Micah 2
hope for the remnant
(Micah 2)
Jason Procopio
We’re in Micah chapter 2 today. Preparing this chapter has been a challenge, not because it’s hard to understand, but because of what’s currently happening in the world.
In Micah chapter 1, we saw quite simply that God is coming to judge the kingdom of Israel (in the north) and the kingdom of Judah (in the south), for their sin. Here in chapter 2, we get a much more specific idea of what that sin is, that has earned them the judgment of God.
We’ll see more in the next few weeks, but for today, the sin God denounces in his people is the sin of oppression against his people.
And that’s why this chapter will be difficult for us.
What’s currently happening in Ukraine is terrible, and it’s all over the news, it’s all over social media; we’re all hyper-aware of it. And when we see something in the Bible that has any kind of link with what is currently happening in the real world, we almost always tend to see the Scripture in the light of the current situation. It’s going to be difficult for many of you to read this text and not think of Ukraine. It’s going to be difficult for others here to read this text and not see it in a purely political light.
That’s a problem for two reasons. Firstly, because we should never read the Bible through a political filter. The Bible should influence what we think about politics, and not the other way around. Secondly, because the problems Micah is addressing in this chapter are so much bigger than any one situation, no matter how terrible or huge that situation might be. The oppression God has in his sights in this chapter is subtle, and can actually touch all of us. This is not merely a question of social justice, but of the state of our hearts as God’s people.
So as tempting as it may be to read this text through the filter of what’s going on in Ukraine, I’m going to ask you to resist that temptation, and to think deeper than that. Because God’s Word is never addressed only to “them” (whoever “they” might be); God’s Word is addressed to all of us.
Oppression (v. 1-2)
Micah begins this chapter by setting the scene and reminding us of what is going on. He says in v. 1:
Woe to those who devise wickedness
and work evil on their beds!
When the morning dawns, they perform it,
because it is in the power of their hand.
To put this more simply: the men whom God condemns here are working evil simply because they can. Because they see something they want, and they know they can get it—all they have to do is take it.
How hard is it to believe that this happens? It’s not hard at all, because we’ve done it too (or, God help us, we still do). When I was a kid we went to Chuck E. Cheese. (For those of you who don’t know, Chuck E. Cheese is a restaurant for kids in America where you eat pizza and play games and can win prizes for the games you played.) Today the prizes you can win are under a glass case, but when I was a kid, they were just open, sitting out within reach. And one of my earliest memories—I must have been four or five years old—is of seeing a bucket full of plastic chain bracelets painted gold, and wanting one. I have no idea why I wanted it, I just did. I wanted it, it was in reach, so I took it—I took a whole handful, actually, and stuck it in my pocket. My mom found the chains falling out of my pocket on the way to the car and made me go back and return them and apologize to the manager.
I see something I want, and I take it, because it’s there, and I have the power to take it. This is sin at its most basic level. This is Adam and Eve in the garden. And this is the sin Micah is denouncing here.
But what does it look like? What is the “evil” they devise? It’s actually surprising to see what Micah gives as an example, because it’s something that today would be excused away by saying, “It’s just business.” V. 2:
2 They covet fields and seize them,
and houses, and take them away;
they oppress a man and his house,
a man and his inheritance.
That sounds horrible, and it is; this was an agrarian society; so your fields and houses were the main means you had to make a living, so if someone came and took your livelihood away, you lost everything.
But it wasn’t as if these oppressors were marching on the scene with armies and weapons to plunder the property of others. At the time, it was completely legal and completely acceptable to seize someone’s field and land if they owed you money. So Micah says in v. 1 that they do this “when the morning dawns”—not in the dark, but in the light. They weren’t ashamed of it, because it was normal. It was acceptable to act in this way.
These people want something—more wealth for themselves—and to get it, they’ll go through the people who have what they want, because they can. They had the power and, at least according to the established rules at the time, they had the right, to do so.
Micah is talking about systemic and wide-spread oppression amongst God’s people—oppression that would have been very difficult to see because it was acceptable. It was normal. It was the kind of behavior of which one would say, “It’s too bad, but this is how the world works. It’s just business.”
Maybe. But it’s not how God’s people should work. The thinking of the world is, I want something, so I’ll do what I need to do in order to get it.
The thinking of God’s people should be, What I want isn’t important. I’ll do whatever is in my power to glorify God and to love others. (And we’ll get to a point where Micah says almost precisely that, in chapter 6.)
It’s important to remember that this tendency we all have to go after what we want at all costs is not only a material matter. For example, think about how easily we fall into this attitude in regards to our pride. People will get into an argument in which their pride is wounded, and they’ll find themselves saying horrible—and untrue—things about the other person just to win the fight.
