Bulletin Articles
“What Does the Lord Require?”
Categories: Iron sharpens iron“With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before God on high? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?”
He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6.6-8)
That last verse is high on the list of people’s favorites, and it’s easy to see why. It reassures us that God’s expectations are not terribly difficult to fulfill. It’s a pretty simple formula. Of course there’s still some debate as to what exactly is just, and kind, and humble, and what are the boundaries of our walkway, and those questions end up causing a great deal of frustration and confusion, and even arguments. The arguments lead to unkind words and actions, and then often escalate. Those who disagree may become condescending and arrogant toward each other, and occasionally tempers flare to the extent that major acts of injustice are the result. Justice, kindness, and humility have been rejected. But the way Micah describes the formula skips over those darker aspects of the walk, and leaves us feeling secure.
Even people who disagree on many of the details still find encouragement in the terms: justice, kindness, and humility. In fact, nearly everyone, of all cultures and religions, as well as at nearly every point in history, has agreed that these things are good and we should pursue them. Why is that? Paul tells us a little about it:
For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. (Romans 1.19-20)
This is the same thing David meant when he wrote, “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork,” followed up swiftly with “Their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world” (Ps 19.1&4). Without a single word spoken in the usual sense, it is as if the very creation is silently screaming at us that someone made it; that its creator must have existed before the creation; that he must have astonishing power and authority; and that we—his creation—ought to direct our everlasting gratitude and honor to him. Paul’s point was that these obvious facts lead quickly to the conclusion that we have an obligation to behave in a way consistent with God’s will, and he makes that point more clear in the next two chapters. One might well ask, “how are we supposed to figure out what God wants us to do by listening to the silent voices of the heavens?” Paul has an answer.
For when Gentiles, who do not have the law, by nature do what the law requires, they are a law to themselves, even though they do not have the law. They show that the work of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them… (Romans 2.14-15)
He doesn’t actually provide an algorithm for determining God’s will—instead he says that our actions demonstrate we already know his will, even if imperfectly. The universal appeal of the simple formula provided by Micah, “to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God,” demonstrates this innate understanding of God’s expectations.
But there is more to the story. We haven’t yet considered verses 6-7 from Micah. This introspection over what an individual owes to God isn’t supposed to come across as immoral or misguided. In fact, it’s simply the logical progression of coming to grips with “the sin of my soul” (v7b). The imagined worshiper is trying to come up with an adequate offering to repay his debt to God, and he realizes first that the burnt offering prescribed in the law is not enough to heal the rift. Next, even an absurd quantity of precious items would not suffice—even if he had access to such wealth, it wouldn’t mean much to God. Finally he suggests offering his firstborn, not because he doesn’t value his child, but precisely because he does love and value him, more than anything else. Of course, the audience is supposed to reject that awful idea with disgust, but we’re left wondering still: how can this rift be healed? In fact, can it be healed at all?
The answer is the simple, straightforward instruction “to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God” (v8). The sinner, aware of his shortcomings, has to trust that God knows what he’s doing, that he’ll take care of the rest. And he did take care of it! When Micah prophesied, the plan was not yet realized, but in fact God had already decided on a way to heal the rift, and it wasn’t to require us to sacrifice our firstborn! It was for him to sacrifice his.
That may sound a little silly—how exactly is that supposed to work? What are the mechanics? Why this plan and not another? Is that really the most logical approach? Isn’t there another way? Isn’t human sacrifice just about the worst sin there is? But just like the hypothetical repentant sinner under the Jewish covenant in Micah, we’re left to trust that “the foolishness of God is wiser than men,” and go along with his plan. “Christ crucified” is that plan. He stands between God and man to reconcile the two, and we must follow his instructions to emulate his death, burial, and resurrection if we want to “come before the Lord” (Mi 6.6).
Jeremy Nettles
