The merchants protested; he could hear them arguing. No one cared about hearing the Word of the Lord—they only fought to reopen the gates so that commerce could continue!
Amos turned away, head throbbing, and staggered down the hill. Coming at last to a quiet orchard, he collapsed.
Awakening in the middle of the night, Amos managed to make his way to the sheepfold cave where he had lived for ten years. Hungry and thirsty, he fell on the hard-packed earth and curled up like a babe in the womb. Would he die here like an animal in its hole?
“Lord, why have You abandoned me? I tried to feed Your sheep. They would not partake.” Broken in spirit, he sobbed. Throat raw and lips cracked and bleeding, he whispered, “You are God and there is no other. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.”
He dreamed that angels came and gave him bread and water while God whispered to him like a father to a troubled child.
Be still, and know that I AM God.
The pain went away and Amos’s body relaxed beneath the ministering hands. “Abba . . . Abba . . . they wouldn’t listen.” He heard weeping.
Release came, and another task with freedom.
Tomorrow, he would go home to Tekoa, and write all the visions the Lord had given him. He would make a copy for Israel and another for Judah. The indictment would be on scrolls so that when the Lord fulfilled His Word, the people would know He had warned them before sending His judgment.
The eleven miles to Tekoa felt like one hundred, but the sight of the fields and flocks of sheep filled Amos with joy. He spotted Elkanan and Ithai in the pastures, but could not raise his arm or call out to them.
Elkanan studied him.
Ithai approached, staff and club in hand. “You there! Who are you and what do you want?”
Had he changed so much in appearance? Swaying, Amos dropped to his knees.
Ithai hurried toward him. When Amos lifted his head, Ithai’s eyes went wide. “Uncle!” Dropping his club, he put his arm around him. “Let me help you.” He shouted, “Elkanan! It’s Uncle Amos! Call for help!”
“I will be all right. I just need to rest here awhile.” When Amos looked out at the sheep, his throat closed, hot and thick. Why couldn’t Israel be drawn together and led back to the Lord? Why couldn’t they graze on the Scriptures rather than eat the poisonous teachings of men like Jeroboam, Amaziah . . . Heled?
“Amos is back!”
“Hush.” Amos shook his head. “Don’t frighten the sheep.” His voice broke. If only God’s sheep were frightened of what was to come. If only they could be called back. . . .
Others came to help. Eliakim reached for him, tears running freely as he looped his arm gently around Amos and helped him walk.
Amos smiled. “My friend, I need you to purchase reed pens, a full inkhorn, a small knife, and a roll of papyrus right away.”
“I will, Amos.”
Amos slept for three days.
Finally he rose, stiff and aching, and set to work on the scroll. The Word of the Lord flowed from him, the Spirit of the Lord helping him to remember every word God had spoken. When his emotions rose too high, he left the work briefly and paced so that his tears would not stain the document.
Eliakim set down a tray with a jug of wine, some bread, and a bowl of thick lentil stew. “You must eat.”
Amos did so. Replete, he returned to his work.
Eliakim came to get the tray and bowl. “Will the Lord send you back to Israel?”
“I don’t know.” He was not the same man who had left Tekoa years ago. “I will go wherever God sends me.” His heart still ached for the Israelites.
“Much has changed in Jerusalem since the earthquake. Uzziah lives in solitude. Jotham carries out his commands.”
“Did the king repent?”
“Yes.”
“And the people?” He thought of his brothers, their wives and young ones. “Have they returned to the Lord?”
“Many have.”
His servant’s hesitance grieved Amos. “My brothers . . .”
Eliakim shrugged. “It appears so.”
Out of obligation or thanksgiving? Amos had not the heart to ask. He prayed that his brothers bowed down willingly to the Lord and could rejoice in their salvation.
He worked day by day, carefully writing the first scroll. There must be no mistakes. When he finished writing the visions, the Lord spoke to him again, and the Word He gave filled Amos with hope for those who trusted in the Lord.
