“Great Is Thy Faithfulness” Hope When Everything Around You Has Fallen Apart Lamentations 3:22–24

“Great Is Thy Faithfulness”

Hope When Everything Around You Has Fallen Apart

Lamentations 3:22–24

“It is of the LORD’S mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. The LORD is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him.” — Lamentations 3:22–24

Some of the most beautiful words in Scripture were not written during a season of prosperity. They were written in the middle of devastation. Jerusalem had fallen. The city had been broken. The temple had been destroyed. Homes had been ruined. Families had been scattered. Hunger, death, grief, humiliation, and judgment surrounded the writer of Lamentations. And right there, among the ruins, we hear the extraordinary confession, “Great is thy faithfulness.”

That is what makes Lamentations 3:22–24 so powerful. It is easy to speak of God’s faithfulness when the harvest is abundant, the family is well, the future looks secure, prayers seem to be answered, and the road ahead appears clear. But Jeremiah’s world was collapsing. He did not discover God’s faithfulness because his circumstances were good. He discovered that God’s faithfulness remained when his circumstances were terrible. That is a much deeper faith.

The passage begins in an unexpected place: “It is of the LORD’S mercies that we are not consumed.” Jeremiah does not begin by saying, “We deserve better.” He begins by recognizing that the wonder is that they are still there at all. The Hebrew idea behind “mercies” carries the thought of God’s steadfast covenant love, His loyal and enduring kindness. Jeremiah looked at the ruins and recognized something astonishing. Judgment had come. Pain was real. Loss was real. Yet God had not utterly destroyed His people. There was still mercy.

That changes the way suffering is viewed. The natural heart asks, “Why has God allowed this to happen to me?” Lamentations forces us to ask an even deeper question: “Why has God shown me mercy at all?” That is not despair; it is humility. We often measure God’s goodness by how much suffering He removes. Scripture often teaches us to recognize His goodness in the mercy He continues to provide in the middle of suffering.

You awakened this morning. That is mercy. You can still pray. That is mercy. You can still hear the Word of God. That is mercy. You can still call upon His name. That is mercy. You have not been abandoned by God. That is mercy. You may have lost much, but if God remains, you have not lost everything.

Jeremiah continues, “because his compassions fail not.” Human compassion has limits. We grow tired. We become impatient. We sometimes stop caring. People promise to remain and then disappear. Friends may become weary of hearing about the same struggle. Even those who sincerely love us eventually reach the limits of their emotional and physical strength. God does not. His compassions fail not.

God does not awaken one morning and discover that He has finally become tired of sustaining His people. His heart is not depleted. His mercy does not run out. His compassion does not expire. This becomes especially precious when the believer has become tired of himself. There are seasons when a Christian may think, “I have failed too often. I should be stronger by now. I have prayed about this too many times. I keep struggling with the same fears. I keep grieving over the same wounds. Surely God must be weary of me.” Lamentations answers, “His compassions fail not.”

Our emotions fluctuate, but His character does not. Our faith may tremble, but His faithfulness does not. Our understanding may fail, but His purpose does not. Our strength may collapse, but His compassion does not.

Then Jeremiah says, “They are new every morning.” This does not mean that God invents a different kind of mercy every morning. It means that His mercy is never stale, exhausted, or depleted. Every morning arrives with fresh evidence that God has sustained us again. Yesterday’s grace carried us through yesterday. Today’s grace will meet us today.

This is why God often does not give us tomorrow’s strength today. We want enough strength for the next ten years, but God often gives enough for the next step. We want to know how everything will turn out, while God gives us mercy for this morning. We want the entire road illuminated, but He often gives light for the portion immediately before us. This is difficult because we crave control. We want stored-up certainty; God teaches dependence.

Israel learned something similar with manna in the wilderness. They could not accumulate unlimited supplies for themselves. God taught them to receive daily bread. Lamentations teaches us to receive daily mercy. Some mornings we awaken with confidence. Some mornings we awaken afraid. Some mornings grief meets us before our feet touch the floor. Some mornings the problem we hoped would disappear is still waiting for us. But before we confront the problem, we should remember that God’s mercy arrived before we did. The morning itself is testimony that we are still under His providence.

Then comes the great confession: “Great is thy faithfulness.” This may be one of the most astonishing statements in the entire book of Lamentations. Jeremiah is not standing before Solomon’s temple in all its glory. He is standing amid devastation, and still he says, “Great is thy faithfulness.”

