-- This I recall to heart, therefore have I hope.
Jeremiah has just said that his strength and his hope have perished. Nothing in his circumstances has changed, yet now he says he has hope. Everything turns on one small word: "therefore". He has called something to mind, and it is strong enough to turn a funeral song into confidence.
The chapter so far is an unbroken account of misery. Verse 21 is where a crushed man stops sinking and begins to trust.
Yet there is the very point of change. From verse 19 he spreads out everything before Jehovah and asks Him to remember it. His soul lies completely crushed, and out of that he begins to form confidence... This is not Christ Himself speaking, but it is certainly the Spirit of Christ leading an afflicted and broken heart. Weeping may endure for a night; but joy comes in the morning.
Hope here is not a mood that arrives from nowhere. The grammar of the verse ties it to a reason already given.
This is the word that introduces a conclusion drawn from something already said. "Therefore" looks in two directions... It looks backward to the cause that is enough to support it, and forward to the consequence that cannot fail. The consequence in Jeremiah's case was HOPE. "Therefore," he says, "I have hope." That is an inspiring thing to have. Without it life would be impossible. With it the heart grows strong to meet any trial — if, of course, the hope is not a false one.
Commentators differ on what "this" points to. One reads verse 21 as looking forward, to the reason given in the lines that follow.
I have no doubt that the prophet spells out in the verses that follow the ground of hope he laid to heart in verse 21: "It is of Jehovah's mercies that we are not consumed, because His mercies fail not. They are new every morning: great is Your faithfulness. Jehovah is my portion; therefore I will hope in Him." That last line confirms that verse 21 looks ahead, and that here the real spring of hope is reached.
Another writer traces the hope to God's promise to remember him, and adds that Jeremiah was still alive at all.
He had asked the Lord to remember his affliction and misery, and hope arose from the confidence that God would surely do this. His continuing to live, while bowed under the weight of his troubles, was itself evidence of mercy. This point in his past history fits exactly the condition of the city and the nation at that moment. Great as the desolation of the city was, and the trials of the nation, they were not consumed... They deserved to be swept off the earth, but God in mercy had stepped in.
Hope here grows out of the least promising material. One writer explains this with a picture from the fields.
How deeply the ploughman thrusts his blade into the soil, leaving a gaping furrow behind him! What is all this determined labour for? A great purpose! The seed-basket follows the plough, and the farmer casts golden grain into the furrowed ground... But the field would yield no harvest if it were not first cut and seamed and ploughed. Because the ploughshare does its work in the soil, there is hope. Has the ploughshare of adversity or sorrow left deep furrows in your soul? "Therefore have hope." The good seed of the Word can take no root in an unprepared heart.
Not every sufferer reaches Jeremiah's conclusion. What a trial leaves behind depends on the state of the heart it visits.
Never did a trial visit any heart without bringing an experience with it. Everything depends on what that experience is. It may be the bitterness and resentment of an unsubdued will. It may be the indifference of a proud and unbroken heart. Or it may be the sustaining mercies and compassion of the Lord. It must be one of these three. The last is always the experience of the humbled and contrite spirit. Then the way opens for hope to enter, not as a visitor only, but to stay as a most blessed companion.
Hope is not named only here. One writer counts it through the chapter, and names what it waits for.
In this third chapter, the middle one of the book, the man of affliction of verse 1 speaks of "HOPE" three times, in verses 21, 24 and 29. In verse 26 the word is "wait". But wait for what? For the salvation of God. God has secured that salvation in Christ, raised from among the dead, for Israel and for us also.
- Turn. Verse 21 is the hinge of the chapter. From total collapse the prophet begins to form confidence, and night weeping gives way to morning joy.
- Therefore. The word looks back to a cause strong enough to bear it, and forward to a result that cannot fail. Hope is a conclusion, not a mood.
- Ground. Commentators differ on the "this". Some point forward to the mercies that never fail. Others point to God's promise to remember, with Jeremiah still alive as proof that God stepped in.
- Plough. Sorrow cuts the soul open the way a plough opens soil — the wound is what makes the seed able to take root.
- Choice. Every trial leaves resentment, indifference, or the Lord's mercy known. Only the last opens the way for hope to move in and stay.
It is of Jehovah's loving-kindness we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not;
Lamentations is a book of grief over a ruined city, and chapter 3 speaks for the people who lived through it. Verse 22 is where the mourner stops counting his wounds and asks why anyone is still alive.
The verses before this one are bitter. Then the speaker turns and takes God's side.
Verse 22 strikes a completely different note, and a tone of high, joyful confidence carries on down to verse 36. Instead of complaining that his sorrows were greater than he deserved, he declares God right, and thankfully admits that justice has been mixed with grace… How precious the faith that, at such a time, could so speak! And what tested believer can honestly say anything else? Only when the soul is away from God's presence does His correction seem too severe, and partly undeserved.
Older English versions read the first line as "It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed," and most of the writers here quote it that way. On that reading, the verse points at the bare fact that the speaker and his people are still alive.
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He was still alive, bowed under the weight of his troubles, and that was evidence of mercy. What he had been through fits the present state of the city and the nation. The city lay in ruins and the nation was in great trouble, yet they were not consumed. Jeremiah was one of them, and he and others still alive were witnesses of this. How could they explain it? They deserved to be swept off the earth, but God in mercy had stepped in… His justice demanded the judgment they deserved. His mercy gave hope for the future, and they were living examples of it.
The second half of the verse explains the first. It tells us what God feels, not only what He does.
"His compassions fail not." No cold, indifferent heart ever directs the rod. He feels as no other can for the people of His choice, the children He loves. Every morning brings fresh evidence of His loving-kindness.
There is a note on the wording worth knowing. Older translations turned the first line around, so that it is God's mercies, rather than the people, that "are not consumed."
