“How miserable I am! I feel like the fruit picker after the harvest who can find nothing to eat. Not a cluster of grapes or a single early fig can be found to satisfy my hunger. The godly people have all disappeared; not one honest person is left on the earth. They are all murderers, setting traps even for their own brothers.” Micah 7:1-2 NLT
Certainly anyone who has read through the books of the prophets (spokespersons) in the Old Testament get a huge dose of reality.
Just a thought; there seems to be a constant comparison in modern days with the idea that one is either an extrovert or an introvert. But, there is another comparison not talked about yet is very apparent in our conversations. Am I an optimist or a pessimist? Do I live in a world that is awful getting worse, or a world that is good getting better.
The ancient prophetic series of authors are both – but the darkness, wickedness and harsh outlook always goes first.
This section title in most Bibles is labeled to reflect that truth. This chapter is titled, “Misery Turned to Hope.” I personally like a true assessment of the situation before even thinking about how God will show up and make everything right. Micah lets us know exactly how he feels! His illustration, his comparison, is like a field worker after the field has been picked over! There are no leftovers, not even the godly expectation of something being left on the edges for the poor.
Micah even tells us about a specific fruit that Jesus himself mentioned in a story about the cursing of a certain fig tree. Micah reveals the key to the fig tree curse. He mentions the “first ripe” or “early fig.” There is a fig that will produce a small “pre-fig” bud that is eatable but not that tasty. In Micah’s illustration it means that there is absolutely nothing left on the field, not even these pre-fig buds that the poor were sadly satisfied to pick and eat so they didn’t starve! In Jesus’ story, the fig tree was cursed because it was a complete fake, never able to produce ANYTHING useful, not even these pre-buds.
Micah’s illustration tells us that, in his opinion, his outlook – there was nothing left that looked like the people belonging to God. They ALL disappeared! He lost sight of what God calls, “the remnant,” or the “root of Jesse.” Even though Micah can’t see them, there are just a few who were still there, who were godly. Those who acted with justice and mercy.
Isn’t it interesting that the bar of spirituality came down to the level of how the Israelites treated one another and their neighbors? When looking for any signs of hope, the small threads of a remnant, God looked at their behavior towards each other and not to their behaviors towards Himself. Some were still bringing sacrifices, but God told them to stop because they were meaningless when even their acts of holiness betrayed them by poor behavior towards others.
If you want to see the hope at the end of Micah’s brutal assessment, then read the few verses at the end of this chapter. “Where is another God like you, who pardons the guilt of the remnant, overlooking the sins of his special people? You will not stay angry with your people forever, because you delight in showing unfailing love.” Micah 7:18 The only hope is that God forgives and restores – which even today, God is willing and able to do. Hope is not in anticipation that WE get better, it’s in the reality that God keeps His promise and gives us many opportunities to turn towards Him. Our hope is in our ability to really trust that God is as good as He says He is.
Prayer
Dad,
As I look over the state of our country’s spiritual health and your Church’s ability to be fruitful, making disciples, I also feel like Micah. What’s left? Where’s the harvest? Is it still coming? Will there be willing workers to bring it in? Our American fields look desolate. Yet, there is still something stirring. There is a sense of desperation and need. Not to return to former outpourings and glory days of big church attendance and some kind of political power in numbers. No, there is a growing hunger just for your presence. A desire to know that you would move on us, our cities, our brokenness. How desperate are we? I’m not sure, but I feel it coming.