Sunday, February 22, 2026

The Shaking of Shushan


On the first day of Ramadan 2026, February 18th, just four days ago, a magnitude 5.5 earthquake struck Khuzestan province in southwestern Iran. The German Research Centre for Geosciences registered it precisely, with a secondary tremor of 5.3 magnitude centered squarely in the same region. The epicenter sat atop one of the most prophetically charged pieces of real estate on earth: ancient Shushan,  known today as Shush or Susa,  the city of Esther, the city of Mordecai, the city where a decree for the annihilation of every Jewish man, woman, and child was sealed with the king's own ring.

Purim was ten days away.

For those with eyes to see,  for those trained in the prophetic tradition of Israel,  this conjunction of events demands attention. It is not enough to log an earthquake in an Iranian province and move on. When the ground beneath Shushan trembles on the eve of Purim while Iran openly funds the terrorization of the Jewish state, the thoughtful believer is obligated to ask: What is the Author of history saying through the language of the earth itself?

Shushan is the City That Remembers

Shushan's history stretches back approximately 7,000 years, making it one of the oldest continuously inhabited settlements on earth. But for the Jewish people, the city is defined by a single generation: the generation of Esther and Mordecai, when the Persian Empire under King Ahasuerus became the instrument through which the enemies of Israel very nearly succeeded in genocide.

Haman the Agagite, an Amalekite by lineage, an implacable enemy of the Jewish people by vocation,  cast lots to determine the optimal date for the extermination of every Jew in the empire. The word for those lots, פּוּרִים (Purim), gives the holiday its name. The irony embedded in the name is itself theological: the very act of randomness through which Haman sought to destroy the Jews became the memorial of their salvation.

The name of God does not appear once in the Book of Esther, מְגִלַּת אֶסְתֵּר (Megillat Esther). This is not an oversight or a scribal accident. The Sages taught for millennia that concealment itself is the message. God works through הֶסְתֵּר פָּנִים (hester panim),  the hiding of the face,  through what appears to the uninitiated eye as coincidence, as natural events, as the ordinary turning of the world. Look closer. Nothing in Esther is accidental. Timing is the medium through which Providence speaks.

And so, when an earthquake strikes the ruins of Shushan on the first day of Ramadan,  ten days before the world's Jews will read aloud the story of Haman's destruction,  we are reading Megillat Esther playing out in real time.

V'nahafoch Hu: The Great Reversal

The theological spine of Purim is encoded in three Hebrew words from Esther 9:1: וְנַהֲפוֹךְ הוּא (v'nahafoch hu),  "it was turned upside down." The ESV renders it: "the Jews gained mastery over those who hated them." But the underlying Hebrew communicates something more cosmically precise: the decree aimed at the Jews reversed direction and struck those who aimed it.

The verb נָהַפַךְ (nahafoch) carries the force of a complete inversion,  not merely a defeat, but a turning inside-out. What was aimed at Israel turned back on its senders. This is not merely a historical observation. It is a pattern woven into the fabric of Providence, a recurring signature of the God who "makes foolish the wisdom of this world" (1 Corinthians 1:20). Iran is, in the present hour, building nuclear weapons. Iran funds Hamas,  the organization that murdered, raped, and burned its way through southern Israel on October 7, 2023. Iran funds Hezbollah. Iran has funded the Houthis who launched missiles at Israeli cities. In every strategic and moral sense, Iran has been playing the role of Haman.

The question embedded in the shaking earth of Shushan is this: Does Iran understand how the story of Haman ends?

Ezekiel 39:11–15,  The Valley of Hamon-Gog

To understand the prophetic weight of what just happened in Khuzestan, we must descend into the text of Ezekiel 39:11–15. Here, in some of the most vivid and specific prophetic language in the Hebrew Bible, Ezekiel describes the aftermath of God's victory over the coalition of Gog,  a burial ground so vast it will take seven months to cleanse the land:

"On that day I will give to Gog a place for burial in Israel, the Valley of the Travelers, east of the sea. It will block the travelers, for there Gog and all his multitude will be buried. It will be called the Valley of Hamon-gog. For seven months the house of Israel will be burying them, in order to cleanse the land. All the people of the land will bury them, and it will bring them renown on the day that I show my glory, declares the Lord GOD. They will set apart men to travel through the land regularly and bury those travelers remaining on the face of the land, so as to cleanse it. At the end of seven months they will make their search. And when these travel through the land and anyone sees a human bone, then he shall set up a sign by it, till the buriers have buried it in the Valley of Hamon-gog." (Ezekiel 39:11–15, ESV)

Let us exegete the key terms from the Hebrew text.