The Targum and the older versions, apart from the Latin one, turn it this way: "The mercies of Jehovah are not consumed, for His compassions fail not." I see no good reason for that, though Calvin thinks this sense fits better. The Latin version and our own English one read better to me. They are clearer, and they give more prominence to His people themselves… So His mercies have no end.
The next verse says these compassions are new every morning. Writers tie that rhythm to the manna, the bread God gave His people each morning in the desert.
The manna also had to be gathered in the morning. It was the evidence of God's provision for His people day by day, as we read elsewhere: "His compassions fail not. They are new every morning" (Lamentations 3:22-23).
Daily mercy carries a person through a long wait. Joseph waited like that, forgotten by people.
The devil may tempt us day by day, and God may test us by keeping us waiting from day to day. Still, He renews His mercy every day… Man forgets Joseph, but the Lord remembers him.
The passage does not stop at the mercies themselves. It goes on to the Giver, so hope holds even when no mercy can be seen.
What held our souls up in the past, when they were almost overwhelmed? The Lord's mercies! So we have hope… The sorrows did not come alone, the mercies followed hard on their heels. Therefore we have hope! And suppose there were neither mercies nor compassions — what then? Then, "The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in Him." It is good to hear hope's song break into the prophet's funeral song, and to learn that the Lord was greater than his greatest sorrow.
- Not consumed — the verse starts from survival. They deserved to be swept off the earth, and mercy stepped in instead.
- Not deserved — he stops arguing that his suffering was too heavy, and admits that justice came mixed with grace. Only a soul away from God calls the correction too severe.
- Not cold — the hand holding the rod is not indifferent. His compassions do not fail, so the blow fell only in part.
- Not exhausted — mercy comes in daily portions, like the manna gathered each morning. That is what carries a person through a long wait.
- Not dependent — even if no mercies could be counted, hope still stands, because the Lord Himself is the portion.
they are new every morning great is thy faithfulness.
These words sit in the middle of a long lament, and they turn it toward hope. How can a man in that much grief call God's mercies new and His faithfulness great?
The tone of the chapter turns at verse 22, and this line carries the turn. Notice where the speaker puts the blame.
The note changes completely at verse 22, and he keeps up a high strain of joyful confidence down to verse 36. He does not complain that his troubles were greater than he deserved. Instead, he clears God of blame and gives thanks that God has mixed justice with grace. "It is of the Lord's mercies," he owns, "that we are not consumed, because His compassions never fail. They are new every morning: great is Your faithfulness." How precious is the faith that could speak like that at such a time! And what tested believer can honestly say anything else? Only when the soul is out of God's presence does it seem as if His discipline were too severe, and partly undeserved.
The word "morning" has its own history in the Bible. Manna was the bread God gave Israel in the desert. It had to be gathered at daybreak, and it came again the next day.
In Exodus there are also many references to the morning. "In the morning … you shall see the glory of the Lord." This was the answer to the murmuring of the people. The manna too had to be gathered in the morning. It was the evidence of God's provision for His people day by day, as we read elsewhere: "His compassions never fail. They are new every morning."
How much mercy does one ordinary day hold? Count it, from the first meal to lying down at night.
"His mercies are new every morning." Mercy comes in as steadily as the tide. In fact, how many tides of mercy do we see in a single day! We never eat without mercy carving every piece for us. We never drink except from the golden cup of mercy. We never go out without mercy setting a guard of angels around us. We never lie down in bed without mercy drawing the curtains of protection close around us. Shall we receive so many good things from the hand of God, and not receive evil? Our mercies far outweigh our afflictions; for one affliction we have a thousand mercies.
The second half of the verse — "great is Your faithfulness" — is also a line the Lord Jesus could speak. What did His own mornings look like?
The Lord Jesus could say, "The Lord God has given me the tongue of those who are taught, that I may know how to sustain with a word him who is weary. Morning by morning he awakens; he awakens my ear to hear as those who are taught" (Isa. 50:4), and He could say, "Great is Your faithfulness" (Lam. 3:23). I wonder about us — do we have these experiences morning by morning? Do we listen to what God has to say to us through His word? … The Lord Jesus received fresh communication every morning. Do we receive fresh communication every morning? Well, we can.
Human compassion has a limit; God's does not. What does that mean when the people who should care let you down?
In the Christian circle God would have us free of care. This can only happen as we cast all our care on Him, in the happy consciousness that He cares for us. Sadly, we may fail in our shepherd care of one another. But the compassions of God will not fail; "they are new every morning." If those who shepherd fail, and the sheep feel neglected, let each one take comfort from this word: "He cares for you."
If mercy arrives new each day, what should meet it? Look at how a day begins and ends.
His mercies are new to us every morning and our praise should be new as well. And if we begin our day with praise and thanksgiving and faith and hope, we must end it with thanks and praise. Its needs and ups and downs only bring out the trustworthiness and the resources of our God.
- Ruins first. A man in deep loss stops protesting his suffering. He clears God of blame and owns that God has mixed justice with grace.
- Morning next. Like manna gathered at daybreak, God's compassions come fresh, day by day.
- Count them. Mercy comes in like the tide: every meal, every drink, every step out, every night's sleep. For one affliction we have a thousand mercies.
- Christ's pattern. The Lord Jesus listened morning by morning and could say, "Great is Your faithfulness." The same fresh hearing is open to us in God's word.
- Then praise. New mercies each morning call for new thanks each morning. And God's compassions hold steady even where human care fails.
Jehovah is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him.
Jeremiah writes these words while Jerusalem lies in ruins and the sanctuary is desolate. In that wreckage he says one thing about God, and draws one conclusion from it.
