They walked the world. Most times, as you passed them on those long, hot dusty roads, you wouldn’t think anything of them. Another old man, leaning on a staff, clothed a bit shabbily, but then, what do you expect? Israel is in another recession. Judah is having financial troubles. And sure…the barbaric Assyrians are breathing down from the north…the Babylonians from the east…the Egyptians from the south. They can smell it…the stink of corruption in the monarchy, and the scent of weakness. But then, that’s the way it has been most of your life…and really, things aren’t that bad. Your dad’s flocks and herds are a bit lean, but you still have enough cow to go around. The crops haven’t done as well the past couple seasons, but it’s just one of those times. All these thoughts bounce around your brain, and by the time the dust has settled behind you…you have mostly forgotten the bearded man who walked by with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
But then, the next day, your friends are talking…the town is a buzz. Did you hear what happened yesterday?? Did you catch what went down in the palace court? A friend’s friend’s father is a guard and he overheard…the prophet, ish ha-elohim: the man of God. Apparently he stalked into the court in the middle of some meeting and berated the king. After that, the crazy guy started yelling into the streets, tears streaming down his face. Something about a prostitute and the wrath of God. It doesn’t make much sense…the story, coming as it does in bits and pieces, but it burns in your mind…”Elohim has spoken!” It damages your calm…your casual nonchalance has fled and suddenly the world shrinks in around you. The twisted branches of the fig trees you pass seem menacing. The bull behind the fence glares with fiendish gleam. The crow caws ominously. The sky seems to grow dark…even at midday.
The prophets…the seers: they spoke for God, they saw crazy visions and dreamed impossible dreams. They cried in the towns, they wailed in the desolate regions; they shouted, they cursed, they called down doom from heaven.
Daily routine was interrupted…the ordinary became disjointed…comfort was annihilated.
They were mocked, beaten (finally the authorities stepped in to do something), imprisoned, or simply run off. But still, cousins talked and wanderers told tales. Their messages became splinters in the mind, itches beneath the skin, burnings in the ears.
Messages heralded the signs of the times: the oracles of God shattered the status quo; the tears of the world shakers shredded the peace…
Lately, that is to say, the last week and today, I have begun a study of Hebrew prophetic literature. It is something that has long fascinated me, and my recent learning of the ancient Hebrew language has rekindled a desire to delve into the Bible once more to unearth these strange treasures: the oracles of the prophets. It certainly isn’t easy reading, but then, it was never meant to be. The prophet’s soul task was to create chaos in the current world system, so that God could reintroduce His order and display His sovereignty.
In my life, just over two weeks into my time in Lithuania, through the teachings of professors and simply life experience, I am becoming uncomfortable. I am not at ease with how little I know about the world, about the Bible, and how small my faith is. Some things the profs teach enrage me, and I don’t quite know why…but I am becoming compelled to find out…to learn for myself. In their own way, they have become prophets to me, to shake me from my lethargy into active pursuit of knowledge, of faith, and of God.
I am become unsettled…by the tears of the world shakers.
a simple man 