The Message Remix (250 page)
Authors: Eugene H. Peterson
“GOD, the Master, says: Because Moab said, ‘Look, Judah’s nothing special,’ I’ll lay wide open the flank of Moab by exposing its lovely frontier villages to attack: Beth-jeshimoth, Baal-meon, and Kiriathaim. I’ll lump Moab in with Ammon and give them to the people of the east for the taking. Ammon won’t be heard from again. I’ll punish Moab severely. And they’ll realize that I am GOD.”
“GOD, the Master, says: Because Edom reacted against the people of Judah in spiteful revenge and was so criminally vengeful against them, therefore I, GOD, the Master, will oppose Edom and kill the lot of them, people and animals both. I’ll waste it—corpses stretched from Teman to Dedan. I’ll use my people Israel to bring my vengeance down on Edom. My wrath will fuel their action. And they’ll realize it’s
my
vengeance. Decree of GOD the Master.”
my
vengeance. Decree of GOD the Master.”
“GOD, the Master, says: Because the Philistines were so spitefully vengeful—all those centuries of stored-up malice!—and did their best to destroy Judah, therefore I, GOD, the Master, will oppose the Philistines and cut down the Cretans and anybody else left along the seacoast. Huge acts of vengeance, massive punishments! When I bring vengeance, they’ll realize that I am GOD.”
As the Waves of the Sea, Surging Against the Shore026
In the eleventh year, on the first day of the month, GOD’s Message came to me: “Son of man, Tyre cheered when they got the news of Jerusalem, exclaiming,
In the eleventh year, on the first day of the month, GOD’s Message came to me: “Son of man, Tyre cheered when they got the news of Jerusalem, exclaiming,
“ ‘Good! The gateway city is smashed!
Now all her business comes my way.
She’s in ruins
and I’m in clover.’
Now all her business comes my way.
She’s in ruins
and I’m in clover.’
“Therefore, GOD, the Master, has this to say:
“ ‘I’m against you, Tyre,
and I’ll bring many nations surging against you,
as the waves of the sea surging against the shore.
They’ll smash the city walls of Tyre
and break down her towers.
I’ll wash away the soil
and leave nothing but bare rock.
She’ll be an island of bare rock in the ocean,
good for nothing but drying fishnets.
Yes, I’ve said so.’ Decree of GOD, the Master.
‘She’ll be loot, free pickings for the nations!
Her surrounding villages will be butchered.
Then they’ll realize that I am GOD.’
and I’ll bring many nations surging against you,
as the waves of the sea surging against the shore.
They’ll smash the city walls of Tyre
and break down her towers.
I’ll wash away the soil
and leave nothing but bare rock.
She’ll be an island of bare rock in the ocean,
good for nothing but drying fishnets.
Yes, I’ve said so.’ Decree of GOD, the Master.
‘She’ll be loot, free pickings for the nations!
Her surrounding villages will be butchered.
Then they’ll realize that I am GOD.’
“GOD, the Master, says: Look! Out of the north I’m bringing Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon, a king’s king, down on Tyre. He’ll come with chariots and horses and riders—a huge army. He’ll massacre your surrounding villages and lay siege to you. He’ll build siege ramps against your walls. A forest of shields will advance against you! He’ll pummel your walls with his battering rams and shatter your towers with his iron weapons. You’ll be covered with dust from his horde of horses—a thundering herd of war horses pouring through the breaches, pulling chariots. Oh, it will be an earthquake of an army and a city in shock! Horses will stampede through the streets. Your people will be slaughtered and your huge pillars strewn like matchsticks. The invaders will steal and loot—all that wealth, all that stuff! They’ll knock down your fine houses and dump the stone and timber rubble into the sea. And your parties, your famous good-time parties, will be no more. No more songs, no more lutes. I’ll reduce you to an island of bare rock, good for nothing but drying fishnets. You’ll never be rebuilt. I, GOD, have said so. Decree of GOD, the Master.
Introduced to the Terrors of Death“This is the Message of GOD, the Master, to Tyre: Won’t the ocean islands shake at the crash of your collapse, at the groans of your wounded, at your mayhem and massacre?