In this chapter the sufferer looks past his losses to the God behind them. One writer finds it a place of worship, even with the sanctuary in ruins:
In the third part, it is the LORD Himself who is before the soul: the bitterness lies in its coming from the LORD. Yet here the burdened one begins to realise what is in the LORD for him, and He Himself is still his portion. The sorrow is discipline, and it is good to bear the yoke. Out of it all, at last, come revival and blessing and the overthrow of enemies. Though the sanctuary is desolate, we find this chapter of Lamentations to be a sanctuary-psalm. The LORD Himself is this.
A portion is the share a person lives on. Jeremiah names God as his. One writer shows how small that looks to a heart that wants something it can hold:
It is a fine portion, without doubt. Yet unbelief thinks it nothing. It longs for someone to show it some good it can touch — the grain and wine and oil of this creation. But to have Him who has all things is a better portion beyond comparison. He is Himself infinitely more than all He has. Anyone who believes this by grace must admit it.
The idea did not start with Jeremiah. Israel's priests received no share of the land. God Himself was their portion:
The priests needed these provisions, because unlike the other tribes they had no inheritance in the land. They were to realise that God was their portion and inheritance. We may wonder whether they understood and valued this as they should have. But what about ourselves today? Being priests, believers have no earthly inheritance. Yet even now God is our portion and inheritance. And we have the wonderful prospect of an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled and unfading, kept in heaven (1 Peter 1:4).
Jeremiah reports what his own soul is saying. That makes it something each person has to say for himself, and it shows what the heart has been chasing instead:
The words "You are my portion" are a confession, not a prayer. Has there not been a danger of our looking for a portion on earth, looking around for something to satisfy? How good it is for us to find, as Solomon did, that everything here is "empty." The Lord is God's centre, and the source of all grace for us. When we realise that, our souls reach out to Him and say, "Lord, You are my portion."
Hope appears earlier in the chapter, at verse 21. One writer traces where that hope comes from:
There is no doubt that the ground of hope which the prophet takes to heart, as he said in verse 21, is stated in the verses that follow… The last clause confirms that verse 21 was looking ahead, and that here we reach the source of it.
Another writer takes the thought to its worst case:
When other helpers failed and comforts fled, what was it that did not fail? His compassions… And suppose there were neither mercies nor compassions — what then? Then, "The LORD is my portion, says my soul; therefore I will hope in Him." It is good to hear the song that hope sings break in on the prophet's funeral lament. It is good to learn that the Lord was greater than his greatest sorrow.
The portion lies in heaven, out of trouble's reach. So no trouble here can put the light out:
Have you not chosen Him for your portion? Are you not looking for a heaven to enjoy Him in for ever? Then can any dungeon of outward affliction be so dark that this hope will not light it up? He who has laid up a portion in heaven for you will surely cover all the costs you need on your way there. Remember how often God has proved your fears wrong and shown your unbelief to be a false prophet.
- Ruin. Jeremiah speaks over a ruined city, and the sanctuary is gone. Yet the chapter itself becomes a sanctuary, because God Himself is still there.
- Portion. A portion is the share you live on. Name God as yours, and you have the One who owns all things and is worth more than all He owns.
- Precedent. Israel's priests owned no land; God Himself was their portion. Commentators say the same of believers: no earthly inheritance now, and an inheritance kept in heaven.
- Claim. "Says my soul" makes it a confession, not a prayer. It becomes real when a heart stops hunting for a portion on earth and says it.
- Therefore. Even if you could see no mercies at all, God Himself remains. So hope stands on ground no affliction can reach, and no dungeon is dark enough to put out its light.
Jehovah is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul [that] seeketh him.
Jeremiah writes as a man who has been through deep trial with Jerusalem. He turns from his own affliction to what he has found God to be. The verse names two people God is good to: the one who waits, and the one who seeks. Why do those two belong together?
This is not a general remark about God. It is a report from a man who had been through the worst.
Jeremiah tells what he gained from the Lord's ways with him in his trouble, and what it all did to his heart. "The Lord is my portion, says my soul; therefore I will hope in Him." That is how a man can speak who had seen affliction under the rod of God's wrath. Having passed through seasons of trial, he can tell Jerusalem what he has found, a knowledge of great value. Had he only entered into trial with Jerusalem, he might have stated what he looked for. His expectations might have been right, and his view of the future correct. But that would have given no comfort like the experience he actually gained. So he goes on, "The Lord is good to those who wait for Him, to the soul who seeks Him."
The same writer adds where all this comfort comes from.
All the comfort here is drawn from the Lord's known character — a wonderful rock to stand on, when everything that has happened has been richly deserved.
The second half of the verse is not just a repeat of the first. It tests it.
These words cherish confident expectation. At the same time they expose and judge a false claim to be waiting for Him. A careless spirit might pretend to wait for Him. But could anyone think of such a person as a soul that seeks Him? This implies activity.
If waiting is not idleness, neither is it self-managed action. One writer, commenting on a psalm whose subject is waiting on God, describes the two things it holds together.
Waiting on God is the subject of this psalm. It implies dependence and confidence — and both in such a way that we wait for God's time. Dependence, because we cannot do anything without Him, and ought not to. What He does is the only thing the soul desires. Action without Him, even in self-defence, is only the action of our own will, and so far it is our being without God. Saul did not wait on God. He waited nearly seven days. But if he had felt that he was dependent, and that nothing could be done without God, he would have done nothing till Samuel came. He did not. He acted for himself, and lost the kingdom. But waiting implies confidence too, for why should we wait if God would not come in? The soul is sustained in the meantime. And this confidence is such that we wait for the Lord's own good time.
The verse promises goodness to those who wait. One writer says that few Christians ever do it.
