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The Price of Injustice

Summary of my sermon, based on Micah 3. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on November 9, 2025.

Today we continue our Christmas sermon series, God With Us: Advent in the Book of Micah. As the title suggests, we are going through one of the minor prophets—Micah. We started early in October because there is so much we can learn about God and his character here, and it’s not common to walk through a prophetic book at Christmas.

As a reminder: read Micah in one sitting. It takes about twenty minutes. If you’ve done it already, read it again—and try a different translation (I preach from the ESV, but in preparation I also consult NLT, NIV, NASB). Expect more encouragement about Bible reading as we near year-end.

In the first sermon we saw the broad concern of the prophets—idolatry. For Micah (and his contemporary Isaiah in Judah) the message was urgent because the judgment preached against Judah had already fallen on the northern kingdom. After David and Solomon the nation split; Israel had many evil kings and was almost completely conquered by Assyria in Micah’s day. So Micah can point south to Judah and say, “Learn from the north.” We also noted that prophetic preaching is often judgment and wrath—but a truly good and righteous God does not allow evil to go unpunished. And yet with the threat of judgment, God also offers hope and deliverance.

In the second sermon we looked at Micah’s particular concern in Judah: social justice. We must be careful with that term. There is a real difference between contemporary social justice (man-centered—problems and solutions are human structures and fixes) and biblical social justice (God-centered—sin is ultimately against God; helpless in our sin, we cannot reform ourselves, so God must step in with salvation). That brings us to today, which continues Micah’s particular charge; now he turns from wealthy land-grabbers to the leadership of Israel and Judah.

“Hear, you heads of Jacob and rulers of the house of Israel! Is it not for you to know justice?” (Micah 3:1)

Leaders should know justice. Micah then uses graphic imagery:

“You who hate the good and love the evil,
who tear the skin from off my people
and their flesh from off their bones,
who eat the flesh of my people,
and flay their skin from off them,
and break their bones in pieces
and chop them up like meat in a pot,
like flesh in a cauldron.” (Micah 3:2–3)

He compares their evil to cannibalism—universally taboo—to show how disgusting their injustice is. The issue is not merely ignorance; ignorance is not a defense. Worse, they are willfully ignorant: “You who hate the good and love the evil.” This reminds me of Jonah, who ran from preaching to Nineveh because he knew God would be merciful if they repented:

“But it displeased Jonah exceedingly… And he prayed to the LORD and said, ‘…That is why I made haste to flee to Tarshish; for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relenting from disaster.’” (Jonah 4:1–2)

Micah continues:

“Hear this, you heads of the house of Jacob… who detest justice and make crooked all that is straight, who build Zion with blood and Jerusalem with iniquity.” (Micah 3:9–10)

Leadership affects people—but influence also flows both ways. Leaders shape the people, and people shape leaders. Consider Herod at the first Christmas:

“When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.” (Matthew 2:3)

So the whole society is implicated. And the rot spreads to religious leadership:

“Its heads give judgment for a bribe; its priests teach for a price; its prophets practice divination for money; yet they lean on the LORD and say, ‘Is not the LORD in the midst of us? No disaster shall come upon us.’” (Micah 3:11)

This is the ancient version of prosperity preaching—preying on depraved desires, promising health, wealth, and prosperity in God’s name while enriching themselves (right down to private jets), feeding on the flock that can least afford to be fleeced. The result:

“Therefore because of you Zion shall be plowed as a field; Jerusalem shall become a heap of ruins, and the mountain of the house a wooded height.” (Micah 3:12)

This is heavy because the land is a covenant sign of Israel’s special relationship with God. Its loss is a severe judgment.

What do we learn? We are commanded to pray for leaders:

“First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way.” (1 Timothy 2:1–2)

It’s easy to pray for those we agree with; harder to pray for corrupt leaders. Remember: Paul has in mind Roman emperors—some of the most vicious persecutors of Christians. Pray not only for wisdom; pray for repentance. And pray at all levels: not just prime minister or premier, but mayor, councillors, and especially church leaders—board and council—those guiding the spiritual direction of GCF Toronto. Influence goes up and down; if we would influence our leaders for good, we must be formed by Scripture. As we near year-end, plan again to read the whole Bible. If you stopped, don’t try to “catch up.” Just start again—and keep going.