הֲמוֹן גּוֹג (Hamon-Gog): The Multitude of Gog

The word הָמוֹן (hamon) means "multitude," "tumult," or "crowd." It is the same root used in Genesis 17:4–5, where God changes Abram's name to Abraham,  אַבְרָהָם (Avraham),  because he would become the "father of a multitude of nations" (אַב הֲמוֹן גּוֹיִם, av hamon goyim). There is a profound irony in Ezekiel's choice of this word: the same linguistic root that describes the promised proliferation of the covenant people through Abraham is now applied to the mass burial of those who came to destroy that covenant people.

גּוֹג (Gog) is the name of the northern king who leads the coalition against Israel. In Ezekiel 38:2, he is described as the "prince of Rosh",  נְשִׂיא רֹאשׁ (nesi Rosh),  a title whose geographical interpretation has occupied commentators for centuries. What is unambiguous is that Gog represents the archetype of the human ruler who opposes God's purposes for Israel in the latter days. The valley named after Gog's buried multitude,  עֵמֶק הֲמוֹן גּוֹג (Emek Hamon-Gog),  becomes the monument to his failure.

לְטַהֵר אֶת הָאָרֶץ (L'taher et ha-aretz): To Cleanse the Land

The verb טָהֵר (taher) is the standard Hebrew term for ritual purification,  the same root used throughout the Levitical code for cleansing from impurity. The ESV renders it "to cleanse" in verse 12. The use of this specifically cultic, priestly term signals that the burial of Gog's forces is not merely a sanitation project; it is a sacred act, an act of cosmic restoration.

The land of Israel,  הָאָרֶץ (ha-aretz),  had been defiled by the invasion of those who marched against it. In Levitical theology, the land itself can become טָמֵא (tamei, impure) through the shedding of innocent blood or through the presence of the dead (Numbers 35:33–34). The cleansing of Gog's armies requires the full seven months of burial, a period that echoes the seven-day periods of purification in Leviticus and hints at the completion of a full sacred cycle.

Seven months. In Jewish reckoning, seven is the number of שַׁלֵּמוּת (shalemut),  completeness, wholeness. God rested on the seventh day. The Sabbath year comes every seventh year. The cleansing of the land after Gog will take seven months,  suggesting that this is the final, complete purification of the land from the forces that sought its destruction.

עֶצֶם אָדָם (Etzem Adam): A Human Bone

Verse 15 contains a remarkable detail: "when these travel through the land and anyone sees a human bone,  עֶצֶם אָדָם (etzem adam),  then he shall set up a sign by it." The word עֶצֶם (etzem) means both "bone" and, in its adjectival form, "essence" or "very self." When God says "on this very day",  בְּעֶצֶם הַיּוֹם הַזֶּה (b'etzem ha-yom ha-zeh),  in covenant contexts (Genesis 17:23, Leviticus 23:28), the same root carries the force of ultimate reality.

The sight of a single human bone triggers a communal response: a marker is placed, and the professionals of burial come to inter what remains. This painstaking, bone-by-bone process reflects the Torah's profound respect for the human body: every person is made בְּצֶלֶם אֱלֹהִים (b'tzelem Elohim), in the image of God (Genesis 1:27); even the bodies of enemies must receive proper burial. And yet the sheer scale of the operation,  seven months of work,  speaks to the immensity of the army God will destroy.

 פָּרַס (Paras): Persia in the Coalition of Gog

In Ezekiel 38:5, the prophet explicitly names פָּרַס (Paras),  Persia,  among the nations that will join Gog's coalition against Israel. The ESV renders it simply: "Persia, Cush, and Put are with them." Modern-day Iran is ancient Persia. There is no historical ambiguity here: the nation that currently funds terrorism against Israel, that has publicly declared its intention to eliminate the Jewish state, that detonated its theocratic revolution on anti-Israel ideology,  that nation is named in Ezekiel's prophecy.

The nominal list in Ezekiel 38:2–6 situates these nations within a theological framework, not merely a geographical one. Each name represents not just a country but a spirit of opposition to the covenant purposes of God. פָּרַס in this list is not simply a Persian Empire acting in geopolitical self-interest,  it is Persia acting in the role it has occupied since the days of Haman: the archetype of the nation that rises against the Jewish people and is ultimately overturned by the God who does not sleep.

Consider the theological continuity: Haman the Agagite, in the court of the Persian king, casts lots to destroy every Jew on earth. He fails,  not because of Jewish military strength, but because the hidden God of Israel orchestrated events through a queen, a sleepless king, and the ironic mechanism of Haman's own gallows. Two and a half millennia later, modern Persia,  Iran,  is again plotting the destruction of the Jewish people. And Ezekiel tells us, with prophetic precision, that this coalition will march against Israel and be destroyed by God Himself, not by human armies.

 אֱלֹהִים and the Forces of Nature

Ezekiel's description of God's intervention in the Gog war is theologically specific about which divine Name is acting. The passage consistently uses אֱלֹהִים (Elohim) in conjunction with natural catastrophe. This is not accidental. The Hebrew tradition distinguishes between two primary Names of God: יְהוָה (YHWH),  the Name of covenant love, mercy, and personal relationship,  and אֱלֹהִים (Elohim),  the Name of creative power, universal sovereignty, and דִּין (din, judgment).

