Jeremiah 4:19-21, 30-31

I’m doubled up with cramps in my belly— a poker burns in my gut. My insides are tearing me up, never a moment’s peace. The ram’s horn trumpet blast rings in my ears, the signal for all-out war. Disaster hard on the heels of disaster, the whole country in ruins! In one stroke my home is destroyed, the walls flattened in the blink of an eye. How long do I have to look at the warning flares, listen to the siren of danger?

And you, what do you think you’re up to? Dressing up in party clothes, Decking yourselves out in jewelry, putting on lipstick and rouge and mascara! Your primping goes for nothing. You’re not going to seduce anyone. They’re out to kill you! And what’s that I hear? The cry of a woman in labor, the screams of a mother giving birth to her firstborn. It’s the cry of Daughter Zion, gasping for breath, reaching out for help: “Help, oh help me! I’m dying! The killers are on me!”