Isaiah was unsparing in pointing to the God-defying behaviors and choices all too common all around him in his day.  What we mostly remember about Isaiah, I suppose, are his words about the Suffering Servant and the words of hope and salvation.  By Jeremiah’s time some generations later, God’s judgment was much nearer and the cause for it even more painfully evident.  It’s as if all Isaiah’s calls for repentance, all his assurances from God of healing and restoration, had had no effect.  Well, I have to suppose Isaiah’s message had good effect, but it wasn’t widespread, wasn’t general.  Some turned, repented, rededicated themselves to God.  Many carried on, innocent in their own eyes, innocent enough, or at least not guilty, and not concerned.

That’s the situation into which God sends Jeremiah, so there was not much happiness in Jeremiah’s task, and Jeremiah was not especially happy.  Morose is too fancy.  Glum—much of the time, Jeremiah felt glum.  God also gave Jeremiah beautiful words of sure and certain hope, but they were words for a distinct minority who would enjoy the fulfillment only after a long generation of disgrace and sorrow—one might almost say a lifetime of cleansing, of hard yet strangely blessed sanctification.

When we don’t avail ourselves of the time provided for confession, we’re missing an opportunity and call from God.  Our national life seems to be at a low ebb.  I’m not sure we expect much from politicians anymore, if we ever really did.  Maybe we expected more from judges.  Even the judiciary, in too many instances, has shown itself politically compromised.  There was a time when we respected doctors.  Now, it seems they’re just as bewildered as we are—they just cover it over a little better, a little more confidently.  It used to be that college professors had some social clout; now, if and when we see them on the news, too many appear as vicious clowns of irrational rage—not much to respect, there.  I’d like to tell you that pastors have held onto their social privilege, protected it as the gift of God and the trust of the people that it is.  I’d be lying to you if I did.  Pastors are a disgrace, too.  Perhaps the saddest part is that pastors have always known it.

Trust isn’t—mustn’t be—blindly given.  It must be earned, then maintained by the words and actions of the one to whom we give our trust.  God Himself tells us as much: “Woe to the shepherds who are destroying and scattering the sheep of my pasture!” (23:1).  Through Jeremiah, God reproaches those who were supposed to nurture, protect, and upbuild the flock.  This includes priests and Temple servants, but they aren’t the only ones.  Prophets and the king were shepherds also—all called and anointed by God to love and serve Him by loving and serving His people, faithfully.

Now, the people—I hate to tell you, but you may as well know—the people aren’t always so easy to serve; some can sometimes even be a little hard to love.  Love, as God shows us, is a choice.  Let us choose to be loving, even and especially when the other doesn’t always make it so easy.  God knows all about it.

Through Jeremiah, God says He has seen what has been going on and has been patient; waiting for confession and repentance—that change of mind that turns us toward a change of life.  Neither have been forthcoming.  So, God, through Jeremiah—not all the prophets, not all who claim to be prophets or regard themselves so—but through Jeremiah, God tells the people what He proposes to do about this dereliction of duty.  “Therefore this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says to the shepherds who tend my people: ‘Because you have scattered my flock and driven them away and have not bestowed care on them, I will bestow punishment on you for the evil you have done’” (23:2).  Evil, especially when it harms the flock, will not go unpunished.  Though God may permit it for what seems an intolerably, unbearably long time, evil—all evil and whatever evil—will be called to account.  That is an article of faith.

You and I do not will faith; the motive power in our decision, our intention to be faithful does not come from us.  Faith is the gift of God.  In this season of gifts, let us remember the best gifts, and let us pray these would continue to be given graciously, freely, abundantly.  You and I can have a part in that giving, as we give ourselves and live our gift of faith.

Our faithful God tells the faithless shepherds just what He will do: He reveals His plans, which do not include the faithless shepherds: “I myself will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the countries where I have driven them and will bring them back to their pasture, where they will be fruitful and increase in number” (23:3).  The shepherds cannot be bothered to gather and nurture; the shepherds, by the shameful indulgence of their inherent selfishness, will not live into God’s calling; for His part, God remains faithful to His scattered flock.  He will gather.  He will bless.  He will send the shepherd and be the shepherd.