Jeremiah 10:10 captures the interplay: "But YHWH is the true God; He is the living God and the everlasting King. At His wrath the earth trembles, and the nations cannot endure His indignation." (ESV) The God who makes the earth tremble is the God of all creation,  Elohim,  acting in His role as universal Judge.

Ezekiel 38:22 describes God's weapons against Gog in startling specificity: "With pestilence and bloodshed I will enter into judgment with him, and I will rain upon him and his hordes and the many peoples who are with him torrential rains and hailstones, fire and sulfur." (ESV) Note the arsenal: not missiles, not soldiers, not political coalitions,  but rain, hail, fire, and sulfur. These are the weapons of Elohim, the God whose creative power formed the natural world and who can bend that world to His purposes in a moment.

Ezekiel 38:19–20 is the earthquake passage: "For in my jealousy and in my blazing wrath I declare, On that day there shall be a great earthquake in the land of Israel. The fish of the sea and the birds of the heavens and the beasts of the field and all creeping things that creep on the ground, and all the people who are on the face of the earth, shall quake at my presence. And the mountains shall be thrown down, and the cliffs shall fall, and every wall shall tumble to the ground." (ESV)

The key phrase is בְּקִנְאָתִי וּבְאֵשׁ עֶבְרָתִי (b'kin'ati uv'esh evrati),  "in my jealousy and in the fire of my wrath." The word קִנְאָה (kin'ah) refers to the divine jealousy that is inseparable from covenant love. God is not a disinterested observer of history. His covenant commitment to Israel generates a corresponding intensity of response when that covenant and its people are threatened. The earthquake that strikes in Gog's day is not random geological activity,  it is the footstep of the jealous God of Israel moving to defend His people.

The Zohar, Earthquakes, and the Divine Gaze

The rabbinic tradition does not treat earthquakes as theologically neutral events. The Zohar Chadash (Ruth 59) offers a striking teaching: earthquakes occur when the Holy One, blessed be He, gazes down upon that specific portion of the earth with the full intensity of divine attention. The earth cannot bear the weight of that gaze unaltered. It shakes.

Some rabbinical authorities apply this framework to the pre-Messianic period, understanding the earthquakes described in Ezekiel 38 as the trembling of creation before the approaching footstep of the God of Israel, who is about to enter history with finality. The earth does not just tremble during the Gog war; it begins to tremble before it, as the forces that will participate in that war begin to move into position.

The prophets understood earthquakes as cosmically communicative: they are not merely geological events but divine speech delivered through creation itself. Psalm 104:32 says of God: "who looks on the earth and it trembles, who touches the mountains and they smoke." The God of Israel communicates through the language of the earth He made.

Whether or not the Khuzestan earthquake of February 2026 is a direct fulfillment of any specific prophecy, it is the kind of event the prophetic tradition has always recognized as הַשְׁגָּחָה פְּרָטִית (hashgacha pratit),  particular divine providence,  working through natural events to send a message that those with ears to hear will understand.

 עֶשֶׂר בָּנִים (Ten Sons) and Ten Days

The Sages are not casual with numbers. In the Purim narrative, Haman had ten sons, עֲשֶׂרֶת בְּנֵי הָמָן (aseret b'nei Haman), who were hanged alongside him when the reversal occurred. Their names are listed in Esther 9:7–9, and in the traditional reading of the Megillah, these names are chanted in a single breath,  because tradition teaches that they died together as one unit of judgment.

The earthquake struck ten days before Purim 5785. The Muslim world was beginning its holy month. The Jewish world was approaching the annual re-enactment of the most dramatic divine reversal in the Hebrew Bible. Ten sons. Ten days. The Sages teach that these numerical resonances are not coincidences; they are the grammar through which Providence communicates across centuries.

The Book of Esther is unique in the Hebrew canon precisely because of its refusal to name God. But what the Sages saw,  and what we are invited to see,  is that the absence of the divine Name makes His presence more vivid, not less. When everything "just happens" to align,  the queen positioned at the right moment, the king unable to sleep on the night the decree could be reversed, Haman arriving in the palace courtyard at the precise moment he could be humiliated,  the probability calculus of coincidence collapses. What remains is Providence.

The End-Times Significance of This Moment

We are living in a moment of extraordinary prophetic convergence. Israel is a reconstituted nation,  עַם שָׁב לְאַרְצוֹ (am shav l'artzo), a people returned to their land,  for the first time in two millennia, precisely as Ezekiel prophesied in chapters 36 and 37. The nations explicitly named in the Gog coalition are, in the present hour, in various stages of hostility toward Israel. Iran,  ancient Persia,  is the most active and vocal in its genocidal intent.

