Lonely Prophet
Stories
Contents
“Lonely Prophet” by David O. Bales
“Sainted Mother-In-Law” by David O. Bales
Lonely Prophet
by David O. Bales
Amos 7:7-17
“Not again!” Hamul said as he looked down from the unfinished roof of the lambing shelter. “You just got back from Israel a week ago, and you barely got out alive!”
Amos didn’t make an excuse, merely stated the Lord’s sending him again from Judah to Israel.
“Some partnership,” Hamul said. “I do the work. You scramble off north delivering unwanted messages from the Lord. Can’t you wait until after lambing season?”
Amos tried to explain. “I have to do what the Lord showed me.”
Hamul shouted down, “Why don’t you just predict earthquakes or divine where shepherds can find wandering sheep?”
“The Lord showed me,” he said. “The Lord was standing beside a wall built with a plumb line, with a plumb line in his hand. And the Lord said to me, ‘Amos, what do you see?’ And I said, ‘A plumb line.’ Then the Lord said, ‘See, I am setting a plumb line in the midst of my people Israel; I will never again pass them by.’”
“Amos, that was me up here with the plumb line,” Hamul said. “I wondered why you were dawdling beside the watering trough, your eyes looking like a crazed ram.”
Even Amos’s wife chided him, “Traveling to Israel every few months to sell sheep is one thing. Showing up every other week to scold a foreign kingdom is batty. They think they’re rich because the Lord has blessed them. In their opulent wealth, you’re not going to convince them they’ve abandoned the Lord.”
Nonetheless, Amos trekked north as though lugging a terrible burden. He barely noticed Jerusalem when he passed it, just thought “Why do I have to explain myself? Elisha had his group of prophets. Why do I have to do this alone? It’s not my choice. It’s the Lord’s doing. I didn’t train for this. It’s strange enough and frightening enough that my partner and wife question me. No matter what, I saw the Lord with that plumb line.”
Still feeling alone when he arrived at Bethel, he immediately stepped up to the gathering of elders at the city gate. They shuffled away. He began to report the Lord’s dispute with their kingdom. He repeated that because the Lord had rescued Israel in the Exodus and because Israel had been exclusively his people, the Lord would punish them for their iniquities. He delivered his message that their demise was as good as done. “Fallen, no more to rise, is maiden Israel.” He pointed to the nation’s iniquity: “You trample on the needy, and bring to ruin the poor of the land, saying, ‘When will the new moon festival be over so that we may sell grain again; and the sabbath rest, so that we may offer wheat for sale again? We’ll make the ephah measure small and the shekel weight great, and practice deceit with false balances, buying poor people for silver and the needy for a pair of sandals, and selling only the sweepings of the wheat.’”
The first to confront him from the crowd was Amaziah the king’s priest. The crowd scattered as Amaziah approached. One could hardly call him the Lord’s priest. His religion merely confirmed the king’s every decision about national interest. Amos glimpsed him descending the street through the city gate and noticed he almost tripped on his flowing finery. His lackeys followed. Priests as well as the royal household had benefited greatly by the nation’s systematic oppression of the poor and dispossessed.
He watched Amaziah approach and knew that the priest’s report to King Jeroboam was public: “Amos has conspired against you in the very center of the house of Israel; the land isn’t able to bear all his words. For thus Amos has said, ‘Jeroboam shall die by the sword, and Israel must go into exile away from his land.’”
Amaziah halted and stood before Amos with his hands on his hips. “O seer, go, flee away to the land of Judah, earn your living there, and prophesy there; but never again prophesy at Bethel, for it’s the king’s sanctuary, and it’s a temple of the kingdom.”
The handful of elders stood to the side whispering to one another. Some sneered and others egged on Amaziah, “You tell him!”
Amos eyed the crowd and didn’t find any concern about the message he brought from the Lord.