Now to what I consider the scariest part of this judgment—God’s silence:

“Then they will cry to the LORD, but he will not answer them; he will hide his face from them at that time, because they have made their deeds evil.” (Micah 3:4)

Concerning the corrupt prophets:

“Therefore it shall be night to you, without vision, and darkness to you, without divination. The sun shall go down on the prophets… The seers shall be disgraced… for there is no answer from God.” (Micah 3:6–7)

Many of these leaders likely started well, but turned their gifts into tools for profit; what they used for gain becomes their shame. In contrast Micah says:

“But as for me, I am filled with power, with the Spirit of the LORD, and with justice and might, to declare to Jacob his transgression and to Israel his sin.” (Micah 3:8)

God’s silence is severe judgment—giving people over:

“Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity… because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator.” (Romans 1:24–25)

Historically, after Malachi, God stopped speaking for about 400 years (the intertestamental period). Then, at Christmas, the Word Himself came:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him… In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:1–5)

Ultimately, God chose not merely to speak through people, but to come as the Word—Jesus Christ. If you do not know Christ, don’t let it get to the point of God giving you over to your passions, or of no longer hearing His call. With the warning of judgment comes the offer of salvation in Jesus.

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Greet One Another With a Holy Kiss

Summary of my sermon, based on 2 Corinthians 13:12. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on November 3, 2025.

How do you view greeting? For many of us, it’s probably not something we think about very much. Among my friends and colleagues—even my manager—it’s not really something we think about. Usually for me, it’s just a simple “what’s up,” because I grew up in Scarborough in the late 90s. That was our thing back then. For the most part here in the West, it’s not something we think of very often.

That’s not the case in other countries. Recently I came across a reel about greetings in Japan where, depending on your status relative to the person you’re greeting, there are various appropriate ways to greet. If you happen to see the president of your company in the morning, the appropriate greeting would be “Ohayougozimashita”—the longest, most polite form of “good morning.” For a manager it might be “Ohayougozaimasu,” for a senpai it’s simply “Ohayou,” and for a friend or colleague it can be as short as “Sus.” In general, the longer the greeting, the more polite and formal; the shorter, the more casual. Japan is much more rigidly structured in that way than the West.

Something else I found on the interwebs: people crashing out on LinkedIn over how you greet someone on the phone. One recruiter from North Carolina posted (in all caps): “I returned the candidate’s call. His first words shocked me.” The candidate had left a very professional message, a high-level profile, but when the recruiter called back (from the same number), he answered, “Hello.” Apparently that mattered a lot. The recruiter couldn’t understand why professionals answer without saying who they are. As you can imagine, the post was met with ridicule. My favorite reply: “It’s obviously unacceptable to answer just ‘hello.’ You have to say, ‘Hello, is it me you’re looking for?’” (Yes, that’s Lionel Richie.)

In all seriousness, while LinkedIn recruiters may be a little overzealous, greetings do matter. They matter enough that the Apostle Paul commanded Christians how to greet one another. This is one of the “one another” commands we’re covering: “Greet one another with a holy kiss.” (2 Corinthians 13:12, ESV) Paul repeats it in Romans 16:16; 1 Corinthians 16:20; 1 Thessalonians 5:26. Peter echoes it with a slight variation: “Greet one another with the kiss of love.” (1 Peter 5:14, ESV)

Depending on your cultural background, that may sound strange. But in Toronto, this might not be so foreign. Think of the Kennedy Kiss & Ride—a staple in Scarborough culture. It captures the idea: not an erotic kiss, but a simple greeting (often a cheek-kiss). In North America, that’s not predominant anymore; in parts of Europe, Latin America, and the Middle East, it still is. In the Philippines there’s the “besso-besso”. But, even within one culture, families vary. On my mom’s side, we greet elders with a kiss on the cheek (I don’t “mano” my Lola; I kiss her as a greeting). On my dad’s side, it’s different. Not better or worse—just different.

The key point: kissing has been, and continues to be, a common greeting in many parts of the world, especially among family and close friends. A biblical example appears in Acts 20 when Paul says farewell to the Ephesian elders: “And when he had said these things, he knelt down and prayed with them all. And there was much weeping on the part of all; they embraced Paul and kissed him, being sorrowful most of all because of the word he had spoken, that they would not see his face again.” (Acts 20:36–38, ESV)

That brings us to the adjective holy. What does a holy kiss mean? One way to understand it is by its opposite: unholy kisses.