Ezekiel 38:8 describes the condition of Israel when Gog attacks: the people are "gathered from many peoples on the mountains of Israel, which had been a continual waste",  brought back to a land that had been desolate and restored it to prosperity. That description fits the modern State of Israel with uncanny precision. A land that was a malarial swamp and barren desert a century ago is now a technological and agricultural powerhouse, a refuge for Jews gathered from every corner of the earth.

Ezekiel 38:11 records Gog's reasoning: he looks at Israel and sees "a land of unwalled villages",  a peaceful people, dwelling safely, without walls or bars or gates. Some interpreters see in this phrase a description of Israel's confidence in its military deterrence, so secure in its defensive capabilities that it does not need traditional fortifications. Others read it as a description of the spiritual complacency of the age. Either way, the contrast with what follows,  an invading army that "comes like a cloud to cover the land",  is stark.

What is certain is that God's response to the invasion will not be a human military victory. It will be a divine act on the scale of the Exodus,  a demonstration so overwhelming that "the nations shall know that I am the LORD" (Ezekiel 38:23, ESV). The Gog war is not merely a geopolitical event. It is a theophany,  a divine self-revelation through the medium of history,  that will force the entire world to reckon with the God of Israel.

Reading the Signs Without Overreading Them

A word of caution is necessary here, and it comes from within the tradition itself. The prophetic calling is not to pin specific dates to specific events with the confidence of a newspaper editor. The Sages distinguished between the genuine prophetic insight that recognizes patterns of divine activity and the false prophetic certainty that claims to know precisely when and how the End will unfold.

The earthquake in Khuzestan province may or may not be a direct precursor to the Gog war. It may be a warning shot. It may be a sign of the season, not the specific hour. The Jewish tradition maintains that the exact timing of the End remains known only to God,  אֵין אָדָם יוֹדֵעַ (ein adam yodea), no human knows,  and that the role of the wise person is not to calculate the date but to recognize the direction.

What we can say with confidence is this: the alignment of the earthquake in ancient Shushan with the eve of Purim, during Ramadan, at a moment when the modern heir of ancient Persia is prosecuting a war of attrition against the Jewish state,  this alignment is the kind of hashgacha that the prophetic tradition is equipped to recognize and to proclaim.

Ezekiel saw it. The Megillah encodes it. The earth, it seems, is rehearsing it.

What Iran Should Understand

There is a message embedded in the shaking of Shushan that is directed, with prophetic precision, at those who now govern the land beneath which the ruins of Haman's empire lie buried.

The God of Israel does not forget. He does not miscalculate. And He has made a habit,  documented across millennia of recorded history,  of reversing the decrees aimed at His covenant people. Shushan itself is the proof. The city where Haman sealed the death warrant of the Jewish people is now the city where the earthquake struck on the eve of the festival that commemorates Haman's destruction. The earth beneath Shushan knows what happened there, and perhaps it is shaking with the memory.

Ezekiel 39:11 speaks of a valley,  גַּיְא,  that will be given to Gog for burial. The word גַּיְא (gai) means a deep ravine or valley, a place of descent. Those who descend upon Israel in arrogance are given a valley,  not a throne, not a monument of conquest, but a burial ground. The greatest army the world has seen,  הֲמוֹן גּוֹג, the multitude of Gog,  will need seven months of burial, so many are the dead.

Iran would do well to contemplate which role it is playing in the unfolding drama of Ezekiel's vision. History suggests the role of Gog does not end well. And the Book of Esther suggests that the role of Haman does not end well. The ground beneath ancient Shushan is vibrating with that reminder.

The God Who Hides and Reveals

The earthquake in Khuzestan province on the first day of Ramadan 2026 will be filed by seismologists as a routine tectonic event,  magnitude 5.5, depth 10 kilometers, no significant casualties reported. The world will move on to the next news cycle.

But the tradition of Israel has always known how to read events that the world dismisses as routine. The Megillah taught us that. The God who does not appear in the Book of Esther is nonetheless on every page of it, hidden in the folds of the timing, present in the turning of events, active in the inversion of decrees.

Ezekiel promised that God would make Himself unmistakably known through the Gog war,  "so that the nations may know me, when through you, O Gog, I vindicate my holiness before their eyes" (Ezekiel 38:16, ESV). The Hebrew word translated "vindicate my holiness" is וְנִקְדַּשְׁתִּי בָם (v'nikdashti vam),  I will be sanctified, made holy, revealed as קָדוֹשׁ (kadosh), utterly set apart, through them. The defeat of Gog will not be a military victory that gives Israel bragging rights. It will be a theophany,  a revelation of the Holy One of Israel,  that changes how the world understands God.

We are not yet there. We do not know the day or the hour. But we are living in a season whose features,  the regathering of Israel to its land, the rise of a Persian-led coalition hostile to the Jewish state, the escalating instability in the Middle East,  match the prophetic descriptions of the approach of that day with striking fidelity.

