The Prophet: Amos

by Francine Rivers

  Issachar became angry. “As soon as I show my face inside the gate, I’ll be accused of stealing it. I’ve lost everything. I’d like to keep from having my hand cut off.”

  “I’ll make it clear you came by it honestly.”

  “And who are you to speak for me? A stranger. I’ll still lose it.”

  “Why?”

  “There are those who would take it from me as payment for a debt.”

  “Only for a day and then, by law, they must return it.”

  Issachar gave a snort of disdain. “No such law prevails here.”

  “How much do you owe?”

  Issachar told him, and the amount was far less than the offering that had been left in the basket outside Amos’s cave. “Take it.” Amos stood beside him. “We will settle your debt when the gate opens.”

  As he walked the streets, he gave a coin to a man without sandals, and another to an aging Nazirite. While buying what he needed in the marketplace, he saw a widow with four children begging for bread. He gave her the rest of what he had and told her to thank God for the provisions.

  Each day, he found more gifts left outside his cave dwelling.

  The people showed generosity to him, a stranger, and remained blind to the poor of their city. They liked what he had said. They wanted more favorable prophecies and thought these bribes would keep them coming. It did not occur to them that the Word of the Lord was not for hire.

  Amos marveled at how God used their attempts to control prophecy to provide for him and even bless a few of the forgotten and impoverished in Bethel.

  Still, Amos knew the time was coming when these gift givers and flatterers would turn against him.

  “When will you speak again, Prophet?” an official called out as he entered Bethel one day.

  “When God gives me the words.”

  After a while, no one paid attention to him when he entered Bethel. Even the beggars left him alone, quickly aware that the gifts had stopped and they would receive nothing from his hand. Amos wandered and observed, waiting upon the Lord in the midst of the crowd, thankful he was no longer the center of attention.

  He knew it was the calm before the storm.

  He spent long hours walking the hills, squatting on his heels or sitting on a boulder to watch the shepherds with their flocks. He was more at home alone than among the well-dressed, well-fed, prosperous crowds.

  One day, he walked long enough and far enough that he could see Tekoa. His heart squeezed tight with pain. Leaning on his staff, he pleaded. “Why must I wait, Lord? Why can I not speak all the visions at once and have done with them?” He felt the answer in his soul and bowed his head.

  Oh, that he should care so little about people whom God loved so much.

  The sun set. Darkness came. Amos looked up and imagined the hand of God flinging stars like shining dust across the heavens. No. He was wrong to think such pagan thoughts, for God had only to utter a word and it was done. Only man had He shaped with His hands, using dust He created to form His most precious and amazing creation. Only man was molded and loved into being, the breath of life in his lungs given by God.

  The canopy of night soothed Amos. He felt God’s presence over him. Surely his ancestors had felt the same as they wandered in the wilderness with the cloud by day and pillar of fire by night. God might be silent, but He was near—oh, so near—only a breath away. Burdened with the task God had given him, Amos also felt cherished. Wayward, stubborn, contentious as he was, God loved him.

  Did He not also love the people of Bethel and Dan, Gilgal, and Beersheba? Wayward, stubborn, sinful though they were?

  “Feed My sheep,” God had said.

  “Help me see them through Your eyes, Lord. Let me feel what You feel toward Your people so that I might better serve You.”

  And suddenly he did. Anguish, rage, passion. A father grieving over a wayward son, crying out to him to come back to me where you are safe, come back. . . . Judgment thrown down as a hedge to keep that son from plunging over a precipice straight into the arms of death.

  Do you not see? Do you not know? I am your salvation.

  Amos dropped to one knee, clutching his staff, swaying with the force of emotions. He moaned. “Lord, Lord . . .”

  God had called him to be a prophet, and with each day, he surrendered more. For in those moments when the Spirit of the Lord came upon him, he was alive. It was only later when the Lord departed from him that Amos felt the loneliness of his soul. No longer was it enough to know God existed: God heard, saw, and knew him. Amos ached to have God remain indwelled, transforming his mind and heart. He wanted the intimacy to last.