No one, friend or foe, seemed to take Amos seriously about his task for the Lord. The message from the Lord was important, not the prophet. He interrupted Amaziah, “I’m no prophet, nor a prophet’s son.” He realized he was asserting himself as well as delivering the Lord’s message, but he couldn’t stop himself. He raised his voice, “I’m a herdsman, and a dresser of sycamore trees. The Lord took me from following the flock, and said to me, ‘Go, prophesy to my people Israel.’”
Amaziah listened with a self-satisfied expression. Amos became enraged. He squared on Amaziah and pointed. “Now therefore hear the word of the Lord. You say, ‘Don’t prophesy against Israel, and don’t preach against the house of Isaac.’ Therefore thus says the Lord: ‘Your wife shall become a prostitute in the city, and your sons and your daughters shall fall by the sword, and your land shall be parceled out by line; you yourself shall die in an unclean land, and Israel shall surely go into exile away from its land.’”
Amaziah’s face showed a ripple of anger, but he didn’t move or speak. Amos turned slowly, almost solemnly, to walk away, wondering if he’d be struck in the back and killed. He’d successfully borne the Lord’s word. Yet how he wished he had a group of fellow prophets to confirm or modify his message. As he made his way back to Judah, he considered again Hamul’s and his wife’s questioning his calling. All of Israel questioned his calling. He questioned himself. The lonely prophet asked, “That last bit I said about Amaziah’s doom. He didn’t kill me when he had the crowd to do it; but I predicted a horrible fate for him and his family. Lord,” he prayed, “Was that your word or just my frustration?”
Preaching point: The loneliness and necessity of being the Lord’s prophet.
* * *
Sainted Mother-In-Law
by David O. Bales
Psalm 25:1-10
On Gwen’s right her husband Jerome sat beside the aisle and was closest to his mother’s casket as serious dark-suited men rolled it to the front of the sanctuary. Gwen’s three children sat on her left. She thanked God that the children had grown old enough to realize that their grandma Sarah hadn’t been normal. Each grandchild had been confused and hurt by her as young children. Before Sarah died, her borderline paranoia was obvious to anyone near her. Anything negative triggered her anger.
When Gwen had met Jerome and fallen in love, they were living in New Mexico. His strong faith, nurtured by his lifetime in the church, had led her to a deepened faith. She was heartened that she’d be part of a Christian family, since her family was religious in word only. Gwen hadn’t taken seriously what Jerome had warned her about Sarah. She was used to college friends who complained about their crazy parents with hilarious stories. Yet, each meeting with Sarah was damaging to everyone.
Years later after Gwen and Jerome had moved to Eugene, Oregon, their young children were condemned to the tension of visiting their widowed grandmother often. On the drives home from the in-laws Gwen calmed the children after they’d seen their grandmother stamp her feet and heard her say things like, “The Grueyars are absolutely the worst neighbors in the world. They park in front of my house just to annoy me.” A mention of a brother or sister brought an outburst about her siblings, which the children mimicked to one another, “They always left me to do the work.” Mention of someone’s moving to a new home prompted anger at Jerome, “That was the most perfect house and yard in Corvallis — and my garden — but no, your dad insisted on taking the job in Ashland and then we had to put up with snooty neighbors.”
Gwen didn’t arrive at the funeral overcome with grief. Primarily she was relieved. She guessed and even hoped that, because the pastor had only recently met her mother-in-law, he wouldn’t talk much about her.
“Sarah was wonderful person,” the pastor said and Gwen sat up straight and began to listen to what was going on. She’d heard the pastor read his text: Psalm 25: “Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation.” She’d heard the obligatory obituary in which the pastor emphasized that Sarah had professed her faith and joined Christ’s church 52 years before. “She was one of our most faithful members,” he said. “An inspiration and an example to us all with her serene Christian life.”
