Trumped by the King

By Rev. Charles L. Jacob

Rev. Charles L. Jacob is Senior Pastor at Knox Presbyterian Church, Ann Arbor, Michigan

I suspect that, if you’re anything like me, reading the prophets isn’t easy. Micah is probably not one of the more well worn parts of your Bible. Sure, we may know the prophecy about Jesus coming from Bethlehem in chapter five, but I doubt many of us could walk through this book chapter by chapter without some help. I myself had never really studied Micah before this series.

And again, if you’re like me, you come to the prophets and feel the whiplash—hot and cold, grace and wrath, light and darkness—and they turn on a dime. It reminds me of being in Great Britain and facing their wash basins: the hot water is on one side, the cold on the other. When I first arrived, I tried to figure out how to get warm water—stick your hands under the cold, then rush them over to the hot, hoping some of the cold stays on your hands. It’s the awkward attempt to blend the two.

Sometimes we struggle with the prophets for the same reason. I would suggest, brothers and sisters, that part of our awkwardness may be that our familiarity with God is not as great as we imagine. If the prophets reveal anything, they reveal the heart of Almighty God—raw, direct, candid. They show His heart for His people and how our lives affect Him.

So when we find ourselves on unfamiliar ground, remember: it may not only be the history that feels foreign. It may be the God of history with whom we are less familiar. And so, as we come to Micah 2, let us pray for the Lord’s illumination and guiding hand.

Prayer

Father, we thank you for your Word.

Thank you that you do not leave us in darkness, but give us your Word as a light to our path.

Open our eyes to understand. Give us ears to hear.

For Lord, we are not as familiar with you as we long to be. Show us your way. Show us your heart through these pages of Holy Scripture.

And as we pray for ourselves, we remember the needs of those around us. Many here are hurting today. Many are grieving the loss of loved ones in this past year; many have carried grief for years. This morning we lift before you two who have lost loved ones this week:

—John Lowe Jr., grieving the loss of his mother, Virginia Lau;

—and Gay Johnston, grieving the loss of her father, Jack Morris.

O gracious Lord, bring comfort. Bring peace. Bring the consolation that only your Holy Spirit can give. For all who ache this morning, we ask for your tenderness and care.

Father, as a nation we continue to seek your guiding hand as officials sort out the selection process. May all be done with fairness, justice, and righteousness. Grant, in the truest sense, a fair and true election.

We pray also for the spread of your Word around the world. Bless our missionaries. In particular we lift up Chris and Gina Meeks in Argentina. Prosper their ministry as they seek to plant a new church. Grow your church for the glory of Christ, that He might receive the worship He is due.

And now, Lord, speak—for we, your servants, are listening. Amen.

When I was in Scotland, I was invited to preach in a little village called Ullapool, up in the far northwest along the coast. The pastor showed me around the village and the surrounding countryside to give me a sense of its history. Outside the village you find all sorts of stone ruins—little stone homes with no roofs and no windows, just the bare walls remaining. They’re quaint and charming until you know the story.

These were once warm, happy homes until the early 1800s, when the infamous Highland Clearances began. Clan owners realized it was far more profitable to graze sheep than to keep the small tenant farmers who had lived on that land for centuries. So they deputized others to drive the people out, burn their homes, and ship them away—many to the United States or Canada, some even into slavery. The stone shells remain to this day.

It was a similar time in Israel’s history. The wealthy refused their covenant responsibility to care for their brothers and sisters. Instead, they used their power, prestige, and wealth to enrich themselves and diminish others. It was profoundly abusive, and God took notice. These people were in covenant with Him and with one another. It would be like taking our new members and exploiting them. That’s how God saw it: You are abusing my people. You are robbing them of my blessings. And I will not stand for it.

Dear friends, as we prepare to come to the Lord’s Table, I want to make three brief points. The first is this:

The justice of God trumps our evil.

At the beginning of this text, the wicked have plans. They lie awake scheming, eager for morning. For them, injustice is like a child on Christmas Eve—dying for dawn so they can rush out and open their presents. So the wicked rise early, eager to rob, steal, pillage, and enrich themselves at others’ expense.

And God says this: If you’ve got plans, I have a word for you. I’ve got plans. If your plan is to bring evil on others, my plan is to bring calamity on you. If your plan is to steal their fields, my plan is to take your fields from you. And if your plan is to rob them of their covenant inheritance—that key word at the end of verse two, inheritance—then my plan is to take that inheritance from you.