  He thought of Elijah taken up to heaven in the flaming chariot, never tasting death, standing now in the presence of the Lord; of Elisha, parting the Jordan River, raising a dead boy. And of Jonah running and hiding, only to be found and made more useful despite his disobedience. Who could doubt the word of a man half digested and vomited on the beach by a fish? Even the hated Assyrians in Nineveh had listened and repented!

  For a while anyway.

  Amos closed his eyes. “These are Your people, Lord, Your wandering children. You are my Shepherd. Lead me, Lord, so that I might lead them away from death. Help me.”

  He would speak the Word of the Lord. But would they come to God’s call upon their hearts and minds?

  He already feared he knew the answer. Had not the Lord already shown him what would happen?

  How soon men forget the Word of the Lord.

  And choose to perish in the midst of God’s patience.

  Amos watched a caravan make its way up the hill toward Bethel. His vision blurred, and he saw siege machines, warriors attacking, smoke and fire. He heard screams of terror and pain.

  Surging to his feet, he cried out in a loud voice and strode through the orchard. He came out onto the road and raised his staff. “This is what the Lord says: ‘The people of Tyre have sinned again and again, and I will not let them go unpunished!’”

  Camel jockeys shouted profanities at him.

  “They broke their treaty of brotherhood with Israel, selling whole villages as slaves to Edom. So I will send down fire on the walls of Tyre, and all its fortresses will be destroyed.”

  Animals bayed and paced. Attendants ran back and forth, trying to keep them in line.

  Amos ran and placed himself between the caravan and the city. He pointed his staff toward Edom.

  “This is what the Lord says: ‘The people of Edom have sinned again and again, and I will not let them go unpunished!’”

  Visitors backed away from him as he cried out.

  “They chased down their relatives, the Israelites, with swords, showing them no mercy. In their rage, they slashed them continually and were unrelenting in their anger.”

  People lined the walls of Bethel.

  “The prophet! The prophet of the Lord speaks!”

  “From your mouth to God’s ears!”

  “This is what the Lord says.” Amos pointed his staff toward Ammon. “The people of Ammon have sinned again and again, and I will not let them go unpunished! When they attacked Gilead to extend their borders, they ripped open pregnant women with their swords. So I will send down fire on the walls of Rabbah, and all its fortresses will be destroyed. The battle will come upon them with shouts, like a whirlwind in a mighty storm. And their king and his princes will go into exile together!”

  Amos’s lungs filled. His heart rose. He entered the gates, his voice like thunder echoing down the streets.

  “This is what the Lord says: ‘The people of Moab have sinned again and again, and I will not let them go unpunished! They desecrated the bones of Edom’s king, burning them to ashes. So I will send down fire on the land of Moab, and all the fortresses in Kerioth will be destroyed. The people will fall in the noise of battle, as the warriors shout and the ram’s horn sounds. And I will destroy their king and slaughter all their princes.’”

  “The Lord defends Israel!” men shouted.

/>   “Israel is great!”

  Blood on fire with the Spirit of the Lord, Amos came outside the gates once again and cried out against Judah. “This is what the Lord says.” Tears filled his eyes and sorrow, his voice. “The people of Judah have sinned again and again, and I will not let them go unpunished! They have rejected the instruction of the Lord, refusing to obey His decrees. They have been led astray by the same lies that deceived their ancestors. So I will send down fire on Judah, and all the fortresses of Jerusalem will be destroyed.” His voice broke.

  The Spirit of the Lord lifted. Amos’s blood cooled. He heard people cheering, shouting from the top of the wall. “Bring on the Day of the Lord!” People rushed from Bethel and clustered around him, their voices like chattering birds. “Let it come! Let it come!”

  Only a few appeared to be troubled that the Lord’s judgment had fallen so close to home.

  Is it time, Lord? I have given every prophecy but one. Is it time, Lord?

  Wait.

