I Will Restore to You

I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, The crawling locust, The consuming locust, and the chewing locust, My great army which I sent among you. Joel 2:25

They sounded like tiny tap dancers in chaos. Wings flapping, jaws chomping, they stumble-flew all over each other, ravenous. Like a cloud they swarmed; like a machine, they destroyed.

Up till now, I had only read about locusts. Today, outside my window in Africa, I was witnessing their demolition derby first-hand.

Amidst the whirring, clacking cloud of little winged invaders rose another sound… a keening. The kind reserved for death and funerals.

The villagers were mourning the loss of all they’d worked so hard for. Their families’ sustenance. Their livelihood. The very food that would feed them. For locusts leave nothing behind.

Sometimes storms rip through our lives like a swarm of locusts, consuming all we labored so hard to grow. Such locust-like destruction is especially grievous because it is so unexpected, so unfair. We lose not only the fruit of our labor but the satisfaction of harvest after a season of hard work and sacrifice. 

The mother who loses a child understands this. The middle-aged father who is let go due to downsizing at work understands this. The woman who gives her best years away to care for her aging parents understands this as she stands alone in her middle age with no career, no husband, and no children. The bright student who spent his first year of college in virtual classes after working so hard to get into a top university understands this. The mother watching the phone for a call from her prodigal understands the thievery of the locust. 

What makes the promise of Joel 2:25 so poignant to me is that it offers hope for those who have tried their best and lost. Those who have labored and toiled, worked hard, been diligent to do what is right. And then the swarm came, crawling, consuming, and chewed it all up.

There is mysterious wisdom in this passage. The verse goes on to describe the destroying locusts as the Lord’s “great army which I sent among you.” 

God allows loss. Even loss of what is rightfully ours. What we deserve. What we joyfully anticipate.

Compassion is the context of Joel 2. God is at work; He is sending His people new grain, wine, and olive oil; enough to satisfy them fully. He is removing their shame. The threshing floor will be filled with grain and the vats will overflow with new wine and oil. But first, He sent the locusts. 

Perhaps it is because we are so reluctant to let go of the work of our own hands. Belief in our own abilities. Control. Maybe it takes a swarming, crawling, consuming, chewing army to pry our fingers off the glory that belongs to the Lord alone. 

The old way of bearing fruit, the way of Work, is over. The former way of gathering harvest, the way of Sweat and Striving, is past. God Himself will give the fruit. He will give the rains because He is faithful. He will do the work to guarantee the harvest. And in the end, His people will know that He is the Lord their God, that there is no other. Never again will His people be shamed by the stripping of the locust. For their hope, their sustenance, their fruit, will be solely from Him. He will receive the glory He is due.

The Messiah Jesus knew loss. Loss of what was rightfully His. What He deserved. And on the Cross, it appeared He had lost it all. The landscape of humanity seemed stripped of hope.

But loss led to Life.

I will #restore to you all that the swarming locust has eaten...This is the promise of Joel 2. God promises to restore what we have lost. He has made His promise secure through Jesus. #loss #hope Share on X

Surely he has done great things! Do not be afraid, land of Judah; be glad and rejoice. Surely the Lord has done great things! (v. 21)

Have you tried your best and lost? Are your once-full hands empty today? Come to Jesus. He is the restorer of all the locusts have eaten.

Lord, restore my life today. Amen.

@audreycfrank