Do you ever wonder if we do just too many studies? It seems like I run across them all the time in the paper, and some of them just seem ludicrous. Like you read that someone spent two years and a million dollars to conclude “If you exercise more and eat less you’ll be healthier.” Really!?

So this week I took a risk. I had our pastoral staff read a book together, which we do several times each year. This time I had them read a little book called “Revolution,” by George Barna.

Don’t bother writing down the title. George Barna is best known for being the religious George Gallup…he’s made his name taking surveys and doing studies on religious topics. The book was not at all my favorite. It has 14 chapters. But the one chapter I liked was the one in which he actually used some of his famous research. In reality, it was a little depressing.

In surveys of American Christians, churchgoing folks who consider themselves born again Christian (77 million in U.S.), Barna found that:

- only ¼ of the people in church say that when they worship, they expect God to be the primary beneficiary of their worship (ie, most come for what they get out of it).

- a majority of Christians believe that since they are not gifted in evangelism, such outreach is not a significant responsibility of theirs.

- fewer than 1/10 of Christians give 10% of their income away…to anybody, not just church.

- when asked what constitutes “success” in life, few believers think in spiritual terms at all…most often listing professional achievement, resource acquisitions or family solidarity.

What Barna, and all of us should be legitimately concerned about is the tendency amongst Christians involved in church to view it as more of a weekend event, where they come because they like the music or the message or something…and that’s about it.

On the contrary, I think we come as part of a community to encourage, teach and spur one another onto following Jesus in life in this world. We come together to worship, I think, I hope, because it’s right, and calls us back to being face to face with the God who made us. And as part of doing that, we come to listen through God’s Word…whether we are in the mood or not, whether we want to or not. We come and listen.

This morning is our eighth of nine conversations that we are having with the prophet Jeremiah. We’ll read from Jeremiah chapter 31:2-6.

Last Sunday I gave you five observations from our text. Not points, but observations! Five was a lot. To make up for it this morning, there’s pretty much just one thing I hope you hear.

Jeremiah is tough sledding. 52 chapters, which we haven’t read all of for these sermons. But chapter after chapter of hard words, of dire predictions, of the painful but necessary consequences of a people who decided they were more qualified than God to put meaning into life. It’s been dark and hard stuff. And we’ve found ourselves in this more than we would wish for.

But today we have jumped into the middle of what many Bible scholars call “Jeremiah’s Little Book of Consolation,” chapters 30-33. One scholar says it is, “the pivotal center for the entire book.” What does that mean?

Do you watch the Lord of the Rings movies? I’ve watched them…well, it’s hard to know exactly how many times, because I’ve fallen asleep in the middle of them so often! But at the very end of the third movie, The Return of the King, there is a final battle raging for Middle Earth. Gandalf, Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, all your favorites, are slogging it out in front of the black gates of Mordor. They are totally outnumbered. They are entirely surrounded. They are up against evil creatures. And do you know what? They can’t win. Period. It’s too much. Even a moviemaker who wants a happy ending can’t get them out of this. It is at the point of desperation. In fact, it is impossible.

I wonder if you were ever in a place so very, very dark? I know some of us have been. An addiction, the death of someone you love, learning you are sick, being knocked over with depression, in the middle of a divorce. When you get there, it feels like God has left you. Maybe you think you know why. Or maybe you have no idea. All you know is that you’re abandoned and you finally realize you are in an impossible spot.

Jeremiah has told the people of Israel, his people, his friends not to oppose the invasion of Babylon because God will use Babylon to call the nation back to Himself. They don’t listen. And so there at the gates of Jerusalem, things are incredibly dark. Jerusalem is laid siege and sacked. The holy, sacred temple, where God’s very presence was supposed to reside, where people came to worship is destroyed. The leaders and some of the people are carried off into exile. Can it get any darker than this?

It is over. There’s nothing left. It is impossible. God has totally turned his back on Israel, and abandoned her. And who can blame Him? We have 48 chapters of documentation of Israel’s self-focused, idolatrous way. The strongest language the scripture has, the language of relationship, is spoken against Israel over and over: “You have been unfaithful.”

It happens in slow motion. This is the moment.

The battle rages in front of the gates of Mordor, the team starts to go down for the last time, anguish written on their faces.

It happens in slow motion. This is the moment.

You’ve let someone you love down, the relationship is broken and hopeless.

It happens in slow motion. This is the moment.

Crusty old battle-hardened Jeremiah stands at the front gate and watches as people, people he loves, people he has known all his life are marched off, weeping.

But. At just the right time (Romans 5 reading)…Frodo the hobbit destroys the ring and the power of evil is destroyed. Your loved one looks at you and says “I forgive you. I am choosing to trust you.” God speaks through Jeremiah and says “Wait a minute. I have not forgotten you. Wherever you are…it is not impossible for Me.” and God shows up. In Jeremiah’s language, “the Lord appeared from far away.”

And the voice of God says something that is ridiculously tough to believe, and which quite honestly I think that deep in our souls we long to hear all of our life:

“I have loved you with an everlasting love.”

You mean…I’m not forgotten? Even with who I have been, and the things I have done, you have not abandoned me? You didn’t actually leave me?

“I have loved you with an everlasting love.”

But, you say…it makes no sense. No.