He finished writing, left the table, and went outside. Raising his arms in praise to the God who had called him away from the fields and flocks, he thought of the future and hope God offered His people.
“In that day I will restore the fallen house of David. I will repair its damaged walls. From the ruins I will rebuild it and restore its former glory. I will bring My exiled people of Israel back from distant lands, and they will rebuild their ruined cities and live in them again. They will plant vineyards and gardens; they will eat their crops and drink their wine. I will firmly plant them there in their own land.”
All would not be lost. God always left a remnant.
Amos went back to his writing table, and over the next weeks made two perfect copies of the scroll. The first he sent by messenger to King Jeroboam in Samaria, the second to King Uzziah in Jerusalem, and the third he placed in Eliakim’s trustworthy hands. “Keep this safe lest the others be destroyed.” Some men would do anything to pretend God did not speak or warn of what was to come.
His work done, Amos went out to examine the flocks. He saw the increase that had come from Elkanan’s and Ithai’s care over the last ten years and was pleased.
Much had changed during his absence, and dismayed, Amos had to accept that his sheep no longer recognized his voice. The lamb he had tended had grown old. The animals moved at the sound of Elkanan’s and Ithai’s voices, but they did not come when Amos called. Like the Israelites, they had forgotten their master’s voice. They no longer knew or trusted him. Working with his nephews, Amos allowed the animals time to become familiar with his voice.
When they finally answered to his voice, he took a portion of the flock to another pasture. He walked among them and talked softly to them. Some inclined their ears, others did not. At night, with the howl of wolves, he played his reed pipe or sang to them. The sound of his presence helped the sheep rest while keeping predators away.
Even after weeks away from Bethel, he often thought of the people there and what the future held for them. Should I go back, Lord? Should I try again? How like wayward sheep they are! They don’t know Your voice or see Your presence all around them.
The ten tribes did not know God was close, ever watchful, trying to protect them from harm. They rejected the gift of salvation. They refused to be led to safety, rejecting an abundance of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Did they even guess at the sorrow they caused God by their adultery with other gods, gods empty and false, mere reflections of their own inner depravity? Their false gods would lead them to slavery and death.
Amos prayed unceasingly. Every thought that came into his mind he captured and turned to the Lord. He wanted to be cleansed of all the iniquity he had seen in Bethel, the sins that had spread through the ten tribes like a plague. Death would come when they least expected it, like a thief in the night.
He grieved over Judah, too, for he had returned to Jerusalem and seen his brothers. And he knew their repentance did not run deep. Amos prayed for Isaiah’s words to echo through the land and turn the people away from sin.
Make them listen, Lord!
He brought his flock back to the fold in Tekoa.
Eliakim came out to help him. “King Jeroboam is dead.”
Amos heard the news in silence. Dread filled him. So it begins.
Eliakim told him the rest. “His son Zechariah is to rule.”
The last sheep entered the fold. Amos closed the gate securely and bowed his head in
grief. “Not for long.”
The next morning, Amos led his sheep out the gate and into the east pasture. Leaning on his staff, he watched the rams and ewes rush to fresh grasses while the lambs cavorted playfully. He smiled. This was the life he knew best, the life he loved. He knew sheep, but he could never fathom men. He thought of Bethel and Israel and prayed for the people who had persecuted him.
How little pleasure You get from Your flock, Lord. You cry out for Your lost children to come home, only to have them run in the opposite direction.
Often Amos’s sheep wandered. Did that mean he loved them less? Did it mean he would turn his back on them if there was any chance to save them?
I am but a man, thought Amos, and I love them until my heart feels as though it will break. How much greater is Your love. It runs deeper, is more pure, is holy. Your love runs like living water unseen, beyond comprehension, beneath the surface of what we see and hear. Faith stretches toward it and drinks and drinks so that we might grow strong and upright, a tree of life to all of us.
“Amos!”
