When I was growing up, my father often called me “my Bethie.” No one else was allowed to use a diminutive form of my name, much less with a possessive pronoun, but I loved it when he did. I felt secure in his claim, a loving promise that I would always be his. And I wanted to live into that claim by making him proud of me.

When I read Jeremiah’s account, I’m struck by the way God refers to Israel. God had distanced God’s self from them before; after the golden calf incident, God called them “your [Moses’] people” (see Exodus 32:7). But here, in spite of the people’s sin, God invokes the covenant relationship, calling Israel “my people.” Although destruction is coming, the covenant still stands, and God promises not to “make a full end.”

The psalmist leans on God’s claim too. The lament ends with a prayer of hope, looking toward a day when God will redeem and restore God’s people, and they will rejoice.

The prophet and the psalmist remind us that even when we wander far from God, God’s promises still stand. Yes, God is the refuge of the poor, the oppressed, the victims of injustice, and those left behind. But even when we are privileged, powerful, and strong, God promises to hear when we call. It may mean laying down some of our independence, our wealth, or our power—or using our resources for the benefit of others rather than ourselves. But God continues to offer a better way: a path of covenant, a path of rebuilding cities and restoring nature, a path of dismantling and replacing unjust systems. And that way, God’s way, is the way of life.