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 not 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?”
“No. I did not mean that. I don’t want that anyone should die.”
“Then you are a better man than I. When the Lord first gave me these visions, I felt the same exhilaration I see in these people. Destroy Assyria! Yes, Lord. I see the gloating faces, hear the cruel laughter. Send fire on the fortresses of Philistia and Phoenicia. Yes, yes! Consume Edom with fire. Crush the Ammonites. Wipe out the Moabites! He gave a mirthless laugh. “But Judah? My home? My family? We’re better than the rest, aren’t we?” He shook his head. “We haven’t the excuse of ignorance. We know when we turn our backs on God. We make the choice to go our own way. Isn’t that worse than what others do? They don’t even know better.”
“But Jerusalem. The Temple. God resides there!”
Amos shook his head. “No temple is large enough to contain the Lord our God.”
“Perhaps I have seen more of Jerusalem and the Temple Mount than you have. Sin may not be as rampant there yet as it is here, but the Temple of the Lord stands there—if there is any place on earth that should stand firm upon the Law, shouldn’t it be there?”
Amos sighed, weary, heartsick. A year ago, he wouldn’t have cared about what happened to these people. And then he had prayed and God had answered. Now he cared so much that his heart broke every time he thought of Jerusalem, every time he entered the gates of Bethel, every time he looked into the faces of the people who could not stand before the judgment of a righteous God, least of all he. God was holding the nations accountable for what they’d done against His people, but the Lord would also hold His people accountable for the way they live before the nations. God chose them to be His people. He called them out of Egypt to be unique, an example to all the nations. And look how they lived, chasing after worthless idols. Thankless, faithless children. Lost sheep.
“Today, in Bethel, men heard the Word of the Lord against Judah and were silent. Judgment hit close to home this time again, but do they even wonder?”
The young man paled. “Wonder what?”
“If it applies to them. The Lord sees what men do. He hears what they say and how they live. The Lord knows we are like sheep, prone to wander. We cast ourselves into sin and can’t get out. We look for better pastures among the religions of the nations around us and feed on poison. We drink from other men’s wells and are infected with parasites. And still, the Lord sends prophets to call the people back to Him. But do they listen?”
“I’m listening.”
“Yes.” Amos’s muscles relaxed. Why would God send him to Bethel if there was no hope?
“King David said God is faithful. His faithful love endures forever.”
Amos had never given much thought to the word the shepherd-king had used. “His love endures.”
God put up with their rebellious nature, suffered their rejection, and witnessed their desertion. God grieves over their lack of love. He sent prophet after prophet to call them back to Himself before He had to use His rod and staff of discipline. Even then, when discipline had to come, the Lord extended His mighty hand to deliver them again.
But then the cycle would repeat: faith for a generation, then complacency, soon followed by adultery as the people chased after false gods. Man decided how and what he wanted to worship and substituted idols for the living God. Sin took root and spread tendrils of arrogance and pride into every area of life. Eyes became blind to God’s presence, ears deaf to His Word. And the curses came again, often not even recognized for what they were—a call to return to the Lord.
“His faithful love endures forever.”
There were far worse things than discipline. A father who does not discipline his son hates him. The same held true of a nation.
If the northern tribes refused to listen again, God would let them go their own way. They would continue to follow after Jeroboam, the son of Nebat.
FOUR
“What are you doing here?” Ahiam glared. “Get away from our stalls! Go back to Israel.”
Amos stood shocked at his brother’s greeting. “I’ve just come from offering my sacrifices to the Lord.”
“Offer them in Bethel, you betrayer.”
Heat surged into Amos’s face. “I betray no one!”
When his brother took a swing at him, Amos blocked it with his staff, resulting in Ahiam’s yelp of pain as he hit the ground. He scrambled up, ready to attack Amos again, but Bani put himself between them.
“People have heard what you’ve been saying in Bethel, Brother. They are not happy.”
“Don’t ca
ll him ‘brother’!” Ahiam raged. “He makes nothing but trouble for us. He always has!”
“What trouble have I made?” Amos ground out and then sneered. “Is business down?”
“You! A prophet!” Ahiam laughed derisively. “You look like a beggar in your shepherd’s rags.”
“Better a poor man than a dishonest one.”
