Jeremiah 29:10

Mount of the Holy Cross, 2015

The moment I first saw this view is forever etched in my memory. I was walking a beautiful trail, accompanied by some of my favorite people in the whole world, mentally preparing for the hike ahead. 

Our only goal: get to the top of Mount of the Holy Cross. We had started hiking at daybreak and before we'd been walking an hour, we could see the peak. Yep, you guessed it: it's the giant one in the distance. 

I'd done this type of hiking before. And though I had mentally prepared for the hours and hours of strenuous hiking, it hit me hard when I could see the peak, so far away: this is going to be worse than I thought. 

[I've blogged about this very hike before; you can read it here.] 

It's not that I didn't know what was coming; we had read the descriptions: twelve miles total, with major gains and losses in altitude both ways. We'd taken some training hikes back home, and we had plenty of water and food to last the whole time. 

But sometimes realizing the distance with your own eyes changes everything. No longer was this a mental exercise; it was a test of physical endurance, one that I wasn't sure I could overcome.

And as I remembered Jeremiah 29 today, I was reminded that the Israelites found themselves in the same boat 2500 years ago. The prophets had been warning them for centuries that God was tired of their idolatry and they could either repent or find themselves overcome by their enemies. Maybe the Israelites thought He was bluffing; maybe they thought they'd straighten up at the last minute and He'd take it back. Whatever they thought, they were wrong. The Assyrians and then the Babylonians conquered both halves of the nation of Israel, God's Chosen People, and took the survivors off as hostages. 

Forced to relocate hundreds of miles away in Babylon, the captives no doubt told each other to have hope: "Remember all God has done for our ancestors! He led them through the Red Sea! He made the walls of Jericho fall! He conquered the giant Goliath with a pebble by a teenage boy!" (This is by no means in Scripture; it's just what I--an eternal optimist--would have been whispering to my friends as we found ourselves enslaved in a strange new world.)

But those optimistic words weren't God's message; instead, He sent Jeremiah's words to reveal the following: "Build homes, and plan to stay. Plant gardens, and eat the food they produce. Marry and have children. Then find spouses for them so that you may have many grandchildren....work for the peace and prosperity of the city where I sent you into exile....You will be in Babylon for seventy years..." (Jer. 29:5-7, 10, NLT). 

Seventy years. They would die there, as would their children. They would never see home, never go back to normal, never know the freedom of living as an independent nation. Just like when I saw that gigantic peak gloating at me from miles and miles away, the truth hit them square in the face: This was going to be worse than they thought. 

And maybe the same lesson prevails in our COVID-19-entrenched world today: this is going to be worse than we thought. 

I didn't realize how bad it would be: I remember clearly sitting around a table, playing games with friends in late January, reading the news about this virus tearing through China and shaking my head at the fear of flying that had begun circulating. I remember when the first case came to America, and then our state, and then our picturesque little town of 2000. In the last two months of news, quarantining, shutdowns, unemployment, and hospitalizations, we've all begun to realize the truth: this is going to be worse than we thought. We don't know how it will all shake out. (And anyone who claims to know is selling something.) But we know it's not what we thought it would be, and even when the virus is over it's going to be a long, long road to recovery.

Which is why Jeremiah 29 doesn't end with the bad news of verse 10; glory.

The prophet goes on to say: "But then I will come and do for you all the good things I have promised, and I will bring you home again. For I know the plans I have for you...plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope," (Jer. 29:10-11, NLT).

God's Word to the exiles back then are the same words for us today:

• "This is my plan. This did not take me by surprise."
• "I'm in control; you can release that anxiety."
• "I know the plans; you don't. Your human mind can't fathom the next 70 days or 70 years, but my eternal knowledge can. I've got you." 
• "I've promised you so many good things; they will still happen."
• "My plans are for good and not for disaster."
• "My plans give you a future and a hope."

Like the Israelites, we may be here for a while. Our world will not go back to the way it was before; we'll spend the rest of our days remembering how everything changed here. "Normal" will be new, and even when the imminent fear is gone we'll still be changed as a society and as a humanity. 

BUT. [Never miss the "but" of Scripture!] God didn't leave His people abandoned during the exile. He didn't take a vacation for 70 years while they waited for Him to come back and make Himself known. In fact, some of our favorite Bible stories come from this 70 years of exile: Daniel (refusing the king's food, the lion's den); Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego; and the entire account of Esther. All exile-time. All LOADED with God. 

I'm looking for Daniels and Esthers to rise up and walk boldly for God in this 21st century exile, understanding we were made for such a time as this. I'm trusting the promises in God's Word, believing they are being worked out even as we speak. I'm walking by faith that the Leslie who comes through this will be stronger, tougher, and much more compassionate.

It's going to be harder than we thought. But we're going to make it through, holding one another's hands and celebrating the faithfulness of the Lord. 

Feel free to share and give hope to someone else today!
Leslie