By Ronald J. Allen
I ask Micah's question. Don't you? What does the Lord require of me? If I am to be faithful, what does God really want from me? From you?
This question can rustle in our hearts at almost any moment of life. But often it seems to knock on the door of consciousness when things are uncertain and we have decisions to make. What does God require of me -- now?
A new kid moves into the neighborhood and becomes friends with your kid. They start to play together. The new kid hangs around your house. Soon you become aware that the new kid is kind of rough and has values and practices that worry you. Yet you sense that the new kid really needs the kind of stability and love that you have in your home. You wonder whether you should try to discourage this friendship or whether you should invite this kid into your circle of relationships. Do you risk damage to your own child in the hope of helping a neighbor? What would God have you do?
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A boss catches an employee dipping into the till. The boss knows that the employee has a family and responsibilities and a respected place in the community. So what does the boss do -- turn in the employee to the police? Does the boss fire the employee but not take the case to court? Does the boss talk privately with the employee, expressing disappointment and working out an equitable system of repayment? What does God ask in such a situation?
A pastor in a county-seat congregation steps into the chancel during the prelude and settles into the high-back pastor's chair. The pastor looks into the faces of the congregation. There are some who have lost their farms. Bankrupt. Scratching for a living now. There are some who work in the bank that foreclosed on the farms. What should a pastor say? What does God require?
Micah's question is mine. And I'll bet it is yours.
Micah had a special reason for asking it. He was living at a frightening time. Micah's land, Judah, was about to drop into the garbage disposal of history. From the outside the mighty, savage armies of Assyria were coming (
1:2ff), and they were not dropping leaflets from airplanes promising food and baths to the Judahites who surrendered.
Inside the land, Micah saw chaos. In the ancient world, land was a sacred inheritance, but the rich were weaseling away the land of the poor (
2:1ff). The leaders abhorred justice (
3:9). Bribery was synonymous with politics (
3:11). Micah despairs that the leaders "tear the skin off my people and break their bones in pieces and chop them up like meat in a kettle" (
3:2-3).
The priests and prophets draw their paychecks on Friday and stand in the pulpit on Sunday and pass the hand of blessing over this theft and bribery and exploitation. "God is with us," they say. "No harm shall come upon us" (
3:11). Well, when the minister stands in the pulpit and says grace over theft and bribery, what can you expect from a community?