The prophets had been right. All along, they had proclaimed that it would end up this way. If Israel would not turn to the Lord, would not repent and live justly, an awful judgment would come. The smashing fist would be Nebuchadnezzar, King of the conquering Babylonians. But within the blow of this withering attack was the wrath of Israel’s own God. And now the prophesied judgment was upon them. Resistance had been futile, the Holy City was overcome, and the people taken off into exile.

Signs of that holy warfare were everywhere. No one could get away from the evidence of Yahweh’s judgment on Judah. There was no denying the bitter fruits of Israel’s sins. For those who remained behind, the signs were poignant and dear. The Temple of the Lord, where the swallows once nested, was now a ruin…