How can he say that? Because God’s faithfulness is not measured by whether He gives us the life we imagined. God is faithful to Himself, faithful to His Word, faithful to His covenant, faithful to His promises, faithful in mercy, and faithful even in discipline. He is faithful when He gives and faithful when He withholds, faithful when He opens a door and faithful when He closes one, faithful when He delivers immediately and faithful when He makes us wait, faithful when we understand and faithful when we do not.

The ruins of Jerusalem did not prove that God had been unfaithful. They demonstrated that His warnings had been true. God had repeatedly warned His people concerning their rebellion. Judgment did not contradict His Word; it confirmed it. Yet even in judgment God remembered mercy, and that too demonstrated His faithfulness.

This corrects a shallow understanding of what divine faithfulness means. Sometimes we think, “If God is faithful, He will prevent the painful thing.” Not necessarily. Sometimes His faithfulness is seen in preventing it. Sometimes His faithfulness is seen in carrying us through it. Sometimes His faithfulness is seen in correcting us through it. Sometimes His faithfulness becomes clearer years later, when we finally understand what we could not understand while it was happening. And sometimes we may not understand until eternity. His character does not depend upon our ability to explain His providence.

The verse says, “Great is thy faithfulness,” not “Great is my understanding,” “Great is my strength,” or even “Great is my faith.” Our hope rests in Him, not in ourselves.

Lamentations also destroys the idea that God’s faithful people should expect painless lives. The man writing these words had experienced profound suffering. Earlier in the chapter he spoke of darkness, bitterness, affliction, brokenness, and sorrow. He even said, “My strength and my hope is perished from the LORD.” Then something changes. He says, “This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.” Jeremiah deliberately remembers. Hope sometimes requires remembering what pain makes us forget.

Suffering narrows our vision. Pain tells us, “This moment is everything.” Faith answers, “No. God is still God.” Grief says, “Nothing good remains.” Faith remembers, “His compassions fail not.” Fear says, “Tomorrow will destroy me.” Faith answers, “His mercies are new every morning.” Despair says, “God has forgotten me.” Faith declares, “Great is thy faithfulness.”

Faith is not pretending that pain is unreal. Jeremiah certainly did not do that. Faith is refusing to interpret God exclusively through the pain.

Jeremiah then moves deeper still: “The LORD is my portion, saith my soul.” A portion is one’s inheritance, possession, or allotted share. Jeremiah had watched people lose almost everything they thought was secure. Land could be taken. Homes could burn. Cities could fall. Governments could collapse. Wealth could disappear. Family structures could be shattered. Even the temple itself could be destroyed. So what remained? “The LORD is my portion.”

This may be the heart of the passage. God does not merely give the believer good things. Ultimately, God gives Himself. If God is merely the means by which we obtain everything else we really want, then losing those things may destroy our faith. But if God Himself is our portion, then even when secondary blessings are removed, the greatest treasure remains.

The Christian can lose possessions and still have Christ. He can lose reputation and still have Christ. He can lose strength and still have Christ. He can lose opportunities and still have Christ. He can lose people dearly loved and still have Christ. He can even lose earthly life and still have Christ. This is not emotional coldness. The Bible permits grief. Jesus wept. Paul sorrowed. The Psalms cry out. Lamentations itself is an entire book of mourning. But grief and hope can occupy the same heart.

Jeremiah did not say, “I have lost nothing.” He said, “The LORD is my portion.” That is entirely different.

The verse confronts us with a difficult question: If everything except God were taken away, would we still believe God was enough? That question is easy to answer in theory. It becomes much harder when life begins removing the things we love. We often discover how much of our sense of security rests in temporary things only when those things begin to move.

Health, money, family, work, plans, familiar routines, independence, reputation, and expectations about the future are not necessarily wrong. Many of them are gifts from God. But the gifts were never intended to replace the Giver.

Jeremiah stood amid the wreckage and discovered that the one possession Babylon could not carry away was God. Nebuchadnezzar could conquer Jerusalem, but he could not conquer God. An army could destroy the temple, but it could not destroy God’s covenant purpose. Enemies could take land, but they could not take the Lord from those whose hope rested in Him.

That remains true today. There are things this world can take from you. Christ is not one of them.

Jeremiah concludes, “therefore will I hope in him.” Notice where he places his hope. He does not say, “I hope circumstances improve,” “I hope Babylon changes its mind,” “I hope tomorrow feels better,” or even, “I hope I understand God’s plan.” He says, “Therefore will I hope in him.”

