Fire spread through Amos’s blood. “You fat cows! Keep fattening yourselves for the slaughter.”
Red-faced, the woman shoved her maid aside and stepped forward. “What did you call me?”
“You heard me.” Amos rose, his eyes fixing upon the three women. “You’re fed on the finest grains, tended with the greatest care, and for what? One day you will lose everything you value, including your life!”
“You don’t know who I am!”
“I know who you are. And I know your kind.” He had had sheep like them, butting the younger ones, bullying. Greedy, possessive, danger to the flock. If not dealt with, they led others astray.
Naharai shook his head at Amos and mouthed, Don’t say any more.
But Amos had to continue. If he did not speak the truth to these women, their blood would be on his conscience. These women walked about on the temple mount, heads held high because their husbands served as priests or officials. He saw them here often, extorting whatever they wanted at the expense of those far less fortunate than they. “You are women who oppress the poor and crush the needy, and who are always calling to your husbands, ‘Bring us another drink!’”
“A wiser man would keep his mouth shut!”
One of them sang a mocking tune, one that had grown common over the past months.
The Word of the Lord came in a hot rush from Amos’s lips. “The Sovereign Lord has sworn this by His holiness!” He pointed at the women mocking him. “‘The time will come when you will be led away with hooks in your noses. Every last one of you will be dragged away like a fish on a hook! You will be led out through the ruins of the wall; you will be thrown from your fortresses,’ says the Lord. ‘And I will destroy the beautiful homes of the wealthy—their winter mansions and their summer houses, too—all their palaces filled with ivory.’”
Face flushed red in anger, the first woman cried out. “I worship God! I’m at the temple every morning, and I bring generous offerings.”
“Stolen offerings to a false god!”
Others in the marketplace paused to stare. Naharai ducked back into his booth and hid in the back.
Amos came toward the women. “Go ahead and offer your sacrifices to the idols. See if they can help when your enemies breach the walls. Keep on disobeying. Your sins are mounting up.”
She sputtered while her friends closed in.
“Come away.”
“Don’t listen to him.”
“He’s mad. Just ignore him.”
“A curse on you, Prophet!”
As they walked away, Amos shouted, “Prepare to meet your God!”
“He’s not my god!” she shrieked back at him.
The others put their arms around her and drew her away.
Amos shook his head. “Fools are wise in their own eyes, but the Lord prevails.” He took his place again and looked at the two boys, now silent, big-eyed, watching him. Only three others remained.
“You’ll be sorry, Amos.”
“More sorry if I had held my tongue.”
One of the men did not understand. “Why has the Lord not spoken to us before now?”
Stifling his impatience, Amos leaned forward. “He has spoken to the ten tribes many times. He sent famine to every town and kept the rain from falling to make us turn back. He struck farms and vineyards with blight and mildew. He even sent plagues like the ones He sent against Egypt. Our young men died in wars, and some cities were destroyed. The Lord told us these things would happen if we turned our backs on Him. The Lord is the one who shaped the mountains. He stirs the winds and reveals every thought of man. He turns the light of dawn into darkness.”
“But what God asks of us is too complicated!”
“The command God gave us through Moses is not too difficult for you to understand, and it is not beyond your reach. It is not kept in heaven, so distant that you must ask, ‘Who will go up to heaven and bring it down so we can hear it and obey?’ It is not kept beyond the sea, so far away that you must ask, ‘Who will cross the sea to bring it to us so we can hear it and obey?’ No, the message is very close at hand; it is on your lips and in your heart so that you can obey it. God gave us a choice between life and death, between prosperity and disaster. But you have allowed your hearts to be drawn away from Him to worship other gods.
“Listen! He is the Lord our God. You must not have any other god but Him. You must not make for yourself an idol of any kind. You must not misuse the name of the Lord your God. Remember to observe the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Honor your father and mother. You must not murder. You must not commit adultery. You must not steal. You must not testify falsely against your neighbor. You must not covet anything that belongs to your neighbor.”
“Why can’t we worship the Lord and other gods, too?”
“Because the Lord God is One! There is no other god.”
One of the men rose. “I don’t believe that. I won’t believe it.” He walked away.
Amos spoke intently to the few who remained. “Return to the Lord and live. Don’t go to worship the idols of Bethel, Gilgal, or Beersheba. For the people of Gilgal will be dragged off into exile as well, and the people of Bethel will come to nothing!”
“Life doesn’t have to be so hard. Look around you, Amos. We have wealth on every side. The famines are over. We have food enough to grow fat like the cows of Bashan.” The man stood. “No one will slaughter us, because King Jeroboam has assembled and equipped an army so that we can stand against anyone.”
Nothing Amos said seemed to sink in. He might as well have been pouring water into sand. These people had lost the knowledge of their foundation. Ignorance would bring them to destruction. But they did not have hearts soft enough to be molded by God’s Word. They were hard and proud, putting their confidence in the wealth and power of their king and country.
Another man stood. “Even if I believed—which I can’t because of all I see around me—I would be one of few who followed your teachings.” He shook his head. “But we’re free here. We are not bound by your laws. Life is to be lived. It is to be enjoyed.”