These truths are so little grasped for one reason: waiting on God is largely a "lost art" among Christians today. The rush and hurry of the age, "the lust of other things" — in a word, the worldliness that marks this hugely important period in the Church's history — effectively shuts out all desire to wait on God. This, it is to be feared, is true of a large number of those who confess the name of Jesus as Saviour and Lord. As a result, they know little or nothing, in a practical way, of His goodness in meeting felt need, or of His power to satisfy the soul that seeks His face.
The same writer is careful not to overpromise what the waiting soul receives.
The Lord has nowhere promised immediate relief from sorrow and suffering. Sometimes, in His righteous government, He allows His people to suffer affliction. Then it is good that they seek His face at once, and wait on Him. It may not be His will to remove every thorn in the flesh. If not, He will give the waiting soul grace to endure, and to endure with joy.
This verse turns practical when people speak against us and we want to answer back.
How good it is for us to follow in His steps. When men speak malicious words, from whatever quarter they come, how good to keep silent and know that the Lord is our resource. It is good for us to take up the words of the prophet and say, "The Lord is good to those who wait for Him, to the soul who seeks Him."
- Proved: Jeremiah is not predicting God's goodness. He reports it after coming through affliction, and that is why his words comfort.
- Waited for: Waiting joins dependence and confidence. We cannot act without Him, and we wait for His time because we trust He will come in.
- Sought: The second half of the verse tests the first. A careless spirit may claim to wait, but it does not seek. Real seeking is active.
- Lost: The rush and worldliness of the age crowd out waiting. Those who never wait never taste His goodness in real need.
- Given: He does not promise to remove every thorn. He does give the waiting soul grace to endure, and to endure with joy.
It is good that one should both wait, and that in silence, for the salvation of Jehovah.
Lamentations 3:26 sits in the middle of a book of grief. Jeremiah tells a suffering person what to do, and two questions follow. What salvation is he waiting for? And why must the waiting be quiet?
Commentators read "salvation" here in two very different ways. One says the rescue in view is deliverance from present trouble, not the eternal salvation of the soul.
When Jeremiah wrote that it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord, he was not talking about the salvation of the soul. He meant rescue from the troubles and confusions along the way. Nowhere does Scripture put the eternal salvation of the soul before us as something to wait for in patience and quietness. Again and again it states the opposite. For light on the salvation of the soul we turn to the New Testament. These two sides of salvation must be kept clearly apart.
Others look further ahead. They see a rescue still to come for Israel and for the believer, secured in the risen Christ.
But wait for what? The salvation of God. It is secured in Christ raised from among the dead, for Israel and for us too. We are saved by grace already, and we will know that salvation in full when our risen and glorified Saviour returns. Israel will know it afterwards.
One writer looks at a related word for silence. That silence is not empty.
The second word, Dumah, means "silence." It clearly adds another feature. It, too, often implies expectancy. In Lamentations 3:26, where the verse speaks of waiting quietly for the salvation of the Lord, this word is used for "quiet expectancy."
Some might use quiet waiting as a cover for doing nothing.
In this way the verse nourishes confident expectation, and it exposes and judges any false claim of waiting for Him. A careless person might pretend to wait for Him. But could anyone call such a person a soul that seeks Him? Seeking Him implies activity.
In trouble, the natural pull is to act and force a way out. One writer names that impulse, and sets Saul's haste at Gilgal beside Jehoshaphat's dependence on God.
We all need to learn this lesson when we are brought into hardship, confusion, or trials. The flesh is impatient. Like Saul at Gilgal, it cannot wait. It must do something to force a way out of difficulty and rescue itself. What we need is to see how powerless we are, and how dependent on the Lord, so that we may stand still and see His salvation. Jehoshaphat is a beautiful example of this when an overwhelming army was coming. He said to the Lord, "We are powerless against this great horde that is coming against us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you." He and Judah waited on the Lord for His salvation.
Another writer blames the rush of the age, and names what it costs.
Christians take in so little of the truths taught here because waiting on God has largely become a "lost art" today. The rush and hurry of the age, "the lust of other things," in a word, the worldliness that marks this critical time in the Church's history, shuts out any desire to wait on God... So they know little or nothing, in a practical way, of His goodness in meeting the need they feel, and of His power to satisfy the soul that seeks His face.
Waiting is not a deal for quick relief. Two writers say the trial may remain, and that silence includes taking the discipline from God's hand.
The Lord has nowhere promised instant relief from sorrow and suffering. When in His righteous rule He allows His people to suffer, they do well to seek His face at once and wait on Him. He may not choose to remove every thorn in the flesh. If He does not, He will give the waiting soul grace to endure, and to endure with joy.
We must learn to wait in silence for the salvation of God, and to receive from His hand the discipline He allows. We must even accept loneliness and stay silent, because trials come from Him, and because we can rest assured that "though he cause grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love."
- Good — the verse calls waiting good, not just bearable. Commentators differ on the salvation meant: rescue from present trouble, or the full deliverance when Christ returns.
- Quiet — the word behind "quietly" points to silence, and that silence is expectancy. It is a hush that watches for God.
- Active — silence toward God goes with seeking Him. That test exposes a careless spirit that only claims to wait.
- Impatient — the flesh cannot stand still and forces its own escape, like Saul at Gilgal. Hurry and worldliness have made waiting a lost art.
- Compassion — the thorn may stay. But the one who waits is given grace to endure with joy, because the God who caused the grief will show compassion.
It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth
In this chapter Jeremiah turns from Jerusalem's grief to his own. He tells what he learned under God's hand. Verse 27 raises a hard question: how can a yoke, laid on someone early in life, ever be a mercy?
This verse is the last of three sayings about what is "good." One writer takes all three together and shows that this waiting is not passive:
"The LORD is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD. It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth." These words cherish confident expectation. They also expose and judge a false pretence of waiting for Him. A careless spirit might pretend to wait for Him, but could anyone call such a person a soul that seeks Him? Activity is implied in this... The last good considered here is that one should bear the yoke in his youth. Subjection to God's will and to the trials He sends is always blessed, and this from tender years.
