Summary: A prophetic call to conduct God’s justice
He was the prophet in overalls, a farmer who wore clodhoppers on his feet, calluses on his hands, and righteous anger in his heart. Amos was his name. He hailed from a dusty little town called Tekoa, about 6 miles southeast of Bethlehem, perched on the edge of the Judean badlands.
Amos was a Southerner with a mission in the North. Though he was a preacher by calling, he didn’t earn his living that way. On the “Occupation” line of his tax form, he listed “Nurseryman/Sheep Breeder.” Amos tended fig trees, pricking the fruit to hasten their ripening, and ran a livestock business in the hills near Tekoa. No, he wasn’t a professional clergyman. Never attended Bible college. Didn’t have a Master’s of Divinity hanging on his wall.
But what Amos did have was a devotion for God. A passion for justice. A keen sense of right and wrong.
Amos’ red-hot fervor flies off the pages of his book like hammer-sparks from an anvil:
"The LORD roars from Zion and thunders from Jerusalem; the pastures of the shepherds dry up, and the top of Carmel withers." (Amos 1:2)
One by one, Amos ticks off the sins of neighboring nations, pagans all. Can you hear the chosen people, the Jews, cheering as Amos denounces the murderous, savage, warlike ways of Ammon, Moab, Edom and other nearby Gentile countries?
But then Amos lands a surprise punch. He starts swinging at his own nation, Judah, knocking them senseless with stinging accusations:
“Tramplers of God’s law!”
As the Judeans are catching their breath, Amos draws the Israelites into the ring, blasting them with charges of greed, bribery, oppression and tabloid-style sleaze. Then he lands the K.O. punch with this power-packed word from God:
"Now then, I will crush you as a cart crushes when loaded with grain. The swift will not escape, the strong will not muster their strength, and the warrior will not save his life.” (Amos 2:13-14)
Hard words. Serious charges. An indictment that made the people want to cover their ears and muzzle the country bumpkin prophet. The king’s chaplain, Amaziah, tried to do just that. He charged up to Amos like a bull and flamed him with these words:
“Get out, you seer! Go back to the land of Judah. Earn your bread there and do your prophesying there. Don’t prophesy anymore at Bethel, because this is the king’s sanctuary and the temple of the kingdom." (Amos 7:12-13)
It’s hard to be a prophet. Not easy to speak God’s word of justice. People get mad at you. Accuse you of being a commie, a trouble-maker, or worse. “Mommas, don’t let your babies grow up to be prophets.”
But Amos would not shut up—didn’t even soften his words. How could he? He looked around and saw that the Israelites “sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of sandals. They trample on the heads of the poor as upon the dust of the ground and deny justice to the oppressed.” (Amos 2:6b-7)
It was a Golden Age, a prosperous time. The stock market was up, interest rates down. The pursuit of the almighty shekel ranked on top of pursuing justice and righteousness. Housing starts were red-hot; the Israelites who wanted to wow their neighbors built a summer and winter house, opulently furnished with inlaid ivory. The women of Bashan in Samaria took pampering to new heights by sprawling out on their chaise lounges and calling on their husbands for cocktails. With his usual poetic charm, Amos called these women “cows.”