Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

It is difficult to imagine the height of Ezra’s joy as he led the people back into Jerusalem from Babylon. It had been a gloriously triumphant trek. The hand of God had moved mightily before them, working through the hearts of pagan kings to grant them free passage and donations of gold, silver, and bronze for the temple. There was no question that God had protected and strengthened them along the way. Surely they could only be dubbed a celebration band as they entered Jerusalem filled with awe and praise and glory over the mighty works their great God had accomplished. (Ezra 6-8)

It is impossible to measure the depth of Ezra’s disappointment when, after entering Jerusalem, he is confronted with the news that the previously returned people had failed to keep themselves separate from the pagan people around them. They had taken wives who worshipped pagan gods. They knew the danger in it. Danger to fall away from following the true God. Danger of breaking the commands so meticulously written on tablets of stone. No other gods. No idols. It wasn’t just a handful of rebellious people on the outskirts of town, either. Leaders and officials, priests and Levites, had actually started the whole escapade. In an instant, Ezra’s joy at their triumphant return is turned to mourning the immense indiscretion of his people. (Ezra 9:1-3)  

One would think they would have learned by now, from history if not experience. Over and again the stories of their ancestors’ defeat, captivity, and frequent need of deliverance had been told. The stories themselves were enough to prove that neglecting God’s laws would incur the loss of His protecting presence. If ancient history were not enough, many of them had lived through similar circumstances. Seventy years of Babylonian captivity had just ended. They were finally free. Free to leave. Free to move to Jerusalem and rebuild. Their city. Their lives. God’s temple. And they had. 

The stories they told their children and grandchildren must have been exquisite. Stories of how God had made a way for them where there didn’t seem to be one. How kings had granted privileges and offered gifts they would have never garnered without Divine providence. The answered prayers, miraculous events, and obvious guidance of God were impossible to deny. The treasury of stories reverberated with the joy of the Lord. The accounts alone would be enough to impress on posterity the overwhelming necessity of worshipping and obeying only the true God.  It was what they did. It was their identity. They were God’s people. He was their God. It was the very essence of their being. (Ezra 1-6; 3:11; 5:5; 6:22)

Unfortunately, those events had occurred more than half a century ago. It is possible many people with firsthand knowledge of the Babylonian captivity were elderly or had passed away. The younger generations didn’t really remember it. The accounts became less dynamic, the storytelling less prolific. The tales that used to capture their imaginations lost their luster when told by those who hadn’t experienced it. The people had settled into the mundane. Their spiritual vigilance waned. Apathy set in. They began to drift. 

Their unruly hearts were drawn aside by things of the world around them. Apparently, they forgot they were a holy people set apart for God. (Deuteronomy 7:6; Ezra 9:11-12) They got distracted. Their heads were turned. A pretty girl, a comely widow, a persuasive father eager to marry off his daughter. It doesn’t seem they rebelliously set out to defy God’s laws in the beginning. It was probably nothing so obvious. It likely snuck up, catching them unaware. And when the apparently innocuous opportunity presented itself, they were drawn aside by the lusts and desires of their unguarded hearts and enticed to sin. And they did. (Ezra 9; James 1:14)

From our comfortable seat on the observation deck overlooking the Israelite history, we find ourselves sighing and wondering why they keep doing the same things over and over again. Why do they not stay close to the God of their ancestors who has proven Himself more than capable of admirably handling their care? Why do they get distracted by the people around them? Why do they fall prey to the habits and customs of the world? Surely by now they know what happens when they follow something besides God? Why don’t they just stay the course? 

We should certainly be able to answer that question. We are expert course jumpers. We do the same things over and over again, distancing ourselves from God, cuddling up with the world. We know the rules, the commands. We are aware of the punishments and rewards. We understand the compensation for sin is spiritual death. Yet still, we stray, drawn aside by the lusting of our foolhardy hearts for the things of the world. (Romans 6:23; Genesis 6:5; I John 2:15-17; James 4:17)

Devastated, disappointed, and distraught by the sin of his people, Ezra rips his garments, yanks hair from his scalp and beard, and sits down to mourn, surrounded by those who still hold to the commands and words of God. That must have been quite a sight. A grown man in such outrageous disarray. I’ve never seen mourning like that. Mourning that illuminates the severity of the committed offenses. Mourning so great others are compelled to mourn with you. Mourning that stops the presses, stalls the busyness of the day and starts people thinking what must be done to salvage their relationship with God. The type of mourning we so desperately need today.

We’ve been apathetically drifting for a long time. We have deceived ourselves into thinking that we are spiritually safe, when really, we’ve been edging closer and closer to the world all along. We’ve adopted their habits, their ways. We’ve replaced prayer meetings, revivals, and camp meetings with wealth seminars, marriage retreats, and Christian concerts. Isn’t that a page from the world’s book, with their conferences, networking, and team building exercises? Are we patterning our churches after the world instead of after the Word? 

In the hustle and bustle to grow a bigger congregation, be the next megachurch, have the best activities, be the next big name in lights, have we foregone the mourning of repentance for the mirth of earthly acceptance? Have our values slipped? Have our morals changed? Do we make more allowances for sin, more caveats for disobedience? What eternal gain comes from following the world? And how can it possibly profit our souls? (Mark 8:36; II Corinthians 6:17: Hebrews 11:24-26; Psalm 103:9-14,18; II Timothy 2:4)

It doesn’t. Worldly mirth doesn’t equal eternal joy. Ezra knew that. Eventually, he changed his stance from sitting in devastation to kneeling in contrition. In search of revival, Ezra makes mourning a fine art poured out as a prayer before God, “I’m embarrassed and ashamed to enter Your presence when my people are in this disastrous shambles. Our immeasurable guilt and iniquity is insurmountable. You have rescued us and blessed us beyond measure, yet we have repaid You by abandoning Your commands. I don’t know what we can say in light of the sin we have welcomed into our midst. We have egregiously broken Your laws and do not deserve the grace You have so mercifully bestowed on us. We know You are righteous because you haven’t struck us down immediately, which we deserve. We humbly bow before You in guilt and shame, because the enormity of our sin makes it impossible for us to stand upright in Your presence.” (Ezra 9) 

Truer words have never been spoken. For the people then and for us today. How urgently we need to learn Ezra’s art of mourning! The art of taking responsibility for our thoughts and words and deeds. The knowledge that we are desperately shabby, and hopelessly far afield. We need to come before God, fall on our faces before Him, admit our sin, our straying, our complacency, our love of all things worldly. We need to own our shame. Admit our guilt. Make no excuses, because there are none. Shoulder the blame because we made the choices. We need to fall before the Lord in weeping, mourning, repentance and change. In mourning we will find rejoicing, for true spiritual mourning births soul freedom and unimpeded, internal joy. Things to which the world has no access. (Ezra 10:1)

Before God, there is no excuse for sin. But there is mercy. Mercy that extends to the drifters, the sliders, the blatant sinners. To You. To Me. To Everyone. We don’t deserve it, could never earn it. We can’t even hold our heads up in His presence, so intense is our guilt.  But God freely offers mercy to all who come to Him in a spirit of mourning seeking the joy and peace found through forgiveness, obedience, and change. So fall on your knees. Rend your heart before God. It is time to seek the Lord. Time to mourn your sin. Time to allow God’s mercy to cleanse your soul and bring you joy from the mourning. (Psalm 103:10; Ezra 9:13; Lamentations 3:22; Ephesians 2:4-5; Joel 2:12-13; Matthew 5:4)