But I am a procrastinator. And highly distractible. And . . . maybe a little ADD.

So perhaps you’ll understand when I tell you I’m putting poor Amos on hold for a while. We’ll come back to him, I promise.

But right now, I’m being pulled in many different directions, with my dad’s illness, the kids’ school stuff, and so forth. Especially dad’s cancer. Heavy stuff.

And as you know, Amos is a pretty heavy book. And since I’m at my load-bearing capacity, I’ve decided to leave Amos here, and come back for him later.

I do, however, need to be reminded of the supremacy and sufficiency of Christ. (I quoted that from my Ryrie Study Bible. Impressive-sounding, huh?) Sometimes, we just need to be reminded.

So if you don’t mind, I’m planning to spend a little time in Colossians. Good stuff there. I hope you’ll join me.

Love,

–Renae

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My family and I spent last week in Laredo, Texas doing construction, helping with Vacation Bible School and Sports Camp, conducting door to door surveys, and leading a ladies’ Bible study. It was such a great week, even with the hundred and forty degree weather. Okay, not quite a hundred and forty. It was only 109.

Really. That’s how hot it was.

Needless to say, though I took my trusty laptop with me, by the end of the day I was too wiped out from the heat to spell my name correctly, much less write a post about Amos.

But we’re back now, comfortably sleeping in our own beds with the air conditioning set at a ridiculously low temperature. It’s good to be home.

Love,

Renae

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What’s that? This movie was made in 1992, you say? And you didn’t know I was that old? Well, I’m not. I was only eight years old. I was mature for my age.

Moving on. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did!

Click here to view the embedded video.

Have a beautiful weekend, my friends.

Love,

Renae

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Love,

Renae

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Be back tomorrow!

The LORD bless you
and keep you;
the LORD make his face shine on you
and be gracious to you;
the LORD turn his face toward you
and give you peace.

Numbers 6: 24 – 26

Love,

Renae

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If any passage makes me want to throw the towel in and quit this blogging thing altogether, it’s this one. The thought of a group of people cruelly and heartlessly ripping open expectant mothers and killing their babies makes me sick.

Really. I’ve left this post and come back to it three times already.

But in order to get past this passage, we have to get through it, so here goes:

The nation of Ammon descended from an incestuous relationship between Lot and his daughter. Ugh.

Somewhere in one of the legal documents left behind, I guess Abraham made a distant provision for his nephew, Lot. It seems that if there were no descendents in Israel, Lot’s offspring would inherit Gilead, where Israel was located. But in order for the Ammonites to cash in on this will, every last child of Israel had to be gone. The entire race needed to be annihilated.

When Saul was king, his first major battle was against the Ammonites. God told him to kill them all, for He knew of their consuming hatred for the Israelites. But Saul decided to spare their king. Bad decision.

In the book of Esther, Haman was a descendent of the Ammonites. And he came really close to annihilating the Jews. God worked through a little orphan-queen and saved the day, but Saul sure could have saved his descendants a lot of trouble if he’d just obeyed.

The Ammonites carried a cruel hatred in their hearts for the nation of Israel. They wanted to expand their borders to include Gilead, and they were tired of waiting. So they took matters into their own hands, left any sense of human decency behind, and hunted down Israel’s pregnant women. When a woman was caught, she was ripped open and her baby was killed. Then, the woman was killed, along with every other Jewish person around at the time. This was even more heinous than when Herod ordered the execution of all Jewish baby boys, if that’s possible.

Now, I know you’re cringing, grabbing your stomach and turning your eyes from the screen. I don’t blame you. But before you exit this page, please hear me out. Please listen to what I felt God telling me, as I agonized over this passage.

We are a broken people.

Yes, we are, and though we were created in God’s image, sin has deformed and desecrated that image so much that what’s left looks nothing like the original creation. Sin has really made a mess of us, hasn’t it?

Sin has deformed us, but there is hope! For the Master Artist, who created us in the beginning, can re-form us! He can take a broken mess and melt it, mold it, and make something beautiful once again. But here’s the catch: He’s the only one who can.

I have never been guilty of the heinous crimes of the Ammonites. But I have been guilty of doing things that, if you’d asked me beforehand, I would have sworn I’d never do.

I’ve been cruel at times. I’ve yelled at my children simply because I was having a bad day.