The most infamous unholy kiss is Judas’s betrayal: “Now the betrayer had given them a sign, saying, ‘The one I will kiss is the man. Seize him and lead him away under guard.’ And when he came, he went up to him at once and said, ‘Rabbi!’ And he kissed him. And they laid hands on him and seized him.” (Mark 14:44–46, ESV)

Another unholy kiss is a kiss of deception in 2 Samuel 20. After David replaced Joab with Amasa, Joab met Amasa on the road: “And Joab said to Amasa, ‘Is it well with you, my brother?’ And Joab took Amasa by the beard with his right hand to kiss him. But Amasa did not observe the sword that was in Joab’s hand. So Joab struck him… and he died.” (2 Samuel 20:9–10, ESV)

In the church, we may not often face outright betrayal, but we can be tempted to deceive—to greet warmly while harboring jealousy, anger, or bitterness. Paul instructs us otherwise: “Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.” (Ephesians 4:31–32, ESV)

That is the content of a holy greeting: kindness, tenderheartedness, forgiveness. A beautiful picture of a holy kiss appears in Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son: “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20, ESV)

It is a kiss of forgiveness and grace, overshadowing great wrong. I think Paul had this kind of grace in mind when he urged the Corinthians to greet one another with a holy kiss—especially given his painful history with them. He had confronted sexual immorality, greed, idolatry, slander, adultery, and divisions. He wrote a hard letter and made a painful visit. Then he explained:

“For I made up my mind not to make another painful visit to you. For if I cause you pain, who is there to make me glad but the one whom I have pained?… For I wrote to you out of much affliction and anguish of heart and with many tears… to let you know the abundant love that I have for you.” (2 Corinthians 2:1–4, ESV)

So when Paul says “greet one another with a holy kiss,” he means: you are family now. Show closeness and affection in a way that fits the gospel you believe and the salvation you’ve received in Christ.

In closing, I’m not saying we need to start kissing each other as part of our greetings. We’re in Canada; that’s not our common form. But we should practice whatever is culturally appropriate to show we are not mere acquaintances—we are the family of God, brothers and sisters in Christ. Our greetings should be affectionate and reflect our relationship to each other. They should not be unholy or deceitful, hiding things that need to be addressed. They should be genuine and true, holy, and filled with the self-sacrificing grace and love Christ showed us when he died on the cross—a gospel we remember especially when we celebrate the Lord’s Supper.

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When the Holy One Draws Near

Summary of my sermon, based on Micah 1. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on October 19, 2025.

We began with Micah 1:1–4, where the prophet introduces himself as “Micah of Moresheth” and summons the whole world to listen: “Hear, you peoples, all of you; pay attention, O earth, and all that is in it… For behold, the LORD is coming out of his place” (ESV). The scene is solemn and weighty. God draws near to judge, and creation cannot bear it: “the mountains will melt under him, and the valleys will split open, like wax before the fire, like waters poured down a steep place.” Father, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be pleasing to you, our Lord and Savior. Amen.

As you can see from the passage and our title, we’re starting a new series on the book of Micah: God With Us—Advent in the Book of Micah. It may feel early—we just had Thanksgiving and it’s mid-October—but after a recent stretch in the Philippines I’m reminded they enjoy the longest Christmas season in the world, the “ber months.” I even took photos to prove it: a mall Santa in September and a countdown that read 87 days to go. That was three weeks ago. Today it’s 67 days until Christmas. In all seriousness, we’re starting now because I want us to spend a bit longer in Micah together—seven sermons, one per chapter. It’s a short book; take thirty minutes this week and read it in one sitting.

Almost everything we know about Micah is in the opening verse. He’s “of Moresheth,” a small town about 35 km southwest of Jerusalem in the Shephelah—the Judean foothills. Rural and agricultural, yes, but strategically set on the routes from Egypt to Jerusalem. So while it wasn’t Jerusalem, it wasn’t isolated; travelers passed through, and armies too. Think of a rural town along a major corridor—fields on both sides, but the highway runs straight through. Micah’s very name preaches: “Who is like Yahweh?”—a question that is really a confession. No one is like our God. His ministry spanned the reigns of Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah (roughly 750–687 BC), making him a contemporary of Isaiah. Jeremiah, a century later, tells us Micah’s warning reached Hezekiah and led to repentance (Jer. 26:17–19). Micah is a “minor prophet”—minor in length, not in importance. Their recurring pattern is judgment and deliverance, despair and hope, calling people back to repentance.