Older translations read "hope and quietly wait" in that middle line, and that hope is the confident expectation he points to.
A yoke holds its wearer back. One writer says this is why a yoke suits us, and why the Lord never bore one:
We need a yoke — an easy one, but still a yoke... The very goodness of the yoke here shows that the Lord never could have borne it. But for us it is indeed good. There is something in us that always needs restraining, always ready to break out if it is not held back.
Commentators differ here. Another writer applies this verse to Christ Himself, who took a servant's place toward man:
Humbling Himself, and taking the form of a slave (Phil. 2:7), He became the Bondman of man, whom He had created and who was in rebellion against God! He allowed Himself to be bought by man, to grant man rights over Him even from His youth, so as to serve man (Lam. 3:27; Ps. 129:1). Never was such self-denial seen!
The verse ties the yoke to one season of life: youth. One writer gives the reason:
The Lord knows what He is doing. We do not like the yoke; not one of us does. Scripture says, "It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth." Why? Because then he grows patient as he gets older.
Another writer treats this early training as preparation for battle, and adds a warning for the young:
So in spiritual things, the believer must meet the enemy. He must toil and wrestle with what looks like a barren condition. This is how he avoids giving in to the deceits of this world. There is a special warning in this for the young believer. "It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth" — learn to endure hardship, and so become a good soldier of Jesus Christ.
The verses just after this one describe how a person carries the yoke:
So he accepts God's ways in silence. His humiliation is complete, reaching to death in the conscience, yet it is not without hope. He submits to man's scornful persecution and reproach.
The yoke is not an end in itself. One writer describes what it works in a person who takes it before God:
There is a "ministry of suffering" which all believers have to learn to a greater or lesser degree... The result, if he is before God about it, will be to sober and humble him, and so work out ultimate blessing. He may be called to sit alone and keep silence, and to put his mouth in the dust. Like his Saviour, he may give his cheek to those who strike him. He can be sure of this: "The Lord will not cast off forever."
Jeremiah does not just tell Jerusalem what he expected. He tells what he found:
He has passed through seasons of trial. So he can tell Jerusalem what he has found, and that knowledge is of great value. Had he only entered into trial with Jerusalem, he might have stated what he looked for. His expectations might have been right... but that would have given no comfort like the experience actually gained.
- Restraint. A yoke holds us back, and we need one — good for us because something in us is always ready to break out.
- Early. Borne in youth, it does its slow work: the young learn endurance, and grow patient as they get older.
- Silent. You wear the yoke by accepting God's ways without argument — sitting alone, mouth in the dust, absorbing reproach.
- Hopeful. Humiliation goes deep, yet never without hope, because "The Lord will not cast off forever."
- Useful. What the yoke teaches becomes a knowledge of great value — comfort you can hand to others because you gained it yourself.
He sitteth solitary and keepeth silence, because he hath laid it upon him;
Lamentations 3 turns from a ruined city to one man under God's hand, and this verse shows his posture: seated, alone, quiet. Why choose silence instead of protest, and is that silence defeat or faith?
The stillness here is not sulking or numbness. It is a settled acceptance of what God is doing. The next two verses carry it further: the sufferer puts his face in the dust and turns his cheek to the man who strikes him.
"He puts his mouth in the dust, in case there may be hope. He gives his cheek to the one who strikes him: he is filled with insults." So God's ways are accepted in silence. Humiliation is complete, right down to death in the conscience, yet not without hope. And he submits to the contempt, persecution and reproach of men.
The reason for the silence is who laid the trouble on him. Jeremiah had human names he could have blamed — the crowds who mocked him, the officials who jailed him — and he names none of them.
The prophet does not accuse the people and their leaders of inflicting on him all the persecutions he endured. Rather, he receives them from the hand of God. He says, "I am the man who has seen affliction by the rod of His wrath." He recalls the years spent in the darkness of prison (v. 2, 6), the loss of his freedom (v. 7, 9), and the torture that broke his bones (v. 4). He calls to mind how they mocked him: "I have become a laughingstock to all my people; their song all the day" (v. 14).
The verse before calls the yoke good, and a yoke by definition holds something back. That tells you something about who needs one — and about the one man who never did.
We need a yoke — an easy one, but still a yoke. Look at the picture in Lamentations: "It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth." The very goodness of the yoke here shows that the Lord never could have borne it. But for us it is indeed good, because there is something in us that always needs restraining, always ready to break out if it is not held in.
Sitting alone is the hardest part of the verse. It is bearable only because of what this chapter has already said about God's character.
We must learn to wait in silence for the salvation of God, and to receive from His hand the discipline He allows. We must even accept loneliness and stay silent, because trials come from Him. And we can rest assured that "if he has caused grief, he will have compassion according to the multitude of his loving-kindnesses."
A quiet sufferer can look like someone with nothing to say for himself. In fact he has handed the answer to someone better placed to give it. That is the pattern Christ set under insult.
If we keep silence when people insult us, it is not that there is no answer to evil and malice. It is that the answer is left with God. We are never to try to take vengeance on the wrongdoer. God keeps all vengeance in His own hands... Our part, then, is to follow in the steps of the Lord Jesus, and when insulted to commit ourselves to Him who judges righteously.
The silence rests on hope, and that hope rests on a fact about God's dealings: they do not run on forever.
Hope is confirmed here, and without hope there is no power to endure and no comfort. His judicial chastenings of Israel are measured and will have an end, and the same is true of His righteous government of us now.
- Hand. The sitting and the silence rest on one fact: God laid the burden on him, not his enemies.
- Yoke. The yoke is good because something in us is always ready to break out unless the yoke holds it in. Christ alone never needed it.
