A Persevering Mercy Text: Jeremiah 52:31-34
Introduction: The God of Small Mercies
The book of Jeremiah is a hard book. It is fifty-one chapters of judgment, woe, and disaster. It is the record of a nation's implosion, a covenant people getting exactly what their sins deserved. Jeremiah is the weeping prophet, and as we read his words, we weep with him. We see the siege, the famine, the cannibalism, the slaughter, and the final, catastrophic destruction of the Temple and the holy city. The book ends with the best of the nation dragged off in chains to Babylon. And if you read only the first fifty-one and a half chapters, you might be tempted to conclude that God was finally done with His people. You might be tempted to despair.
Our modern world is an expert in despair. It dresses it up in different outfits, of course. Sometimes it is the cynical, materialist despair that says this life is all there is, so grab what you can. Sometimes it is the frantic, activist despair that believes one more protest, one more election, one more program will finally fix the unfixable brokenness of man. But underneath it all is the gnawing conviction that history is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. It is the belief that the universe is a closed system, and we are trapped inside with no hope of rescue.
And Christians are not immune to a more pious version of this. We read the long accounts of judgment, we look at the state of our own culture, which is busily running up a moral debt that makes Judah look fiscally responsible, and we can begin to think that our only hope is a last-minute, emergency evacuation. We want the rapture, the reset button, the cataclysmic intervention. We want God to act in a way that is loud, spectacular, and undeniable. And in our lust for the spectacular, we despise the day of small things. We miss the quiet, almost imperceptible, mustard-seed ways that God actually works in history.
That is why this little appendix to the book of Jeremiah is so potent. After chapter after chapter of unrelenting judgment, the book does not end with a thunderclap. It ends with a quiet, unexpected act of kindness. It ends with a flicker of light in a dark place. It is a small mercy, a mundane detail of providence. But in that small mercy, we find the entire gospel in miniature. We find the proof that God's covenant promises persevere, even when His people have done everything in their power to nullify them. This is not an anticlimax; it is the signature of a God who delights in showing mercy and whose sovereign plan cannot be thwarted by either the sin of His people or the machinations of pagan kings.
The Text
Now it happened in the thirty-seventh year of the exile of Jehoiachin king of Judah, in the twelfth month, on the twenty-fifth of the month, that Evil-merodach king of Babylon, in the first year of his reign, lifted up the head of Jehoiachin king of Judah and brought him out of prison; and he spoke to him good words, and he set his throne above the throne of the kings who were with him in Babylon. So Jehoiachin changed his prison clothes and had his meals in the king’s presence continually all the days of his life. For his allowance, a continual allowance was given him by the king of Babylon, a daily portion all the days of his life until the day of his death.
(Jeremiah 52:31-34 LSB)
Sovereign Grace in a Pagan Court (v. 31)
We begin with the historical setting and the divine action behind the human action.
"Now it happened in the thirty-seventh year of the exile of Jehoiachin king of Judah, in the twelfth month, on the twenty-fifth of the month, that Evil-merodach king of Babylon, in the first year of his reign, lifted up the head of Jehoiachin king of Judah and brought him out of prison;" (Jeremiah 52:31)
Notice the precision. Thirty-seven years. This is not a fairy tale; it is history. Jehoiachin had been a king for a mere three months before Nebuchadnezzar hauled him off to Babylon. For thirty-seven years, he has been rotting in a Babylonian prison. He is a symbol of the broken Davidic line, the deposed king of a conquered people. From a human perspective, his story is over. The promises made to David of a king who would sit on his throne forever look like a cruel joke.
But God is the Lord of history. The heart of the king is a stream of water in the hand of the Lord; He turns it wherever He will (Proverbs 21:1). A new king comes to the throne in Babylon, a man with the unfortunate name of Evil-merodach. And in the very first year of his reign, he does something remarkable. He "lifted up the head" of Jehoiachin. This is a Hebrew idiom that means more than just a physical action. It means to show favor, to restore honor, to pardon. It is the same language used of Pharaoh's cupbearer in Genesis, whose head was "lifted up" when he was restored to his position.
Who prompted Evil-merodach to do this? Was it a sudden fit of benevolent humanism? Was he trying to win favor with the Jewish exiles? The text does not say, because it does not have to. The Bible assumes God's absolute sovereignty over all such events. God did this. God reached into the heart of a pagan despot and moved him to show grace to the heir of David's throne. This is not a coincidence. This is not a lucky break. This is the hidden hand of God, preserving a remnant of the royal line, keeping the embers of His promise alive in the ashes of judgment.
This is a direct assault on our secular assumptions. We think history is driven by economics, politics, and military power. The Bible teaches that history is driven by the sovereign decree of God, who uses economics, politics, and pagan kings as His unwitting servants to accomplish His purposes. God did not need a mighty army to deliver Jehoiachin; He used a quiet word whispered into the ear of a king.
