Tag: idolatry

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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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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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O Come: All You Unfaithful

Summary of my sermon, based on Psalm 14. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on November 12, 2023.

Last week, our series on the Old Testament, He is Greater, concluded on a somber note. Despite the Israelites’ return from 70 years of Babylonian exile, marked by the rebuilding of Jerusalem and their Temple, Malachi highlighted the Lord’s disputes with them. Their halfhearted worship in the rebuilt temple mirrored the absence of God’s Glory within it.

Haggai 2:3 questions the temple’s diminished glory, setting the stage for a sober end to the Old Testament, transitioning into the 400-year “Intertestamental Period,” marked by God’s silence in biblical revelations. In this period, often bridged by the Apocrypha in some religious texts, there’s a theological gap preceding the Gospels’ narrative.

However, the silence doesn’t imply a void in the historical timeline. Empires, from Assyrians to Seleucids, successively held sway over Israel, shaping the spiritual and political landscape. Amidst this silence, Psalm 14 vividly describes a worldview resonating through the ages.

Psalm 14:1–2 portrays the concept of a ‘fool,’ not as an individual denying God’s existence—a concept almost foreign in biblical times—but as someone acting as if God doesn’t matter. This resonates even today, debunking the assumption that atheism existed in ancient times. There weren’t atheists but many gods and various beliefs.

The fool’s context isn’t intellectual stupidity; rather, it’s about rejecting God’s role in life. This distinction aligns with biblical wisdom—where true knowledge stems from the fear of the Lord (Proverbs 1:7). Richard Dawkins and his New Atheist contemporaries, while perceived as intelligent, miss out on true knowledge by denying God.

Psalm 14:3–4, reiterated by Paul in Romans 3:9–11, declares the universality of human shortcomings. The psalm encapsulates Paul’s early chapters in Romans, outlining humanity’s inclination to act as if God doesn’t exist. However, even in their denial, people intrinsically recognize God’s presence (Romans 1:20).

The rejection of acknowledging God leads to darkened hearts and a pursuit of counterfeit gods—anything taking the central place in life, steering emotions, finances, and actions. This counterfeit pursuit is not confined to the primitive but extends to modern times, where individuals turn to idols that promise fulfillment but fall short.

In a world surrounded by counterfeit gods, Jesus stands as the true beacon. His words in John 12:32–33 and Matthew 11:28–30 extend an invitation—to find rest and fulfillment in Him. Despite humanity’s attempts to deny God or replace Him with idols, Jesus draws us back to Himself, offering genuine fulfillment and rest.

The ancient silence may have echoed for 400 years, but it wasn’t devoid of God’s presence or implications for human behavior. Today, amidst a cacophony of beliefs and pursuits, the call to find genuine solace and meaning remains—within Jesus, the only true source of fulfillment.