The Grammar of True Repentance
Introduction: The Necessity of Theological Grief
We live in an age that is allergic to sorrow and terrified of judgment. Our Christianity has become a soft, therapeutic enterprise, designed to manage our anxieties and boost our self-esteem. We want a God who is a celestial vending machine of peace and healing, and when we insert our prayers and get terror instead, we are thrown into a spiritual crisis. We have forgotten the grammar of lament, the necessity of corporate confession, and the art of appealing to God on His terms, not ours.
The modern evangelical church often treats passages like this one in Jeremiah as though they were unfortunate relics from a less enlightened time. We prefer the sunny uplands of the New Testament, or so we think, forgetting that the apostles were steeped in these very scriptures. The result is a faith that is a mile wide and an inch deep, utterly unprepared for the kind of shattering that God brings upon a faithless people. We want the blessings of the covenant without the obligations of it, and we are shocked when the curses arrive right on schedule.
This passage is a bucket of cold, clear water thrown in the face of our sentimentalism. It is a divine lesson in how a people on the brink of utter destruction are to speak to the God they have betrayed. This is not about feeling bad; it is about thinking rightly in the midst of ruin. It is about learning to pray when the fields are full of corpses and the cities are full of famine. This is the anatomy of a covenantal crisis, and it reveals the only possible way out, an appeal based not on our goodness, but entirely on God's.
The Text
And you will say this word to them,
'Let my eyes flow down with tears night and day,
And let them not cease,
For the virgin daughter of my people has been shattered with a mighty shattering,
With a sorely sick wound.
If I go out to the field,
Behold, those slain with the sword!
Or if I enter the city,
Behold, diseases of famine!
For both prophet and priest
Have gone around as merchants in the land that they do not know.'
Have You completely rejected Judah?
Or have You loathed Zion?
Why have You stricken us so that there is no healing for us?
We hoped for peace, but there was no good;
And for a time of healing, but behold, terror!
We know our wickedness, O Yahweh,
The iniquity of our fathers, for we have sinned against You.
Do not despise us, for Your own name's sake;
Do not disgrace the throne of Your glory;
Remember and do not break Your covenant with us.
Are there any among the idols of the nations who give rain?
Or can the heavens give showers?
Is it not You, O Yahweh our God?
Therefore we hope in You,
For You are the one who has done all these things.
(Jeremiah 14:17-22 LSB)
A Grief Commanded by God (v. 17-18)
The passage begins not with a suggestion, but with a command from God to His prophet.
"And you will say this word to them, 'Let my eyes flow down with tears night and day, And let them not cease, For the virgin daughter of my people has been shattered with a mighty shattering, With a sorely sick wound.'" (Jeremiah 14:17)
God commands Jeremiah to weep. This is not an emotional breakdown; it is a prophetic act. The sorrow is not Jeremiah's personal feeling, but rather God's own grief channeled through His servant. This is a righteous, theological sorrow. The reason for the weeping is the utter devastation of Judah, described here as the "virgin daughter of my people." This is covenant language. She was betrothed to Yahweh, meant to be pure and faithful. Instead, her unfaithfulness has led to her being "shattered with a mighty shattering." The wound is not a scratch; it is "sorely sick," meaning it is mortal, beyond human remedy.
The scope of this devastation is total, touching every part of the nation.
"If I go out to the field, Behold, those slain with the sword! Or if I enter the city, Behold, diseases of famine! For both prophet and priest Have gone around as merchants in the land that they do not know." (Jeremiah 14:18)
This is the outworking of the covenant curses of Deuteronomy 28. Disobedience brings the sword, pestilence, and famine. The ruin is both external in the countryside and internal in the city. There is no escape. But the rotten core of the problem is identified in the last lines. The spiritual leadership has collapsed. The prophets and priests, who were supposed to be the nation's moral compass and spiritual guides, have become disoriented hucksters. They are like merchants in a foreign land, peddling their wares, having commodified the Word of God for personal gain. When the pulpit becomes a marketplace, the nation is already dead. The spiritual rot is always the source of the political and social rot.
The Covenantal Crisis (v. 19)
This devastation leads to an agonizing cry, a question hurled at heaven from the rubble.
"Have You completely rejected Judah? Or have You loathed Zion? Why have You stricken us so that there is no healing for us? We hoped for peace, but there was no good; And for a time of healing, but behold, terror!" (Jeremiah 14:19)
This is the question of a people who remember the promises but are drowning in the curses. They know God chose Judah. They know He placed His name in Zion. And they cannot reconcile those covenantal truths with the reality of their utter destruction. "Have you loathed Zion?" is a shocking question. It is the cry of a people on the verge of despair.
