The Defendant in the Dock Text: Jeremiah 2:29-31
Introduction: The Great Courtroom
We live in an age that has forgotten its place. Modern man, particularly in the West, sees himself as the plaintiff in a perpetual lawsuit against God. He stands in the courtroom of his own imagination, points an accusing finger at the heavens, and demands that God give an account for Himself. Why is there suffering? Why are there standards? Why can I not be my own god? He believes he is the prosecutor, the judge, and the jury, and that the Almighty is the one in the dock.
This is the foundational lie of our entire secular project. It is the original lie of the serpent whispered into the ear of our first mother, the suggestion that we are qualified to judge God, to assess His performance, and to decide whether or not His terms are acceptable. But the Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, flips the courtroom right side up. God is the judge, God is the prosecutor, and we, my friends, are the defendants. And the news is not good. The evidence is overwhelming, the verdict is in, and the sentence has been passed. We are transgressors, every last one of us.
The prophet Jeremiah is sent by God to a people who had perfected this art of self-justification. Judah in his day was a nation that believed it could have God on its own terms. They maintained the temple, they offered the sacrifices, they went through the religious motions, but their hearts were a thousand miles away, chasing after every foreign god, every perverse ideology, like a cheap harlot chasing after new lovers. And when God, through His prophet, called them to account, their response was one of indignant surprise. "Us? What have we done wrong?" They saw themselves as the aggrieved party. They were contending with God.
This passage before us is a snapshot of God's cross examination. It is a divine rebuttal to a rebellious people who have the audacity to argue with their Maker. It is a sharp, incisive, and devastatingly accurate diagnosis of a people who have become spiritually deaf, blind, and incorrigible. And as we study it, we must ask ourselves if the diagnosis does not also fit us, in this comfortable, self-satisfied, and increasingly apostate corner of Christendom.
The Text
"Why do you contend with Me? You have all transgressed against Me," declares Yahweh.
"In vain I have struck your sons; They received no discipline. Your sword has devoured your prophets Like a destroying lion.
O generation, behold the word of Yahweh. Have I been a wilderness to Israel Or a land of thick darkness? Why do My people say, 'We are free to roam; We will no longer come to You'?"
(Jeremiah 2:29-31 LSB)
The Audacity of the Accused (v. 29)
God begins His address with a question that exposes the utter absurdity of Judah's position.
"Why do you contend with Me? You have all transgressed against Me," declares Yahweh. (Jeremiah 2:29)
The phrase "contend with Me" is legal language. It means to bring a lawsuit, to argue a case. Israel, the covenant bride, is trying to sue her husband for breach of contract. She is arguing that God has not held up His end of the bargain. She is miserable, and she has decided that it must be God's fault. This is the primordial instinct of fallen man. Adam blamed Eve, and by extension, he blamed God for giving him the woman. We are experts at shifting the blame, and our ultimate target is always God Himself.
But God immediately dismisses their case. He throws it out of court. On what grounds? On the grounds that the plaintiffs are, in fact, the guilty party. "You have all transgressed against Me." The word for transgressed here is pesha, which means rebellion. It's not just a slip-up or an oopsie-daisy. It is a high-handed, willful act of treason. God is not just pointing out a few bad apples. He says "You have all..." This is a corporate indictment. The rebellion has infected the entire nation, from the king on his throne to the priest at the altar to the farmer in his field.
Notice the declaration: "declares Yahweh." This is the covenant name of God. This is not some abstract deity speaking; it is the God who brought them out of Egypt, who made a covenant with them at Sinai, who married them as His own special people. Their rebellion is not just breaking an impersonal law; it is the treachery of spiritual adultery. It is a profound betrayal of a personal relationship. For a people so steeped in covenant rebellion to then turn around and sue the faithful covenant Lord is an act of breathtaking audacity. It is like a serial adulteress suing her faithful husband for emotional neglect.
The Futility of Fatherly Discipline (v. 30)
Next, God presents evidence of their incorrigible nature. He has tried to correct them, but they refuse to learn.
"In vain I have struck your sons; They received no discipline. Your sword has devoured your prophets Like a destroying lion." (Jeremiah 2:30)
God, as a loving Father, disciplines His children. The author of Hebrews reminds us that the Lord disciplines those He loves, and that if we are without it, we are illegitimate children, not sons (Heb. 12:7-8). God had sent hardship, famine, and military defeat, all as forms of fatherly correction. He had "struck" them, not to destroy them, but to wake them up. These were warning shots across the bow. But their response? Nothing. "They received no discipline."