I’ve been greedy. I’ve been jealous. I’ve withheld forgiveness, even when the person asked for it.

All of these things are sin, and they have blackened my spirit and made me ugly.

But God . . .

Aren’t those beautiful words, my friend? But God . . .

Even as I speak them, my eyes are tearing up. But God can take what sin has deformed, and re-form it. He is the Creator, and He can re-Create me. And that’s exactly what He wants to do.

When we let Him, He will take the sickening, deformed messes that sin has left in our lives, and make something beautiful.

Wow.

But we must be willing.

The Ammonites weren’t willing to let God do that. They were vengeful and hateful, greedy and cruel, and they liked it that way. They didn’t want Jehovah coming in and changing their hearts. If they’d asked, I know He would have. But they never asked.

And so sin continued its destructive work, marring them and de-facing their souls and deforming their spirits until at long last, this entire race of people didn’t look anything like the One who had formed them in their mother’s wombs. And so, rather than let them continue in their miserable existence, God destroyed them, consuming them in the fire of His holy anger.

As hard as this passage is, I’m glad for the reminder of what sin can do, when left unchecked. And I’m so, so grateful for the One who loves me enough to forgive me, to re-shape me into His image once again, and to make something beautiful of my life.

Dear Father, I’m so sorry for allowing sin to deform Your image in me. Thank You for giving me a fresh start. I willingly accept whatever shaping you need to do in my life, for I know You are creating something lovely. I trust You, Lord.

Amen

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I don’t know about you, but when I go to a new place, especially if I have some unpleasant business, I try to make a good first impression. I start out by introducing myself, and then make nice small talk before I drop the bomb.

Just the other day, I had to call our city officials to report an unsafe situation concerning the waste department. I began by telling the man how much I appreciate all his workers, that I know the work they do is hard, that I’ve been impressed in the past with the quality of people who represent our city in this line of work.

When I went on to report the situation, he was very attentive and sympathetic. Not only that, but he jumped on the situation right away, and within the hour, called back to report the results of his investigation.

At first glance, it seems Amos skipped those little pleasantries. He just walked into a place that wasn’t even his hometown and said, “The Lord ain’t happy, and He’s gonna getcha!” (Paraphrase my own.)

No “How do you do?”

No “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

Nope. Amos jumps right into the warning God issued to His people.

Now, from my Texas-bred, Southern-hospitality style upbringing, this seems a little harsh. Why not get to know the people a little? Why not share a cup of coffee and a muffin first, before painting such a disturbing picture?

As I pondered this, while sitting on my back porch listening to the birds sing and drinking my second cup of coffee, a different point of view seeped into my spirit.

God’s roar is actually evidence of His mercy. It’s a warning. Trouble’s coming, and you better watch out!

After all, if my house is on fire, I don’t want someone coming in and making small talk, sharing tea and scones while my home goes up in flames. I want them to burst in my front door and yell, “Fire!”

That’s exactly what Amos did. He saw impending danger, and he issued a warning.

Let’s think for a moment about why a lion roars. Now, I’m no expert in all things lion, but I’m pretty sure that big ol’ cat doesn’t roar unless something isn’t right. Either the lion is hungry, or feels threatened, or something is annoying it. But when that lion is well-fed, and all is right with his or her world, there’s no roaring. Napping, maybe.

Just as a lion only roars when something isn’t quite right, God, who is loving and kind and merciful, is also fierce and frightening when it comes to justice. When He sees that the people He loves so much are being mistreated and oppressed, you better believe He’s gonna roar. That roar is a warning signal that the oppressors better make things right, or He’s gonna devour somebody.

One of the main points of Amos’ message, as we’ll see, was that the poor in that region were being mistreated and oppressed, and the wealthier people – God’s own people – had grown complacent. They were fat and happy, and they didn’t really care about the plight of their less wealthy brothers and sisters.

Friends, God cares about all people. He cares about issues like poverty and slavery and abuse and violence and oppression. Those aren’t pretty issues, and it’s easy for those of us who don’t have to endure such circumstances to pull the covers over our heads and pretend those things don’t exist. But remember the working man from yesterday? Remember that God calls ordinary people like you and me?

He calls us to get our hands dirty.

He calls us to shine His light into the darkest places.

He calls us to seek out those who have no hope, and give them some.

And when we grow complacent, when we bury our heads in the sand and ignore those around us who are hurting, He roars.

