The Prophet: Amos (8 page)

My love is unfailing and everlasting. I will be with you wherever you go.

You love me, and yet You send me north with a message of destruction.
Even as he wanted to question, Amos knew why. God had filled him with understanding, and was sending him to call His lambs back from destruction.

Had God ever given a prophet a message the people wanted to hear? a message they welcomed and celebrated? Perhaps Israel would listen this time. Even to a shepherd. Why wouldn’t they, when the visions God had given him showed the destruction of enemies that surrounded them? They would celebrate just as he had, before he understood that the sins of Judah were not hidden from God’s clear and holy gaze. Wealthy, powerful Israel would gloat even more over the judgment upon the nations, and probably gloat over the destruction of their Judean brothers as well, for then, Samaria would become the city on the mountain.

Or would it?

Solomon’s foreman had crowned himself King Jeroboam the First, with dreams of a dynasty to follow. To carry that out, he had abolished the Levitical priesthood and established his own. He had turned the people away from Jerusalem by setting up golden calves for them to worship in Bethel and Dan!

They do all these things, Lord, and yet,
Judah
is to be destroyed? How can I say these things? How can I leave my own people and go to them? Judah! What of Judah?

You will be My prophet in Israel. My Spirit will come upon you, and you will speak the Word of the Lord.

Amos felt the weight of his calling, and went down on his hands and knees to plead with God. “I’m not a city dweller, Lord. You know that. I’m a shepherd. A man of flocks and fields. I hate going to Jerusalem and now you want me to go to Bethel, a place even more corrupt? I’ve done everything I could to stay away from cities. I can’t bear being around so many people. And the noise, the confusion is unbearable to me. I’m just a shepherd.”

I am your Shepherd, Amos. Will you obey Me?

Though the words came softly and full of tenderness, Amos knew the course of his life lay in the answer. “I am not worthy.”

I have called you by name. You are mine.

“But, Lord, You need someone who will make them listen. You need a powerful speaker. You need someone who knows the Law. You need someone who will know how to persuade them to do what You want.” He bowed his head, ashamed. “You need someone who loves them, Lord. And I don’t care what happens to them!”

I don’t need anyone, My child. I want you. Go to Bethel, Amos. My grace is all you need. I will tell you when to speak and what to say.

Grieving, Amos hung his head. “What about my sheep, Lord? How can I entrust them to hirelings?” He looked up, gulping sobs. “My sheep.” Tears ran down his cheeks. “No one loves them as I do.”

A quiet breeze blew softly through the winter grass, and God whispered:

Feed My sheep.

Amos slept fitfully at the gate of the sheepfold, wakening before dawn. He sat on the wall and gazed at his animals. He knew the traits and personalities of every one of them. He had saved one from a ledge, another from the attack of a lion, another from floodwaters of a wadi. Some stayed close, never venturing far from the flock, while others were prone to wander. Some learned quickly, while others seem destined to get themselves into trouble with every new pasture. His heart ached because he loved them.

“Feed My sheep,”
the Lord had said last night as dusk came upon the land.

“Forgive me, Lord, but I care more for these animals than I have ever cared for people. Men take care of themselves. They do what they want. Sheep are helpless without a shepherd.”

Even as he said the words aloud, he wondered if they were true. He saw things differently this morning. Maybe it was the visions of destruction that haunted his thoughts.

“Feed My sheep.”

Were men like sheep? He had always thought of them as wolves or lions or bears . . . especially priests who could make life miserable if they so chose, and even tear it apart. But what of the common people, men and women like him who wanted to do what was right, but often ended up doing what was expedient? He had been taught never to argue with a priest, but his heart had often raged within him.

He turned toward the north, thinking of Bethel. This city of the northern kingdom was not that far away—only eleven miles—but it seemed a distant country. His journeys had kept him in the pastures of Judah and Benjamin’s territory, always circling him back home to Tekoa. Bethel was the last place he wanted to go. But he would have no peace until he obeyed the Lord.

In the cool of the morning, Amos spotted Elkanan and Ithai as they led their flocks out to pasture. Amos remained on the wall of his fold, watching his nephews with the flocks he had started for them. What he saw pleased him. Stepping down, Amos opened the gate and led his sheep out. Elkanan and Ithai saw him and raised their hands in greeting. Amos headed toward them.

Elkanan greeted him warmly. “Uncle!”

As soon as Elkanan withdrew, Ithai embraced him as well. “You spend less time in Jerusalem each year.” Ithai laughed.

Jerusalem
. Sorrow gripped Amos as the vision came flooding back.
Jerusalem!
How long had he despaired at what he saw there. Never had he felt such a wave of sorrow as he did now with dark wrenching memories of the future.

