Joel Chapter 1 – Commentary and Explanation
Okay, let’s get into it—Joel Chapter 1. It's not the kind of chapter you post on your wall for motivation, but wow, it's one that hits you deep if you let it. It's like Joel is shouting across the ages, "Hey, wake up! Something serious is happening!" And honestly, we need that sometimes, don't we? We get so used to comfort, to smooth days and routine rhythms, that when something shakes us, we’re not ready for it. That’s kinda what’s going on here.
The Book of Joel doesn’t give us a ton of background. We know Joel’s name means “The Lord is God,” and his father’s name is Pethuel. That’s about it. We’re thrown right into the action—no small talk, no greetings, no long lineages—boom, right into devastation.
The Locust Plague: Nature Gone Wild
Joel starts with something absolutely terrifying—a locust plague. Not one kind of locust either. Four types: cutting, swarming, hopping, and destroying. Each one seems to be a different stage in the insect's life or perhaps a poetic way to say, “Everything’s been stripped bare. Absolutely nothing left.”
In Joel 1:4 it says:
“What the cutting locust left, the swarming locust has eaten.
What the swarming locust left, the hopping locust has eaten,
and what the hopping locust left, the destroying locust has eaten.”
It’s like wave after wave of destruction. And it's not just nature doing its thing—Joel sees it as divine judgment. God allowed this devastation, and it's meant to get the people's attention. Not in a harsh, "I'm-gonna-get-you" way, but more like a desperate plea: “Come back to Me!”
And really, when nature spirals out of control, when crops fail, when economies tank, when there’s chaos—don’t we start asking the bigger questions? That’s what Joel is pushing us toward.
A Wake-Up Call to Everybody
Verse 5 is striking:
“Wake up, you drunkards, and weep! Wail, all you wine drinkers;
because of the sweet wine, for it is cut off from your mouth.”
It’s not just about drinking. Joel’s speaking to people living numbed-out lives, ignoring the signs. People who distract themselves with pleasure, busyness, or comfort. The wine’s been cut off, not just because there are no grapes, but because God’s trying to cut off their distractions.
This is a theme through the chapter—wake up. Grieve. Fast. Pay attention.
Joel’s not just pointing fingers either. The priests, the farmers, the regular folks, the elders—he calls everyone out. No one’s untouched by this devastation. Everybody's affected. He says:
“Put on sackcloth, you priests, and mourn;
wail, you who minister before the altar.” (v.13)
Even those closest to the spiritual center of life aren’t exempt. Sometimes we think being religious insulates us from hardship. But Joel shows us—it doesn’t. What it should do is make us more aware of what’s going on spiritually, not less.
The Crops Are Gone. The Joy Too.
Joel paints this raw picture: fig trees, pomegranates, palms, apples—all gone. Wheat and barley fields ruined. The land mourns, the animals moan, even the wild beasts cry out because the streams are dried up.
And in verse 12, Joel says something heartbreaking:
“The vine is dried up, and the fig tree is withered;
the pomegranate, the palm, and the apple tree—
all the trees of the field are dried up.
Surely the people’s joy is withered away.”
That last line gets me every time: "people’s joy is withered away." Dang.
It’s like Joel is describing not just physical ruin, but emotional and spiritual emptiness too. When the blessings dry up, when life doesn’t look fruitful anymore, when the things we’ve leaned on crumble—that’s when the truth starts to come out.
Joel’s trying to get Israel to feel again. To mourn. To be present. To notice.
A Day of the Lord Is Near
One of the themes we’ll see through Joel is “the Day of the Lord.” He introduces it in verse 15:
“Alas for the day!
For the day of the Lord is near;
and as destruction from the Almighty it comes.”
This isn’t a “yay, Jesus is coming!” kind of day. Not yet anyway. This is a terrifying, shaking, humbling kind of day. A day when the curtain gets pulled back and God’s presence is undeniable.
In Joel’s context, the locust plague is a kind of preview, a trailer if you will, of a much more serious confrontation between God and humanity. It’s like a practice judgment to wake people up before the real thing hits.