With a roar, Ahiam came at him again. Amos hooked his shepherd’s staff around Ahiam’s leg and flipped him onto his back. Bani tried to intercede, but Amos shoved him back. “I told you both before I left that the Lord had given me visions of the nations.” When Ahiam tried to rise, Amos held the end of the staff over him. “You wouldn’t even listen to me!”
Ahiam slapped the shepherd’s staff away and rose, face flushed.
Amos stepped forward. “God sent me to Bethel, Ahiam, and the prophecies are not mine, but the Lord’s.”
“You speak against Judah!” Ahiam spat on the ground. “That’s what I think of you.”
Amos went cold and then hot. “It is not me you spit upon, Brother.”
“Enough!” Bani shouted at them.
Startled, the sheep leapt and moved restlessly in the stalls. Amos went over and spoke softly to the animals. Ahiam raised his hands in frustration.
Bani turned to Amos. “Tell us what’s happened.”
“I tried to tell you. When God called me to prophesy, I resisted.” He looked between them. “You needn’t tell me I’m unworthy. I know better than you both that I am not a learned man. What I know of God, I learned in the pastures and from the stars. God forgive me, I still resist Him.” His mouth worked. “But I must speak what the Lord tells me.”
Ahiam brushed himself off. “And we’re supposed to believe He speaks destruction upon us?” He pointed north. “We, who are more faithful than that nation you now call your own?”
“I am Judean.”
“Then why?”
“Because God wants it so. The northern tribes are still our brothers, though they wander like lost sheep with wolves for shepherds. We were once one flock! Twelve sons of Jacob, twelve tribes that God made into a nation. Have we all forgotten that?”
“Jeroboam claimed God gave him the ten northern tribes, and look what that usurper did with them!”
“And God sends me to remind them they yet belong to the Lord. Why else would He send me to prophesy other than to confront their sin and call them back to Him?”
“It’s not their sin you’ve confronted, is it? You cry down destruction on us! I’ll bet they loved that message. I’ll bet they paid you well.”
Amos shook his head. “Who are we to be so self-righteous? We all sin against the Lord. Our family’s wealth has grown out of it. And it will all turn to dust in our mouths if we don’t repent.”
“Don’t preach at me.” Ahiam flipped his hand, dismissing Amos’s words. “We’ve known you since you were a baby messing yourself.”
“A prophet is never heard in his own home or by his own family.”
“You’re misguided. You’ve been too long in the sun. You’re beginning to bleat like your sheep.”
“Careful what you say, Brother.”
Something in Amos’s voice silenced his brothers.
Bani spread his hands. “Forgive us if we have misunderstood. Tell us of the visions, Amos. Tell us everything.”
“Yes.” Ahiam’s mouth twisted sardonically. “Tell us everything that we might be as wise as you.”
Ignoring his older brother’s sarcasm, Amos told them everything except the final vision he had yet to speak in Bethel.
Ahiam snorted. “Words to feed their pride. That’s what you’re giving them.”
Sorrow filled Amos. “Pride goes before destruction, and haughtiness before a fall.” He looked up at the Temple, then to the stalls of animals gained by deceit. He turned his gaze from the priests collecting fines to Bani and then to Ahiam. Grief overtook him, and fear for those he loved and could not convince. “Nothing is done in secret. The Lord sees what you do. He hears the words of your mouth. He knows what you hold most dear.”
Ahiam frowned, but said nothing. Amos felt a moment of hope when he saw fear flicker in his brothers’ eyes.
Fear of the Lord is the foundation of wisdom.
“Make your offerings quickly,” Bani said. “And give them to Elkanan or Benaniah. If Heled sees you, he will try to bar you from the Temple.”
“Has he caused you trouble?”
“He is the one who told us of your prophecies against Judah.”
“Is he unwilling to confess his sins before the Lord and repent?”
“It is no laughing matter, Amos!”
“Do you see me laughing?” He grasped Bani’s arm. “Take the Lord’s word to heart, Brother, before time runs out. I spoke the truth. Judah is judged! Repentance may bring mercy for a time, but you know as well as I how quickly men return to sin to make their own way in the world.” Ahiam had given himself over to profits.
“And what would I do?”
“Be a shepherd again.”
“Mishala would not be happy as a shepherd’s wife, Amos.”