Free to sin, he meant. Angry, frustrated, anguished, Amos cried out. “You cannot stand against God. He takes away the understanding of kings, and He leaves them wandering in a wasteland without a path.”
The man’s face grew rigid with defiance. “You said all blessings come from the Lord, but the truth is God didn’t give us any of what we have! Jeroboam, the son of Nebat, gave Israel freedom and prosperity. He removed Solomon’s yoke from our necks!”
“And put on the yoke of sin, which will lead you to death.”
Angry, the young man lashed out. “We are stronger than you think! You are a blind prophet, so you can’t see that. And why shouldn’t we be proud? The dynasty of Jeroboam has grown more powerful each year. We hold our land. Our borders are expanding. Samaria is a greater capital city than Jerusalem!”
“Israel will answer to God.”
“So you keep saying. Year after year, you say the same thing and nothing happens! It is you who must learn, Prophet. You have nothing to offer our people. You’re a fool, Amos. You speak from madness, not wisdom.”
“Only by the power of God can we push back our enemies; only in His name can we trample our foes.”
“Then how did all this come to be after we broke away from the rulers in Jerusalem!”
“God is patient. He—”
“Patient? Your god is weak. I prefer bowing down to a god with power!”
“The one who toppled during the earthquake? The one who broke the horns off his own altar as he fell? That’s the god you think has power?”
The young man’s eyes flickered, and then darkened. “A curse on your prophecies. A curse on you!” Turning his back, he walked away.
Others who had watched and listened, clapped and cheered. Again, Amos heard taunting.
Lord, You have shot an arrow into my heart. All day long these people sing their mocking songs.
Amos struggled
with anger and grief. Words rose in his throat, but they were not from God, and he swallowed them, clenching his teeth to keep from sinning. “The Lord does not enjoy hurting people or causing them sorrow. Repent! Accept His discipline when it comes. Return to the Lord. Hear, O Israel! The Lord is One. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength. . . .”
The people turned away.
Amos’s eyes grew hot with tears. “If we will humble ourselves and pray and seek God’s face and turn from our wicked ways, the Lord will hear from heaven and will forgive our sins and restore our land. If we do not repent and return to Him, the Lord has said Philistia and Egypt will sit around the hills of Samaria and witness what punishment He will bring upon us for our sins.”
No one listened.
Naharai drew the flap down on his booth and came to sit with Amos. “This was a very bad day.” He rubbed his hands.
Amos read the signs. “What troubles you, Naharai?” He knew already, but hoped having to voice it would cause Naharai to think longer.
“You used to draw crowds. Everyone wanted to hear what you had to say.”
Because the earthquake had aroused the fear of the Lord in them. Within a year, though, it had lessened. Now, it was all but forgotten.
Naharai rubbed his palms over his tunic-covered knees and left damp spots. “The people don’t want to listen to you anymore, Amos.” He shook his head. “Three years ago—even a year—and I would not worry, but times have changed. Despite what you claim, no one believes God had anything to do with the earthquake. It just . . . happened.”
Amos said nothing, but his heart broke. Even Naharai was deaf to the Word of the Lord. “Even after all this time, and hearing everything I have said, you fail to believe that God will bring judgment upon Israel.”
“Why would anyone want to believe such a thing, Amos? Even if they did believe it, wouldn’t that be all the more reason to eat, drink, and be merry? If death is coming and there is no way to stop it, then we must take all the pleasure we can now.”
“Repentance—”
Naharai waved his hands impatiently. “Yes, yes, you’ve said that word a thousand times. It rubs men raw.”
“Not raw enough.”
“You should respect me more.”
“What are you talking about?” Amos stared at Naharai in confusion.
“I tried to warn you not to insult those women today, but you ignored me.” He pointed to himself. “Me! The one who gave you the use of this booth.”
Amos had never been fooled by Naharai’s generosity. The merchant’s motives had always been selfish. “You made this booth so that I would draw a crowd and you could sell your sandals.”
Naharai’s eyes flashed. “Even so, you should thank me. Instead, you cause trouble. Did you have a single thought for me or my business when you insulted those women? Fat cows, you called them!”
“And so they are.”
“No! Say no more! Not another word! You’ve said too much already. You never think of the consequences, do you? You just keep pointing your finger, making accusations, and pretending you know everything that will happen.” He stood. “You are bad for business, and I want you to go away. Now!”
Amos stared at him. He had hoped to reach these people, and had not reached even one. Naharai had boasted once that he did not bow down to a golden calf. True enough. He had never given up bowing down to profits.
Weary, Amos took his staff. He looked long at Naharai. “I had hoped . . .” Tears welled in his eyes. Shaking his head, he walked away.
Naharai called after him. “I like you, Amos.” His tone filled with uneasiness. “I mean no disrespect to you or your God, but a man has to make a living.”
“You have chosen, Naharai.”
One day, sooner than he thought, death would be at his door.