So... What Do We Do With This?
We can read Joel 1 and think, “Well, that’s ancient history. Doesn’t apply to me.” But wait—maybe it does more than we think.
Are we in a season where everything feels stripped away? Like wave after wave of stuff just keeps hitting? Maybe it’s not locusts, but disappointment, anxiety, loss, fear, economic instability—whatever it is, it’s eating away at us.
And maybe, like Joel’s audience, we’ve been sleeping through it. Maybe we’ve numbed ourselves with social media, streaming, food, busyness, or cynicism.
Joel’s words echo now: “Wake up!”
Grieve.
Cry out.
Talk to God.
He doesn’t offer a 5-step plan to fix things. He just calls us to respond. Spiritually. Emotionally. Honestly. That’s the first step.
Joel says:
“Consecrate a fast;
call a solemn assembly.
Gather the elders and all the inhabitants of the land
to the house of the Lord your God,
and cry out to the Lord.” (v.14)
Cry out to the Lord. Not mope around. Not post sad things online. But go to God with it all.
A Word to the Church Today
This chapter hits especially hard for the modern church. We’ve gotten so good at doing services, programs, branding, and events. But what happens when it all gets stripped down? What’s left?
Can we still cry out to God when the pews are empty, when the budgets are low, when the world isn't applauding?
Joel 1 challenges us to stop relying on external stuff and start returning to the core—raw, dependent relationship with God.
It says something, too, about leadership. The priests, the elders—they're not exempt. In fact, they’re called to lead in mourning. Not pretend everything’s okay. Not perform. But grieve and repent right alongside everyone else.
Leaders who know how to mourn, who know how to cry out to God, who aren't afraid of the raw places—those are the leaders we need.
Personal Reflection: Where’s My Heart?
This chapter makes me reflect. Have I become too comfortable? Have I stopped noticing when things dry up in my soul?
Sometimes we notice it in weird ways—sudden frustration, feeling numb in worship, reading Scripture but it just bouncing off. That’s a sign something might be withering.
What’s eating away at your life right now?
Maybe you don’t even know what’s wrong—you just know something’s off. Joel says, start by crying out to God. That’s always a safe first move.
When God Allows Loss
Let’s be real for a sec—why would God allow something like this to happen to His people? That’s a question we’ve all asked, even if quietly.
It’s tough, right?
But sometimes the only way to get our attention is to allow our comfort to be disturbed. Not because God’s mean. But because He loves us too much to let us coast into destruction.
He uses even locusts—those nasty, buzzing, crop-destroying pests—to bring us back.
You might be going through something right now that’s making you question everything. I get it. I’ve been there. But could it be that God’s hand is in it, not to destroy you, but to wake you up?
Painful as it is, sometimes the stripping is the beginning of healing.
No Hope Yet... But It's Coming
Here’s the thing: Joel Chapter 1 ends on a pretty dark note. No rescue yet. No restoration. Just devastation, mourning, and a plea to cry out.
But—and this is key—this isn’t the end of the story.
Joel isn’t hopeless. In fact, the next chapters will start to reveal some of the most beautiful promises in all of Scripture. But first, we have to sit in the loss. We have to feel the ache. We have to mourn what's been taken and acknowledge our need for God.
Don’t skip this step.
Our culture teaches us to avoid pain, to run past the hard parts. Joel teaches us to stop, sit, and let the brokenness push us back to the One who can heal.
Final Thoughts: Let the Ache Lead You
So, if Joel Chapter 1 feels heavy—it’s because it is. It's not soft. It's not cozy. But it is holy.
God meets us in the ashes, in the stripped-bare places. He doesn’t require polished prayers or perfect theology. Just a real, humble heart.
So maybe today you pause. Maybe you don’t try to fix everything. Maybe you just say, “God, I feel stripped. I feel broken. I don’t even have the words. But I’m here.”
And that’s enough.
Let Joel’s voice ring in your soul today. Let the locusts speak. Let the loss wake you. Let the ache lead you back to the altar.
Because God’s not done. Not even close.
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