“She would prefer it to being a widow. Without you, how will she live? How will she provide food for your children?” Many widows were forced to turn to prostitution for food money.
Amos gave his offerings and worshiped before the Lord. He spent the entire day inside the Temple, watching and listening. Not all the priests were like Heled, but the few who were had done great damage to the many who came with sincere hearts to worship the Lord.
I must keep my mind and heart fixed upon You, Lord, and not upon those who would lead me astray. How long had he allowed bitterness against Heled to rule his thinking?
He spent the night at his home in Tekoa. Eliakim gave him good reports about Ithai and Elkanan. They had faithfully obeyed Amos’s instructions, and they had not traded spring lambs with Joram.
Amos walked with Eliakim to the boundary of his family’s ancestral land. “If God allowed, I would stay.”
Eliakim turned to him. “Will you return soon?”
“I will return to Jerusalem as often as the Law requires.”
“I meant come home to stay. Here, in Tekoa.”
“I know what you meant, Eliakim, but I don’t know. I can only hope—” his throat tightened—“one day, perhaps, my friend. Look after everything as though I were here with you.”
Eliakim bowed low. “May the Lord protect you.”
“The eyes of the Lord are upon all the people, Eliakim. All His people.” Judah and Israel might be God’s chosen people, but the Lord rules the nations as well. Empires rise and fall at His command. Amos put his hand on Eliakim’s shoulder. “God will strongly support the one whose heart is completely His.” He looked back toward Jerusalem and thought of Bani and Ahiam. “Terrible days are coming.”
He walked away, shoulders slumped with the burden of the message he carried to Israel, the same message only a few in Judah had heeded.
The waiting was over.
Amos knew it the moment he entered the gates of Bethel. The Spirit of the Lord came upon him, and he saw everything differently. The beautiful woven veil of wealth had been lifted to reveal the corruption and foulness hidden beneath. Everywhere he looked, he saw sin.
His anger mingled with sorrow. He saw his own sin, too—his pride, his aloofness. He had withheld his love. Now, he walked among the people of Israel as he had his sheep, seeing both vulnerable lambs and dangerous predators.
The wealthy fed off the poor, stripping them of robes and sandals as collateral for loans that could never be repaid, while their wives lounged on Egyptian pillows in their second-story summer houses decorated with inlaid ivory furniture. Men hired to build in the city were cast out, their wages withheld by the wealthy to buy drink and delicacies.
The few men who dedicated themselves to the Lord as Nazirites were persecuted. Ordered to show their fealty to King Jeroboam, they drank wine before the elders who knowingl
y forced them to break their vows to God.
Everyone ran to do evil on that mountain with its golden calf. Incense smoke curled up from roofs. Mediums who claimed they could interpret dreams sat before the temple, grabbing their share of the offerings brought to the royal sanctuary. Idol makers thrived. These people were passionate for divination, and poured themselves out to wanton living and idol worship.
And yet God loved these lost people of Israel the way Amos loved and cared for his sheep. The truth shamed him and warmed his heart at the same time. And just as Amos sometimes found it necessary to wound a straying sheep in order to save it, so God must now discipline His straying people. If only they would listen, hear, before it was too late.
With new resolve, Amos strode up the street toward the temple of Bethel. “Come! Listen to the message that the Lord has spoken!”
“The prophet!”
“The prophet has returned!”
“Speak to us, Prophet!”
“Bring on the Day of the Lord!”
“We have been waiting for it to happen!”
“The nations will bow down before us!”
The excitement grew as Amos mounted the temple steps. He stopped halfway up and faced the people who stood eager to hear his words, certain he would proclaim continued prosperity and blessing. They nudged one another, gleeful, proud, stuffed with self-assurance. The square filled with excited people, all come to hear how God’s wrath would be poured out on others. It was sin God hated, and here before him were a thousand sinners who believed they stood on firm foundations. They knew nothing.
Feed My sheep. . . .
Amos raised his staff. “This is what the Lord says: ‘The people of Israel have sinned again and again, and I will not let them go unpunished!’”
“What is he saying about Israel?”
People murmured. People shifted. Some drew back slightly and began talking among themselves.
Amos pointed toward the priests gathered at the entrance of the temple. “They sell honorable people for silver and poor people for a pair of sandals. They trample helpless people in the dust and shove the oppressed out of the way.”
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