Articles

Articles

Cry Me a River

The 8th century B.C. was a dark time in history for the kingdoms of Israel and Judah.  Israel was plunging headlong into annihilation as a consequence of rampant idolatry and its consequent immorality.  Judah was following in its wake – similar to the way the U.S. follows the lead of Europe.  It seems that the godless trends of the Continent manage to find their way across the Atlantic within a few decades. 

In Judah Uzziah’s long reign of prosperity “brought with it the usual attendant social evils and spiritual falling away from Jehovah” (Hailey 188).  His son, Jotham, reigned four years “and he did what was right in the sight of the Lord … but still the people acted corruptly” (2 Chr 27:2). 

Jotham was succeeded by Ahaz who brought sixteen years of malfeasance and misery upon Judah:  “For the Lord brought Judah low because of Ahaz … for he had encouraged moral decline in Judah and had been continually unfaithful to the Lord” (2 Chr 28:19).

If it were not for the prophetic work of Isaiah and Micah, Judah would have likely fallen to the Assyrians when they invaded Israel.  But their work, along with the reforming reign of King Hezekiah, pulled Judah back from the brink – at least temporarily. 

In the midst of this turmoil and political instability an interesting exchange occurs between a spiritually destitute Judah and God.  First, God calls upon Israel to find fault with Him:  “O My people, what have I done to you?  And how have I wearied you?  Testify against Me” (Micah 6:3).  God then gives a brief synopsis of their emancipation from Egyptian bondage and His protection and defense of them when Balak sought their condemnation through Balaam (6:4-5).

The people then respond to God, but they seem completely adrift from both the law’s requirements for atonement and, more troubling, the basic level of character and faithfulness that God desires from men:  “With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before the High God?  Shall I come before Him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old?  Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams or ten thousand rivers of oil?  Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?” (6:6-7). 

It is hard to tell if the people are questioning God sincerely or merely hiding behind the excuse that their sins are of such a magnitude that they could never regain God’s favor.  Their plaintive proposals escalate in value:  year-old calves; thousands of rams; ten thousands rivers of oil; human sacrifice.  What does God want?  Can He be appeased?  Are the people merely disguised agnostics?  Other prophetic testimony reveals that the people thought they were exempt from God’s judgment – if they believed in God at all.

It is not unusual for people today to rationalize their sin by saying something like, “I’ve done so many bad things God could never forgive me.”  I had a conversation with a man many years ago who had previously preached sermons, taught classes, raised a faithful son; etc.  But he lost his way and became hardened to the possibility that God would forgive him.  Sadly, he died in that spiritual condition.  Satan had convinced him on some level that repentance carried too high a price tag.

But the law of Moses made provisions for sin; copious passages in Leviticus and elsewhere outline the sacrifices to be brought to assuage the judicial wrath of God against Israel’s sins.  True, the blood of bulls and goats could never take away sin by their own intrinsic merit, but until the adequate sacrifice could be made – the blood of God’s own Son – Jehovah was willing to forgive Israel’s sins and regard them as His faithful bride.  God did not make fellowship with Him impossible or even implausible. 

Micah’s answer to the people’s complaint:  “He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” (6:8). 

Some 800 years before Micah’s restorative work, Moses had made almost the same plea to the obstinate people of his own generation:  “And now, Israel, what does the Lord your God require of you, but to fear the Lord your God, to walk in all His ways and to love Him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and to keep the commandments of the Lord and His statutes which I command you today for your good?” (Dt 10:12-13).  Then he issued a stern warning:  “Therefore circumcise the foreskin of your heart, and be stiff-necked no longer” (Dt 10:16). 

Seven hundred years after Micah, Jesus also condensed the law to a principle of genuine, complete devotion to God:  “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.’  This is the first and great commandment.  ‘And the second is like it:  ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’  On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets” (Mt 22:37-40).

A short time after that Stephen likewise borrowed from Moses in his scathing condemnation of the Jewish Sanhedrin:  “You stiff-necked and uncircumcised in heart and ears!  You always resist the Holy Spirit; as your fathers did, so do you” (Ac 7:51). 

From Moses to Micah to Jesus to Stephen to 21st century America the same principle of God’s expectations for man holds true:  God does not demand some impossible gift of atonement for sin – He already provided that.  He does not want the most precious thing we have to offer, such as our firstborn child – He already offered that.  What He wants is a humble heart, a spiritually sensitive man, woman, young girl or boy that diligently searches for reconciliation with Him.  We have nothing to offer God for our sins; everything we are and have are what God made in the first place.

What God wants from us, however, is what few really want to give.  He wants our reverence, respect, devotion, gratitude, love and faithful service.  That is something everyone can give, though we will never give it perfectly.  And even then He will forgive.  Are you giving to God a glad, willing, joyful heart?