As Amos walked through the streets of Bethel, he looked into the faces of the people. Despite their sins, he had come to love them. They were like a flock of sheep, dumb and prone to wander, ignorant of the dangers that lurked everywhere, oblivious to the enemy Satan who longed to devour them. They followed their desires, foraging in foreign religions that fanned their pride and base passions. They thought they could live without God’s rules and made up rules of their own. They couldn’t seem to understand that every man cannot live for himself without bringing chaos. The very things they longed for were within reach if only they would return to God.
The love God offered each of them would fulfill the longing of their souls, while the love offered in the temple of Bethel would leave them empty and diseased. The freedom God offered would build them up and give them purpose while the freedom offered by idols would captivate and enslave them. They wanted fair treatment and would have it if they obeyed the law of God. Instead, they bowed down to man-made rules that gave corrupt men power to grind the poor beneath their heels and grow rich upon others’ labors.
Their hearts were like stone, impenetrable. They wore the armor of pride.
Anguish filled Amos. He had seen their end. Crying out, he wept and tore his robe. “Come, let us tell of the Lord’s greatness; let us exalt His name together. I prayed to the Lord, and He answered me. He freed me from all my fears. Those who look to Him for help will be radiant with joy; no shadow of shame will darken their faces. The Lord will set us free from fear!”
His words fell on deaf ears, for they had lost their fear of the Lord. Earthquakes came and shook their confidence. But when the rubble was cleared away, the warning was forgotten and they returned to their old ways.
“Listen, you people of Israel!” Amos cried in anguish. “Listen to this funeral song I am singing!” His voice rose in a sad lament to the virgin Israel’s fall from grace, never to rise again. He sang of her lying abandoned on the ground with no one to help her up.
People came out of their houses, peered down from their windows, paused in their work to listen, for his voice was like that of the Lord, beautiful and terrible at the same time. His song echoed in the gates and then drifted on the wind as he left the city and walked slowly, shoulders slumped, to his cave.
And the people talked among themselves.
“I hope he never comes back.”
“I wish he would go away.”
“Someone should go out there and shut him up for good.”
“He never has anything good to say to us.”
“Doom and gloom. That’s all he’s about.”
“All he ever does is tell us what he thinks we’re doing wrong.”
Amos sat inside his cave, head in his hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. “Oh, Lord, oh, Lord. Turn their hearts to soft clay. Please, Lord . . . ”
But he already knew the answer. The people had turned away. Their hearts were hardened.
And God was storing up wrath for the day to come.
* * *
SIX
* * *
Amos walked the hills. He looked out over the land. Bethel stood proud in the distance.
Why are Your people so stubborn, Lord?
Why do they turn privilege into perversion? They don’t even know right from wrong anymore. Their homes are filled with possessions they’ve stolen from others. Looters! That’s what they are. Thieves and brigands. Godless women. Hypocrites. They laugh at me when I warn them of what will happen to them. They refuse to believe Your Word. You, the Living God who created heaven and earth. How can they be so foolish as to think their idols can save them?
Amos rubbed his face in disappointment. He had failed. Nothing he had said had made any difference in the way they lived.
Maybe if he had been a more learned man, or more eloquent or forceful or persuasive in his speech, they might have listened.
How long, O Lord, You have weighed me down with love for these people. How long must I stay and see how they turn their backs on You? I am crushed by their sins, burdened by their complaints, awash with tears over their rebellion! When will You let me go home?
G
od had given them opportunity after opportunity to turn away from their false gods and pagan worship. Repentance was a foul word in their mouths. “Repent of what?” they said, convinced their wealth would save them. They called for the Day of the Lord to come and had no idea that when it came it would sweep over them and blow them away like chaff before the wind.
They’re like children, Amos thought, holding Your hand while plotting mischief. They think You’ll do nothing to them because You chose them out of all the people of the earth as Your possession. But will a father ignore the disrespect of his children? Will he allow his children to spit in his face? If a human father will not allow it, why should they think the Lord God will?
Shoulders heaving, he sobbed. He had told them the truth and been reviled. And they went on trampling the poor among them. Their leaders continued to extort bribes and repress justice. Many grew lazy and complacent, lounging in luxury, indulging themselves on choice meat, and singing songs about nothing. “Let’s eat, drink, and be merry,” they said to one another, thinking God would not hold them accountable because they were sons of Jacob. To them, Jehovah was just another god among their pantheon, and the least favorite because the Lord God of Israel called for holy living and self-sacrifice for the sake of others. And because of their rejection, their hearts grew harder, their ears deafer. They didn’t know truth from lies.
“I’ve told them, Lord. I’ve told them and told them.”
Those who tried to live righteous lives before God suffered. Beeri, Jerusha, and Hosea had gone back to Jerusalem. Amos hoped they had found others who loved the Lord as they did, who clung to the Torah for wisdom and guidance, who lived to please not men, but God.
Grief and anger filled Amos. He felt torn between loving and hating the people of Bethel.
It is not you they have rejected, Amos. They have rejected Me.
“But, Lord, they don’t understand that they are going to get what they deserve! They will get exactly what they’re asking for: the Day of the Lord. It will come upon them sooner than they think.”