  The crowd parted as several priests came toward him. The eldest spoke with cool respect. “Your prophecies please the people.” Tightly spoken words, eyes ablaze with jealousy.

  “I speak the Word of the Lord.”

  “So we have been told. And it is true you speak with great power, Amos of Tekoa.”

  People talked among themselves. “He prophesies against his own country. . . .”

  Amos turned away.

  The priest quickly caught up with him. “Come.” A command.

  Amos ignored it.

  The priest spoke with less force. “We will reward you for your words.”

  Amos pressed his way through the throng of people and kept walking.

  “Where is he going?”

  The priest’s voice rose above the din. “We want to hear more of what you have to say to us.”

  Angry, Amos faced him. “You hear, but you do not understand.”

  People whispered. “What don’t we understand?”

  “Shhh. Let him speak.”

  “Stop shoving!”

  “What does he say?”

  “Let the Day of the Lord come,” the priest called out. “It’s what we wait for. We are ready for it!”

  Others called out in agreement.

  Amos looked up at the wall lined with people. “The Day of the Lord will not be as you imagine.”

  The people fell silent.

  Unable to say more, Amos walked away.

  Ducking into the orchard where he had sat all morning, he ran.

  Sitting in his cave, Amos pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Judah! His throat tightened. Judah!

  “Prophet?” Someone stood outside, a dark silhouette against the setting sun. “May I speak with you?”

  “Go away!”

  “Please.” A young voice, broken, questing. “I have to know. Is this judgment upon Judah certain, or will God show mercy upon us?”

  Us?

  Shuddering, vision blurred by tears, Amos rose. When the young man bowed before him, he shouted, “Get off your knees! Am I God that you would bow down to me?”

  The young man scrambled to his feet and flinched as though expecting a blow. “You are the Lord’s messenger!”

  Shoulders sagging, Amos let out a long sigh, sat, and rested his staff across his knees. “Unwilling messenger.” He scowled at the intruder. “What do you want?”

  “Judah will be destroyed, or may be destroyed?”

  Amos struggled with emotion. “If the people repent, perhaps the Lord will show mercy on us.” Amos held out little hope of that happening. Only an invading army seemed to turn men’s hearts back to God.

  “I have family in Judah. Uncles, aunts, cousins.”

  “I have brothers.” He saw something in the young man’s face that made him soften. “Why are you here? What do you want of me?”

  “You are the Lord’s prophet. I want to know. Will not the Lord hear your prayers?”

  “The Lord hears, but so far the Lord had said no to everything I’ve asked of Him. Better if you tell your uncles, aunts, and cousins to repent. Tell them to return to the Lord. Prod them. Plead with them. Pray they will listen!”

  The young man looked toward Bethel. “The people of Bethel hang on your every word. They love what you have to say.”

  Amos leaned back, depressed. “Yes. They do, don’t they?” Because every word that had come from his mouth thus far had proclaimed destruction on their enemies—or competitors.

  “Is there no hope for Judah?”

  “I told you. Repent! And why are you here in Bethel if you are a Judean?”

  “I’m a Levite.”

  “All faithful Levites returned to Judah long ago.”

  The young man held his gaze. “Some felt impelled to return here.”

  “Impelled by God, or self-interest?”

  Troubled, the young man bowed his head and didn’t answer.

  “Afraid to answer?”

  The lad’s eyes were awash with tears. “In truth, I don’t know.” He stood and walked away, shoulders slumped.

  Amos went into his cave, sank down, and put his head in his hands.

  The Lord told Amos to return to Bethel and repeat the prophecies about the surrounding nations. Amos went, calling out as he entered the city. Crowds gathered eagerly to hear him. The young Levite stood in their midst. Unlike those around him who cheered, he listened intently, troubled rather than jubilant. He didn’t approach Amos again.

  Gifts continued to pile up outside the entrance of Amos’s cave. He thanked God for the provisions and gave away everything but the little food he needed.