Christian hope is ultimately personal. It rests in God Himself. There is nothing wrong with hoping for changed circumstances. We pray for healing, provision, reconciliation, deliverance, and open doors. But beneath every lesser hope must stand the greater one: God Himself. Otherwise our peace rises and falls entirely with circumstances. If circumstances improve, we rejoice; if they deteriorate, we collapse. Jeremiah found something deeper. He could stand in ruins and still say, “I will hope in Him.” That does not mean the ruins stopped hurting. It means the ruins did not have the final word.

Notice also the phrase, “The LORD is my portion, saith my soul.” There are moments when we must preach truth to ourselves. Our feelings will not always volunteer the truth. The soul sometimes needs instruction. The Psalmist did this when he asked, “Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God.” Jeremiah does something similar. He tells his own soul, “The LORD is my portion.”

There are mornings when we must tell our souls what our emotions are refusing to say. God is still faithful. God is still merciful. God is still sovereign. God has not changed. Christ has not ceased to be sufficient. The promises have not expired. Providence has not collapsed. The throne is not empty. The Lord is my portion; therefore I will hope in Him.

“They are new every morning” also speaks powerfully to guilt as well as suffering. Perhaps yesterday was not a good day. You said something you regret. You failed in something you thought you had overcome. You became angry. You doubted. You wasted time. You neglected prayer. You acted selfishly. You disappointed yourself. Then morning comes, and with it comes mercy.

This does not excuse sin. Grace never teaches us to make peace with sin. But neither does God command His children to live permanently beneath yesterday’s condemnation. Confess. Repent. Rise. Walk again. His mercies are new every morning. Satan wants yesterday’s failure to become today’s identity. Grace says, “Keep walking.”

There are also mercies so ordinary that we barely recognize them: a quiet morning, a meal, a conversation, an answered telephone call, a safe journey, a night’s sleep, a verse remembered at exactly the right moment, a friend who appeared unexpectedly, a door God closed, a danger we never knew existed, a temptation from which we were restrained, a sorrow that did not destroy us, or a day we thought we could never survive that somehow became yesterday. These things may appear small, but Lamentations teaches us to count survival itself as mercy.

“We are not consumed.” You may not be where you wanted to be. You may not possess what you expected to possess. Life may have taken a road you never would have chosen. But you are still here, and God is still God.

The promise that His mercies are new every morning also speaks directly to anxiety about the future. Scripture does not say that God gives you all of tomorrow’s mercies tonight. Tomorrow has its own mercies. This matters because anxiety tries to force us to live tomorrow before it arrives. We imagine future conversations, future diagnoses, future bills, future losses, future loneliness, and future disasters, and then we try to carry all of them with today’s strength. No wonder we collapse.

God has not promised today’s strength for tomorrow’s burden. He has promised mercy. When tomorrow becomes today, His mercy will already be there. This does not mean the future will be easy. It means you will never arrive there before God.

Lamentations 3:22–24 is therefore not sentimental optimism. It is faith standing among ruins. It does not tell us that everything will happen exactly as we want. It tells us that God’s compassions do not fail. It does not promise that we will never lose anything precious. It declares that the Lord Himself is our portion. It does not say that tomorrow will contain no sorrow. It says that tomorrow will contain fresh mercy. It does not say that our faith will always feel strong. It says that His faithfulness is great.

That is why these verses have comforted suffering believers for generations. Their strength does not depend on the strength of the person reading them. The whole passage turns our attention away from ourselves: His mercies, His compassions, His faithfulness, the Lord as our portion, and hope in Him. God is the subject of the passage, and that is precisely why the suffering believer can rest.

There may come a season when elaborate prayers become difficult. You may not know what to ask. You may not understand what God is doing. Your emotions may be exhausted. Then perhaps these words are enough: “The LORD is my portion.”

When the future frightens you, say, “The LORD is my portion.” When something precious is gone, say, “The LORD is my portion.” When your body is weak, say, “The LORD is my portion.” When people disappoint you, when prayers seem unanswered, and when you cannot see the road ahead, say, “The LORD is my portion; therefore will I hope in him.”

Not because the road is easy. Not because suffering is imaginary. Not because every question has been answered. But because God remains.

Morning will come. Perhaps it will bring good news. Perhaps it will bring another trial. Perhaps very little will change. But one thing will remain unchanged: God. His compassion will not have expired overnight. His sovereignty will not have weakened. His promises will not have aged. His covenant purpose will not have been forgotten. His grace will not be depleted. His throne will not be vacant. His faithfulness will still be great.

Therefore the believer can face another morning, not because he knows what the day will bring, but because he knows who already governs the day.

“It is of the LORD’S mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. The LORD is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him.”

That is not the language of someone who has never suffered. It is the language of someone who has discovered something suffering could not take away.

When everything else has been shaken, God remains. And because God remains, hope remains.