We finally got around to watching Walk the Line, the movie about the singer Johnny Cash. There is a scene about ¾ of the way through it that a friend of mine pointed out to me. I watched it several times. Johnny Cash hit the big time as an entertainer, was moving in fast circles, bringing in money, lots of fame. And lots of pressure. He gets addicted to pills. He gets ornery, he is unfaithful as a husband, as a dad, as a friend, as a business partner. He can’t shake the pills. He’s falling apart.

The scene is at his beautiful house on a lake one Thanksgiving. His folks are there (he had a very turbulent relationship with his dad), some kids are there, June Carter whom he would one day marry is there, and he gets into an argument with his dad. The guests start to leave because it’s uncomfortable.

Johnny goes out and tries to free a tractor that he had stuck in the mud by the lake. He’s out of control. He’s sweating from the effects of the speed he’s addicted to, he’s haunted by his past, he’s abusing the tractor, swearing, shouting and he finally crashes down the hill and into the lake, and he goes under.

I’m watching, and there is a pretty big part of me that says “Good riddance.” Just stay there. You’ve hurt everyone around you. But as he thrashes around, June Carter runs down the hill, and throws herself in the water and helps him out. All he can say is “You should have left me there.” But she can’t. She loves him out. It makes no sense.

I have loved you with an everlasting love. I have continued my faithfulness to you.

Karl Barth, the most prolific theologian of the 20th century, was perhaps, of all my favorite theologians, the most in need of an editor. He also could be brilliantly succinct. After all the volumes, pages, words and paragraphs he wrote, here is his definition of God: The One Who Loves. It is God’s character, His very nature. God is The One Who Loves.

The thing we must somehow come to grips with is that God’s love includes difficulty, discipline and punishment. The presence of those things does not negate God’s love. The One Who Loves will punish…but it is not ultimate, not the last word. Philip Yancey tells a story about a friend he had who was battling with his 15 year old daughter.

“He knew she was using birth control, and several nights she hadn’t bothered to come home at all. The parents had tried various forms of punishment, to no avail. The daughter lied to them, deceived them, and found a way to turn the table on them: “It’s your fault for being so strict.”

The dad said: “I remember standing before the plate-glass window in my living room, staring out into the darkness, waiting for her to come home. I felt such rage. I wanted to be like the father of the Prodigal Son, yet I was furious with my daughter for the way she would manipulate us and twist the knife to hurt us. And of course, she was hurting herself more than anyone. I understood then the passages in the prophets expressing God’s anger. The people knew how to wound him, and God cried out in pain.

And yet I must tell you, when my daughter came home that night, or rather the next morning, I wanted nothing in the world so much as to take her in my arms, to love her, to tell her I wanted the best for her. I was a helpless, lovesick father.”

Now, we can wrestle with trying to hold together all that scripture says about God.

Does God get angry?

Yes.

Does God allow destructive human free will?

Yes.

Does God take sin seriously?

Yes.

In each case, you must decide how that works out.Only you must hear it all in this context:

I have loved you with an everlasting love. I have continued my faithfulness to you.

Jeremiah’s words of consolation contain the antidote for all that had gone wrong.

God once said “I will tear down,” and indeed Jerusalem was torn down.

But Now He says: Again…I will build.

God once said the streets of Jerusalem will be silent and empty, and indeed they were deserted.

But Now he says: Again: you shall go forth and celebrate, like a bride on her wedding day.

God once said he would pluck up, and the fields of Israel were torn apart.

But Now He says: Again: you shall plant vineyards and enjoy the fruit.

Again, Again, Again. God’s love is a restoring love. For Israel, it will fan out and cover everything: the city that must be rebuilt, the country that will bear fruit, the relationships of the people who will again dance.

“For there shall be a day when sentinels will call…Come let us go up to Zion, to the Lord our God.” Those sentinels were on duty when the army of Nebuchadnezzar marched its mighty army to the gates of Jerusalem. The sentinels were at their posts, shouting to the people: “The armies of Babylon approach! We are destroyed!” And in a certain time and place, yes. But not ultimately. For there shall be a day, another day, no matter how difficult things seem, when those same sentinels will call God’s people to worship.

Last weekend was the memorial service for Margaret Moe, one of the longtime saints of Bethany who died at 84. And one of the things we spoke with her family and friends about was this:

Even in the midst of the dark time now, when we rightfully grieve and cry and mourn…we have this hope. Not the hope of wishful thinking, not the desire for a certain outcome…

but a HOPE that is a promise fulfilled, an assurance…

that the love of God extends not only to THIS life…but beyond it.

The gospel says that no matter what dark place we are in…it is not the end of the story. It is not the final chapter. That is left to God Himself to write. I will build again.

You will go forth to celebrate again. You will plant, and harvest and enjoy once again.

When I read this passage, after all of those chapters of pain and desolation, I wanted to cry. It IS the pivotal center of the whole book. It is in fact Easter morning.

Has there ever has a group of men and women more depressed, who felt more sense of abandonment, who perhaps were more confused and angry at God, than those who followed Jesus and witnessed his crucifixion? Hopes, dreams, plans totally and absolutely crushed. The darkness was complete. It was impossible.

But Jesus went to the cross. Jesus was raised from the dead, And somehow in between his cry of anguish on the cross “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” and his repeated questioning of his best friend after he had risen from the dead, “Peter, do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me?,” he has shouted out in a voice that echoes into all eternity and into whatever place you and I might find ourselves this morning:

I have loved you with an everlasting love. I have continued my faithfulness to you.

It makes no sense.

Exactly.