- Silence. Silence is how he accepts God's ways. The mouth in the dust is humiliation carried all the way through, yet not without hope.
- Alone. Loneliness is part of the discipline he takes from God's hand, held steady by the promise of compassion in the multitude of His loving-kindnesses.
- Answer. Saying nothing is not having nothing to say. It is leaving the reply with the God who judges rightly, whose chastening is measured and will end.
he putteth his mouth in the dust, if so be there may be hope;
Lamentations 3 speaks from Jerusalem under God's judgment. The verse pictures a man face down in the dust, silent, holding on to a bare "there may yet be" — and the question is whether that is despair or faith.
One writer hears faith in this chapter, speaking from inside the wreckage rather than giving up.
In Lamentations 3 we find the language of faith, of sorrowing faith, of the Spirit of Christ in the remnant, when God judged Jerusalem, the city where He had dwelt... he places himself in the middle of the evil to express the sentiments of the Spirit of Christ... he brings out what was really going on in the heart of a faithful Israelite, the reality of what was highest in that day of anguish and affliction.
The turn in the chapter comes when the sufferer stops looking at the blow and looks at the One who struck it.
He begins to feel that, after all, it is better to be dealing with Jehovah. From another point of view, this made it all the more painful. He feels that it is good to be afflicted, and to wait on Jehovah who smites: for He will not cast off for ever.
This verse sits in the middle of three. One writer reads the three together as a single act of surrender.
"Let him sit alone in silence when it is laid on him; let him put his mouth in the dust — there may yet be hope; let him give his cheek to the one who strikes, and let him be filled with insults." So he accepts God's ways in silence. His humiliation is complete, reaching to death in the conscience, yet not without hope. And he submits to scornful persecution and reproach from others.
The dust is where the yoke of the previous verses puts a man. One writer draws a sharp line here between us and Christ.
We need a yoke — an easy one, but still a yoke... The very goodness of the yoke here shows that the Lord never could have borne it. For us it is truly good, because something in us always needs restraining, always ready to break out if nothing holds it back.
One writer notes how early this subjection is meant to begin.
The last good considered here is that one should bear the yoke in his youth. Subjection to God's will and to the trials He sends is always blessed, and this from tender years.
Two responses to trouble stand opposite each other.
As has been said: "In a day of ruin faith always recognises the chastening of God and bows to it. Unbelief always resists."
Bowing includes the hardest part — being left on your own.
We must learn to wait in silence for the salvation of God, and also to receive from His hand the discipline He allows. One must even accept loneliness and stay silent. This is because the trials come from Him, and because one can rest assured that "if he has caused grief, he will have compassion according to the multitude of his loving-kindnesses."
The word "hope" is not a one-off here. One writer names what the waiting is for.
It is there, in that middle chapter, that the man of affliction of verse 1 speaks of "HOPE" three times, in verses 21, 24 and 29. But wait for what? The salvation of God, which is secured in Christ raised from among the dead, for Israel, and for ourselves also.
The silence is bearable because the discipline has a limit.
Hope is confirmed in this way, and without it there is no power of endurance any more than of comfort. His judicial chastenings of Israel are measured and will have an end, as is equally true of His righteous government of ourselves now.
- Yoke. Trouble is a yoke. It does us good because something in us needs restraining — which is why Christ never had to wear it.
- Silence. Mouth in the dust means taking God's ways without argument. Faith bows to chastening; unbelief resists.
- Alone. The discipline includes loneliness and silence, because the trial comes from His hand.
- Hope. The word "hope" sounds three times in this chapter. The waiting looks for one thing: the salvation of God.
- Limit. God's chastening is measured and will end: "He will not cast off for ever." That is why hope holds.
he giveth his cheek to him that smiteth him; he is filled full with reproach.
This verse belongs to a short run of verses about a man under God's heavy hand. He sits alone. He puts his mouth in the dust. He makes no answer when someone strikes him. Is such complete submission simply defeat? Commentators answer by asking who else in Scripture stood and took the blow.
One writer sums up what the silence, the dust and the offered cheek say together.
So God's ways are accepted in silence. The humiliation is complete — it reaches as far as death in the conscience — yet it is not without hope. And the sufferer submits to the contemptuous persecution and reproach of men.
Another writer names what this asks of the sufferer:
We must learn to wait in silence for the salvation of God. We must also receive from His hand the discipline He allows. We must even accept loneliness and stay silent, because trials come from Him.
Three verses earlier the passage calls it good for a man to bear the yoke in his youth. The offered cheek is part of what that yoke costs.
There is a "ministry of suffering" which all believers have to learn in a greater or lesser degree. "It is good for a man," we are told, "to bear the yoke in his youth" (v.27). The result, if he is before God about it, will be to sober and humble him, and so work out ultimate blessing. He may be called to sit alone and keep silence, to put his mouth in the dust, and, like his Saviour, to give his cheek to those who strike him. But he can be sure of this: "The Lord will not cast off forever."
One writer marks a limit here. The yoke that trains us was never the Lord's own:
We need a yoke — an easy one, but still a yoke… The very goodness of the yoke here shows that the Lord never could have borne it. But for us it is indeed good, because of what is in us that always needs restraining — always ready to break out if it is not held back.
Yet the words of this chapter reach past Jeremiah. Another Man was struck, and He tasted that wrath far more deeply.
What must the suffering and affliction of our Lord have been! At the close of His blessed life He suffered and died the death of the cross. The rod of righteousness fell on Him. More than Jeremiah did, He tasted that wrath, when He who knew no sin was made sin for us… He speaks of "the wormwood and the gall" (verse 19), and of the "smitten cheek filled with reproach" (verse 30)… Jeremiah's affliction only faintly foreshadows the afflictions of the Afflicted One.