Startled, Amos straightened and glanced up. The sheep moved, frightened by the stranger among them. Amos called them back and moved between the flock and the man approaching. Grinning, he spread his arms. “Hosea!”
They embraced. Hosea drew back. “I went to Tekoa. Your servant said you would be here.”
“You came five miles to see me?”
“I would have walked farther.”
Touched, Amos leaned on his staff and smiled faintly. “You look well and prosperous.”
Hosea bowed his head. “The Lord has blessed our family. My father is performing priestly duties and receives his portion.”
“Ah, yes. And all it took was an earthquake to make men turn their eyes back to the law of God.” He saw this was no idle visit. “What brings you to me?”
“God has called me back to Israel, Amos.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Amos sighed heavily. “I hope you will find listening ears and open hearts, my young friend.”
Hosea bowed his head. “God has told me to marry a prostitute.”
Amos stared at him. “Are you certain God is the one speaking to you?”
Hosea lifted his eyes. “When you were called, was there any doubt in your mind that it was God who spoke to you?”
“No. I knew His voice instantly though I had never heard it before. Everything within me recognized Him.” Amos gave a faint smile. “I did not welcome Him. I begged Him to leave me alone. I feared the task. I told Him I would not be up to it.” He looked north. “And I wasn’t.” The grief welled again, deep as an ocean. “They refused to listen.”
“You spoke the truth, Amos. You warned them of the destruction coming, and now, God is sending me back to live a life filled with pain.” Hosea’s shoulders sagged. “My father thinks I yearn for Israel’s ways. He thinks I want to return to Bethel so I can revel in the pleasure of women! He refuses to speak to me, Amos. I have never lain with a woman. Never! I have waited in hope of finding a God-fearing Hebrew girl who would be the mother of my children.” His eyes filled. “And now God tells me to go and marry a prostitute. How can I love such a woman? How can she love me?”
“What else did God say to you?”
He swallowed hard and looked away. He remained silent so long, Amos thought he would not answer. “Israel is like an unfaithful wife. But God is ever faithful. As I must be.”
Is this the way of it, Lord? Hosea will be the faithful husband to the adulterous wife, the husband who cherishes his bride, only to see her run to other men. What suffering this young man will experience! And all to show God’s anguish. Hosea will show them how You suffer when Your people embrace other gods.
Will the people even know what they see, Lord? Will they understand the depth of Your passion for them? Fear did not turn them back to You. Will love do what fear could not?
You extend Your hand yet again, Lord.
For just a moment, Amos felt God’s anguish over His chosen people.
“I don’t want to go back to Bethel, Amos. I want to stay in Jerusalem and immerse myself in the study of the Law.”
“And you think you will be safe from harm there?” Amos shook his head.
Hosea struggled as he had. Wasn’t every day a struggle to obey God rather than do as he pleased? “The only safe place is in God’s will, my friend.” He put his hand on Hosea’s shoulder. “And the Lord is with you. That is worth everything. Perhaps we are all called to be like Job and be able to speak his words from our hearts: ‘God might kill me, but I have no other hope.’” But doesn’t the Lord suffer all the more? He loves us like a father loves a child, only more so.
They walked together. Amos told him the way of a shepherd and pointed out the different sheep and their personalities. Hosea laughed and shook his head. And it occurred to Amos as he was instructing Hosea that all of creation taught about the character of God. Everything has a lesson. But how many took the time to look and listen? How many understood that to seek after God brought wonder and joy to a life and made all the other things pass away?
I have loved the shepherd’s life, Lord. I have loved being alone in the pasturelands, drinking in Your creation, watching over Your sheep. Unlike life in Bethel amid the mess and chaos of humanity, life is simple here. People are complex and yet simple. They want their own way! They fashion idols they think allow them to descend into dark passions and self-centered existence. They use the creative abilities You gave them to make new gods that can neither punish nor rescue them. For a while, I saw them as sheep. But they are even more foolish and bent on destruction than these animals. Is this love I feel for them even a spark of what You have felt from the beginning? You are the shepherd on high, calling out to us, “Come home! Come back to Me! Return to the fold where you will be safe and loved!” You sing songs of deliverance every day through the wind, the birds, the night sounds.
