Nahum 3
(1) God Opposes Assyria
Trouble awaits the bloody city [Nineveh, Assyria’s capital] that is completely full of lies and stealing. That city has had an unending supply of prey. It’s home to constant whip-cracking, the sound of rattling chariot wheels, and galloping horses as chariots dart around it. It constantly has horsemen charging, swords flashing, and spears gleaming. There are so many killings. There’s a mass of corpses and countless dead bodies—so many that people stumble over them. And it’s all because of a prostitute’s many fornications. She appears to be so charming, but she’s a mistress of witchcraft. She betrays countries with her prostitution and families with her sorceries.
The Existing One says,
“I oppose you, and I’ll lift up your shirt over your face, showing the other countries your nakedness. The other kingdoms will see your disgrace. I’ll throw nastiness on you and view you as worthless, turning you into a spectacle. Everyone who sees you will run away from you, saying,
‘Nineveh is devastated! Who will grieve for her?’
“Where could I find anyone who could comfort you at that point?
(8) Assyria will Fall, and Everyone will Celebrate
Are you better than Thebes [Egypt’s god and capital city], who was on the Nile, surrounded by water? For her wall, she had the sea. Ethiopia was her strength, and so was Egypt, which was vast. She had Libia and Put [northern Africa] as some of her helpers, yet she ended up an exile who went into captivity. And her small children were splattered to pieces on every street corner. People rolled dice for her prominent men. All her prominent figures were chained in shackles.
You too will become drunk and hidden away. You’ll look for a place that can protect you from your enemies, but all your fortifications will be like fig trees that are ripe with fruit—when shaken, their fruit will fall right into open mouths. Your citizens might as well all be women at that point! The gates of your country will be swung wide open to your enemies, and fire will melt away the bars of your gates.
Pull up some water for your trenches! Fortify your strongholds! Go into the clay and tread the cement! Pick up your brick mold! Fire will burn you, and swords will cut you down. The fire will consume you in the same way that grasshopper swarms consume crops.
You’ve multiplied like grasshoppers, spawning more traders than there are stars in the night sky. They’re like young locusts who molt then fly away. Your princes are like swarming locusts, and your officials are like hordes of grasshoppers teeming within your stone walls on a cold day. When the sun rises, they all run off to who-knows-where.
Your shepherds are sleeping, Assyrian king, and your nobles are lying down. Your people will soon be scattered throughout the mountains, and there won’t be anyone to bring them back. There’s nothing you can do to soften the approaching breakdown. Your wound is fatal. And everyone who hears about your downfall will clap their hands—because who hasn’t suffered from your constant cruelty?