This is where the Christian follows Christ — and one writer marks where the silence ends:
How good for us to follow in His steps! When men speak malicious words, wherever they come from, how good to keep silent, knowing that the Lord is our resource… From other Scriptures it is clear that the Christian may entreat, exhort, or even rebuke. But he is never to revile or threaten.
The One who allows the blow also measures it, and He has a purpose in it. Seeing His hand behind it changes how a man answers the one who strikes.
Not for His own pleasure does He chasten, but that we may share His holiness. He is too loving to lay one unnecessary burden on us; He is too holy to leave out one needed stroke… Nothing can touch His people without His permission… This comes out strikingly in the case of David, when Shimei cursed him. David will not let the eager Abishai touch the man, because he realises that "the LORD has said to him, 'Curse David.'" So he can leave it all in God's hands, trusting Him to turn the curse into a blessing.
- Received, not resisted. Like David under Shimei's curses, the sufferer takes the blow from God's hand and not just from the hand that strikes.
- The yoke. Bearing it young sobers and humbles a man, and works out blessing. One writer adds that the Lord Himself never needed such a yoke.
- The foreshadow. Jeremiah's struck cheek is only a faint sketch of the Afflicted One. The rod of righteousness fell on Him.
- The limit of silence. A Christian stays silent under malicious words. He may still entreat, exhort or rebuke — but he must never revile or threaten.
- The measure. God adds no unnecessary burden and leaves out no needed stroke — and He will not cast off forever.
For the Lord will not cast off for ever;
Jeremiah wrote these words while Jerusalem lay in ruins. In the middle of a book of grief he sets a limit on the sorrow: the rejection is real, but it will end. Where does that certainty come from?
God made this promise first to Israel, and their sorrow has not yet run its course. One writer sets the city's present desolation beside the promise of a return.
The city still sits alone. The mountain of Zion is still desolate. The crown has fallen, and the joy of the heart is gone. The punishment of sin is not yet finished in that land and among that people. Rachel still weeps. But the Lord will not cast off for ever (Lam. 3:31). And the Lord tells Rachel to stop her weeping. He will reward her work, and they will come again from the land of the enemy (Jer. 31:16).
This is not a comforting theory offered from a safe distance. Jeremiah had already tested it, and that is what gives the words their weight. They rest on God Himself, not on anything the sufferer could claim.
Having passed through seasons of trial, he can tell Jerusalem what he has found — knowledge of great value. Had he only entered into trial with Jerusalem, he might have stated what he looked for. His expectations might have been right. His forecast of the future might have been correct. But that would have given no comfort like the experience he actually gained... He had proved what it means to hope and wait quietly for the salvation of Jehovah. For the Lord (Adonai) will not cast off for ever... These are cheering words from a man who had been in the deep waters of affliction. But every comfort here comes from the Lord's known character. It is a wonderful rock to stand on, when everything that has happened has been no more than deserved.
"For ever" is the key word. God's discipline is not open-ended. One writer applies the same limit to His ways with believers today.
This confirms hope, and without hope there is no power to endure and no comfort. God measures His judicial chastenings of Israel, and they will have an end. The same is true of His righteous government of us now.
Because the rejection is temporary, the sufferer turns toward the God who struck him instead of pulling away.
He begins to feel that, after all, it is better to deal with Jehovah. Seen another way, this made the pain even greater. He feels that it is good to be afflicted, and to wait on Jehovah who smites: for He will not cast off for ever... Why complain of the chastening of sin? It would be better to turn to Jehovah... It is right to feel an affliction like this. The only harm comes when it weakens confidence in the Lord.
Some use this promise, with similar lines elsewhere, to argue that God's judgment on the wicked must one day run out. One writer answers that it matters who the verse is spoken to.
But this objection is very easy to answer. Even those who know little of Scripture will know that God speaks these words to Israel. God loves this people dearly. He has set them aside for a time because of their unfaithfulness and their settled rejection of the salvation He offered them in Christ. But God's word testifies that He will bring them back once more into these privileges as His earthly people.
One writer draws a line between being cast down and being cast off.
Cast down we may be, and often are, and good for us too, for God comforts those who are cast down (2 Cor. 7:6), but cast off, never; God cannot deny Himself. He cannot be false to His word... They are meant in the first place for Israel, but we may take them for ourselves. The New Testament makes the assurance even stronger, for there we stand on our own ground, and we read, "I will never leave you nor forsake you" (Heb. 13). It is as clear as can be that we shall never be cast off.
- Not for ever. The rejection is real, but it has a limit. God measures His chastenings, and they will end.
- Ground. The comfort rests on God's known character, not on anything the sufferer can plead. So it holds even when the trouble is deserved.
- Proved. Jeremiah is not forecasting. He had tested this in deep waters, and experience gives a comfort that a correct forecast never could.
- Response. Since He will not cast off for ever, the sufferer waits on the One who strikes. The harm is not in feeling the blow, but in letting it weaken confidence in the Lord.
- Reach. God speaks first to Israel, whose desolation is not yet over. Believers may take the word too: cast down often, cast off never.
but if he have caused grief, he will have compassion according to the multitude of his loving-kindnesses
Jeremiah wrote these words in the ruins of Jerusalem, about a God whose hand he had felt himself. The verse holds together two things we keep apart: God sends the grief, and God gives the compassion, measured by His mercies and not by what we deserve.
This is not comfort offered from a safe distance. One writer points out that the prophet could speak to the broken city because he had been through the trial first.
He has passed through seasons of trial, so he can tell Jerusalem what he has found, and that knowledge is of great value. If he had only entered the trial along with Jerusalem, he could have said what he expected. His expectations might have been right, and his forecast of the future correct. But that would have given no comfort like the experience he gained… All the comfort here comes from the Lord's known character. That is a wonderful rock to stand on, when everything that has happened has been fully deserved.