If we ignore His warning, well . . . He’ll tear into us if He has to. But that’s not really what He wants. He wants us to heed the warning and get busy, doing what’s right.

Has God roared in your world lately? If I’m honest with myself, I’ve heard Him roar a time or two. There are hurting people in my realm of influence, and He wants me to help them. Whether it’s by helping them financially, offering a smile and a hand of friendship, standing up for them when they’ve been wrongly attacked, or standing by them when they’ve found themselves in a desperate situation, God wants me to do something. He’s called me to deliver His light, His love, and His hope to the darkest places.

And it’s comforting to know, if and when I find myself in a dark place, God will roar just as loudly for me.

Dear Father, I hear Your roar. Thank You for the wake-up call. Show me ways I can deliver Your hope to those who are hurting.

Amen

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When I first read through this verse yesterday morning, I hadn’t had my second cup of coffee. Plus, I wasn’t wearing my little drugstore +1.25 turquoise glasses. Yes, they are turquoise. Anyway, when I first read this verse, I had to do a double take, for what I read was, “The words of Amos, who was among the herdmen of Texas . . .”

What? Texas??? Wow. I like this guy already. And with the number of first cousins and second cousins and so forth I have around these parts, chances are I’m related to him. And after all, if he’s a herdsman, he’ll fit right in with all the cattlemen and ranchers in our great state.

But wait a minute. Texas wasn’t founded until 1839 . . .

All this took place in my mind within a matter of milliseconds, before I knew I needed to re-read the verse. Tekoa. Not Texas. Okay. Makes more sense now.

But the fact remains, Amos would have felt right at home with my Texas relatives. We’re not of the wealthy-cattle-ranchers variety. We don’t own thousands of acres. As far as I know, none of us lives in a mansion with servants and an Olympic-size pool. None of us has struck oil on our property, either.

Nope. We’re more the middle-class variety. Honest, hard workers who pay our bills and usually have what we need. And when we scrimp and save, we have some fun little extras from time to time, like an occasional trip to Seaworld.

We’re ordinary folks, and so was Amos. We know he was a shepherd. We’re also told later that he tended fig trees, which may indicate he was working a little side job, to help bring in extra money.

And that makes perfect sense, considering God likes to use ordinary people. Though He does use the rich, beautiful, important people of the world, it’s more His style to use regular folks. 1 Corinthians 1:26-27 tells us, “Remember, dear brothers and sisters, that few of you were wise in the world’s eyes or powerful or wealthy when God called you. Instead, God chose things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise. And he chose things that are powerless to shame those who are powerful.”

Wow. Not worldly-wise. Not powerful. Not wealthy. Uhm, that would be me. That would be most of the people  driving to work every day, uttering little sentence-prayers as they go about their business, trying the best they can to make a difference in their little piece of the world.

We are the people God calls.

We are the people God uses.

I don’t know about you, but I’m perfectly content being used by God as long as He doesn’t take me out of my comfort zone. Sing a solo? Sure. I like to sing. Write an article? Yeah, I enjoy that. I’ll even put a little extra money in the offering plate for the poor, starving people on the other side of the world.

But God, please don’t ask me to tell the people in my city they are headed down the wrong path. They’re my neighbors. And they might not like me, if I do that.

I’ll be glad to tell them how much You love them. Really, I will. But don’t make me point out the consequences of their actions if they rebel against You. They’ll get mad at me.

What’s that You say? Somebody needs to tell them, or how will they know?

Hmmm . . .

I’m not saying God has called all of us to do what He asked Amos to do. He hasn’t. But what if He did? What if He told me to do something I didn’t want to do? Something that would make me unpopular? What if He asks me to stand up for the scapegoat at school or at work? What if he asks me to bring to light some wrongdoing in our community? Would I do it?

Well, that’s what He asked of Amos. God chose an ordinary guy, and told him to deliver an unpleasant message.

Amos obeyed God. He was willing to put himself out there, because He loved God that much. So I guess what I need to ask myself as I enter into Amos’ story is, How far am I willing to go for God?

I hope I’m willing to go as far as He asks.

Dear Father, Thank You for Amos’ story. I’m glad You choose ordinary people, for that means You’ve chosen me. Make me willing to do whatever You ask of me.