You see this word throughout Joshua and the rest of Scripture. The inheritance represented all the covenant blessings God had given His people in relationship with Him. These wealthy few were trying to rob God’s people of their covenant blessings. And God says, You want to steal my covenant blessings from them? I have plans for you. I will take them from you.

God’s sense of justice will always trump evil. He may be slow to anger, but the wheels of justice—though they roll slowly—roll exceedingly fine. The sins of the people will find them out, because God’s commitment to rooting out injustice among His people and in His creation is sure and steadfast.

Now, with God promising to trump their evil, suddenly the false prophets appear. “No, surely that couldn’t be the case,” they say. If you look back at the Highland Clearances, the ministers of Scotland—Presbyterian ministers, our own dear fellow Presbyterians—were hired by the landowners. As the people were driven off their land and packed like cattle, worse than cattle, onto ships, the ministers stood by the roadside, waving goodbye and telling them it was God’s will.

Here in Micah you find something similar. The prophets, the preachers, saying, “No, it couldn’t possibly be. The Lord is good. The Lord is nice. The Lord doesn’t get angry. Surely Micah is wrong.” They try to gag God.

Earlier this week I was watching a preacher on the religious channel talking about the sickness and suffering God’s people endure. He insisted that surely this was not from the hand of God. Then he asked rhetorically, “Will the God who brought me into covenant break my bones?” And then he said, “I dare Him.”

At that moment, I was not feeling particularly nice or spiritual. I said, “Did you hear him, Lord? Did you hear him?”

This world loves an ear tickling preacher—one who speaks nothing but blessing, nothing but grace, nothing but lightness. Wine and beer, have your fill. That’s the kind of preacher we want.

But dear friends, no matter how much you may convince yourself that this is the theology of the Bible, God does not change. And though you may chafe at His character, you cannot change His character. God remains true. And so He reaffirms His commitment to justice, righteousness, holiness—and His commitment to have a people who reflect that justice, righteousness, and holiness.

He declares that His people, though they may not like it, have made themselves His enemies because they will not walk with Him.

You see, God’s truth trumps our lies. His justice trumps our evil. But thirdly—and most importantly—His grace trumps our sin.

Look at those last two verses. Out of nowhere, without even a transitional word—no “however,” no “nevertheless”—God suddenly breaks forth into blessing: I will surely gather all of you, O Jacob. I will surely bring together the remnant of Israel.

God cannot help promising blessing to His people.

You may wonder how these last two verses connect to the previous eleven. Here it is, dear friends: God wants to bless His people. He loves His people. He cares for them. And when God comes to trump your evil with His justice, He is doing it for your good. When He comes to trump your lies with His truth, He is doing it for your good.

For the people of God, chastisement and severity—no matter how painful—are always for our good. That He might gather us. That He might restore us. That He might lead us into greener pastures.

What father allows his child to drink poison?

My brother once showed me a bottle in his medicine cabinet—some of you parents know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s what you pour down your child’s throat if they’ve swallowed something harmful. It forces them to vomit. That’s what’s happening in the first eleven verses: God is administering severe medicine. He wants His people to vomit up the sin and wickedness that keep them from His goodness and blessing, so that He might love all over them.

That’s the message of Micah. It’s not about God trashing His people. It’s about God purifying His people—doing radical surgery, rooting out evil. And He is sending a Breaker, one who will break through the walls of bondage, the bondage of sin and our perverse love affair with it. He will break the wall, break the chains, and lead His flock out. Their King will go before them.

Here is the great prophecy ultimately fulfilled in the Lord Jesus Christ—the One who breaks through the dungeon doors and leads His people out, even those who sometimes act like His enemies.

Dearly beloved, we sit before a table this morning. The Breaker has broken through so that you and I might have a seat at this table. Yes, there is injustice in our hearts. Yes, there is falsehood in our hearts. But the grace of God trumps it all by inviting you here, declaring that Jesus has paid the penalty, bought your liberty, and secured your deliverance.

Let us come humbly, but gratefully.

This article was based upon a verbatim transcript of a sermon by Rev. Charles L. Jacob. It has been edited through the use of Copilot, as well as the theological editors at Third Millennium Ministries.