The Bible in a Monthಮಾದರಿ

Day 18: Hope in the Fire and the Fight to Remember

Reading: Jeremiah 46–52 + Lamentations 1–5 + Ezekiel 1–11

Jeremiah’s final chapters zoom out. After spending most of his ministry warning Judah, he now turns the spotlight on the nations, Egypt, Moab, Philistia, Babylon. Each empire gets a message: God sees your pride, your violence, your idolatry. Judgment is coming for you too.

Babylon may have been God’s tool of discipline, but even Babylon doesn’t get a free pass. God says, “I will punish Bel in Babylon… for the destruction she caused in Zion.” No one is too big to fall. No throne too strong to be overturned.

And yet, in the middle of global collapse, God whispers to His people:

“Do not fear… I will surely save you… I am with you.”

Even as nations crumble, God’s covenant still holds.

Then we open Lamentations, and it hits different. This is Jeremiah walking through the ashes of Jerusalem. The city is burned. The temple is gone. People are exiled, starving, and shattered. And Jeremiah doesn’t explain it away. He sits in it. He laments, deeply, poetically, honestly.

He doesn’t rush to hope. He walks us through the pain first.

“My eyes fail from weeping… my heart is poured out on the ground.”

“He has broken my teeth with gravel… I have forgotten what happiness is.”

But then comes a pivot that makes the entire book worth reading:

“Yet this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed… His mercies are new every morning… great is Your faithfulness.”

Even when life feels like rubble, God’s character hasn’t changed. His love didn’t burn in the fire. His faithfulness didn’t fall with the walls.

Then we enter Ezekiel, and if Jeremiah is all heartache and grit, Ezekiel is visions, symbols, and holy shock therapy. God calls him to speak to exiles in Babylon, and He opens the convo with a vision so wild it feels like science fiction: wheels within wheels, fire, creatures with wings and faces. It’s God’s glory in motion, riding on a throne with no borders.

Why? Because the people thought God's presence was tied to the temple. But Ezekiel sees God leaving the temple, on purpose. God isn’t abandoning them; He’s showing them, “I’m not stuck in a building. I’m mobile. I’m here, even in Babylon.”

In chapters 1–11, Ezekiel becomes a walking sermon. He lies on his side, draws in the dirt, shaves his beard in thirds. Every act is God screaming, “This didn’t have to happen. But even now, I’m still with you.”

What does this part of the story say about God?

That He’s holy enough to confront sin and close enough to walk through exile. He doesn’t sugarcoat reality. But He doesn’t let it have the final word either. He allows lament, but also brings a love that shows up new every morning. Even after the fire.

Takeaway: If you're walking through wreckage, spiritually, emotionally, or otherwise, God is not far. His love isn’t conditional. His presence isn’t tied to places you’ve lost. He still speaks. Still sees. And His mercy? It’s still fresh today.