Old Sandals

Do not My words do good to him who walks uprightly?  Micah 2:7

To walk uprightly is to keep the commandments; to make a conscious effort to live life from God’s perspective, and to love our neighbor.

Therefore I will wail and howl, I will go stripped and naked. I will make a wailing like the jackals and a mourning like the ostriches, for her wounds are incurable. For it has come to Judah. It has come to the gate of My people—to Jerusalem. Tell it not in Gath… Micah 1:8-10

“Tell it not in Gath” is one of the most poetic and pathos-laden lines in all of Scripture.  Gath was one of five city-states in the land of the Philistines, the avowed enemies of Israel.  Goliath, the warrior-giant whom David slew, was from Gath.

We should expect our enemies, if we have any, to attack us, to take delight in our misfortune.  We are not on guard, however, against the wounds inflicted by our friends, even family members, that not only take us by such surprise, but cut so much deeper.  When we are abandoned by those closest to us, we feel abandoned by everybody.  David, the boy-hero who slew the giant would become king of Israel, only later to have his own son Absolam turn against him, conspire to wrest the kingdom from him—even plot to kill him.  It is perhaps then that David pens the words found in Psalm 142: “Look to the right and see. There is none who takes notice of me. No refuge remains to me, no one cares for my soul.”

Our circumstances would be desperate indeed if that were literally true.  If no one took notice.  If no one cared. Even if David’s case, there were always faithful men around him who thought more of his welfare than their own.  It is indeed a blessing—a working of God’s providence—that we find those who draw near to us even as others, sometimes for reasons we can’t fully comprehend,  are forsaking us.

There is, of course, one person for whom the words of the psalmist were literally true.  One who really was despised and rejected by everyone. Forsaken by even his closest followers. Hanging naked on a cross between two thieves, he even cried out, “My God, my God, why have [even] you forsaken me?”

Why indeed?  This one question is of such magnitude that every other question we may ask is swallowed up by it.  Every tragedy that we face, every sorrow, every rejection finds its meaning—its only meaning—in the answer to this one question.  And yet, the answer is more than can be expressed with mere words.  So much more than can be expressed in a few sentences.

We are not king David.  We are not giant-killers.  We are only struggling sinners, as he was.  As Israel was.  But if our faith (as small at times as it may be), if our trust, if our confidence is in David’s greater Son, Israel’s Messiah, the Suffering Servant, the God-Man, the Forsaken One, the Enemy-Forgiver, then our lives, our actions and reactions, can be a book that others may read, a kind of a sermon that others may listen to.

It really is true that our lowest point can serve as a vantage point from which we can see the “big picture” of life more clearly.  Life is full of physical dangers and we learn from an early age to watch out for them.  But the non-physical dangers are far more serious, yet easily overlooked.  Just as the cruel words of a friend or family member can injure us more than the slash of a knife, so bitterness and an unforgiving spirit is a self-inflicted wound (the only truly incurable kind), that is more harmful than any form of abuse from the outside, whether verbal, physical, sexual or otherwise. It ends up hurting even those we love and have influence over, perhaps whether we realize it or not.

In spite of everything, the LORD, through the mouth of his prophet, refers to Israel as “My people.”  Let us take heart in that. May God give us the grace to always remember Whose we are (however unworthily), and Whom we serve (however feebly), and in Whom alone is our only hope of redemption.

O Israel, return to the Lord your God, for you have stumbled because of your iniquity….Say to Him, “Take away all iniquity. Receive us graciously.”

There is always a way back.  The door to the Kingdom is always ajar.  The invitation is a still, small one, but clearly heard by anyone willing to listen.  There is a divine RSVP accompanying this invitation.  We must respond right away, while there is still time.  But our response must be sincere, from a heart that resonates with these words:  “O Lord, take away our iniquity.  Receive us graciously.”

Yet I am the Lord your God, ever since the land of Egypt,  and you shall know no God but Me, for there is no savior besides Me. I knew you in the wilderness, in the land of great drought. When they had pasture, they were filled. They were filled and their heart was exalted; therefore they forgot Me. So I will be to them like a lion, like a leopard by the road I will lurk.  I will meet them like a bear deprived of her cubs. I will tear open their rib cage, and there I will devour them like a lion. The wild beast shall tear them.  O Israel, you are destroyed, but your help is from Me. I will be your King. Where is any other, that he may save you in all your cities?

