dustoffthebible.com
View devo: https://bit.ly/46xOWTr
Hear devo: https://bit.ly/4nY1lps
1 How lonely sits the city that once was full of people! How like a widow she has become, she that was great among the nations! She that was a princess among the provinces has become a vassal. 2 She weeps bitterly in the night, with tears on her cheeks; among all her lovers she has no one to comfort her; all her friends have dealt treacherously with her, they have become her enemies. 3 Judah has gone into exile with suffering and hard servitude; she lives now among the nations, and finds no resting place; her pursuers have all overtaken her in the midst of her distress. 4 The roads to Zion mourn, for no one comes to the festivals; all her gates are desolate, her priests groan; her young girls grieve, and her lot is bitter. 5 Her foes have become the masters, her enemies prosper, because the Lord has made her suffer for the multitude of her transgressions; her children have gone away, captives before the foe. 6 From daughter Zion has departed all her majesty. Her princes have become like stags that find no pasture; they fled without strength before the pursuer. (Lamentations 1:1-6 NIV)
Wonderful Wednesday! As we pray today, please pray for Mr. Juan Rodriguez, of Austin. He's the husband of Ms. Julia Chapa Rodriguez, a longtime friend and member of the church I served in Mission for eleven years. Juan has been battling cancer for a year and is now in hospice care. He is unresponsive but resting comfortably at Christopher House in Austin. May God have mercy on Juan and grant him peace and share with Julie and daughter Paloma, comfort and strength during this difficult time.
The prophet Jeremiah, yes, the "weeping prophet" we love so much, is believed to be the author of this Old Testament book. According to what is known about the years Jeremiah lived, coincide with the year that the city of Jerusalem was destroyed. We as a nation, thank God, have never lost a city in the same way that Israel lost Jerusalem. We have come close in our history due to wars we have fought and the most recent was the 9/11 attack on New York City, but we were spared. The reality is that, if we are not careful, might bring that destruction upon ourselves. We pray not. But in keeping with the reality that was the Old Testament, Israel continued to sin against God, inviting God to judge against them. They were blinded by their greed or desires and not led by the Spirit; soon they were losing everything even in spite of Jeremiah's calls to repent and return to God. It sounds like our story, for we have all been there before. It may not have been a temple we have lost but we have lost relationships, family members, friends, jobs, et al because of our blindness to sin.
This isn't just historical lament—it's a mirror for our own experiences of loss. We all know what it's like to look at something that used to be vibrant and see it diminished. Whether it's a relationship that has cooled, a dream that has died, a ministry that has struggled, or faith that has dimmed—we understand the ache of "how." Just as the prophet began his passage in verse one; "How?"
"Bitterly she weeps at night, tears are on her cheeks. Among all her lovers there is no one to comfort her. All her friends have betrayed her; they have become her enemies." The image of Jerusalem weeping alone at night is haunting. In her moment of greatest need, those she counted on have abandoned her.
There's a particular pain in being alone during suffering, in discovering that people you thought were friends disappear when times get hard. The word "lovers" here refers to political allies who proved unreliable, "friends" who became enemies when loyalty became costly.
This speaks to the isolation that often accompanies crisis. When your world falls apart, you discover who really stands with you. Sometimes the greatest pain isn't the loss itself but the loneliness that accompanies it—the realization that you're weeping alone while others have moved on.
This is where the lament becomes uncomfortable for us. It's one thing to grieve losses that come from circumstances beyond our control. It's another to face losses that stem from our own choices. Sometimes our "how did this happen?" must give way to "I know exactly how this happened—through my own decisions."
Yet even in acknowledging responsibility, the lament continues. Confession doesn't eliminate grief. Understanding why something happened doesn't make it hurt less. The writer of Lamentations holds both truths: Jerusalem's suffering is deserved, and it still breaks the heart.
Lamentations doesn't rush to comfort or quickly move to hope. It sits in the ash heap and weeps. It names the loss, describes the pain, and refuses to minimize the devastation. This is important because honest grief is part of healing, not an obstacle to it.
In our quick-fix culture, we're uncomfortable with prolonged sadness. We want to move people from lament to praise as quickly as possible. But Lamentations shows us that God gives us space to grieve, permission to be devastated, freedom to say "how" without immediately having to say "hallelujah."
If you're in a season of loss—if something that was once vibrant is now desolate, if your "splendor has departed," if you're weeping alone at night—these verses give you permission to acknowledge that reality without pretending it's not as bad as it feels.
While this passage is heavy with grief, it's not without hope. The very act of writing these words, of forming thoughts about the pain, represents a step toward processing and eventually moving through the loss. Lament isn't the destination—it's the pathway.
By honestly naming what's been lost, by acknowledging the pain without minimizing it, by sitting in the devastation without rushing past it, we create space for genuine healing rather than superficial recovery. We honor what was good about what we've lost while facing the reality of its absence.
This is how we eventually get from "how deserted" to "how faithful is God"—not by skipping the grief but by walking through it with honesty and faith.
The passage also challenges us to examine our own role in our losses. While not all suffering is consequence of sin, some is. Sometimes our "why me?" needs to become "what did I do?" Sometimes our lament over consequences needs to include confession of causes.
This isn't about heaping shame on ourselves when we're already down. It's about the freedom that comes from taking responsibility where responsibility is due. When we acknowledge our part in creating our pain, we also acknowledge our ability—with God's help—to make different choices moving forward.
PRAYER: Lord, when we find ourselves in seasons of desolation, when splendor has departed and we're left asking "how," help us to grieve honestly without losing hope, to take responsibility where we've contributed to our pain, and to trust that You remain present even in the ruins. Give us courage to sit with our losses without minimizing them, wisdom to learn from our mistakes, and faith to believe that Your mercy makes restoration possible. In Jesus' strong name, Amen.
Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: Bring one area of loss or regret to God in prayer today, asking Him to begin His work of restoration there.
I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me! Find someone who matters to you and let them know it!
Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.