And on the first day of Ramadan 2026, ten days before Purim, the ground beneath ancient Shushan shook.

The God who hides His face is still writing the story. He is writing it in the language of earthquakes and holidays, in the convergence of ancient prophecy and contemporary geopolitics, in the shaking of land that remembers what was done there,  and what was undone there,  twenty-five centuries ago.Pay attention. The earth is speaking. And the God who made it has not finished writing.

Saturday, February 21, 2026

If You Seek God, He Will Be Found


To ask what it truly means to seek God is already to swim against the current of contemporary life. Our schedules are full, our devices hum, and our attention is scattered across a thousand glowing pixels. We are deeply absorbed in our own personal storylines. Yet into this restless and distracted age, the Word of God speaks with unyielding clarity:

You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the Lord” (Jeremiah 29:13-14a, ESV).

These words are among the most cherished in the Old Testament. They are often quoted as a comforting promise. Yet their comfort is deepened, not diminished, when we hear them in context and in the language in which the Holy Spirit first inspired them. To seek God is not a vague spiritual mood, nor a casual religious interest. It is a covenantal, whole-person turning to the living God who graciously makes Himself findable to those He disciplines and restores.

In what follows, I will explore what it means to truly seek God through several lenses: the historical context of Jeremiah 29, the original Hebrew vocabulary of “seeking” and “finding,” the demand for a whole heart, the gracious promise of divine self-disclosure, and the New Testament fulfillment of this promise in Jesus Christ. Along the way, we will consider how ongoing sin, distraction, and divided loyalties hinder authentic seeking, and how the Spirit uses conviction, prayer, and the Word to ignite a holy longing for God Himself.

Exile, false hopes, and the context of seeking God

Jeremiah 29 is a letter to exiles, not a slogan to the comfortable. The people of Judah had been carried away to Babylon because of long-standing covenant unfaithfulness. They had trusted in the temple as a talisman, flirted with idols, oppressed the poor, and hardened themselves against prophetic warnings. Now they lived in a foreign land under pagan rule.

False prophets in Babylon assured them that their exile would be brief. They promised a quick return, an easing of discomfort, a religious shortcut. Jeremiah, however, spoke a harder but more truthful word. “When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will visit you” (Jeremiah 29:10, ESV). The exile would last a lifetime for many of them. The discipline of the Lord would not be hurried.

Within this context of long-term chastening, the Lord declares His famous promise:

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope” (Jeremiah 29:11, ESV).

Immediately after that promise of “a future and a hope,” God describes the shape of the restored relationship: calling upon Him, praying to Him, seeking Him, and finding Him (Jeremiah 29:12–14). The center of the promise is not simply geographic restoration to the land, nor psychological comfort, nor material prosperity. It is a renewed relationship. The exiles will again seek the Lord and find Him.

Seeking God, therefore, is not a religious strategy for escaping discomfort. It is the heart of what it means to live in covenant with Him. The seventy years in Babylon are not an interruption of God’s plan; they are the furnace in which genuine seeking is forged. God is not only interested in where His people live. He is interested in whom they love.

“You will seek me” The depth of דָּרַשׁ (darash)

The first key verb in Jeremiah 29:13 is דָּרַשׁ (darash), translated “seek.” In Biblical Hebrew, darash is much richer than a casual search. It carries connotations of intentional inquiry, diligent pursuit, and covenantal devotion. It is used of seeking God’s will, consulting His Word, and turning to Him in worship and repentance.

For example, Deuteronomy 4:29 declares, “But from there you will seek the Lord your God and you will find him, if you search after him with all your heart and with all your soul” (ESV). The verbal pair “seek” and “search after” emphasizes earnest, persevering pursuit, not a half-hearted religious experiment. Similarly, Psalm 27:8 records David’s response to the divine command: “You have said, ‘Seek my face.’ My heart says to you, ‘Your face, Lord, do I seek’” (ESV). To seek God’s face is to desire His presence, His favor, His self-revelation.

In Jeremiah 29:13, the verb is in the imperfect plural, “you will seek me.” This is both a command and a promise. It is the future posture of the restored community. To say “you will seek me” is to say that exile will strip away false securities until the people’s desire is reoriented toward the Lord Himself. Exile is not only about punishment; it is about the purification of desire.

To truly seek God, then, is to center one’s energy, attention, and longing upon God’s person and will. It is to turn away from rival objects of trust, rival “gods” of comfort and control, and to say with the Psalmist, “Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you” (Psalm 73:25, ESV). This is precisely what our distracted age finds so problematic. We seek entertainment, affirmation, and control, but Darash YHWH, seeking the Lord, demands that we allow Him to reorder every other desire.