He stayed with his nephews for the rest of the day, listening to their stories of predators thwarted, sick lambs tended, wandering sheep found, sheepfolds expanded to accommodate more animals. Amos understood. Rather than go out alone with their flocks, they had stayed together, sharing the burden of tending the sheep.

His moment came to speak. “I have been called away.”

Elkanan glanced at him. “Away? When? Where?”

“Before sunrise tomorrow.” He leaned heavily on his staff and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Add my flock to yours and tend them as I would.”

Elkanan looked at the sheep and then at Amos. “Should we stay here in Tekoa until you return, Uncle?”

“No. Take them to fresh pastures. The pastures of Jericho are open to you. If Jashobeam questions you, tell him these are my sheep. I paid for grazing rights by working in his sycamore groves. If I have not returned by the time you come back here to winter the flocks, take only the
best
lambs to Jerusalem.”

His pulse raced suddenly, as he remembered the Lord roaring like a lion inside his head. “Whatever you do, do it as the Lord would have you do it. Do what is right, no matter what others do. Run from evil.”

Elkanan stared. “What’s happened, Uncle?”

“The Lord has shown me what will happen to us if we don’t repent and turn back to Him.”

A flood of questions came from his nephews. Amos found solace that they did not suggest he rest. They did not tell him to eat something so that he would feel like himself again. “Sin brings death, my sons. Do what is right. Convince your fathers of this. God sees what men do. He knows their hearts. Do what is right and live.”

“We will tell them, Uncle.”

They seemed troubled. Even if they could be convinced, would Ahiam and Bani listen? Amos doubted it. Bani might consider turning away from the business practices that had made him prosper, but not for long. Ahiam would wear him down and turn him back to worshiping profits. Amos remembered how his father’s conscience had suffered. But Ahiam and Bani had lived most of their lives in the shadow of the Temple among corrupt priests that saw nothing wrong with what they did. Now, they equated their increasing wealth to God’s blessing on what they did.

“Uncle? Why are you crying?”

Amos struggled against the emotions overwhelming him, and tried to keep his voice steady. “I must go to Bethel.” He headed across the field.

“Bethel! But, Uncle . . . how long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know.”
A few weeks, Lord? A month? A year?

Silence.

Maybe it was better not to know.

Amos camped in the hills near Bethel. He could see lamplight on the wall and knew soldiers were stationed in the watchtowers.

Bethel! After stealing Esau’s birthright, Jacob had fled and stopped to rest here, using a stone for a pillow. In his vision, he saw a ladder to heaven with angels going up and down, and God had made a covenant with him. No wonder Jeroboam I had claimed this city to start his new religion. Even having been delivered from Egypt, the Israelites had quickly returned to the pagan worship of their oppressors while Moses was on top of Mount Sinai receiving the Law of God. Jeroboam had seduced the ten northern tribes with the same god—a golden calf. And the people wanted convenience. Why walk eleven miles to Jerusalem to worship the true God three times a year, when there was another god right here in Bethel? Jeroboam had known the people well. He gave them what they wanted: empty idols made by human hands and the illusion of control over their own lives.

Jeroboam, a goat leading the sheep to slaughter. He knew what places meant the most to the people and claimed them. Another golden calf resided in Gilgal where the Israelites had crossed the Jordan River after forty years of wandering in the wilderness. Gilgal, the place where the people of Israel had reconsecrated themselves to God and celebrated the first Passover in Canaan; the place where they had eaten the first fruit of the land after forty years of manna. And now it, too, stood defiled by pagan worship. Even Beersheba, where God first made promises of blessing to Abraham, then Isaac, and finally Jacob, was now a major place of worship for Jeroboam’s unholy religion.

Amos slept uneasily and awakened in darkness. He rose and went down the hill to the road and followed it up to the gates of Bethel where he waited until morning. Merchants arrived with their goods, ignoring the beggars who approached them. Some of the poor had little more than a tunic to keep them warm. When the gates were opened, Amos tensely moved among the crowds making their way to the center of the city where Jeroboam’s temple stood, housing the golden calf.

The mount was an anthill of activity with pilgrims carrying their offerings up and into the temple. Neophyte priests dressed in fine linen ephods stood greeting them as they entered. Not one Levite stood among them, for Jeroboam I had abolished the rightful priesthood and established his own. All a man needed to become a priest was one young bull and seven rams! And who with the means would not pay it when all the benefits of priesthood could so enrich a man and his family? Power, wealth, and prestige came with the post, and the ability to strip the people of whatever they decided was a “proper offering” to stay in the good graces of Jeroboam’s false and capricious gods.

Having driven even the faithful Levites from the northern cities, no one remained to teach people the truth.