Yet.  In spite of your transgressions, O Israel.  In spite of your stiff-necked ways.  In spite of your pagan idolatry.  Yet I am the Lord your God.  I will be to you (if I must be) like a bear deprived of her cubs.  I will bring about your destruction, but (or yet) your help is from Me.  I will be your King. Yet.

Observe mercy and justice, and wait on your God continually.

This is how life should be lived.  We are to be merciful.  We are to behave justly.  We are to act as children of God, Who is both merciful and just. He is merciful toward us even though we are unrighteous sinners.  He is just to forgive us and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

My people are bent on backsliding from Me. Though they call to the Most High, none at all exalt  Him.  How can I give you up, Ephraim?  How  can I hand you over, Israel? How can I make you like Admah?  How  can I set you like Zeboiim? My heart churns within Me; My sympathy is stirred. I will not execute the fierceness of My anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim. For I  am  God, and not man, the Holy One in your midst; and I will not come with terror.

“My heart churns within me. My sympathy is stirred.” The Almighty, the Most High, condescends, stoops low.  How approachable, even humble, is the Holy One in our midst.  What a revelation!

Admah and Zeboiim were ancient, pagan cities destroyed in the LORD’s fierce anger, along with Sodom and Gomorrah.  Cities filled with wickedness, godlessness. Israel, “My people”, are little better, almost totally given over to pagan idolatry.  Yet, although worthy of destruction, they will be shown mercy.  Why? “For I am God, and not man.”  God is faithful to faithless Israel.  He is mindful of His covenant with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

How foolish it is to turn from God.  It only leads to death and destruction.  Turn to God.  No matter what you’ve done or haven’t done in the past. Guilty? Confused? Hurting? Run to Him, with heart churning.  His heart is churning too.

Sow for yourselves righteousness. Reap in mercy. Break up your fallow ground, for  it is  time to seek the Lord, till He comes and rains righteousness on you.

The spiritual life, the godly life involves a synergy—a working together with God. It is ours to plow the soil, to break up the fallow ground. The miracle of the harvest is God’s.

I found Israel like grapes in the wilderness; I saw your fathers as the firstfruits on the fig tree in its first season. But they went to Baal Peor, and separated themselves to that shame. They became an abomination like the thing they loved….My God will cast them away, because they did not obey Him.  And they shall be wanderers among the nations.

Many people have the impression that the Bible is just a collection of fanciful stories.  Like Aesop’s fables, there are many good, moral lessons that can be learned from them, but noone should suppose the stories actually happened.

Such an impression of the Bible, of course, is false. Honestly read and properly understood, the stories are anything but fanciful.  The whole of Scripture deals with the nitty-gritty of life.  The good, bad and the ugly.  Sin and death.  A crucifixion.  What subjects could be less fanciful?

And yet, the Scripture is not only (or even in the main) a lament about mankind’s failures.  It is really the story of God’s success, and our hope of a new life—now and forever—free from sin, death and utter meaninglessness.

The empty tomb is not a fanciful story either, but a divine reality.  In fact, like the whole of Scripture itself, it has to be one or the other.  It’s either true or “truth” doesn’t matter. Either the tomb is empty—or all of life is.

As for My sacrificial offerings, they sacrifice meat and eat it, but the Lord does not accept them. Now He will remember their iniquity and punish their sins.

It is no use going through the motions; God is not impressed.  He sees us as we really are, yet He is merciful.  He will…punish their sins.  God is teaching us, correcting us, even at times punishing us through the circumstances of our lives.  There is even a mercy in this, when through it all we are able to see our sins as that alone which cuts us off from everlasting life and happiness.

But they do not return to the Lord their God, nor seek Him for all this.

Here we have an answer to the question each of us has asked, “Why did this happen?”  It is certainly not a comprehensive answer; it does not unpack for us the depth of God’s wisdom, nor the breadth of His providence at work in our lives.  But it is an adequate answer: So that we my return to the Lord our God; so that we may seek Him for all this, whatever this happens to be.