And yet the prophets are rarely preached. We love Isaiah 9:6 at Christmas—“For to us a child is born”—and Jeremiah 29:11 for encouragement. But Zephaniah’s thunder? “The great day of the LORD is near… a day of wrath… distress and anguish… darkness and gloom” (Zeph. 1:14–15, ESV). Not exactly a crowd-pleaser. Our culture tolerates—even celebrates—the judgment and wrath of cancel culture, but balks at the judgment and wrath of God. Consider Adam Smith, who in 2012 filmed himself ordering a free cup of water at Chick-fil-A as protest and berated the drive-through attendant. He lost a $200,000-a-year CFO job, was effectively blacklisted, and within a few years his family was on food stamps. The “judgment” was swift and socially acceptable. But speak of divine judgment, and people recoil. Why? Because once justice turns its gaze inward, the instinct is to look away.

How could a loving God not judge? A truly good God must not let evil go unanswered. Think of the flood-control scandal in the Philippines—bloated contracts, ghost projects, luxury cars bought with stolen funds, and the human cost measured in lives lost to preventable flooding. Some will get away with it here. Are we really okay with a God who never judges that kind of evil? Scripture says otherwise: “For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil” (2 Cor. 5:10, ESV).

Back to Micah’s vision. The Holy One draws near, and creation convulses: mountains melt like wax, valleys split like water pouring down a steep place. Why? Because God is judging. “All this is for the transgression of Jacob and for the sins of the house of Israel… What is the high place of Judah? Is it not Jerusalem?” (Mic. 1:5, ESV). The sin is idolatry. Micah likens it to prostitution: taking what should be given in marital faithfulness and spending it elsewhere. Idolatry is turning to created things for sustenance, satisfaction, and joy—what we should seek from God alone. Worship misplaced.

So the verdict falls: “I will make Samaria a heap in the open country… I will pour down her stones into the valley and uncover her foundations” (Mic. 1:6, ESV). Imagine a great city flattened to vineyard-ready soil—rows where streets used to be. And it’s not only the north. “Her wound is incurable; it has come to Judah; it has reached to the gate of my people, to Jerusalem” (Mic. 1:9, ESV). The Assyrian empire stood at the border, instruments of judgment at the ready. The rest of the chapter is a series of wordplays forecasting the downfall of Judah’s towns: “Tell it not in Gath” (a play on “tell”), “roll yourselves in the dust” at Beth-le-aphrah (“house of dust”), the bitter town (Maroth) “waiting anxiously for good.” It’s poetry with a point: idols bring ruin.

Why do we need this? Because God is holy and deserves the worship we’ve withheld. “Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name… worship the LORD in the splendor of holiness; tremble before him, all the earth!” (Ps. 96:7–9, ESV). He is just; therefore he judges. But here is the difference with God’s judgment: unlike cancel culture, God always pairs judgment with an off-ramp—hope and deliverance. The Holy One draws near again, centuries after Micah, and this time there are no volcanoes or earthquakes—just a manger and a quiet Judean night. “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory… full of grace and truth” (John 1:14, ESV). He still judges evil—at the cross. “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23, ESV). “The wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 6:23, ESV). Judgment and mercy meet in Jesus; wrath is satisfied and sinners are saved.

So where is your heart as Advent nears? If you don’t yet know Christ, hear Micah’s warning and Christ’s welcome. Receive the gift. And for those who believe, don’t shy away from speaking about God’s justice. It isn’t the whole gospel—but without it, the gospel makes no sense. The world is about to turn (however faintly) toward Bethlehem. Let’s tell them why the Child came: God drew near to judge and to save, to bear wrath and bring peace. Who is like Yahweh? No one.

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United in the Gospel

Summary of my sermon, based on Philippians 1:27-2:4. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on October 12, 2025.