“Alms for the blind . . . ,” a man whined at the bottom of the steps, a small woven basket in his hand. He held it out at the sound of people passing. “Alms for the blind. Have pity on me.”

Amos paused to look into his face. The man’s eyes were opaque, his face brown and lined from years in the sun. He was clothed in rags, and his gnarled hands revealed that blindness was not his only infirmity. Amos had brought only a few shekels with him. He took one from his pouch and leaned down. “May the Lord have compassion on you.” Amos placed the coin in the basket.

The man’s fingers fumbled over the coin as he declared his thanks.

As Amos went up the steps, he watched priests take gifts of money and tuck them into their personal purses. One put his hand out as Amos came level with him. Amos looked at him in contempt.

The priest stiffened. “Those who do not give to god cannot expect blessing.”

“I will not receive a blessing from your god.” Amos started to walk by.

“Indeed not if you are so ungracious and ungrateful. You will have a curse on your head. . . .”

Pausing, Amos turned and gazed deeply into the man’s eyes. “Woe to you, false priest. You already live under a curse of your own making.” Turning his back on him, Amos walked into the temple.

He moved with the others, watchful, taking in everything. Were men so eager to be fleeced? Amos went as far as the inner corridor and stood aside. Leaning on his staff, he watched and listened to men and women murmuring incoherently as they moved forward, intent upon seeing the golden calf in which they placed their hope. Some carried small woven prayer rugs that they unrolled and knelt upon in comfort. They raised their hands and bowed in adoration before the horned altar. They sang songs of praise. Priests waved incense burners. The streaks of cloying gray smoke made a cloud over the worshipers held there by a fog of lies.

And there stood their god in all its glory. Did these people really believe that bloodless empty statue could answer prayers?

So it seemed.

These Israelite brothers no longer knew the difference between righteousness and blasphemy. How was it possible to put such ardent faith in that great hunk of hollow gold, molded and shaped by a man? That calf couldn’t help itself, let alone do anything for them! Men without God put their trust in a spider’s web, not even knowing they had been captured and bound. Everything these people counted upon to keep them safe would fall, pulling them down with it.

Musicians strummed lyres and kinnors. Priests chanted.

A woman rushed tearfully to her husband, displaying a talisman sold to her by a priest. “He says we will have a child. . . .”

A man, sallow and gaunt, had paid for a spell to be cast so that he would be healed of his troubles.

Amos followed a father and son out of the temple. “I’ve already put in my request, Son. You will be well pleased with the one I have chosen. Since it is your birthday, you will go first, and I will wait my turn.”

When they went into another building next door, Amos followed. As he entered the door, he heard laughter. Men and women lounged in a room off to his right. Someone strummed a lyre.

A girl dressed in finery, her dark eyes made up with Egyptian kohl, rose to greet him. Her smile did not reach her eyes. “Come with me.” Bells tinkled as she walked.

Amos didn’t move. “What is this place?”

She turned and stared at him. “The temple brothel.” When her expression became curious, it was the first sign of life in her face. “Do you prefer boys?”

“Boys?”

She shrugged. “Some do.”

Amos left the house quickly. He crossed the courtyard and stood in the shadows of a temple wall. A vision came back: the screams of the dying, the smoke, bodies sprawled in the streets. Leaning heavily on his staff, he bowed his head.
Now, Lord? Do I speak now?

God did not answer.

Amos sat on the temple steps and waited. All around him, people hurried to sin, laughing as they went. The wealthy pushed past the impoverished. If they paused at all, it was to mock rather than show pity.

How had Israel sunk to this? Did it go back to the days of Solomon when that great king of supposed wisdom had allowed his wives and concubines to turn his heart from God? The Lord had used the foreman of Solomon’s workforce to break the kingdom in two. The king’s spies had told him a prophet foretold Jeroboam as ruler over ten of the twelve tribes. Rather than heed God’s warning and repent, Solomon attempted to kill Jeroboam.

Escaping to Egypt, Jeroboam waited until the king’s death and then returned to make his move for power. He asked Rehoboam, Solomon’s son, now king, to lighten the workload upon the people.

God knew the pride of men, but still gave them opportunity to repent. Wise counselors surrounded Rehoboam and gave him sound advice. Rehoboam refused to listen, preferring instead the witless counsel of spoiled, arrogant young men who told him he would be greater even than the great King Solomon.

King Solomon had loved women more than God. His desire to please them led the people astray, for one wife wanted an altar for the pagan god Chemosh, another bowed down to the detestable idol of Moab, and others worshiped Molech, the idol of Ammon, on the mountain east of Jerusalem. Solomon was even led to worship Ashtoreth, the goddess of the Sidonians, and Milcom of the Ammonites.