Their expectation was for peace and healing. The false prophets had promised it. But their definition of peace was simply the absence of consequences. They wanted God's blessings without submitting to God's authority. This is the central delusion of every rebellious heart and every apostate nation. We want the cultural inheritance of Christendom, things like liberty and justice, but we reject the Christ who is the foundation of it all. The result is inevitable: we hope for peace, and behold, terror. We hope for healing, and the wound only gets worse.
The Only True Appeal (v. 20-21)
In the midst of this despair, the prayer pivots. This is the hinge of the entire passage, where theological sanity begins to break through the fog of pain.
"We know our wickedness, O Yahweh, The iniquity of our fathers, for we have sinned against You." (Jeremiah 14:20)
Here it is. The beginning of wisdom. This is not a vague apology. It is a specific, corporate, and generational confession. They acknowledge their own wickedness. They acknowledge the inherited sin of their fathers, recognizing that they are part of a long story of rebellion. And they acknowledge the object of their sin: "we have sinned against You." All sin is ultimately personal and vertical. It is an assault on the character of God.
Having confessed their utter lack of merit, they now make their appeal. And notice the basis of it. It is entirely located in God.
"Do not despise us, for Your own name's sake; Do not disgrace the throne of Your glory; Remember and do not break Your covenant with us." (Jeremiah 14:21)
This is the only argument a sinner can make. They do not say, "Remember our good intentions," or "Look at our tearful repentance." They say, in effect, "God, be true to Yourself." The appeal is threefold. First, it is for God's "name's sake." His reputation is on the line. If He allows His chosen people to be utterly wiped out, the pagan nations will conclude that He is a weak or faithless God. Second, it is for His "throne of glory," a reference to the Temple in Jerusalem. Do not let the pagans conclude that their gods have triumphed over Your throne. Third, and most fundamentally, they appeal to the covenant. "Remember and do not break Your covenant." This is an appeal to raw, unilateral grace. They are asking God to be faithful even though they have been completely faithless. They are clinging to His promise because they have nothing else.
The Uselessness of Idols (v. 22)
The prayer concludes with a rhetorical blast of pure, presuppositional truth. It contrasts the utter impotence of their idols with the absolute sovereignty of Yahweh.
"Are there any among the idols of the nations who give rain? Or can the heavens give showers? Is it not You, O Yahweh our God? Therefore we hope in You, For You are the one who has done all these things." (Jeremiah 14:22)
In an agrarian society, rain was life. The Canaanite god Baal was the celebrated storm god, the rain-giver. And here, Jeremiah lays it bare. Can your idols, your Baals, your modern equivalents of political saviors, economic theories, or therapeutic techniques, can any of them make it rain? Can they do anything at all? The question is absurd, and meant to be.
Even the heavens themselves are not in charge. They do not "give showers." They are instruments. God is the one who acts. "Is it not You, O Yahweh our God?" This is the foundation of all sanity. God is the sovereign creator and sustainer of all things. He is the one who has done "all these things," both the creating and the shattering.
And because of this, the conclusion is inescapable: "Therefore we hope in You." Hope placed anywhere else is irrational. Hope in an idol is foolishness. Hope in circumstances is madness. Hope in our own righteousness is suicidal. The only logical, sane, and fruitful place to anchor our hope is in the sovereign God of the universe, the God who keeps His covenant for His own name's sake.
Conclusion: The Throne of Glory and the True Rain
This prayer is the model for every Christian in every generation. When our lives are shattered, when our nation is crumbling, when we have hoped for peace and received terror, this is how we must pray. We begin with a grief that is aligned with God's grief over sin. We confess our wickedness and the wickedness of our fathers. And we make our appeal based on nothing within ourselves.
Our plea is for God's name, for His glory, and for His covenant. And in the new covenant, this plea has been given a name: the name of Jesus Christ. We do not plead for the sake of a temple in Jerusalem, but for the sake of the one who is the true Temple. We do not appeal to a throne on earth, but to the throne of glory in the heavens, where our ascended Lord Jesus Christ is seated at the right hand of the Father.
Our covenant appeal is not to the blood of bulls and goats, but to the blood of the Lamb, which seals a new and better covenant. He is the one who did not break the covenant, but fulfilled it perfectly on our behalf. He is the one who sends the true rain, the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, who alone can bring life to a dry and desolate land, and to a dry and desolate heart.
All other saviors, all other hopes, are the useless idols of the nations. They cannot make it rain. Therefore, we hope in Him. For He is the one who has done all these things.