dismay you before them. And I, behold, I make you this day a fortified city, an iron pillar, and bronze walls, against the whole land, against the kings of Judah, its officials, its priests, and the people of the land. They will fight against you, but they shall not prevail against you, for I am with you, declares the Lord, to deliver you.” (Jeremiah 1:17-19)
Jeremiah wasn’t just saying God’s words. He was identifying with them to the point that he embodied them. He was considered a physical threat to Judah, and the people, false prophets, and leaders of Judah reacted accordingly to him.
Jeremiah went to his family, whom he deeply loved, to warn them about impending disaster. They didn’t listen, and in fact they mocked him and beat him. But he kept coming back, compelled by God and love for his people to tell them the truth, again and again — until he and his people were finally judged.
They never accepted the truth, and yet Jeremiah preached it to them anyway.
How often do we look to how people respond to what we say and do (in our art and otherwise) and either give up or change our message because of their responses? How often do we turn away from saying exactly what the people we love need to hear the most?
None of us are Old Testament prophets; we’re New Testament believers, though, and God has called us all to be obedient messengers to those around us. What a mercy! He doesn’t need us to accomplish His will, but He wants us to be involved. If we don’t, I’m pretty sure the rocks will have something to say about it. But why would we forego the privilege of loving God and others through speaking God’s truth?
See and hear. Believe and obey. Then speak, and speak with hope. For even God’s judgment is righteous, and shot through with new mercies.