The previous shepherds—priests, prophets, king—those with authority on this earth—were to gather and bring back, call people to repentance, rededication, and faithfulness.  They did not.  The result was a ruined, demoralized, scattered flock, every one its own way.  But God is about to do something new, strong, faithful, yes, even something a little forceful, as when God’s voice resounds over the earth, His Word branching like lightning in the night.

God’s desire is that His people enjoy the pasture He provides for them—the green place with the clear, flowing water—grace, abundance, peace, security, flourishing.  There, the flock can increase in joy.  God provides for our joy and fulfillment.  Oh, how confused people in this world are about what is our highest, best, deepest joy and fulfillment!  We are called to serve the Word; we prefer to serve our feelings—don’t for a moment think I’m excluding myself!  We remain sadly enamored with self-seeking and self-satisfaction.  We don’t know how to change, don’t especially want to change or see why we would need to.

Shepherding after God’s own heart keeps God’s people in God’s joy, helps God’s people see and know that they are in God’s joy as they live God’s way.  But who lives God’s way?  Not even the shepherds.  So, God decided He would send a new shepherd, so that the flock “will no longer be afraid or terrified, nor will any be missing” (23:4).  Afraid—afraid of what?  Fearful why?  Fear governs the heart of the one whose first love and first concern is self.  God’s judgment—his righteous, loving decision—is that His flock shall no longer live under His displeasure, so long as we are faithful.  Let faith overrule fear.

To be in Christ is to be faithful.  Christ is life God’s way.  Christ is the way and the truth and the life.  No one—including me—comes here knowing Christ perfectly.  We do not come here knowing the way perfectly, or the truth, or the life.  God has brought each of us here, called each of us here by His Spirit, so that, together in fellowship, we may learn from Christ our Good Shepherd.  As we learn, we share with one another with humility and loving concern what we have learned.  How stumbling and erratic each of us still walks with the Lord!  Yet there is also progress, beloved, and always victory in Jesus.  Upon him we rely, entirely, gratefully, joyously.  Let him teach you his peace.

Though I suppose not even he understood it quite, Jeremiah was told by God to say: “The days are coming [. . .] when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, a King who will reign wisely and do what is just and right in the land” (23:5).  The scoffers in Jeremiah’s day had stopped believing such things long ago: Oh, someday, someday!  Yet we know the day did come, and our faith tells us his day shall come again.  God delights in faith.  He delights in obedience, which is faith in action.  Our God knows how imperfect, deficient, we are in obedience, so He accepts our faith in place of our very imperfect, always flawed, yet sincere efforts at obedience.  David was a deeply flawed man: God chose to pass over that for the sake of David’s unshakeable faith.  Abraham was no great prize—he’d do almost anything just to have a little peace and quiet.  God chose to regard Abraham’s faith as an acceptable stand-in for righteousness.  God’s righteousness is for the faithful, and faith is a gift from God.  Ask, and you shall receive.

Through Jeremiah, God promises a new king, a true king.  You and I don’t quite know what to do with kings, what to make of them.  We seem to get along alright without one, until we don’t.  The king is who—or what—rules your heart, your thinking and desiring, your hopes, your dreams; your king rules the direction of your life.  We need a wise, just, and righteous king, there!  Do you have him?  If not, or if you’re not always so sure, you can ask for him, and he will come and knock.  Open the door for him!  He will begin to set things in order for your full flourishing.  The true king truly loves his subjects.  The true king gives himself for those who submit to his rule.  The rule of the true king is righteousness, love, grace, and holiness; there is no false way in him and in him no love for the oh so gentle, kind, wise, deadly falsehoods of this world, this culture.

The new shepherd whom God chooses and sends, the shepherd king, comes for salvation: “In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety.  This is the name by which he will be called: The Lord Our Righteous Savior” (23:6).  As Eugene Peterson paraphrases that, “God-Who-Puts-Everything-Right.”  Righteousness is that grace always diligently, prayerfully, lovingly at work, setting back in order the mess it continually finds.  God finds some powerful messes!  No mess is too much, too strong for God, to the praise and glory of His holy name.