People will read something they disagree with on social media, and get roped into a debate in which they will actively debase another human being in order to get the last word.
People will feel that their reputation is threatened, so they’ll go about soiling the reputation of someone else, in order to convince everyone that really, the other person is the bad guy.
Micah’s point here is that God’s people are treating other human beings as commodities—as means to achieve an end they have in mind. They wound and oppress others, in order to get what they want.
And God’s reaction to such behavior is swift and severe.
judgment for oppression (v. 3-11)
In these verses we see something really interesting. At first, Micah makes it clear to us how the poor and oppressed will hear what he’s saying, then he turns around and shows us how the oppressors will hear it. He starts in v. 3 by announcing the coming judgment:
3 Therefore thus says the Lord:
behold, against this family I am devising disaster,
from which you cannot remove your necks,
and you shall not walk haughtily,
for it will be a time of disaster.
So, he says, “judgment is coming.” A time of disaster for the oppressors. Now, if you were among these people who were being actively oppressed and taken advantage of by those who have more power than you, how would it make you feel to hear those words? It would make you happy. This is the part of the movie where the good guys cheer because the bad guys are getting their comeuppance.
That’s why Micah talks about the people “taking up a taunt song against you” in v. 4: the people who have so long been oppressed are singing with glee as they watch their oppressors suffer the same fate. We could of course debate whether or not their glee at the judgment of their oppressors is a good thing, but at least we understand it.
However, in v. 6 we see Micah show us how the oppressors—how those actually hearing this announcement that God is coming to judge them—might hear it. V. 6:
6 “Do not preach”—thus they preach—
“one should not preach of such things;
disgrace will not overtake us.”
In other words, their reaction is the ancient equivalent of plugging their ears, closing their eyes and singing “LA-LA-LA-LA—I’m not listening, I’m not listening!”
It’s almost funny, how their reaction to this announcement of God’s judgment is so incredibly similar to the way Christians often respond to the preaching of the gospel today. Christians want to hear all about the grace of God, and never about his wrath. We want to hear that God will bless us and preserve us and keep us from suffering; we don’t want to hear that God’s grace comes through suffering—in the very least, through Christ’s suffering, and often through our own as well. We want to hear that God will keep us out of the fiery furnace. We don’t want to hear what God actually says: that he will be with us in the fiery furnace.
So we completely understand this reaction: “Micah, you shouldn’t say such things, you shouldn’t announce such things, what you’re proclaiming will not happen.”
To which Micah responds in v. 7:
7 Should this be said, O house of Jacob?
Has the Lord grown impatient?
Are these his deeds?
Do not my words do good
to him who walks uprightly?
In other words, Micah is saying that if we think this proclamation of judgment is inappropriate, that it’s out of character for God, then clearly we’ve missed something. Clearly we don’t actually know God. If we think that all God cares about is our prosperity, our happiness, our comfort, then that is a pretty good sign we’re not actually obeying his commands. Because his commands consistently call us to do things that will cost us: to walk uprightly, no matter what the cost, because we believe God is working a greater good for us than mere comfort.
God hasn’t grown impatient with his people—he has shown them incredible patience up to this point. And he has told them time and again that his words are blessing and peace and comfort to those who walk uprightly. If we truly know God, we will be changed—inevitably, we will be changed. We will live differently, we will desire differently, we will love differently. And if we don’t—if we are not changed—then the clear conclusion is that we don’t actually know God.
And so it’s perfectly appropriate that Micah keep announcing the judgment that the people don’t want to hear—because for all they say about themselves being the people of God, for all they say about God’s being on their side, they’re not living like his people at all. V. 8:
8 But lately my people have risen up as an enemy;
you strip the rich robe from those who pass by trustingly
with no thought of war.
9 The women of my people you drive out
from their delightful houses;
from their young children you take away
my splendor forever.
Micah is placing them in front of a mirror. You call yourselves God’s people? Okay… Take a look at how you treat other people. It doesn’t matter if it’s illegal or not—what do your acts say of you? Do you seek your own good, your own desires, your own glory and reputation and wealth, at the expense of others? It may be well within your right to do so—but is that “right” you are insisting upon actually righteous?
Clearly, based on your actions, you are not the people of God you thought you were. Micah adds this epic slam in v. 11:
11 If a man should go about and utter wind and lies,
saying, “I will preach to you of wine and strong drink,”
he would be the preacher for this people!
He’s saying, “You don’t actually want what is good. You don’t actually want what God wants. You want someone to tell you lies. You want someone to tell you that God’s love is absolutely unconditional, and that because you were born into a certain religion, into a certain family, into a certain way of life, God has absolutely nothing for you but blessing and peace and prosperity—that God demands nothing of you, and there is nothing God will give you but wine and strong drink. And you are wrong.”