“And find me” The grace of מָצָא (matsaʾ) and “I will be found by you”

The second key verb is מָצָא (matsaʾ), “find.” At first glance, it may seem that the initiative lies entirely with the exiles: if they seek intensely enough, they will eventually discover God. Yet verse 14 clarifies the deeper reality: “I will be found by you, declares the Lord” (Jeremiah 29:14, ESV).

In Hebrew, the phrase “I will be found” reflects a passive or reflexive nuance. One might paraphrase, “I will let myself be found by you.” The God of Israel is not hiding behind some existential curtain, reluctant to be known. He is the God who descends into exile with His people, who sends His Word through Jeremiah, who promises to gather and restore. He is the God who stoops to be “findable.”

This is an essential corrective to any Pelagian notion of seeking. The Bible does not present human seeking as autonomous spiritual heroism. It presents it as a Spirit-awakened response to God’s gracious self-revelation. Left to ourselves, we do not seek God rightly (compare Romans 3:11). When the exiles seek and find Him, it is because He has first spoken, disciplined, preserved, and promised. Their seeking is real and responsible, but it is grounded in God’s prior grace.

This dynamic emerges powerfully in the New Testament where Jesus declares, “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him” (John 6:44, ESV), and yet also commands, “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find” (Matthew 7:7, ESV). True seeking is grace-enabled seeking; true finding is grace-given finding. Jeremiah 29 already anticipates this pattern. The exiles will find the Lord because He has decided to be found.

“With all your heart”: The meaning of בְּכָל־לְבַבְכֶם (bechol levavkhem)

The heart of the promise lies in the phrase “with all your heart,” בְּכָל־לְבַבְכֶם (bechol levavkhem). In Biblical anthropology, the “heart” (lev or levav) is not merely the seat of emotion. It is the control center of the human person. It includes intellect, will, affections, and moral commitments. To seek God “with all your heart” is to engage the whole self in undivided allegiance.

This phrase echoes the central confession of Israel, the Shema: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might” (Deuteronomy 6:5, ESV). To love God and to seek God are not separate activities. Seeking is simply love in motion, love expressed as active desire and pursuit. To seek with all the heart excludes double-mindedness.

Jeremiah’s audience had repeatedly been rebuked for divided hearts. They had tried to combine temple worship with idolatry, social injustice with liturgical observance, verbal trust in God with practical trust in political alliances. The exile is therefore the painful remedy for a split heart. When the Lord says, “You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart,” He is announcing that in the furnace of discipline their duplicity will be stripped away.

Spiritually, many believers today treat seeking God as one item on a long list of priorities. We “fit God in” between work, entertainment, and personal ambitions. Jeremiah 29 confronts this lukewarm pattern. God does not promise Himself to those who seek Him half-heartedly. He pledges Himself to those whose hearts have been broken by conviction, humbled under His Word, and reoriented to desire Him above all.

Seeking God amid distraction and unconfessed sin

Second only to salvation itself, seeking God is the most important aspect of the Christian life. Yet very few believers truly experience a close relationship with God because authentic seeking involves humility, dying to self, vibrant prayer, and heartfelt worship. That observation aligns deeply with Jeremiah 29.

One of the chief reasons many professing Christians do not earnestly seek God is unconfessed sin. Jeremiah’s generation illustrates this painfully. They had heard God’s warnings, yet persisted in rebellion. Exile, therefore, was not arbitrary suffering. It was the severe mercy of God removing illusions and forcing them to face their estrangement.

Sin does not simply break rules; it hardens the heart and dulls spiritual appetite. When a believer tolerates ongoing sin, the soul begins to prefer darkness to light. Prayer feels distant, Scripture feels dry, and worship feels mechanical because the heart is divided. The enemy then whispers that seeking God is pointless or impossible for someone so compromised.

1 Corinthians 10:13 reminds us that temptation is common to humanity, but God “will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it” (ESV). That way of escape is integrally related to seeking God. When a believer chooses to flee temptation, confess sin, and reorient the heart toward God, the Spirit fills and refreshes. When one chooses instead to indulge sin, the inner world becomes hazy, depressed, hardened. The doorway of temptation, as Idleman notes, swings both ways, but repeated entry into sin makes the exit less visible.

Jeremiah 29 calls us to recognize that seeking God with all the heart requires ruthless honesty about our sin. Exiles who clung to idols would not experience the promise. Believers who cling to bitterness, lust, pride, or greed will not experience the fullness of the Spirit. Conviction, therefore, is a gift. When the Spirit exposes sin, He is not merely condemning; He is inviting renewed seeking. He is calling the heart back to the only One who can satisfy it.

The fiery Word and the overflowing Spirit

Can we honestly say with Jeremiah, “His word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones” (Jeremiah 20:9, ESV, partly quoted). Jeremiah’s experience was unique in certain respects as a prophet, yet it reveals a pattern for all believers. When the Word of God is internalized, it becomes a burning presence within. It comforts, convicts, and compels.