“All up and down the coast, the princes will come down from their thrones, take off their royal robes and fancy clothes, and wrap themselves in sheer terror. They’ll sit on the ground, shaken to the core, horrified at you. Then they’ll begin chanting a funeral song over you:
“ ‘Sunk! Sunk to the bottom of the sea,
famous city on the sea!
Power of the seas,
you and your people,
Intimidating everyone
who lived in your shadows.
But now the islands are shaking
at the sound of your crash,
Ocean islands in tremors
from the impact of your fall.’
famous city on the sea!
Power of the seas,
you and your people,
Intimidating everyone
who lived in your shadows.
But now the islands are shaking
at the sound of your crash,
Ocean islands in tremors
from the impact of your fall.’
“The Message of GOD, the Master: ‘When I turn you into a wasted city, a city empty of people, a ghost town, and when I bring up the great ocean deeps and cover you, then I’ll push you down among those who go to the grave, the long, long dead. I’ll make you live there, in the grave in old ruins, with the buried dead. You’ll never see the land of the living again. I’ll introduce you to the terrors of death and that’ll be the end of you. They’ll send out search parties for you, but you’ll never be found. Decree of GOD, the Master.’ ”
Tyre, Gateway to the Sea027
GOD’s Message came to me: “You, son of man, raise a funeral song over Tyre. Tell Tyre, gateway to the sea, merchant to the world, trader among the far-off islands, ‘This is what GOD, the Master, says:
GOD’s Message came to me: “You, son of man, raise a funeral song over Tyre. Tell Tyre, gateway to the sea, merchant to the world, trader among the far-off islands, ‘This is what GOD, the Master, says:
“ ‘You boast, Tyre:
“I’m the perfect ship—stately, handsome.”
You ruled the high seas from
a real beauty, crafted to perfection.
Your planking came from
Mount Hermon junipers.
A Lebanon cedar
supplied your mast.
They made your oars
from sturdy Bashan oaks.
Cypress from Cyprus inlaid with ivory
was used for the decks.
Your sail and flag were of colorful
embroidered linen from Egypt.
Your purple deck awnings
also came from Cyprus.
Men of Sidon and Arvad pulled the oars.
Your seasoned seamen, O Tyre, were the crew.
Ship’s carpenters
were old salts from Byblos.
All the ships of the sea and their sailors
clustered around you to barter for your goods.
“I’m the perfect ship—stately, handsome.”
You ruled the high seas from
a real beauty, crafted to perfection.
Your planking came from
Mount Hermon junipers.
A Lebanon cedar
supplied your mast.
They made your oars
from sturdy Bashan oaks.
Cypress from Cyprus inlaid with ivory
was used for the decks.
Your sail and flag were of colorful
embroidered linen from Egypt.
Your purple deck awnings
also came from Cyprus.
Men of Sidon and Arvad pulled the oars.
Your seasoned seamen, O Tyre, were the crew.
Ship’s carpenters
were old salts from Byblos.
All the ships of the sea and their sailors
clustered around you to barter for your goods.
“ ‘Your army was composed of soldiers
from Paras, Lud, and Put,
Elite troops in uniformed splendor.
They put you on the map!
Your city police were imported from
Arvad, Helech, and Gammad.
They hung their shields from the city walls,
a final, perfect touch to your beauty.
from Paras, Lud, and Put,
Elite troops in uniformed splendor.
They put you on the map!
Your city police were imported from
Arvad, Helech, and Gammad.
They hung their shields from the city walls,
a final, perfect touch to your beauty.
“‘Tarshish carried on business with you because of your great wealth. They worked for you, trading in silver, iron, tin, and lead for your products.
“ ‘Greece, Tubal, and Meshech did business with you, trading slaves and bronze for your products.
“ ‘Beth-togarmah traded work horses, war horses, and mules for your products.
“‘The people of Rhodes did business with you. Many far-off islands traded with you in ivory and ebony.
“‘Edom did business with you because of all your goods. They traded for your products with agate, purple textiles, embroidered cloth, fine linen, coral, and rubies.