Our text is Philippians 1:27–2:4. Hear Paul’s charge (ESV): “Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving side by side for the faith of the gospel, and not frightened in anything by your opponents… So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind… Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”

Unity is fragile. I remember where I was on September 11, 2001—how a moment galvanized nations. Yet the legacy of the “war on terror” is complicated. Mission creep set in: Afghanistan led to Iraq, “freedom fries” replaced French fries in some restaurants, and “mission accomplished” was declared far too soon. Two decades later, Afghanistan returned to Taliban control. That’s what mission creep does—when objectives drift, unity fractures. And this isn’t just geopolitics; it happens to churches. When our mission creeps away from the gospel, unity crumbles.

Paul gives us the basis of gospel unity: “Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ.” The phrase translated “manner of life” reflects a citizenship idea (politeuesthe)—live as citizens. He’s cueing what he’ll say later: “But our citizenship is in heaven” (Phil. 3:20). Read 1:27 like this: “Let your conduct as heavenly citizens be worthy of the gospel.” Why this framing?

First, citizenship speaks to duty. In earthly civic life we obey laws, pay taxes, serve on juries, vote, stay informed. In the same way, our heavenly citizenship carries responsibilities, not just benefits. Today, citizenship talk often centers on benefits. I’ve seen it up close: many reacquire Philippine citizenship primarily for property rights. Benefits matter, but if that is all citizenship means, something vital is lost. Many Christians think of heavenly citizenship the same way—deliverance from hell, mansions in glory, and for some, invented “benefits” like guaranteed wealth and health. But Scripture calls us to responsibilities too: “Walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called” (Eph. 4:1). Benefits are real and glorious; duty is real, too.

Second, citizenship warns against dual allegiances. Roman citizenship in Paul’s day was costly and coveted (see Acts 22:27–28), and it could easily eclipse heavenly priorities. Paul redirects the Philippians: live according to the gospel, not the shifting demands of society. We see what happens when churches let society set the agenda. I think of a nearby congregation that once had a self-professed atheist minister and now organizes around values untethered from the gospel. It looks more like a social club—nice people, a knitting circle—but with little affection for Jesus. What’s the point of meeting weekly if not to know, love, and obey Christ? When earthly agendas dominate, gospel unity dissolves.

What happens when we are united in the gospel? Paul says it plainly: “…not frightened in anything by your opponents” (Phil. 1:28). Gospel unity produces courage because it provokes opposition. The very existence of a holy, united church is “a clear sign… of their destruction, but of your salvation, and that from God” (v. 28). That’s hard truth. The gospel divides. As John 3:36 says, “Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever does not obey the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God remains on him.” No wonder the world pushes back.

Yet we need not fear. “Fear not, for I am with you” (Isa. 41:10). “God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (2 Tim. 1:7). And Paul goes further: suffering for Christ is not an accident; it is a gift. “For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake” (Phil. 1:29). How can suffering be a gift? Because it brings reward: “Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial… he will receive the crown of life” (Jas. 1:12). Because it re-weights our hearts: “This light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Cor. 4:17). And because it shapes us now: “We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope… because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit” (Rom. 5:3–5).

We don’t have to look far to see a world groaning—earthquakes, storms, disease, lonely deaths. I recently watched a story from a Japanese cleaning company that specializes in “kodokushi,” lonely deaths where people go undiscovered for weeks. The owner, also a Buddhist monk, performed rites and told a grieving sister he hoped her brother would enter Nirvana. She replied, “I hope he is able to enter heaven.” That aching uncertainty is everywhere apart from Christ. The world is full of suffering; we need the living hope of the gospel, and we need each other—united—to endure and witness.

How then do we maintain gospel unity? Paul repeats himself for emphasis: “Complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind” (Phil. 2:2). He knows division can destroy a church. He pleads elsewhere, “that there be no divisions among you… for it has been reported to me… that there is quarreling among you” (1 Cor. 1:10–11). Unity is not optional; it is essential to faithfulness and mission.

And he tells us how, with simple, searching commands: “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others” (Phil. 2:3–4). That’s the way. Lay down selfish ambition. Refuse conceit. Cultivate humility. Consider others as more significant. Look to their interests. If each of us looks out for the others, all needs are met and unity is preserved.

It also happens to be Thanksgiving. Gratitude steadies unity. “Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship with reverence and awe” (Heb. 12:28–29). We have received an unshakable kingdom. So, let’s live as heavenly citizens worthy of the gospel, stand firm in one Spirit, strive side by side, refuse fear, embrace the gift of suffering, and, in humility, look to the interests of one another—with reverence, awe, and thanksgiving.