Buying the Field: Choosing Hope When It Feels Foolish
The poet Ross Gay writes about joy in ways that feel almost subversive. In The Book of Delights he says:
“Because in trying to articulate what, perhaps, joy is,
it has occurred to me that …
joy is the mostly invisible, the underground union between us,
you and me …
once we notice it … might become flower and food.”
Joy, Gay suggests, is like something underground. Hidden. Waiting to bloom.
That’s not optimism. That’s not denial. That’s something deeper. Something like hope. And in this week’s scripture, something like Jeremiah.
Jeremiah Buys a Field
Here’s the scene: Jerusalem is under siege. The Babylonian army surrounds the city. Food is running out. And the prophet Jeremiah? He’s in prison — locked away by his own king for speaking the truth no one wanted to hear.
In that moment of collapse, God tells Jeremiah to do something absurd: buy a field.
Think about that. The world is falling apart, and God tells Jeremiah to invest in real estate.
It’s not optimism. It’s not a pep talk. It’s defiant, stubborn, foolish hope.
Why It Matters
If we’re honest, most of us know something about living in a besieged city. Maybe not literally, but we see the headlines: political chaos, climate disasters, violence, neighbor against neighbor, endless voices saying everything is getting worse.
The “reasonable” response is to hunker down, hoard what you can, and expect nothing but ruin.
But Jeremiah signs the deed. He seals it up. He declares: “Houses and fields and vineyards will once again be bought in this land.”
That is resistance. That is defiance against despair. That is hope against hope.
What It Looks Like for Us
So what does “buying the field” look like for us today?
Maybe it’s planting a garden when the news screams apocalypse.
Maybe it’s writing a check for someone else’s need instead of padding your savings.
Maybe it’s showing up for worship when your heart feels like dust.
Maybe it’s mentoring a kid or raising children when the future feels uncertain.
Buying the field is any act that says: I believe God is not done. I believe life will spring from this soil again.
The Gospel Edge
And Christians see in Jeremiah a foreshadowing of Jesus.
Because Jesus’ “field” wasn’t land at all. It was the cross. He bought his field with blood. He signed the deed with nails. And they buried it in a tomb.
Which is to say: God’s big investment looked like failure. But three days later, the seed sprouted. The garden bloomed. Life rose up from the soil.
That is the gospel: God plants hope in hopeless places, and it grows.
The Invitation
So here’s the question: what field are you being asked to buy?
What act of foolish hope is God nudging you toward — in your life, your community, your church?
You can cling to safety, control, nostalgia, wealth. Or you can risk, plant, invest, and trust.
Because the God who told Jeremiah, “Houses and fields and vineyards will once again be bought in this land,” is still speaking.
Even here. Even now.
Will you buy the field?