To seek God, therefore, is inseparable from seeking His Word. In Jeremiah 29, the exiles are addressed through a written letter. God meets them through Scripture. Today, believers meet God as the Spirit illumines the written Word. When the believer approaches Scripture not as mere information but as the living voice of the Lord, the heart can begin to echo Jeremiah’s language. The Word becomes a holy fire that we cannot ignore.

Jesus extends this imagery in the New Testament. He declares, “Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water’” (John 7:38, ESV). John explains that this speaks of the Holy Spirit. Wholehearted seeking culminates in Spirit-filled experience, not as a fleeting emotional high but as a deep inner wellspring of life. Similarly, John the Baptist describes Jesus as the One who “will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire” (Matthew 3:11, ESV). The same God who promised to be found by exiles in Babylon now dwells within believers through the Spirit.

It connects repentance with spiritual refreshment: “Repent therefore, and turn back, that your sins may be blotted out, that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord” (ESV). This is Jeremiah 29 in New Testament language. To seek God with all the heart entails turning back, having sins blotted out, and entering into seasons of experiential refreshment from divine presence.

This is why many believers have theological knowledge about God but little experiential knowledge of His presence. They know the facts, but they do not seek in the way Scripture describes. They may read the Bible selectively, pray sporadically, and attend Church occasionally, yet they do not allow the Spirit to search their hearts, expose competing loves, or reorder priorities. The result is a Christian life that knows the promises of Jeremiah 29:13–14 but does not taste their fulfillment.

Seeking God as the goal, not the means

One of the subtle distortions that Jeremiah 29 corrects is the tendency to seek God as a means to other ends. The exiles surely desired to return to their homeland. The promise of restoration in verse 14 is real. Yet the path to that restoration runs through genuine seeking of God Himself, not merely longing for a changed circumstance. God does not offer Himself as a tool for securing our preferred life script. He offers Himself as the treasure.

This distinction is crucial. Many believers “seek God” in order to get a job, secure a relationship, or solve an earthly problem. There is nothing wrong with bringing concrete needs before God. Scripture commands it. However, when the primary focus of seeking is the gift rather than the Giver, the heart remains fundamentally self-centered. God is treated as the supporting character in our personal narrative rather than the Lord to whom our life belongs.

Jeremiah 29 invites the exiles, and us, into a different posture. They are to build houses and plant gardens in Babylon. They are to seek the welfare of the city where God has sent them (Jeremiah 29:7). Their calling in exile is not to hover in paralysis, waiting for God to rearrange circumstances, but to live faithfully where He has placed them, seeking Him amidst the foreign land. The future restoration is promised; yet in the meantime, seeking God Himself is the central task.

Similarly, believers today are called to seek God in whatever “Babylon” they inhabit, whether that is a challenging workplace, a strained family situation, or a culture increasingly indifferent to Biblical truth. To truly seek God is to say, “Lord, I desire You more than I desire escape. I desire Your presence more than I desire control. Use this season to draw me nearer to You.”

Christological fulfillment: The God who comes into exile

Jeremiah 29 anticipates a deeper reality that blossoms in the Gospel. Ultimately, God does not merely invite exiles to seek Him. He Himself comes into the exile of our fallen world. The Word becomes flesh and dwells among us (John 1:14). The Son of God enters a world under judgment, bearing in His own body the curse of the law on the cross.

In Jesus Christ, the promise “I will be found by you” takes a new and astonishing shape. God is not only found by those who seek; He comes seeking the lost. Jesus declares, “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10, ESV). The seeker is also the Savior. Our seeking is always preceded and undergirded by His seeking.

Nevertheless, the call to seek remains. Jesus teaches, “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” (ESV). James exhorts, “Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you” (James 4:8, ESV). These New Testament texts echo Jeremiah 29. Wholehearted pursuit, kingdom-first priorities, drawing near in repentance and love, all remain central to Christian discipleship.

The difference is that the presence of God is now mediated through the crucified and risen Christ and poured out through the Holy Spirit. The new covenant reality intensifies what Jeremiah promised. Believers now become the dwelling place of God through the Spirit. To seek God is to abide in Christ, to walk by the Spirit, and to live in light of the Gospel.

A living testimony of wholehearted seeking

Idleman recounts a testimony about a man before and after he fully sought God. Before, the man described himself as being in complete darkness. He slept in his clothes, wished for death, and found the emotional pain unbearable. This is a vivid picture of spiritual exile. Isolation from God does not merely produce mild unease. It produces despair.

After he passionately sought God and surrendered his life, he wrote that he wished everyone could feel the love he had experienced. He was able to forgive and genuinely love others, and he felt as though he had been reborn. Elusive peace had finally been found.

Jeremiah 29:13–14 provides a theological lens for such a story. When a person turns from self-centered living, confesses sin, and seeks God with all the heart, God does what He promised. He lets Himself be found. He gathers the scattered fragments of a life, restores fortunes in ways more profound than money, and brings the soul back from captivity. Emotional darkness lifts not because circumstances instantly change, but because God Himself has entered the inner exile with His light.