Gwen cocked her head to the side. Was she hearing the pastor right? “A friend to all, charitable, comfort to the suffering, with an open hand to the needy. A selfless wife, blessed sister, mother, mother-in-law, and grandmother.” Jerome ducked his head and seemed to be contemplating the memorial folder in his lap. The children: 12, 13 and 16, looked as stunned as Gwen. “Side by side with her Christian brothers and sisters, a stalwart and devoted servant upholding the ministry of Christ in this town, a testament to gracious living.”
Gwen wanted to shout, “Are you out of your nut? She gave teeny gifts to her grandchildren and, if they didn’t shower her with exaggerated gratitude, within the day she found a way to squash them with a word or gesture.”
“Sarah will always be remembered as a blessed saint who lived by the prayer of David, ‘Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation.’ In life she prayed that she be led further into God’s truth. In death she leads us still to the great and gracious God—”
Then Gwen figured it out. The new pastor didn’t know her mother-in-law. He probably just pulled out a funeral service he’d performed for someone else in a former pastorate. How obvious! Seemed like blasphemy. “‘Lead me in your truth,’ sure,” Gwen thought. “Lead me to the mental hospital.” She glanced at Jerome and his pain radiated to her. She turned to the children: tears and sniffling. She put her arm around Laura her youngest. She resolved that for her family’s sake she must, more than ever, refrain from complaining about her mother-in-law.
In desperation she prayed, “God, help me explain to the kids that the pastor got everything backwards about Sarah.” She rolled the scripture over in her mind, “Lead me in your truth and teach me.” As completely wrong as the pastor was about Sarah, Gwen took the Bible seriously. “Lead me in your truth and teach me. Lord, you know what the pastor said about Sarah wasn’t true.” Then among the swirling thoughts in her mind she heard — was it from God? — “But she’s glorified in God’s full presence, and it’s true now.”
Gwen remained silent, wide-eyed and rigid to the end of the service. Jerome had to jostle her when it was time for her to exit with the family.
Preaching point: God’s truth brings further understanding and gracious changes in our lives.
*****************************************
StoryShare, July 14, 2019, issue.
Copyright 2019 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
“Lonely Prophet” by David O. Bales
“Sainted Mother-In-Law” by David O. Bales
Lonely Prophet
by David O. Bales
Amos 7:7-17
“Not again!” Hamul said as he looked down from the unfinished roof of the lambing shelter. “You just got back from Israel a week ago, and you barely got out alive!”
Amos didn’t make an excuse, merely stated the Lord’s sending him again from Judah to Israel.
“Some partnership,” Hamul said. “I do the work. You scramble off north delivering unwanted messages from the Lord. Can’t you wait until after lambing season?”
Amos tried to explain. “I have to do what the Lord showed me.”
Hamul shouted down, “Why don’t you just predict earthquakes or divine where shepherds can find wandering sheep?”
“The Lord showed me,” he said. “The Lord was standing beside a wall built with a plumb line, with a plumb line in his hand. And the Lord said to me, ‘Amos, what do you see?’ And I said, ‘A plumb line.’ Then the Lord said, ‘See, I am setting a plumb line in the midst of my people Israel; I will never again pass them by.’”
“Amos, that was me up here with the plumb line,” Hamul said. “I wondered why you were dawdling beside the watering trough, your eyes looking like a crazed ram.”
Even Amos’s wife chided him, “Traveling to Israel every few months to sell sheep is one thing. Showing up every other week to scold a foreign kingdom is batty. They think they’re rich because the Lord has blessed them. In their opulent wealth, you’re not going to convince them they’ve abandoned the Lord.”
Nonetheless, Amos trekked north as though lugging a terrible burden. He barely noticed Jerusalem when he passed it, just thought “Why do I have to explain myself? Elisha had his group of prophets. Why do I have to do this alone? It’s not my choice. It’s the Lord’s doing. I didn’t train for this. It’s strange enough and frightening enough that my partner and wife question me. No matter what, I saw the Lord with that plumb line.”