Restoration and Honor (v. 32)
The grace shown to Jehoiachin was not minimal; it was lavish.
"and he spoke to him good words, and he set his throne above the throne of the kings who were with him in Babylon." (Jeremiah 52:32 LSB)
First, the king "spoke to him good words." This is the language of kindness, of comfort. After decades of silence and shame in a dungeon, the first thing the deposed king hears is grace. This is a picture of God's heart toward His chastened people. Judgment is His strange work, but mercy is His delight. He had spoken harsh words of judgment through Jeremiah for decades, but now, the judgment having fallen, the first word is one of kindness.
Second, and more astonishingly, Evil-merodach sets Jehoiachin's throne "above the throne of the kings who were with him in Babylon." Babylon was an empire. They had a collection of vassal kings, deposed monarchs kept as trophies in the court. But among this menagerie of fallen royalty, the king of Judah is given the chief place of honor. Think of the symbolism. In the heart of the pagan empire that destroyed Jerusalem, the heir of David is publicly exalted. God is telegraphing something here. He is showing the world, and His own demoralized people, that the line of David is not extinct. It may be in exile, it may be dependent on the grace of a foreign king, but it is still the royal line. God is honoring His own promise, even in this small, symbolic way.
From Prison Rags to Royal Robes (v. 33)
The transformation is made visible and tangible.
"So Jehoiachin changed his prison clothes and had his meals in the king’s presence continually all the days of his life." (Jeremiah 52:33 LSB)
He changed his prison clothes. This is the picture of justification. The filthy rags of his imprisonment, the garments of his shame and condemnation, are taken off. He is clothed in a manner befitting his new station. This is what God does for every sinner who comes to Him. He strips us of our filthy rags of self-righteousness and sin, and He clothes us in the perfect righteousness of Jesus Christ. We are no longer defined by our past, by our prison, but by the grace of the King.
And he ate at the king's table. Continually. All the days of his life. This is a picture of fellowship, adoption, and communion. He is brought into the king's own presence, to share in the king's own bounty. He is treated not as a prisoner, but as a member of the royal household. This is a beautiful foreshadowing of the grace shown to us in Christ. We who were enemies and aliens are invited to sit at the King's table, to feast at the marriage supper of the Lamb, not because of our merit, but because of His unmerited favor.
A Continual Allowance (v. 34)
The grace was not a one-time event, but a new, permanent reality.
"For his allowance, a continual allowance was given him by the king of Babylon, a daily portion all the days of his life until the day of his death." (Jeremiah 52:34 LSB)
Jehoiachin's provision was continual and daily. He did not have to worry about tomorrow. The king's grace was sufficient for each day. This is a picture of God's sustaining grace. He does not just save us and then leave us to fend for ourselves. He provides for us daily. He gives us this day our daily bread. His mercies are new every morning. The allowance was given "by the king of Babylon," but the ultimate source was the King of Heaven. God was providing for His chosen king, ensuring the preservation of the line through which the Messiah would come.
And this provision lasted until the day of his death. The grace did not run out. This is the perseverance of the saints in seed form. The one who begins a good work will bring it to completion. The grace that saves is the grace that keeps. Jehoiachin lived and died as a recipient of this pagan king's grace, a living monument to the greater grace of God that would not let His promises fail.
The Gospel According to Jeremiah's Appendix
Why does the Holy Spirit end this book of tears with this quiet story? Because this story is our story. This is the gospel.
Like Jehoiachin, we are all born into a fallen royal line, the line of Adam. But by our sin, we have been deposed. We are held captive in the prison of sin and death, under the authority of the prince of this world. We sit in darkness, clothed in the filthy rags of our rebellion, with no hope of freeing ourselves. We are under a sentence of death, and our situation is utterly hopeless.
But God, in the first year of His Son's reign, that is, after the resurrection, performs a great act of grace. The true King, Jesus Christ, who Himself entered the prison of death for us, is raised up. And in His resurrection, He "lifts up our head." He speaks good words to us, the words of the gospel. He brings us out of the prison of sin and death.
He strips us of our prison clothes and clothes us in His own righteousness. He sets a throne for us, seating us with Him in the heavenly places, far above all principalities and powers. He invites us to His table, to feast with Him continually, all the days of our lives. And He gives us a continual allowance, a daily portion of His grace, sufficient for every need, until the day we die and go to be with Him forever.
This little act of kindness by Evil-merodach was a signpost. It was a historical event, but it was also a prophecy. It was God's promise, written in the mundane lines of Babylonian court records, that the line of David would not fail. Jehoiachin would have a son, Shealtiel, and the line would continue down to a man named Joseph, the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ. The flicker of hope in a Babylonian prison became the blazing sun of righteousness who rose with healing in His wings. The book of Jeremiah begins with judgment, but it ends with a quiet, stubborn, invincible grace. And that is the story of the whole Bible, and it is the only story that can save the world.