“ ‘Judah and Israel did business with you. They traded for your products with premium wheat, millet, honey, oil, and balm.
“ ‘Damascus, attracted by your vast array of products and well-stocked warehouses, carried on business with you, trading in wine from Helbon and wool from Zahar.
“ ‘Danites and Greeks from Uzal traded with you, using wrought iron, cinnamon, and spices.
“ ‘Dedan traded with you for saddle blankets.
“ ‘Arabia and all the Bedouin sheiks of Kedar traded lambs, rams, and goats with you.
“ ‘Traders from Sheba and Raamah in South Arabia carried on business with you in premium spices, precious stones, and gold.
“ ‘Haran, Canneh, and Eden from the east in Assyria and Media traded with you, bringing elegant clothes, dyed textiles, and elaborate carpets to your bazaars.
“ ‘The great Tarshish ships were your freighters, importing and exporting. Oh, it was big business for you, trafficking the seaways!
“ ‘Your sailors row mightily,
taking you into the high seas.
Then a storm out of the east
shatters your ship in the ocean deep.
Everything sinks—your rich goods and products,
sailors and crew, ship’s carpenters and soldiers,
Sink to the bottom of the sea.
Total shipwreck.
The cries of your sailors
reverberate on shore.
Sailors everywhere abandon ship.
Veteran seamen swim for dry land.
They cry out in grief,
a choir of bitter lament over you.
They smear their faces with ashes,
shave their heads,
Wear rough burlap,
wildly keening their loss.
They raise their funeral song:
“Who on the high seas is like Tyre!”
taking you into the high seas.
Then a storm out of the east
shatters your ship in the ocean deep.
Everything sinks—your rich goods and products,
sailors and crew, ship’s carpenters and soldiers,
Sink to the bottom of the sea.
Total shipwreck.
The cries of your sailors
reverberate on shore.
Sailors everywhere abandon ship.
Veteran seamen swim for dry land.
They cry out in grief,
a choir of bitter lament over you.
They smear their faces with ashes,
shave their heads,
Wear rough burlap,
wildly keening their loss.
They raise their funeral song:
“Who on the high seas is like Tyre!”
“ ‘As you crisscrossed the seas with your products,
you satisfied many peoples.
Your worldwide trade
made earth’s kings rich.
And now you’re battered to bits by the waves,
sunk to the bottom of the sea,
And everything you’ve bought and sold
has sunk to the bottom with you.
Everyone on shore looks on in terror.
The hair of kings stands on end,
their faces drawn and haggard!
The buyers and sellers of the world
throw up their hands:
This horror can’t happen!
Oh, this
has
happened!’ ”
The Money Has Gone to Your Headyou satisfied many peoples.
Your worldwide trade
made earth’s kings rich.
And now you’re battered to bits by the waves,
sunk to the bottom of the sea,
And everything you’ve bought and sold
has sunk to the bottom with you.
Everyone on shore looks on in terror.
The hair of kings stands on end,
their faces drawn and haggard!
The buyers and sellers of the world
throw up their hands:
This horror can’t happen!
Oh, this
has
happened!’ ”
028
GOD’s Message came to me, “Son of man, tell the prince of Tyre, ‘This is what GOD, the Master, says:
GOD’s Message came to me, “Son of man, tell the prince of Tyre, ‘This is what GOD, the Master, says:
“ ‘Your heart is proud,
going around saying, “I’m a god.
I sit on God’s divine throne,
ruling the sea”—
You, a mere mortal,
not even close to being a god,
A mere mortal
trying to be a god.
Look, you think you’re smarter than Daniel.
No enigmas can stump you.
Your sharp intelligence
made you world-wealthy.
You piled up gold and silver
in your banks.
You used your head well,
worked good deals, made a lot of money.
But the money has gone to your head,
swelled your head—what a big head!
going around saying, “I’m a god.
I sit on God’s divine throne,
ruling the sea”—
You, a mere mortal,
not even close to being a god,
A mere mortal
trying to be a god.
