Nehemiah 1:1, “The words of Nehemiah son of Hacaliah: During the month of Chislev in the twentieth year, when I was in the fortress city of Susa”
This fall we’re going to walk through the story of Nehemiah. The story begins simply enough. It’s late November or early December. A man named Nehemiah—who we know very little about at first—finds himself in the militarized, fortress city of Susa. Daniel once received a vision while in the palace of Susa. The story of Esther unfolded in Susa. Susa was the winter resting place of Persian Kings. The palace must have been a spectacular sight. Bolstered by 72 columns, standing anywhere from 65 to 80 feet high, running the length of a football field! We’ll soon discover that Nehemiah was a servant, a cupbearer, in the royal court.
I think I relate to Nehemiah because in large part, I’ve always felt sheltered. I didn’t grow up in a perfect family, but I grew up in a good family, with godly parents. I certainly wasn’t a perfect little angel growing up. I could certainly get in trouble—but for the most part I listened to my parents and obeyed them. I trusted they knew what was best for me—their guidance spared me untold pain. I grew up in the church, learning to love God, follow Jesus, walk in the Spirit, and love my church. I was taught to see the world as a mission field. My parents started a church in our living room because they believed our broken community most needed the hope of Christ.
But in large part I saw brokenness as something external to my little world. I grew up feeling loved, feeling secure, having a roof over my head, food to eat, clothing to wear, good things to enjoy, abundant safe relationships. It was like I was living in a spiritual fortress, with a hedge of protection around me. Like Nehemiah, I might as well have been in Susa. I grew up in a small town with over-zealous policing. You couldn’t so much as light off a lady finger without causing a stir. If you acted up, the principal of the school would paddle your butt with a fiberglass paddle and your parents would complain if he didn’t leave bruises.
As a young person though, I would turn on CNN and watch the chaos of the middle east unfold and terrorist plots or the war with Iraq unfold. I would flip through Time Magazine and see pictures and read stories of egregious suffering around the world. If you’re old enough, you remember the efforts of pop music icons joining hands across America, singing “We are the World” hoping to raise money to end world hunger. Our nightly news came out of Chicago—and all you heard about were gangs, and drugs, violence, murder, and corruption. Our family would host missionaries and sit spellbound as they told stories. But in part, brokenness was something “out there.”
Once a little boy named Arturo, was adopted by our neighbors. Arturo and I would spend long hours together sitting on a swing-set in his back yard. Arturo grew up in a very different world than me. He wasn’t loved. He’d never been protected. He’d known hunger and nakedness. He couldn’t remember ever feeling safe. He’d been abused and neglected in every imaginable and yet unthinkable way. Arturo would talk, and I would just sit listening with tears in my eyes. I grew up within a spiritual fortress; But Arturo grew up “out there.” I don’t know why our lives were so different—but they were. I often prayed, “Lord help me understand.”
Nehemiah 1:2, “Hanani, one of my brothers, arrived with men from Judah, and I questioned them about Jerusalem and the Jewish remnant that had survived the exile.”
If you’ve grown up in a good Christian family… if you’ve grown up American… if you’ve grown up affluent, with any level of privilege, with the presumption (or expectation) that most people are good and do good… if you’ve grown up in a “generally” lawful society… you might take a lesson from Nehemiah. If we’d have eyes to see, and ears to hear… if we’d spend time sitting in the swing (so to speak), asking, and really listening… we’d quickly realize that we live in a terrifically broken world indeed.
The story of Nehemiah turns immediately. One day his brother Hanani visits, along with some men. We can assume that Hanani is literally one of Nehemiah’s brothers. He arrives with a number of men from “out there… out beyond the fortress walls.” They’d traveled a very long distance (900 miles?) from Judah. Nehemiah questions them about the state of Jerusalem, and the state of Jewish remnant that had survived the exile.
Nehemiah 1:3, “They said to me, ‘The remnant in the province, who survived the exile, are in great trouble and disgrace. Jerusalem’s wall has been broken down, and its gates have been burned.’”
Allow me to share some historical context. Because of her own wickedness, because of her idolatry and blatant disregard for God’s commandments—Israel found herself savaged by evil nations. We studied the book of Daniel in the past—and Daniel uses vivid (apocalyptic) images to describe how Israel was overcome by the Assyrian Empire, then the Babylonian Empire, then the Persians, then the Greeks (with Alexander the Great), then the eventual Roman empire. It’s difficult for us to imagine being overrun by brutal, merciless conquerors. Judah’s enemies left no stone unturned. They laid waste to everything in their path. Cities. Walls. Temples. Families. They left no one and no thing undefiled. They took the nation’s finest young men (like Daniel), made them eunuchs, and conscripted them into service.