You see, God is trying to help his people see not just the wrongs they have committed, but the kind of people they should be. He wants them to be the kind of people who don’t simply follow the letter of the law, but who let the law shape them into people who love others. Who don’t take advantage of others for their own gain. Who don’t simply stand aside and watch indifferently as their brothers and sisters find themselves oppressed by those more powerful than they.
God knows what happens when oppression is given free reign: the oppressed find themselves crushed, broken down little by little until they have no hope to lift their heads, so they don’t even try any longer. He knows that the hearts of those who are oppressed break under their oppression, and he wants our hearts to break as well.
Just like we saw last week, this is all horribly dark. The oppressed find no rest, and the oppressors are waiting for their inevitable judgment.
But in v. 12, we see the first glimmer of hope for the future—hope for both the oppressed and the oppressors.
Hope for the remnant (v. 12-13)
Judgment is coming for the oppressors—absolutely. But judgment is not God’s end goal. He will not forego that judgment, because it is right—but he won’t stop there either. V. 12:
12 I will surely assemble all of you, O Jacob;
I will gather the remnant of Israel;
I will set them together
like sheep in a fold,
like a flock in its pasture,
a noisy multitude of men.
13 He who opens the breach goes up before them;
they break through and pass the gate,
going out by it.
Their king passes on before them,
the Lord at their head.
There is so much good news here. First of all, the end result of all of this will not be the annihilation of God’s people. After all the judgment is finished, after all the rubble is cleared, a remnant will remain. There will still be those who are faithful to God. There will still be those who serve him and who love him and who love others—those who pursue the Lord rightly.
So what will God do with this remnant? He will gather them, and set them together like sheep in a fold. And it won’t just be a few—it will be a multitude. Many, many faithful will remain.
Secondly, the gathering of the remnant, the assembly of the flock, indicates the presence of a Shepherd. A shepherd is a frequent image in the Bible, because it’s one that these people would be very familiar with. A shepherd cared for his sheep; a shepherd looked after his sheep; a shepherd protected his sheep. Such a Shepherd, Micah says, is coming.
Thirdly: this Shepherd won’t just be a Shepherd; he will also be a King. And this King will not expect his people to restore themselves; he won’t expect them to lift themselves back up alone. He will go before them, breaking through the gates of oppression, and usher them back into their land, paving the way for their restoration.
This is exactly what we see later on, when Jesus Christ arrives on the scene. He comes among his people calling himself the Good Shepherd, who lays down his life for his sheep. And when he finally arrives in Jerusalem before his trial and death and resurrection, his followers celebrate him as the King whom God had promised to save them.
And the incredible claim of Christ—the incredible truth of the gospel—is that the Shepherd and King we see foretold here in Micah is none other than God himself.
Now it might be difficult to track everything that brings Christ to the ultimate fulfillment of this promise, because on the one hand we have the divine plan that God set up in Christ before the foundation of the world (Ephesians 1.3-10); and on the other hand, we have the very human drama of Christ’s ministry and the reaction of the elite to what he was saying. Stephen Um describes the human side of this story like this:
“A charismatic figure, Jesus, shows up in Israel, and walks around calling himself the Good Shepherd. And he says, I’m bringing in a new order; the last are first now; the poor are blessed; the oppressed are free. How does he bring in this new order? I will take the last spot, the lowest place, myself, he says. Do you want riches? Make me poor. Do you want strength? Strip me of all of mine and make me weak.
“And yet when the elites, the wealthy and the influential heard him say all this, instead of being grateful, they hated him because what he did exposed how selfish, callous, hardened, and arrogant their own hearts had become. They were made to feel very, very uncomfortable, so they asked him to keep quiet. But he would not.”
So they killed him.
That’s what happened on a human level: just like in Micah’s time, the oppressors hated hearing that they were oppressors. The elite hated hearing that the people they looked down on—the paupers and the sinners—would be lifted higher than them. So they falsely accused and executed the man who was saying these things.
But that’s not all that was happening. God’s plan is hinted at in today’s text, and ultimately Christ didn’t die merely because a bunch of people hated what he was saying; Christ died to fulfill God’s plan.
Because despite the judgment on oppression we see foretold in this text, the main problem is still not solved. The judgment we see prophesied here in Micah is a momentary judgment. The judgment of oppression God promises here still does not solve the ultimate problem of the sin which caused that oppression. He still judges his people—he still sends them into exile—because that judgment is right. But it’s not enough. For the judgment to be complete, he will need to kill the sin that is killing his people.