How could a man reputed to be the wisest on earth have been so foolish?

King Rehoboam attempted to show his authority by sending a servant to call the people back to work. When the servant was stoned to death, Rehoboam fled to Jerusalem. He rallied the tribes of Judah and Benjamin and called up warriors to go to war, but the Lord sent word through His prophet to stop what he was doing. “Do not go to war against your brothers!” This time, Rehoboam listened and repented. Any man who fought against God was destined to lose, and he wanted to retain the power he had. He stayed in Jerusalem and ruled over Judah and Benjamin, expecting the other ten tribes to return. After all, the Lord required them to come three times a year to Jerusalem to worship, and the Levites would draw them back to God—and to the rightful king.

Jeroboam knew the risks. He had no trust in God even though the Lord had given him the ten tribes. He made his own plans and gave the Israelites the god their ancestors had worshiped in Egypt—a golden calf. Hadn’t the tribes wanted to return to Egypt? Hadn’t they always been tempted to follow the ways of the other nations? Even Aaron, brother of the great lawgiver Moses, had made a golden calf. Jeroboam gave them two and placed them in cities where God had spoken to the patriarchs—Bethel and Dan.

“Here are your gods, Israel!”

The people rejoiced and flocked to worship the golden calves.

Jeroboam’s religion grew so rapidly and prospered so greatly he set up golden calves and goats in Gilgal and Beersheba. He built palaces on “watch mountain,” Samaria, his capital. Shrines sprung up like poisonous plants throughout the territories. He silenced all protests by abolishing the Levitical priesthood established by God. The new priesthood did as the king wanted, raking in proceeds from the royal sanctuaries.

Jeroboam’s cunning plan worked. Men wanted ease, after all, not hard work. Ah, yes, why not worship idols? A man would have immediate pleasure with temple prostitutes. Sin would be approved. No one need consider what is right or wrong. Live for yourselves. Go ahead: lie, cheat, steal—everyone is doing it—as long as you give the king his share of the offerings! Why serve a holy God who demanded you follow the Law, when other gods would allow you to wallow in self-gratification? People rejected truth and gulped down lies, turning their backs on the loving, merciful God who provided their every need. Instead, they followed a king who ruled over them as he pleased.

Shall I speak here, Lord? Shall I speak now against all I see?

Still, God did not answer.

Frustration filled Amos. His anger grew the longer he waited. Sin stood upon the altar, and the people praised it! Bethel, once a holy place, now a city of blasphemy! He could not bear to listen to the priests calling the people into that foul temple for worship. Turning away, he pushed through the crowd. “Let me through!” he cried out, eager to make his way off the temple mount and down the thronged street.

Only after he left the city behind did he feel he could breathe again.

He gave a cry of pent-up emotion and went out into the hills. Jerusalem was bad enough, but now he saw this place! He spread his arms and roared, “Israel! Israel!” The ten tribes wallowed in sin and did not even recognize it. He paced and circled, muttering to himself. Finally, he sank down and tried to plead. “Lord . . . Lord . . .”

A glorious sunset crossed the western sky. The tinkle of bells made him raise his head. A shepherd led his sheep across a field toward home.

Amos held his head in his hands. “Send me home, Lord. Let me prophesy to Your people in Judah and Benjamin. Please, Lord.”

No answer came.

Amos wept.

Amos wandered the city of Bethel each day, waiting for the Lord to tell him to speak. On the temple mount, he smelled the stench of incense the priests offered, heard their chants and songs. Along streets and in markets, the wealthy used their power to take whatever they wanted from lesser people, parading their finery and privilege before those they cheated.

Sometimes he’d stand in the shadows of a gate and listen to the elders turn laws to their own favor and strip the poor of what little they had. One judge took the robe from a poor man and handed it over to a merchant for a jug of wine. Another took an unfortunate’s sandals as pledge for a debt, and had not even a grimace of guilt as the man hobbled away to work in a rock quarry.

Shaking with rage, Amos turned away and headed up the hill. He heard shouts of greeting and looked back. A delegation approached.

Holy fire poured into Amos’s veins as God spoke to him. He strode down the hill and extended his staff, pointing at them as the Lord spoke through him. “This is what the Lord says: ‘The people of Damascus have sinned again and again, and I will not let them go unpunished!’”

Amos’s voice rose above the din of the crowd, echoing in the narrow street. “‘They beat down My people in Gilead as grain is threshed with iron sledges. So I will send down fire on King Hazael’s palace, and the fortresses of King Ben-hadad will be destroyed. I will break down the gates of Damascus and slaughter the people in the valley of Aven. I will destroy the ruler in Beth-eden, and the people of Aram will go as captives to Kir,’ says the Lord.”