The discipline was "in vain." The Hebrew word here means for nothing, to no effect. They were like a stubborn mule that only becomes more stubborn the more you beat it. They refused to connect the dots. They refused to see the hardship in their land as the loving hand of a correcting Father. Instead, they doubled down in their rebellion. This is a terrifying spiritual condition. When God's loving discipline no longer has any effect, you are on the precipice of judgment.
But it gets worse. Not only did they ignore the discipline of circumstances, they actively silenced the discipline of the Word. "Your sword has devoured your prophets Like a destroying lion." When God sent messengers to explain the discipline, to call them to repentance, they murdered them. This was not a new habit. From the very beginning, Israel had a history of killing the prophets God sent to them (Neh. 9:26). Jesus Himself lamented over Jerusalem, "the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!" (Matt. 23:37). They were not just deaf to God's Word; they were violently opposed to it. They were like a patient who, upon receiving a cancer diagnosis, murders the doctor for telling him the truth. This is the height of madness.
The Declaration of Independence (v. 31)
Finally, God appeals to their own experience and then quotes their own rebellious hearts back to them.
"O generation, behold the word of Yahweh. Have I been a wilderness to Israel Or a land of thick darkness? Why do My people say, 'We are free to roam; We will no longer come to You'?" (Jeremiah 2:31)
God calls the entire generation to pay attention. "Behold the word of Yahweh." Look at the facts. Look at your history. "Have I been a wilderness to Israel?" A wilderness is a place of barrenness, of no provision. Has God ever failed to provide for them? Did He not give them manna in the desert, water from the rock, and a land flowing with milk and honey? "Or a land of thick darkness?" Darkness represents confusion, danger, and despair. Has God ever been anything but a light to them, a pillar of fire by night, a law to guide their feet?
The answer to these rhetorical questions is a resounding no. God has been nothing but good, faithful, and generous to them. He has been a garden, not a wilderness. He has been a great light, not a thick darkness. So, given God's manifest goodness, the next question is utterly damning: "Why do My people say, 'We are free to roam; We will no longer come to You'?"
This is the sinner's declaration of independence. "We are free to roam." The Hebrew is more blunt: "We are lords." We are our own masters. We will not be tied down. We will not have this man rule over us. This is the cry of the prodigal son in the far country. It is the anthem of our modern, secular age. Autonomy. Freedom. The right to define my own reality. But this is not freedom; it is the worst kind of slavery. To be "free" from God is to be enslaved to your own lusts, your own idols, and ultimately, to the devil himself.
"We will no longer come to You." They have made a conscious decision to cut off diplomatic relations with Heaven. They want nothing more to do with the God who made them, who saved them, and who sustained them. This is the essence of apostasy. It is not a momentary lapse but a settled determination of the heart to go its own way. And it is always, without exception, based on a lie. It is based on the lie that God is a wilderness, that His ways are restrictive and joyless, and that true freedom is found somewhere else.
The Gospel for Litigants
This passage is a grim diagnosis, but it is not without hope. The very fact that God is engaging in this lawsuit shows that He has not yet utterly abandoned His people. He is arguing with them, which means He is still talking to them. The final judgment is when God goes silent.
And the pattern we see here, this pattern of human rebellion and divine faithfulness, sets the stage for the gospel. We are all this generation. We have all contended with God, bringing our petty lawsuits and our proud accusations against Him. We have all transgressed. We have all despised His discipline, both in circumstance and in His Word. And our hearts have all screamed for autonomy, "We are lords; we will no longer come to You."
But God, in His infinite mercy, did something astounding. He did not just send another prophet to be devoured by our swords. He sent His only Son. And in the great irony of history, we took the Son, the very Word of Yahweh made flesh, and we put Him in the dock. We, the guilty defendants, put the righteous Judge on trial. We contended with Him, we accused Him, and we executed Him.
And on the cross, the ultimate lawsuit took place. God the Father took all of our transgression, all of our rebellion, all of our prophet-killing rage, and He "struck" His own Son. The discipline we deserved, the wrath we had earned, fell upon Him. He entered the "land of thick darkness" on our behalf, crying out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
Because He took our judgment, we can now come to God and find not a plaintiff, but a Father. Because He was struck, we can receive discipline not as condemnation, but as loving, corrective grace. Because He was cast out, we who once said "we will no longer come to You" are now invited to draw near with confidence to the throne of grace. The lawsuit is over. The case has been settled, not by our arguments, but by His blood. Our only proper response is to drop our ridiculous charges against God, plead guilty to His charges against us, and throw ourselves upon the mercy of the court, a mercy that was purchased for us at an infinite price.