Still feeling alone when he arrived at Bethel, he immediately stepped up to the gathering of elders at the city gate. They shuffled away. He began to report the Lord’s dispute with their kingdom. He repeated that because the Lord had rescued Israel in the Exodus and because Israel had been exclusively his people, the Lord would punish them for their iniquities. He delivered his message that their demise was as good as done. “Fallen, no more to rise, is maiden Israel.” He pointed to the nation’s iniquity: “You trample on the needy, and bring to ruin the poor of the land, saying, ‘When will the new moon festival be over so that we may sell grain again; and the sabbath rest, so that we may offer wheat for sale again? We’ll make the ephah measure small and the shekel weight great, and practice deceit with false balances, buying poor people for silver and the needy for a pair of sandals, and selling only the sweepings of the wheat.’”
The first to confront him from the crowd was Amaziah the king’s priest. The crowd scattered as Amaziah approached. One could hardly call him the Lord’s priest. His religion merely confirmed the king’s every decision about national interest. Amos glimpsed him descending the street through the city gate and noticed he almost tripped on his flowing finery. His lackeys followed. Priests as well as the royal household had benefited greatly by the nation’s systematic oppression of the poor and dispossessed.
He watched Amaziah approach and knew that the priest’s report to King Jeroboam was public: “Amos has conspired against you in the very center of the house of Israel; the land isn’t able to bear all his words. For thus Amos has said, ‘Jeroboam shall die by the sword, and Israel must go into exile away from his land.’”
Amaziah halted and stood before Amos with his hands on his hips. “O seer, go, flee away to the land of Judah, earn your living there, and prophesy there; but never again prophesy at Bethel, for it’s the king’s sanctuary, and it’s a temple of the kingdom.”
The handful of elders stood to the side whispering to one another. Some sneered and others egged on Amaziah, “You tell him!”
Amos eyed the crowd and didn’t find any concern about the message he brought from the Lord.
No one, friend or foe, seemed to take Amos seriously about his task for the Lord. The message from the Lord was important, not the prophet. He interrupted Amaziah, “I’m no prophet, nor a prophet’s son.” He realized he was asserting himself as well as delivering the Lord’s message, but he couldn’t stop himself. He raised his voice, “I’m a herdsman, and a dresser of sycamore trees. The Lord took me from following the flock, and said to me, ‘Go, prophesy to my people Israel.’”
Amaziah listened with a self-satisfied expression. Amos became enraged. He squared on Amaziah and pointed. “Now therefore hear the word of the Lord. You say, ‘Don’t prophesy against Israel, and don’t preach against the house of Isaac.’ Therefore thus says the Lord: ‘Your wife shall become a prostitute in the city, and your sons and your daughters shall fall by the sword, and your land shall be parceled out by line; you yourself shall die in an unclean land, and Israel shall surely go into exile away from its land.’”
Amaziah’s face showed a ripple of anger, but he didn’t move or speak. Amos turned slowly, almost solemnly, to walk away, wondering if he’d be struck in the back and killed. He’d successfully borne the Lord’s word. Yet how he wished he had a group of fellow prophets to confirm or modify his message. As he made his way back to Judah, he considered again Hamul’s and his wife’s questioning his calling. All of Israel questioned his calling. He questioned himself. The lonely prophet asked, “That last bit I said about Amaziah’s doom. He didn’t kill me when he had the crowd to do it; but I predicted a horrible fate for him and his family. Lord,” he prayed, “Was that your word or just my frustration?”
Preaching point: The loneliness and necessity of being the Lord’s prophet.
* * *
Sainted Mother-In-Law
by David O. Bales
Psalm 25:1-10
On Gwen’s right her husband Jerome sat beside the aisle and was closest to his mother’s casket as serious dark-suited men rolled it to the front of the sanctuary. Gwen’s three children sat on her left. She thanked God that the children had grown old enough to realize that their grandma Sarah hadn’t been normal. Each grandchild had been confused and hurt by her as young children. Before Sarah died, her borderline paranoia was obvious to anyone near her. Anything negative triggered her anger.