  Each day, Amos preached on the steps of Bethel’s temple. “Those who oppress the poor insult their Maker, but helping the poor honors Him.”

  The people listened, but did not apply the words to their own lives. Even the priests thought he spoke only of the surrounding nations and Judah to the south.

  “Fools make fun of guilt, but the godly acknowledge it and seek reconciliation with God! Godliness makes a nation great, but sin is a disgrace to any people.”

  The people clapped at his preaching, nodding and smiling to one another. Was there any nation as religious as Israel? Fervent in worship, they flocked to the temples and shrines, singing and dancing. They poured out offerings. Puffed up with pride and prosperity, they grew smug and self-righteous. Look at us! Look at the evidence of our righteousness!

  They had gold in abundance and an army ready to defend them. King Jeroboam II lived in splendor in the capital of Samaria, having succeeded in pushing back the borders to what they had been during the reign of the great King Solomon. Such blessing had to be a sign of God’s approval.

  Amos knew better. He preached on the sins of the nations, but no one saw any similarity to the way they thought and lived. They continued to look at the nations around them, rather than into their own hearts.

  The trap was set . . . and would soon be sprung.

  One afternoon Amos again found the young Levite waiting outside his cave, along with several others. He stood as Amos approached. “May I speak with you?” He spoke more softly. “In private?”

  Amos sent the others away. Leaning on his staff, he looked at the young man. “You have not returned to Jerusalem.”

  “I spent a week with my relatives in Jerusalem. I told them everything you said.”

  “Good.” Amos went inside. “Did they believe you?”

  The young man followed him. “No.”

  “But you do.”

  “Yes.”

  Amos felt a softening toward this young man. He sat on his pallet and waited for the visitor to speak.

  “Why do you live in such a mean place?”

  “I would rather live in a cave, than trapped in the city.”

  The young man sat tensely. “I came back to explain why we’re here and not in Jerusalem.”

  “Confess your reasons to God.”

  “God knows, and I want you to understand. There was no
t land or work enough for everyone in Jerusalem when my grandfather returned. I mean no disrespect, but the families who had lived and served in that district were not willing to step back and make room for others to serve.”

  Amos thought of Heled and Joram. The young man’s words held the ring of truth. Like sheep, even the Levites had their butting order, and those long established in Jerusalem might have looked upon the influx of Levites with jaundiced eyes. He could not imagine Heled or others like him willingly giving up any of the benefits of their position, even to a brother in need.

  “And I will confess—” the young man bowed his head—“Bethel has always been my home.” He met Amos’s eyes again. “My ancestors were born here.”

  “So you believe you belong here?”

  “Perhaps God has kept me here for a reason.”

  “Do you follow after their ways?”

  “Neither my father nor I nor any member of our family has bowed down to the golden calf, nor used the temple prostitutes.”

  “But you live comfortably in hypocrisy.”

  The young man’s face reddened. “Would you have us live as they do?”

  “Do they know you don’t?”

  “My father and I grieve over what you said about Judah.”

  “Grieving isn’t enough to change God’s mind.” He leaned forward. “When our ancestors rebelled against the Lord in the desert, God was ready to wipe them out and make a dynasty of Moses’ family. Moses pleaded for our salvation, and God changed His mind, withholding His wrath.”

  “Then you must pray for Judah!”

  Amos nodded. “I have prayed, and will continue to do so, but I am not Moses.”

  “How many prayers will it take? My grandfather and father have prayed for years. I have prayed since I was a boy for Israel to return to God and for the tribes to reunite.” The young man’s eyes filled with tears. “Why is Jerusalem to be judged when Samaria and Bethel and Beersheba wallow in sin? You live here. You must see it even more clearly than I do. But it’s different in Judea. King Uzziah worships the Lord our God and follows the Law. And Judah is to be consumed by fire?”

  Lord, he speaks as I did. What is it in us that rejoices at the judgment upon others, while pleading that our sins be overlooked? “You will not be satisfied until everyone is dead. Better judgment should fall here on Israel than Judah. Is that it?”