These testimonies are not sentimental embellishments; they are modern echoes of ancient promises. They remind us that seeking God is not merely a doctrinal idea. It is a lived, experiential reality in which real men and women move from exile to restoration, from despair to hope, from self-absorption to Spirit-empowered love.

Practical pathways for seeking God with all the heart

If seeking God is this central, the question naturally arises: how can believers cultivate such seeking in concrete ways, especially in a culture of distraction and hurry?

Intentional repentance and self-examination

Genuine seeking begins with truth-telling before God. Regular times of confession, guided by Scripture, help expose hidden sins and divided loyalties. Praying with the Psalmist, “Search me, O God, and know my heart” (Psalm 139:23, ESV), is an essential practice. Where the Spirit convicts, we turn, trusting that repentance opens the door to “times of refreshing” from His presence.

Deep engagement with the Word of God

Jeremiah met God through His Word so powerfully that he described it as a fire in his bones. Believers today need more than occasional inspirational verses. We need prolonged, meditative engagement with the whole counsel of God. This includes reading, studying, memorization, and slow reflection. The goal is not merely to master the text, but to be mastered by the God who speaks through it.

Vibrant prayer that seeks God’s face, not only His hand

Jeremiah 29:12 links seeking with calling upon God and praying. Prayer that seeks God with all the heart moves beyond a list of requests. It includes adoration, thanksgiving, lament, and intercession. In such prayer, the believer learns to delight in God’s presence even when circumstances are unchanged. This is seeking God’s face rather than merely His gifts.

Heartfelt worship and participation in the life of the Church

Worship is not a peripheral activity. It is central to seeking God. When the people of God gather to sing, pray, and hear the Word, they are collectively seeking the Lord. Participation in the Church’s life, including sacramental life for those traditions that emphasize it, strengthens the individual seeking. Isolated spirituality easily becomes self-deceived. Communal worship draws our hearts into rhythm with the wider body of Christ.

Embracing holy habits that counter distraction

In an age of digital noise, believers must cultivate habits that create space for seeking God. This may include intentional times of silence, fasting from media, Sabbath rest, and structured “rules of life” that prioritize Scripture, prayer, and service. Such practices are not legalistic burdens, but gracious trellises on which the vine of seeking love can grow.

A decisive question: “How long will you waver?”

The prophet Elijah, confronting Israel’s divided heart on Mount Carmel, asked, “How long will you go limping between two different opinions? If the Lord is God, follow him” (First Kings 18:21, ESV). That question reverberates alongside Jeremiah 29. Half-hearted seeking is, in truth, wavering loyalty.

For many believers, the issue is not ignorance of Jeremiah 29:13–14. The issue is the reluctance to surrender. To seek God with all the heart would require relinquishing cherished sins, idols of comfort, grudges, and illusions of autonomy. It would require reordering schedules and desires. It would mean embracing conviction as a gift rather than resenting it as an intrusion.

Yet the promise that stands on the other side of such surrender is breathtaking. “You will seek me and find me.” The God who spoke to exiles in Babylon, who came in Jesus Christ to seek and save the lost, who pours out the Holy Spirit as living water, still pledges Himself to those who seek Him wholeheartedly. He still restores fortunes, gathers scattered lives, and brings His people back from captivity.

The hopeful end of wholehearted seeking

Jeremiah 29:13-14 is sometimes translated to highlight the phrase “a future and a hope” as “a hopeful end.” That is in keeping with the Hebrew expression that speaks of an “end” saturated with hope. For the exiles, that end included return to the land and renewed covenant life. For believers in Christ, the hopeful end includes not only temporal restorations but the final consummation of all things, when faith becomes sight and seeking is transformed into seeing.

In the present, however, the call remains. In a distracted and hurried age, God still invites His people to seek Him with all their heart. He still uses exile like seasons of loss, disappointment, and discipline to strip away false hopes so that our desire might rest finally and fully in Him. He still sends His Word as a letter to exiles, igniting in the soul a holy fire that cannot be contained.

To truly seek God, therefore, is to respond to that grace. It is to say, in the midst of competing storylines, “Lord, you are not a chapter in my story. My life is a paragraph in Your story. Teach me to seek You as my greatest good.” It is to turn from sin, embrace conviction as a gift, immerse ourselves in Scripture, pray with urgency, worship with sincerity, and arrange our days so that knowing God is not an afterthought but the organizing center.

For those who do so, the promise of Jeremiah 29 is not a vague hope, but a lived reality. They find that in the very places of exile, God is present. They discover that the God who seemed distant is, in fact, the God who says, “I will be found by you.” And as they seek Him, they begin to taste even now the “hopeful end” that awaits all who belong to Him in Jesus Christ.

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