When Gwen had met Jerome and fallen in love, they were living in New Mexico. His strong faith, nurtured by his lifetime in the church, had led her to a deepened faith. She was heartened that she’d be part of a Christian family, since her family was religious in word only. Gwen hadn’t taken seriously what Jerome had warned her about Sarah. She was used to college friends who complained about their crazy parents with hilarious stories. Yet, each meeting with Sarah was damaging to everyone.
Years later after Gwen and Jerome had moved to Eugene, Oregon, their young children were condemned to the tension of visiting their widowed grandmother often. On the drives home from the in-laws Gwen calmed the children after they’d seen their grandmother stamp her feet and heard her say things like, “The Grueyars are absolutely the worst neighbors in the world. They park in front of my house just to annoy me.” A mention of a brother or sister brought an outburst about her siblings, which the children mimicked to one another, “They always left me to do the work.” Mention of someone’s moving to a new home prompted anger at Jerome, “That was the most perfect house and yard in Corvallis — and my garden — but no, your dad insisted on taking the job in Ashland and then we had to put up with snooty neighbors.”
Gwen didn’t arrive at the funeral overcome with grief. Primarily she was relieved. She guessed and even hoped that, because the pastor had only recently met her mother-in-law, he wouldn’t talk much about her.
“Sarah was wonderful person,” the pastor said and Gwen sat up straight and began to listen to what was going on. She’d heard the pastor read his text: Psalm 25: “Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation.” She’d heard the obligatory obituary in which the pastor emphasized that Sarah had professed her faith and joined Christ’s church 52 years before. “She was one of our most faithful members,” he said. “An inspiration and an example to us all with her serene Christian life.”
Gwen cocked her head to the side. Was she hearing the pastor right? “A friend to all, charitable, comfort to the suffering, with an open hand to the needy. A selfless wife, blessed sister, mother, mother-in-law, and grandmother.” Jerome ducked his head and seemed to be contemplating the memorial folder in his lap. The children: 12, 13 and 16, looked as stunned as Gwen. “Side by side with her Christian brothers and sisters, a stalwart and devoted servant upholding the ministry of Christ in this town, a testament to gracious living.”
Gwen wanted to shout, “Are you out of your nut? She gave teeny gifts to her grandchildren and, if they didn’t shower her with exaggerated gratitude, within the day she found a way to squash them with a word or gesture.”
“Sarah will always be remembered as a blessed saint who lived by the prayer of David, ‘Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation.’ In life she prayed that she be led further into God’s truth. In death she leads us still to the great and gracious God—”
Then Gwen figured it out. The new pastor didn’t know her mother-in-law. He probably just pulled out a funeral service he’d performed for someone else in a former pastorate. How obvious! Seemed like blasphemy. “‘Lead me in your truth,’ sure,” Gwen thought. “Lead me to the mental hospital.” She glanced at Jerome and his pain radiated to her. She turned to the children: tears and sniffling. She put her arm around Laura her youngest. She resolved that for her family’s sake she must, more than ever, refrain from complaining about her mother-in-law.
In desperation she prayed, “God, help me explain to the kids that the pastor got everything backwards about Sarah.” She rolled the scripture over in her mind, “Lead me in your truth and teach me.” As completely wrong as the pastor was about Sarah, Gwen took the Bible seriously. “Lead me in your truth and teach me. Lord, you know what the pastor said about Sarah wasn’t true.” Then among the swirling thoughts in her mind she heard — was it from God? — “But she’s glorified in God’s full presence, and it’s true now.”
Gwen remained silent, wide-eyed and rigid to the end of the service. Jerome had to jostle her when it was time for her to exit with the family.
Preaching point: God’s truth brings further understanding and gracious changes in our lives.
*****************************************
StoryShare, July 14, 2019, issue.
Copyright 2019 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
