Therefore, I will bring a case against you again. This is the Lord’s declaration. I will bring a case against your children’s children. Jeremiah 2:9
These scenarios are crazy. Upside down.
The battle is heating up. What had begun as an inconsequential skirmish is quickly becoming the pivotal confrontation of the entire war. The commanding officer calls his faithful troops together. “Men,” he says in a gentle voice, “I want you to know that I appreciate you. I also want you to know that all I expect from you is a good solid effort. And when you get tired of fighting, just lay back, put your combat boots up, and take a little siesta. You deserve it.”
Or it’s fourth and goal with the game clock running down. The head coach has signaled to the referee that he wants his last time-out. This championship has been a mighty defensive struggle. The pouring rain has rendered the field a quagmire. The players are completely covered with gooey slime, their numbers barely visible. It’s not his usual style, but the coach strides onto the field and calls his team together for one last huddle. “I’m so sorry that your brand-new uniforms are so dirty,” he begins. “You must be so embarrassed to be out here looking like this in front of all these people. But I want you to know that I’m proud of you, whatever happens now. In fact, you have worked so hard this afternoon that you can do whatever you want on this last play. Who wants to make a suggestion on what we do from here?”
Or your child is about to ride into life-threatening danger. The street-ward slope of your driveway has drawn the little plastic car she’s riding in perilously close to the path of a car speeding down the road in her direction. You stand on your front porch with all of this in plain view. “Yoo-hoo, Honey,” you call. “How many times does daddy need to tell you? Please turn yourself around and come back up to the house right now. Don’t make me come out there and get you myself.”
Israel’s disobedience had grown to unthinkable dimensions. Not only was their sin an abomination to a righteous God, but it was acted out by these arrogant Jews right in His holy face. So God called Jeremiah to confront the people, to tell them that their sinfulness would lead to certain peril. “OK, you guys,” Jeremiah began, “I know that it’s Monday and some of you have had a tough weekend.”
Of course, Jeremiah did no such thing. He examined God’s words, took a deep breath, and told the Lord’s wayward people the unvarnished truth. “After you en- tered, you defiled my land; you made my inheritance detestable. . . . I will bring a case against you again. . . . I will bring a case against your children’s children” (vv. 7, 9). Jeremiah didn’t mince his words. How could he? This was no time for diplomacy.
Unlike the commanding officer, the head football coach, and the dad standing on the front step, Jeremiah wasn’t so kind—so wonderfully courteous. “I understand,” you might be saying, “drastic times call for drastic measures.” And of course, you’d be right.
If you’re a dad, you know that there are times for kindness, gentleness, and tact. And you also know there are times for loving but penetratingly direct, truth-telling confrontation. Sometimes your love for your family calls you to courtesy, and sometimes it calls you to truth-telling and radical action.
Carefully assess each situation. Ask God for wisdom. Then do what’s appropriate. It could save someone’s life.