The word "though" admits the grief instead of denying it. But the grief has a boundary, and that boundary is what makes endurance possible.
This confirms hope, and without hope there is no power to endure and no comfort either. His corrective judgments on Israel have a measure, and they will come to an end. The same is true of His righteous government of us now.
God has a purpose in the blow: our holiness. So He is neither careless nor slack. He never strikes for nothing, and He never skips a stroke that is needed.
He does not discipline us for His own pleasure, but so that we may share in His holiness. He is too loving to lay one unnecessary burden on us. He is too holy to leave out one needed stroke.
If God does not want to afflict, why does He? One writer answers that His own love forces His hand.
And this is the God we have to deal with. He is cruel for a moment, so that He may be kind from then on and for ever. He does not afflict willingly, and He does not grieve the children of men. If He must afflict, it is His love that forces Him, because He does it to do good in the end to those over whom His rod has been lifted.
God struck through human hands, but that did not excuse those hands. One writer keeps the two apart.
The Lord has full authority to act as He wills. If He did not afflict willingly, then He did not approve of the oppression and injustice that men committed, even though they were the appointed executioners of His wrath… No one can override His will. No one can defeat His purpose.
This truth changes how a person acts under the blow. It sends him toward the One who struck him, and it names the one real danger in suffering.
He feels that it is good to be afflicted, and to wait on the Lord who strikes him: for the Lord will not cast off for ever. He does not afflict willingly, but out of necessity. Why complain about the discipline that sin brings? It is better to turn to the Lord… An affliction like this ought to be felt. The only harm comes when we let it weaken our confidence in the Lord.
Some people use this verse to argue that no punishment from God can ever be final. One writer answers them by asking who these words speak to.
Even those who know scripture least will know that these words speak to Israel. God loves this people dearly, yet He has set them aside for a time. They were unfaithful, and they firmly refused the salvation He offered them in Christ. But God's word testifies that He will restore them once more to these privileges as His people on earth.
- Grief — the verse names God as the cause of the pain, not a bystander who watched it happen.
- Measure — the discipline has a limit and will end, and that limit makes endurance and comfort possible.
- Motive — He does not afflict willingly; He is "too loving to lay one unnecessary burden on us" and "too holy to leave out one needed stroke."
- Multitude — He measures His compassion by His own mercies, not by what we deserve, so the comfort outlasts the wound.
- Response — wait on the One who strikes; feel the affliction, but never let it shake your confidence in Him.
for he doth not willingly afflict or grieve the children of men.
Jeremiah writes while the ruins of Jerusalem are still smoking. Standing in that wreckage, he says something startling about God: the grief came from God's hand, but not from His pleasure.
The ESV says God does not afflict "from His heart." Older translations read "willingly." One writer keeps both readings, and sets the verse beside the compassion promised just before it.
God may cause grief — deep and heart-rending. But He will still "have compassion according to the abundance of His steadfast love. For He does not afflict willingly (or, from His heart), nor grieve the children of men." He does not chasten for His own pleasure. He chastens so that we may share His holiness. He is too loving to lay on us one unnecessary burden. He is too holy to leave out one needed stroke.
If the affliction does not come out of God's heart, something else must move Him to it. One writer names it plainly, and turns the verse into an argument against complaining.
He feels that it is good to go through affliction, and to wait on the Lord who strikes: for He will not cast off forever. He does not afflict willingly, but from necessity. Why complain of the chastening of sin? It would be better to turn to the Lord.
If God is under a necessity, the question is what applies the pressure. One writer answers that the pressure is love itself.
And it is with such a God as this that we have to do; cruel for a moment, so that He may be kind from then on and forever. He does not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men. If He must afflict, it is His love that compels Him. His aim is to do good in the end to those over whom His rod had been lifted.
Because God takes no pleasure in the stroke, the stroke has a boundary. One writer ties this to hope, and applies it to Israel and to believers now.
This confirms hope. Without hope there is no power to endure and no comfort either. God measures His judicial chastenings of Israel, and they will come to an end. The same is true of His righteous government of us now.
That limit is not random. Take the woman of Shunem, who lived through seven years of famine. One writer uses her story to show what ends a season of trial.
The discipline she went through had indeed produced the "peaceful fruit of righteousness" in her exercised soul. God does not prolong discipline longer than is needed. "He does not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men." Wherever the trial has reached its object, upheld His holiness and truth, and taught its lesson, He withdraws it.
Jeremiah could not plead his own innocence. The ruin around him was deserved. One writer points to where the comfort comes from instead, and to what God's unwillingness says about the men who carried out the blow.
"For He does not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men." What cheering announcements these are, coming from a man who had been in the deep waters of affliction. But all the comfort here comes from the Lord's known character. That is a wonderful rock to stand on, when everything that has happened has been fully deserved. The Lord has full authority to act as He pleases. But if He did not afflict willingly, He did not approve of the oppression and injustice men practised, even though they were the appointed executioners of His wrath.
The verse gives no explanation now. One writer looks ahead to the day when God goes back over the whole path with us.
All His ways are equal. It is only man's defective sight that makes it appear otherwise. At last He will take us by the hand and go over the whole path with us. He will let the light of His own glory shine on every step. Then we will understand, as we cannot now, how just and true all His ways were as He led us through this scene.
- Hand — the affliction really is from God; the verse never denies the blow, it denies the motive behind it.
- Heart — He does not afflict "from His heart." He is too loving to add one unneeded burden. He is too holy to withhold one needed stroke.
- Necessity — He afflicts from necessity, not willingly; and what compels Him is His love, aiming at good in the end.
- Measure — because the motive is love, the discipline has limits. When the trial has done its work and taught its lesson, He withdraws it.
- Hope — the comfort rests on the Lord's known character, not on our deserving. One day He will walk us back over the whole path, and every step will look just.