Jeremiah 23:25-32 meaning

In Jeremiah 23:25-32, the LORD begins by revealing His complete awareness of the false prophets' conduct: “I have heard what the prophets have said who prophesy falsely in My name, saying, ‘I had a dream, I had a dream!’” (v. 25). By claiming, “I had a dream” (v. 25), these false prophets leverage a biblical—sounding medium (God often speaks through dreams, Genesis 40-41) to authorize messages God did not send. The problem is not dreams per se but the claim to divine authority, since they prophesy in God's name, yet God disowns the content. In Jeremiah’s late—monarchy Jerusalem—hemmed in by Babylon’s advance—these false oracles soothed anxieties and flattered rulers, promising peace when God had already guaranteed judgment (Jeremiah 6:14; 8:11).

By repeating the boast, the LORD unmasks how spectacle replaces substance. When authenticity rests on an experience the audience cannot test, authority migrates from God’s revealed word to the prophet’s charisma. The setting invites discernment: the true prophet’s burden had been hard truth—repentance and warning—while the dream—chorus chanted peace and optimism. Jesus will later warn, “Beware of false prophets” who come in impressive clothing but whose fruit betrays them (Matthew 7:15-20).

God then asks, “How long? Is there anything in the hearts of the prophets who prophesy falsehood, even these prophets of the deception of their own heart,” (v. 26). The lament, “How long?”, signals prolonged patience now reaching a limit. The false message springs from “the deception of their own heart” (v. 26)—self—misled messengers mislead others. Jeremiah often diagnoses this source—problem: the human heart, unchecked by God’s word, manufactures lies that feel true (Jeremiah 17:9).

The phrase shifts responsibility from external pressures to internal motives. These prophets are not merely mistaken; they cherish illusions that pay dividends—social approval, political gain, personal ease. Throughout Scripture, authentic revelation confronts the heart before it instructs the crowd (Psalm 139:23-24). Here the LORD discloses that no such inner reckoning has taken place.

Their aim—and effect—is devastating: they “intend to make My people forget My name by their dreams which they relate to one another, just as their fathers forgot My name because of Baal” (v. 27). To forget [God’s] name is to lose covenant memory of who He is and what He requires (Exodus 3:15; Deuteronomy 6:4-9). The comparison to Baal recalls eras (e.g., under Manasseh) when syncretism hollowed Israel’s identity. Now, as then, religious talk masks idolatry; the people keep up such talk while exchanging the true God for a more manageable deity.

Note the social mechanism: “dreams which they relate to one another” (v. 27). The message spreads horizontally—peer to peer—until it becomes the new normal. Fraudulent authority reproduces itself by repetition, not by correspondence to revelation. Jeremiah’s pastoral intent is clear: re—catechize the imagination with God’s self—disclosure, or cultural catechisms will do it for you. In New—Covenant terms, the church faces the same pressure whenever voices downplay the holiness of God or the costliness of obedience (2 Timothy 4:3-4).

God draws a line of discernment: “The prophet who has a dream may relate his dream, but let him who has My word speak My word in truth. What does straw have in common with grain?” (v. 28). Permission to “relate” a dream is not endorsement; it is differentiation. By contrast, God's word must be spoken in truth—with fidelity to God’s intent and with integrity in the messenger. The straw—grain metaphor clarifies function: straw has bulk and appearance; grain has nourishment. Dreams divorced from God’s revealed will may be exciting, but they cannot sustain a covenant people.

The image carries practical counsel for discernment: ask of any message, “Does this feed?” True preaching and teaching deliver grain—substantive truth that strengthens the people's obedience, corrects error, and gives hope. Straw fills the stomach briefly, but leaves the body weak; so too with religious rhetoric that avoids repentance or swaps God’s agenda for ours.

To fix the contrast, God asserts, “Is not My word like fire" declares the LORD, "and like a hammer which shatters a rock?” (v. 29). Fire purifies and consumes; a hammer fractures hardened resistance. God’s speech is not passive information—it is active power that burns away deception and breaks the hard stone of stubborn hearts (Hebrews 4:12). In Jeremiah’s context, the “rock” can represent both public policy that denies the coming judgment and also personal, individual hearts that refuse correction.

The images also explain why counterfeit words are preferred: fire is uncomfortable; hammers are loud. But the discomfort is mercy. Only a flaming, shattering word can save a people encased in self—protective lies. For Christians, this culminates in Christ—the Word made flesh—whose teaching pierces and whose cross crushes sin’s dominion, reconstructing hearts by the Spirit (John 1:14; Ephesians 6:17).

Accordingly, the LORD levels the first “against” charge: “Therefore behold, I am against the prophets," declares the LORD, "who steal My words from each other” (v. 30). To “steal” pictures prophets taking one another’s phrases to appear inspired. The problem is not citation but plagiarism of authority—recycling formulas like, “Thus says the LORD,” without receiving or submitting to God’s actual message. Borrowed rhetoric becomes a costume for borrowed credibility.

This theft also dilutes accountability. If everyone echoes the same safe lines, no one bears responsibility to tell the inconvenient truth. Ezekiel confronts a similar pattern—prophets daubing flimsy walls with whitewash to hide structural failure (Ezekiel 13:10-12). God’s stance against such speech means that eloquent vocabulary is not enough; authenticity requires origin in God and alignment with His revealed will.

The second charge narrows the technique: “Behold, I am against the prophets," declares the LORD, "who use their tongues and declare, ‘The Lord declares’” (v. 31). The Hebrew idiom points to prophets who utilize their tongues to say oracles of the LORD, thus attempting to speak for God. The issue is presumption: invoking God’s stamp of approval to advance a human agenda. In Jeremiah’s day this often meant promising peace, safety, or quick deliverance to a court under judgment.

This is spiritual malpractice. When leaders weaponize authoritative phrases to validate their preferences, they immunize hearers against true repentance. Jeremiah’s remedy is not silence but submission: let Scripture bind our speech, let holiness shape our tone, and let accountability guard against using sacred words as personal leverage.

The third and climactic charge reaches the effects: “Behold, I am against those who have prophesied false dreams," declares the LORD, "and related them and led My people astray by their falsehoods and reckless boasting; yet I did not send them or command them, nor do they furnish this people the slightest benefit” (v. 32). Two fruits expose the tree: misdirection—“led My people astray”—and uselessness—“do not furnish… the slightest benefit” (v. 32). The phrase “reckless boasting” captures rash, untested assertions paraded as revelation. God insists on authorization—“I did not send them” (v. 32)—and on edification: true words build a people (Jeremiah 1:10).

“Benefit” is a searching criterion for every age. Words from God change lives: they create repentance, courage, justice, and hope that endures. Counterfeit speech may excite or soothe, but it does not heal, guide, or sanctify. The church is therefore called to “examine everything carefully; hold fast to that which is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:20-21), honoring genuine spiritual truth while enthroning Scripture as the grain that feeds and the fire/hammer that saves.