140 Years Earlier, Nebuchadnezzar King of Babylon had left the city of Jerusalem in ruins. Sometime later a man named Zerubbabel came along and rebuilt the temple—but the temple was just a shadow of its previous glory. When he finished, those who remembered the previous temple wept bitterly. Around 450 B.C. Ezra would attempt to rebuild the walls and gates of Jerusalem but failed. At that time a small revival of about 50,000 survivors broke out but it was short lived.
During the days of the Persian empire a number of revolts broke out—one in Egypt, one in Mesopotamia. The Persians were having great difficult subduing their kingdom. Great suspicion was cast over anyone seeking to build temples, or walls, or gates, or doing anything that smacked of potential rebellion. The philosophy was don’t let danger gather. Tamp it out aggressively, violently, quickly.
In Jerusalem you had a stubborn, troublesome, seemingly-unchangeable status quo. Nehemiah is told, “The remnant in the province, those who survived the exile, are in great trouble and disgrace. Jerusalem’s wall has been broken down, and its gates have been burned.”
Really, we have no excuse to ignore the brokenness of our world. I was thinking of those verses in Matthew 9:35-38. “Jesus continued going around to all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, he felt compassion for them, because they were distressed and dejected, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is abundant, but the workers are few. Therefore, pray to the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into his harvest.” What does it take for us to see what God sees? Maybe it’s as simple as lifting up our heads and learning to ask, to listen, to look?
Nehemiah 1:4, “When I heard these words, I sat down and wept. I mourned for a number of days, fasting and praying before the God of the heavens.”
I find Jesus’ teaching, but also Nehemiah’s example, quite instructive. Jesus said, pray to the Lord of the harvest! Nehemiah sat down, wept, mourned, fasted and prayed before the God of the heavens. I know this isn’t true for “everyone” in this room—but I think it’s true for the overwhelming majority. We have been so insolated and so insulated for so long it’s going to take a miracle for us to learn to see our world through God’s eyes.
Yes, there was clearly a physical crisis in Jerusalem, in Judah. It’s always our impulse to calculate every problem (or crisis) as a physical problem needing some physical or worldly solution. But what if our biggest problems are primarily physical or material? What if our biggest problems are primarily spiritual? And what if our physical brokenness is in fact a reflection of a deeper, underlying spiritual crisis? I’m convinced that until we understand the true scope, and nature, and reality of our brokenness we will never find true healing.
I find it extraordinary that Nehemiah had the wherewithal to get on his knees, and look first to God, to fast and pray. As important as it was to listen to his friends from Jerusalem—Nehemiah sat down and listened to the God of Heaven and Earth. For many people, including myself, we’ve fallen out of practice in regard to things like fasting. Fasting (added to prayer) enabled Nehemiah to concentrate wholly on the issue at hand at the expense of his own physical needs. Jesus supernaturally fasted 40 days and nights in the wilderness. He was sharpening his focus on the spiritual mission before him—a mission that would have physical ripple effects.
When there is trouble, our government always treats it as a physical or material problem. They throw trillions of dollars at things hoping something will work. Church leaders do the same. They hope buildings, financial campaigns, staff hires, state of the art worship technology, cutting edge worship, dazzling programs will revive Christ’s Church. When there is trouble in the marriage or family, what do people say? “Let’s get a better home, a better job, a new car, let’s have another baby, let’s get a puppy, let’s move, let’s divorce, let’s remarry, etc. etc.” When there’s trouble deep in our soul what do we do? We turn on the television, we veg out on the Internet, we go shopping, we eat, we drink, we smoke something, we binge, we gamble, we succumb to evil, to temptations… we try to entertain ourselves, distract ourselves…
Nehemiah 1:4, “When I heard these words, I sat down and wept. I mourned for a number of days, fasting and praying before the God of the heavens.” When was the last time you quieted yourself before the God of heavens? This weekend is Labor Day. We celebrate the fruits of all our labor. But maybe what’s most important this Labor Day is that we sit before the God of heavens. God, what is your will for my broken world? My broken nation? My broken state? My broken marriage, broken family, broken relationships? God what is your will for my broken life? For my broken friends? For my broken city? God what are the spiritual dynamics you’d have me understand?
Ephesians 6:10-11a, “Finally, be strengthened by the Lord and by his vast strength. Put on the full armor of God so that you can stand against the schemes of the devil. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood”