Lamentations 5

Ever since my first child was in her first year of life, I tried to live by a parenting principle I picked up from one of the books I read. It advised: Begin as you mean to go. In other words, that book suggests that parents begin training their children with the long view in mind. This way, training is purposeful and not erratic. For example, when I wanted Caroline to learn to feed herself in a certain way, I didn’t allow her to throw food onto the floor for three months before having to “re-train” her to keep her food on her plate. I started by never allowing her to throw food on the floor. I began as I meant to go. And I still do.

What this idea really points out is the contrast between the short-term and the long-term. In the short-term, on the days when I was tired and lacking the energy to want to train my kids, it would have been so much easier to just give in and allow them to do as they pleased. The voice in my head would tell me that it would be easier to get started training “tomorrow.” But I knew that’s never really the case. I learned through much experience, especially in those early years, that as hard as it may have seemed at the moment, to train my children with the long view in mind was much, much easier.

I found that contrast in this chapter of Lamentations as well—the contrast between what is short-term and what is long-term. Of course, for most of the chapter, Jeremiah is consumed with what is short-term. The devastation and destruction of Jerusalem are where his eyes are mainly focused, and understandably, it’s difficult for him to see past that.

It was the same when Jovanna was a toddler and, in a moment of training, I would thump one of her legs because she was trying to climb the stairs (when she knew that was a no-no). She would wail in anger and disappointment, focused only on what was happening in that moment. There was no possible way she could see the long view as I could, knowing that training her then not to climb on the stairs before she was ready would (1) keep her from injuring herself and (2) reduce the same temptation at future moments. Her short-term discomfort was totally in the best interests of her long-term happiness.

And even as consumed as he is with the short-term, Jeremiah manages a glimpse of the long-term in this chapter: “You, Lord, reign forever; your throne endures from generation to generation.” (vs 19) I think this is a remarkable perspective to find in the midst of this lamentation. Jeremiah realizes that God’s purposes are eternal and that they are spanning the entirety of human history—from generation to generation. Although God treats each of us as unique individuals, what He is doing in our individual lives is not disjointed or disconnected from the lives of others. No, what God has done in human history in the last 20 generations has impacted me. What He is doing now, during my lifetime, will have a direct impact on future generations. He is weaving all of our lives together in a grand tapestry of mercy and grace.

The whole of human history has been moving toward something—a grand resolution to the great war that has been raging in this universe. Thus, even if and when we perish now in sorrow, God endures, and His purposes endure. Whatever may be our lot in the short-term, our long-term security in God isn’t affected by that. We are secure in Him, no matter what.

So often, however, we get caught up—as Jeremiah did in the first part of this chapter—obsessing over our temporary situation. We would do well to remember that, no matter how bad we think our current plight is, God is still working in our lives, and God never does anything temporarily. Just because we are mired in the short view doesn’t mean that He is. Everything He does is eternal.

He begins as He means to go.

He always takes the long view.