Jeremiah 15 — When Calling Feels Like a Curse

Jeremiah 15 opens with a shocking statement. God tells Jeremiah that even if Moses and Samuel, the greatest intercessors in Israel’s history, stood before Him to plead for the nation, He would still refuse to turn away judgment. In other words, the rebellion in Judah had reached such depth that even prayer could not reverse the consequences anymore.

When I read this chapter, I don’t see an angry God refusing mercy; I see a grieving God refusing to enable toxic patterns. There comes a point where God, in His love, refuses to protect us from the consequences of what we continue to choose.

I have lived through this emotionally, spiritually, and vocationally. There have been seasons — especially in the last two years, where I felt like I was doing everything right. I launched and grew a real estate company. I poured my heart into ministry. I wrote blogs, preached truth, and created content that pointed people to Christ.

But instead of seeing rapid success or breakthrough, I saw setbacks and discouragement. I would show up with full faith and walk away feeling like the jars were empty. In Jeremiah 15, the prophet cries out to God, essentially saying, “I’m obeying You, but everything around me is falling apart.” That cry resonates deeply with my own.

God says in verse 2, “Those destined for death, to death; those for the sword, to the sword.” It sounds severe, but in Hebrew context it means: their choices have momentum. Sin always has direction. Rebellion has trajectory. When I launched my real estate business, people told me, “Don’t be too honest with clients. Don’t disclose everything. You’ll scare people off. You’ll lose business.” And yes, I’ve lost deals because I refuse to hide the truth.

I think of the time I walked into a luxury home with photographers and saw a fresh leak being patched from a storm the night before. The seller and the contractor were hoping to conceal it until after closing. I looked at the stain, the wet drywall, and I knew the right thing to do. I told them it belonged on the seller’s disclosure. They weren’t happy — they felt I was sabotaging their sale. It caused tension. They believed my honesty would ruin their financial outcome. I believed hiding it would ruin their integrity. In that moment, I understood Jeremiah: obedience sometimes feels like isolation.

Jeremiah reaches a breaking point in verse 10: “Woe to me, my mother, that you gave me birth, a man with whom the whole land strives and contends!” He is essentially saying, “Why was I even born? Everyone hates me because I tell the truth.” Hebrew prophets were not motivational speakers. Their obedience cost them their reputations, their relationships, and often their emotional stability. Jeremiah stands alone, misunderstood, rejected because he refuses to soften the truth. When I read this, I see my own reflection. I know what it feels like for people to push back against truth because they fear it will cost them something. People have said to me in real estate: “Why tell them that detail? You’re going to lose the deal.” They were right — sometimes I did lose the deal. But at night, I slept with peace. At that moment, truth mattered more than outcome.

There were times in my ministry where I felt the same thing Jeremiah felt — that my calling was more pain than reward. Jeremiah vents in verses 15–18, saying to God, “Will You be to me like a deceptive brook?” In Hebrew, that imagery describes a stream that looks full from a distance but dries up when you get close. Jeremiah says, “God, I trusted You, and You disappointed me.” I have whispered those words. There were moments when I poured hours into writing theological blogs and devotionals, crafting YouTube videos with Scripture, investing financially and emotionally into creating content that brings people to Christ. And yet some days, I felt like the work vanished into the void. No monetization. No financial return. People around me said, “Why are you wasting time on that blog? You need to put your energy into making money.” I questioned whether I was foolish. I questioned whether I had misheard God.

There was a point this year where I stopped writing altogether. For seven months I withdrew from ministry. I wasn’t sure if the passion remaining inside me was calling, conviction, or delusion. The enemy whispered: “You’re wasting your life. You’re a loser. Real ministry produces results, not empty statistics.” Those voices sounded logical. They were persuasive. Even spiritual. But they weren’t from God. Jeremiah experiences this same attack — the temptation to quit because obedience hasn’t produced outcomes.

In verse 16, Jeremiah says, “Your words were found, and I ate them.” The Hebrew verb אָכַל (akal) means to consume or internalize. Jeremiah doesn’t simply read Scripture — he ingests it. There have been moments where that verse became literal to me. I felt emotionally done. I would sit at my computer, ready to delete everything, ready to shut down the ministry website I’ve maintained for years. Then I would open Scripture, and suddenly the nourishment returned. Even when I couldn’t produce content, God was producing transformation. He whispered to me, “I’m not done with you.” And my soul ate those words.

Jeremiah continues: “Why is my pain unending?” (v. 18). He confesses his wound feels incurable. I resonate deeply with those words. In both ministry and real estate, there have been times when I felt like I was pouring out endlessly while receiving nothing in return. I was discipling others, encouraging others, financially supporting others — yet I often felt unseen. I wondered why everyone else seemed to have breakthrough except me. And yet recently, God surrounded me with the most unexpected blessing — agents on my team who not only receive but reciprocate. They pour back into me. They invest in the vision with me. They want to see the business flourish. For the first time, I’m not pouring into people who only take; I’m surrounded by those who give back. Like Jeremiah, I’m learning that the calling is not meant to be carried alone.

Then comes the turning point of the entire chapter — a verse that has changed me:

“If you return, I will restore you… you shall stand before Me.” (Jer. 15:19)

God doesn’t call Jeremiah back to ministry.
He calls him back to Himself.

The Hebrew word for return, שׁוּב (shuv), means to turn back or come home. God is not asking Jeremiah to do more; He is asking Jeremiah to be near Him. The restoration in Jeremiah 15 is not vocational — it is relational. God tells Jeremiah, “If you return to Me, I will make you My mouthpiece again.” Restoration of calling flows from restoration of intimacy.

In my own life, God did not call me back to writing because He needed content. He called me back because He wanted communion. He told me, in His own quiet way, “I am not done with you.” And I realized: success was never the measure — surrender is. Faithfulness is the scoreboard of calling.

Jeremiah ends the chapter with God’s promise: “I will deliver you from the hand of the wicked… I will redeem you.” (v. 21). God does not promise ease. He promises presence. He doesn’t promise immediate prosperity. He promises enduring purpose.

I am learning to say: Whether real estate explodes or collapses, God is enough. Whether ministry produces money or simply produces fruit in hidden places, God is enough. I never wanted wealth. I wanted provision — enough to care for my family and remain free to serve God. When I look at the trajectory of my life, I see that I have not been strong at making money — but God has always provided. My calling is not to build a brand; it is to be faithful to His voice. My success is not measured in closings or clicks; it is measured in conformity to Christ.

Jeremiah 15 shows that calling is costly. Obedience is lonely. Truth-telling can create enemies. Ministry can drain you. Business can mislead you. The enemy will whisper that you’re failing. People will say you’re too honest, too transparent, too intense. But God says: Return to Me. I will restore you. You will speak for Me.

My life is not defined by results — it is defined by surrender.
My worth is not tied to income — it is tied to identity.
My calling is not validated by numbers — it is validated by obedience.

God is not done with me.
God is not done with you.

And if drought is what brings us back to Him, then drought is mercy.