home.
Is it time, Lord? I have given every prophecy but one. Is it time, Lord?
Wait.
The crowd parted as several priests came toward him. The eldest spoke with cool respect. “Your prophecies please the people.” Tightly spoken words, eyes ablaze with jealousy.
“I speak the Word of the Lord.”
“So we have been told. And it is true you speak with great power, Amos of Tekoa.”
People talked among themselves. “He prophesies against his own country. . . .”
Amos turned away.
The priest quickly caught up with him. “Come.” A command.
Amos ignored it.
The priest spoke with less force. “We will reward you for your words.”
Amos pressed his way through the throng of people and kept walking.
“Where is he going?”
The priest’s voice rose above the din. “We want to hear more of what you have to say to us.”
Angry, Amos faced him. “You hear, but you do not understand.”
People whispered. “What don’t we understand?”
“Shhh. Let him speak.”
“Stop shoving!”
“What does he say?”
“Let the Day of the Lord come,” the priest called out. “It’s what we wait for. We are ready for it!”
Others called out in agreement.
Amos looked up at the wall lined with people. “The Day of the Lord will not be as you imagine.”
The people fell silent.
Unable to say more, Amos walked away.
Ducking into the orchard where he had sat all morning, he ran.
Sitting in his cave, Amos pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Judah! His throat tightened. Judah!
“Prophet?” Someone stood outside, a dark silhouette against the setting sun. “May I speak with you?”
“Go away!”
“Please.” A young voice, broken, questing. “I have to know. Is this judgment upon Judah certain, or will God show mercy upon us?”
Us?
Shuddering, vision blurred by tears, Amos rose. When the young man bowed before him, he shouted, “Get off your knees! Am I God that you would bow down to me?”
The young man scrambled to his feet and flinched as though expecting a blow. “You are the Lord’s messenger!”
Shoulders sagging, Amos let out a long sigh, sat, and rested his staff across his knees. “Unwilling messenger.” He scowled at the intruder. “What do you want?”
“Judah will be destroyed, or may be destroyed?”
Amos struggled with emotion. “If the people repent, perhaps the Lord will show mercy on us.” Amos held out little hope of that happening. Only an invading army seemed to turn men’s hearts back to God.
“I have family in Judah. Uncles, aunts, cousins.”
“I have brothers.” He saw something in the young man’s face that made him soften. “Why are you here? What do you want of me?”
“You are the Lord’s prophet. I want to know. Will not the Lord hear your prayers?”
“The Lord hears, but so far the Lord had said no to everything I’ve asked of Him. Better if you tell your uncles, aunts, and cousins to repent . Tell them to return to the Lord. Prod them. Plead with them. Pray they will listen!”
The young man looked toward Bethel. “The people of Bethel hang on your every word. They love what you have to say.”
Amos leaned back, depressed. “Yes. They do, don’t they?” Because every word that had come from his mouth thus far had proclaimed destruction on their enemies—or competitors.
“Is there no hope for Judah?”
“I told you. Repent! And why are you here in Bethel if you are a Judean?”
“I’m a Levite.”
“All faithful Levites returned to Judah long ago.”
The young man held his gaze. “Some felt impelled to return here.”
“Impelled by God, or self-interest?”
Troubled, the young man bowed his head and didn’t answer.
“Afraid to answer?”
The lad’s eyes were awash with tears. “In truth, I don’t know.” He stood and walked away, shoulders slumped.
Amos went into his cave, sank down, and put his head in his hands.
The Lord told Amos to return to Bethel and repeat the prophecies about the surrounding
Is it time, Lord? I have given every prophecy but one. Is it time, Lord?
Wait.
The crowd parted as several priests came toward him. The eldest spoke with cool respect. “Your prophecies please the people.” Tightly spoken words, eyes ablaze with jealousy.
“I speak the Word of the Lord.”
“So we have been told. And it is true you speak with great power, Amos of Tekoa.”
People talked among themselves. “He prophesies against his own country. . . .”
Amos turned away.
The priest quickly caught up with him. “Come.” A command.
Amos ignored it.
The priest spoke with less force. “We will reward you for your words.”
Amos pressed his way through the throng of people and kept walking.
“Where is he going?”
The priest’s voice rose above the din. “We want to hear more of what you have to say to us.”
Angry, Amos faced him. “You hear, but you do not understand.”
People whispered. “What don’t we understand?”
“Shhh. Let him speak.”
“Stop shoving!”
“What does he say?”
“Let the Day of the Lord come,” the priest called out. “It’s what we wait for. We are ready for it!”
Others called out in agreement.
Amos looked up at the wall lined with people. “The Day of the Lord will not be as you imagine.”
The people fell silent.
Unable to say more, Amos walked away.
Ducking into the orchard where he had sat all morning, he ran.
Sitting in his cave, Amos pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Judah! His throat tightened. Judah!
“Prophet?” Someone stood outside, a dark silhouette against the setting sun. “May I speak with you?”
“Go away!”
“Please.” A young voice, broken, questing. “I have to know. Is this judgment upon Judah certain, or will God show mercy upon us?”
Us?
Shuddering, vision blurred by tears, Amos rose. When the young man bowed before him, he shouted, “Get off your knees! Am I God that you would bow down to me?”
The young man scrambled to his feet and flinched as though expecting a blow. “You are the Lord’s messenger!”
Shoulders sagging, Amos let out a long sigh, sat, and rested his staff across his knees. “Unwilling messenger.” He scowled at the intruder. “What do you want?”
“Judah will be destroyed, or may be destroyed?”
Amos struggled with emotion. “If the people repent, perhaps the Lord will show mercy on us.” Amos held out little hope of that happening. Only an invading army seemed to turn men’s hearts back to God.
“I have family in Judah. Uncles, aunts, cousins.”
“I have brothers.” He saw something in the young man’s face that made him soften. “Why are you here? What do you want of me?”
“You are the Lord’s prophet. I want to know. Will not the Lord hear your prayers?”
“The Lord hears, but so far the Lord had said no to everything I’ve asked of Him. Better if you tell your uncles, aunts, and cousins to repent . Tell them to return to the Lord. Prod them. Plead with them. Pray they will listen!”
The young man looked toward Bethel. “The people of Bethel hang on your every word. They love what you have to say.”
Amos leaned back, depressed. “Yes. They do, don’t they?” Because every word that had come from his mouth thus far had proclaimed destruction on their enemies—or competitors.
“Is there no hope for Judah?”
“I told you. Repent! And why are you here in Bethel if you are a Judean?”
“I’m a Levite.”
“All faithful Levites returned to Judah long ago.”
The young man held his gaze. “Some felt impelled to return here.”
“Impelled by God, or self-interest?”
Troubled, the young man bowed his head and didn’t answer.
“Afraid to answer?”
The lad’s eyes were awash with tears. “In truth, I don’t know.” He stood and walked away, shoulders slumped.
Amos went into his cave, sank down, and put his head in his hands.
The Lord told Amos to return to Bethel and repeat the prophecies about the surrounding
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