One of the reasons I write is because it bothers me that I can't think of what I want to say in the heat of a conversation. Even if I do get at what I want to say, I don't articulate it in the way I wanted to. I'm just better with written words. So after a conversation, long after the other person has forgotten it and doesn't care to call it back to mind, I dwell on what they said. I chew on it in different parts of my mouth. I imagine myself giving different answers or comments until I find the closest one to the truth as I know it. Then of course it bothers me that I couldn't think of what to say when I had the chance to say it. And now that I've thought of that very thing, it beats on the inside of my chest looking to get out somehow. So it escapes whenever I pop the lid--be it a research paper or poem or random blog entry (sort of like this one; yeah, I'm supposed to be sleeping right now). Then I can rest and my imagination is at peace to explore again (and I will sleep a bit better tonight).
And so it was, to a much greater extent, with the prophet Jeremiah. Once he could articulate the truth as God gave him to know it, it burned. It burned like "fire, shut up in my bones" (Jeremiah 20:9). In the crossfire of king-pleasing court prophets who told the people what they wanted to hear, Jeremiah's fire escaped to proclaim God's case against the nation of Judah.
If my coffee cup has 2 oz of regular coffee and 10 oz of milk with chocolate syrup and whipped cream tuh'boot, Jeremiah was drinking straight-up espresso. Yep, he was awake alright, and who could go back to a sound, deaf sleep after six shots of espresso? Not Jeremiah. No wonder he accused God of pushing him into this gig. God's call in Jeremiah chapter one wasn't exactly subtle. But perhaps God knew that Jeremiah was going to be a man who would look for something more--who would be weary and unsatisfied with the circus peanuts from the washed-out temple cult. Maybe God knew Jeremiah would be a man who wanted to actually pray to the same God that David prayed to instead of just using David's covenant with God as a crutch to assume God was listening to their circus noise. Maybe God knew Jeremiah would want more than circus noise. So his choice was to feel the fires of persecution for the gravity of his message, or withstand the incessant burning from the truth within his chest. So he spoke, he wrote, and today we bear the fruit of his choice.
Yes, we have a choice, but who is to resist Truth when He stands so brilliant and beautiful at the door and knocks?
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