Glorious for Worthless

Given the choice, I would choose a Rembrandt over a picture postcard of a poorly drawn cow. Really. I would. It would be foolish not to! I mean, how can you possibly compare having a breath-takingly beautiful Rembrandt hanging in my living room to a shoddily portrayed animal? And a beat-up, bent postcard at that?
It is ludicrous to even consider such a swap.
It would be supplanting the dazzling for dust. The Hope Diamond for a cubic zirconia. The Milky Way for a flashlight.
Yet, that is exactly what God says we've done in Jeremiah, chapter two. We have substituted idols for the Infinite. The meaningless for the Magnificent. We have made the choice to replace the resplendent with refuse. The spring of living water for broken cisterns (v. 12-13).
We have run after the created, rather than the Creator.
I don't know about you, but I find that sobering. I am challenged to consider all the ways I try to replace God with the inferior.
Shopping, instead of weeping at His feet.
Hiding in a book, instead of sheltering in Him.
Choosing the churned-up waters of anxiety, instead of the stillness of knowing Him.
Verse twenty-four says we have been running after lust. A perpetual movement towards the worthless, broken things we crave with unrestrained desire.
As I read these words, it was as if the Lord was whispering to my deepest heart, "When will you stop running?" (v.25)

"What's it going to take? How soon before you recognize the idols or at what point will you give them up? It is a choice you make, Daughter, to quit. When will you refuse to make a bee-line towards them, without thought?
Daughter, when will you cease to exchange the glorious for the worthless?"

God has not been like a desert (v. 31). Dry. Desolate. Deprived. Full of lack.
He has been a spring (v. 13). Living. Lush. Lavish. Overflowing with goodness.
I would rather have the Rembrandt and not the postcard. The Milky Way and not a flashlight.
I would rather have God, the glorious and not idols, the worthless.
Really. I would.