If only we would listen.
“We must go wherever God sends us, Hosea.” If God called him back to Israel, Amos would not argue this time. He would go without hesitation. He would speak again though it would mean beatings, imprisonment, even death. How had God brought him to this point of surrender, stubborn, wayward man that he had been? Israel had not turned back from rebellion, but the Lord had done a mighty work in him.
Hosea walked, head down. “What the Lord has told me to do is against everything in me.”
“And in the midst of it, the Lord will be with you. You will learn to pour compassion on the one who hates you.”
Hosea’s eyes glistened with tears. “And will I destroy the one I love in the end as God says He will destroy us?”
Amos paused and leaned heavily on his staff. He was a simple man, not a philosopher; a shepherd, not a priest with years of study behind his opinions. “I don’t know the answers, Hosea. But in the years I spent in Bethel, I knew it was not God’s hatred of men that sent me there, but His great love. It is sin He hates because sin kills. Sin separates us from God, and He wants us close. In His fold.” He looked out over his flock. “Sometimes it is the simple act of grazing that gets a sheep into trouble. Nibble a little here, a little there, a little more over in another area, and pretty soon, they are far from the shepherd. And then a lion comes. Or wolves. How many times over the centuries has God rescued us from our own stupidity?” He shook his head. “Too many times to count.”
Will we never learn, Lord? Will our hearts never change? Would You have to make us into new creatures for us to follow You?
He went after a sheep who headed for some brush. Hosea watched. When the sheep was safely back among the others, Amos returned to him.
“A shepherd sometimes has to discipline a wayward sheep. Some are bent upon going their own way. They will go into gullies and into brambles, and lead others to death right along with them. I’ve had to kill a few sheep to keep the rest safe.”
“As God will a few of us.”
“More than a few, my friend.”
“How can God love us so much and yet unleash cruel, despotic enemies upon us?”
“I’ve asked the same question, Hosea, and I have no answers. But I know this. The fault of much of what is coming upon us is due to our own choices. We worshiped out of habit. We gave because it was required in order to do business. In our ignorance, we equated corrupt priests with God. Or I did. We are destroyed by our own ignorance, and yet how few have the desire to learn the truth that will save them.” Amos sighed. “But I talk about things I don’t know or understand. If I could explain everything, would God be God? I never stood before the people of Bethel and spoke my own ideas. I spoke only the words God gave me. Anything else would have been sin. I hated the people in the beginning. In truth, I preferred the company of sheep to men. The sights, the sounds, the smells of Bethel’s populace assaulted me from every side. It took a few years for God to pry open my eyes so that I could see them as lost sheep.”
He shook his head. “Some things will be beyond our understanding. Even the animals know their owner and appreciate his care, but not God’s people. No matter what He does for them, they still refuse to understand. Does a sheep tell the shepherd what to do? Why should man feel he can tell God what to do? But the impossibility of it all doesn’t stop our people from trying. God won’t let man have his way, so he carves an idol of wood or stone, props it up, and bows down to it. And his god has all the power of a scarecrow guarding a field of melons. I wanted my way for a long time, Hosea, but God had His way with me in the end.” His eyes filled with tears. “And I thank God for it! I thank God every day!”
“But God is sending us with such different messages.”
“Is He? Are they really that different? Surely salvation is near to those who honor Him. God’s unfailing love and truth are one, and a life lived in striving for righteousness brings peace.”
“Not always.”
Amos knew Hosea meant to remind him of the ways in which he had suffered during his ten years in Bethel. “Is it peace with men that matters most, my friend? Or peace with God? I told the people the consequences of sin. Perhaps it is your work to show God’s grace and mercy if they repent.”
Sons of Encouragement Page 71