Look, you think you’re smarter than Daniel.
No enigmas can stump you.
Your sharp intelligence
made you world-wealthy.
You piled up gold and silver
in your banks.
You used your head well,
worked good deals, made a lot of money.
But the money has gone to your head,
swelled your head—what a big head!
“ ‘Therefore, GOD, the Master, says:
“ ‘Because you’re acting like a god,
pretending to
be
a god,
I’m giving fair warning: I’m bringing strangers down on you,
the most vicious of all nations.
They’ll pull their swords and make hash
of your reputation for knowing it all.
They’ll puncture the balloon
of your god-pretensions.
They’ll bring you down from your self-made pedestal
and bury you in the deep blue sea.
Will you protest to your assassins,
“You can’t do that! I’m a god”?
To them you’re a mere mortal.
They’re killing a man, not a god.
You’ll die like a stray dog,
killed by strangers—
Because I said so.
Decree of GOD, the Master.’ ”
pretending to
be
a god,
I’m giving fair warning: I’m bringing strangers down on you,
the most vicious of all nations.
They’ll pull their swords and make hash
of your reputation for knowing it all.
They’ll puncture the balloon
of your god-pretensions.
They’ll bring you down from your self-made pedestal
and bury you in the deep blue sea.
Will you protest to your assassins,
“You can’t do that! I’m a god”?
To them you’re a mere mortal.
They’re killing a man, not a god.
You’ll die like a stray dog,
killed by strangers—
Because I said so.
Decree of GOD, the Master.’ ”
GOD’s Message came to me: “Son of man, raise a funeral song over the king of Tyre. Tell him, A Message from GOD, the Master:
“You had everything going for you.
You were in Eden, God’s garden.
You were dressed in splendor,
your robe studded with jewels:
Carnelian, peridot, and moonstone,
beryl, onyx, and jasper,
Sapphire, turquoise, and emerald,
all in settings of engraved gold.
A robe was prepared for you
the same day you were created.
You were the anointed cherub.
I placed you on the mountain of God.
You strolled in magnificence
among the stones of fire.
From the day of your creation
you were sheer perfection . . .
and then imperfection—evil!—was detected in you.
In much buying and selling
you turned violent, you sinned!
I threw you, disgraced, off the mountain of God.
I threw you out—you, the anointed angel-cherub.
No more strolling among the gems of fire for you!
Your beauty went to your head.
You corrupted wisdom
by using it to get worldly fame.
I threw you to the ground,
sent you sprawling before an audience of kings
and let them gloat over your demise.
By sin after sin after sin,
by your corrupt ways of doing business,
you defiled your holy places of worship.
So I set a fire around and within you.
It burned you up. I reduced you to ashes.
All anyone sees now
when they look for you is ashes,
a pitiful mound of ashes.
All who once knew you
now throw up their hands:
‘This can’t have happened!
This
has
happened!’ ”
You were in Eden, God’s garden.
You were dressed in splendor,
your robe studded with jewels:
Carnelian, peridot, and moonstone,
beryl, onyx, and jasper,
Sapphire, turquoise, and emerald,
all in settings of engraved gold.
A robe was prepared for you
the same day you were created.
You were the anointed cherub.
I placed you on the mountain of God.
You strolled in magnificence
among the stones of fire.
From the day of your creation
you were sheer perfection . . .
and then imperfection—evil!—was detected in you.
In much buying and selling
you turned violent, you sinned!
I threw you, disgraced, off the mountain of God.
I threw you out—you, the anointed angel-cherub.
No more strolling among the gems of fire for you!
Your beauty went to your head.
You corrupted wisdom
by using it to get worldly fame.
I threw you to the ground,
sent you sprawling before an audience of kings
and let them gloat over your demise.
By sin after sin after sin,
by your corrupt ways of doing business,
you defiled your holy places of worship.
So I set a fire around and within you.
It burned you up. I reduced you to ashes.
All anyone sees now
when they look for you is ashes,
a pitiful mound of ashes.
All who once knew you
now throw up their hands:
‘This can’t have happened!
This
has
happened!’ ”
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