Amen

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I’ve also missed the discipline required to post nearly every day, for it kept me faithfully digging nuggets of truth from God’s word, even when my sweet mother and first cousin were the only ones reading it. (Hi Mom! Hugs, Mary Frances!) So here I am, starting again.

As I flipped through the Bible looking for a nice, short book to blog through (yes, I’m just that un-spiritual that I looked for the shortest book. Yes I did) I happened upon Amos. And my mind immediately went to images of wonderful chocolate-chippy deliciousness.

Now, I didn’t mean for my mind to go there. But being that I’m, well, me, that’s just where my mind went. But no, this isn’t the same guy. Though they do have at least one thing in common.

The Amos of the Bible and the Amos of chocolate-chip fame are both lay-people. Neither of them made their living as full-time prophets or preachers or ministers of the gospel. While Wally Amos is a cookie maker, the biblical Amos was a shepherd.

So, how did a simple sheep-herder get a book of the Bible named for him? Well, it wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. He had to be obedient to God, when God asked him to deliver a message to His people. And the message was no party invitation. No, sir-ree.

No, God asked Amos to set the Israelites straight on a few important issues. Poor Amos had to be the bearer of bad news. I can just imagine the thoughts that went through his head as he sat in the fields, tending his flocks.

Are you sure you want me, God? I think you may have me mixed up with someone else.

I’m not anybody important.

No one will listen to me.

They’ll probably laugh at me!

If I were Amos, I’d have strongly considered playing dumb, and pretending I hadn’t really heard God’s call. I might have even run the other way. But we all know where Jonah ended up, so maybe that’s not such a good idea either.

But no. Amos heard God. He listened. And he obeyed, even when obedience was hard.

And that, my friends, is why Amos has a Biblical book named after him, and I don’t. Well, one of the reasons, anyway.

I’ll be honest with you. I’ve never really paid much attention to this little book. But as I skim my Life Application Bible commentaries on Amos, I’m finding some pretty interesting stuff. Things that sound eerily familiar, and that apply to the here and now every bit as much as they applied to the there and then.

So here we go, friends. Be patient with me as I try to get back in the blogging groove. Pray for me, and I’ll pray for you as we listen to Amos’ message, God’s message to His people. God’s message to you and me.

–Renae

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When I was a little girl, my pastor, Brother Bennie, provided an object lesson. Using a hammer, he pounded nails into an old board. “Those nails are like sin, and the board represents our lives,” he said. Then, he used the claw end of the hammer to remove the nails. He pointed to the holes in the board. “God can take away our sin. But we often have to live with the scars that sin leaves behind.”

I’ve been in church, hearing preaching and teaching for decades. But that one little object lesson stands out in my mind above other, more academic lessons. Why? Because object lessons work. They are simple, concrete, and they paint a picture for us.

God is the Creator of object lessons, and He used one here with Jonah. He gave the pouting prophet a vine for shade. Then He took it away.

Jonah rejoiced over a silly, soul-less vine. Then he was distressed, even devastated, when the vine died. Yet, he didn’t give a hoot about the people of Nineveh, who were trapped in a miserable existence and were destined for eternal death.

We can shake our heads and point our fingers at Jonah’s shallow, superficial values. Yet, I am just as guilty. I was frantic when my daughter’s pet rabbit was lost. I even prayed that the rabbit would be found, and rejoiced when the pet was located, all safe and sound. I mourn when one of my plants dies. Yet, I have friends and neighbors all around me who don’t know the One who can give them life. Like the Ninevites, they are trapped in a miserable existence, and are destined for eternal death.

And I do nothing. I show more concern over a pet or a plant than I do for people.

Ouch.

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t love our animals or care for our plants. But friends, shouldn’t we be most concerned about the people who are all around us, who need God? Shouldn’t our hearts break? Shouldn’t we be on our knees for them?

I’m glad God is a patient, gentle teacher. I’m glad He takes the time to teach us things in simple, concrete ways, so that we can “get it.” God used the vine to gently redirect Jonah’s focus, and to get his attention. Then, he invited Jonah back into the conversation (v. 9).

I don’t know about you, but I think I need to reevaluate my priorities. I need to make sure my values are in line with God’s values. While I will continue to love the sweet, non-human blessings God has placed in my life, I must be sure that people are always my first priority.

Dear Father, Thank You for making me – and all people – Your first priority. Help me to reflect that love and compassion for those around me.

Amen

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