So God himself—the Son of God, the second person of the Trinity, the Shepherd and King—comes to do just that. He comes to take the place of his people and go through judgment for them, passing before them, at their head, taking the fire of God’s wrath on himself so that we don’t have to bear it.
Why is this good news? Well, on the one hand it’s obvious: it’s good news that Christ suffered our judgment in our place. But why is this good news for those who are poor, and who can’t not be poor? Why is this good news for those who suffer very real oppression today? And why is this good news for the rich, who will be constantly tempted to hold onto what they have at all costs, to amass more for themselves at all costs?
The gospel is good news for the poor and the rich because it opens our eyes to the fact that God’s plan is so much bigger than material considerations. It is so much better than comfort, so much better than wealth, so much better than momentary, earthly happiness. It sets our sights on a better comfort, a better wealth, a better happiness to come. And when we know we will receive infinite riches with our God because of what his Son did for us…we no longer need riches for ourselves today.
I’ve used this illustration before, but one of the highlights of every year when I was growing up was Thanksgiving. If you’re not American, it may be difficult to understand what a production it is. My parents would wake up at 4:00 in the morning and begin cooking. The cooking would continue until around 3:00 that afternoon (because it’s a big meal, and cooking it takes a long time). So we kids would wake up already smelling the meal that was to come. All day long, we’d have to sit in that house, smelling those smells, and it was both frustrating and wonderful, because we were hungry. And we could go into the kitchen and make a sandwich if we wanted to…but we didn’t really want to, because we didn’t want to spoil our appetites. We wanted to be able to enjoy the Thanksgiving meal.
So once a year, we would voluntarily go hungry (no small feat for kids), because we knew what was coming, and we didn’t want to miss it.
When we know what is waiting for us in Christ, we can resist the urge to build up happiness and wealth and reputation and comfort for ourselves, because all of those things can so easily distract us. They can so easily cause us to say, “You know what? I’m good. I’ve got everything I need.” They can so easily cause us to get lazy, and no longer pursue our true joy, our true wealth.
When we know what is waiting for us in Christ, we are free from the need to build the life we want for ourselves now. Because we know what’s coming, and we don’t want to miss it.
So we can be poor, and thank God in our poverty, knowing that wealth and comfort are coming. And we can be rich, and use our wealth, not to amass benefit ourselves, but to advance his kingdom and help others who are in need, because we know our true wealth is coming.
The gospel is the best news for the rich and the poor. It is repentance and renewal for the oppressors, and it is repentance and comfort for the oppressed.
Application
This text—particularly verses 12 and 13—puts us in front of an uncomfortable reality. V. 12 says that God will assemble “all of you, O Jacob” (remember, “Jacob” is Israel); but then he says he will gather “the remnant” of Israel. In other words, there are people who consider themselves belonging to God’s people, but who don’t actually belong to God’s people: when God gathers the remnant, that remnant is all of Israel.
So the question is, who is that? He doesn’t say he will assemble the poor; and he doesn’t say he will assemble the rich. He says he will assemble his people; but he doesn’t say who those people are—not until later.
We see later on that after Christ comes, “God’s people”is no longer an ethnic reality, but a spiritual one. Paul says in Romans 9.6-8:
…not all who are descended from Israel belong to Israel, 7 and not all are children of Abraham because they are his offspring, but “Through Isaac shall your offspring be named.” 8 This means that it is not the children of the flesh who are the children of God, but the children of the promise are counted as offspring.
And who are these “children of the promise”? The answer is simple and wonderful and tears down all of our preconceived ideas about how salvation should work. A couple verses later, in v. 15-16, Paul quotes Exodus 33.19, in which God says:
“I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.” 16 So then it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who has mercy.
Who are the people who belong to the “remnant” that God will assemble? Those on whom he has mercy. Those to whom he gives faith. Those whom he causes to be born again. It has nothing to do with what happened to us in this life, or what we did in this life, but on God, who has mercy. And that means that among the people who belong to this “remnant”, there will be both poor and rich. There will be the formerly oppressed…and former oppressors.
The formerly oppressed will receive faith, and comfort in their affliction, and forgiveness of their own sin, thanks to Christ’s work for them. And the former oppressors will receive redemption and forgiveness of their sin, thanks to Christ’s work for them.
In both cases—whether we are the oppressed or the oppressors—if we are in Christ, and have received his mercy, the end result is the same:
12 I will surely assemble all of you, O Jacob;
I will gather the remnant of Israel;
I will set them together
like sheep in a fold,
like a flock in its pasture,
a noisy multitude of men.
So the question is, how does this reality change the way we suffer oppression? How does it change the way we consider the oppression we may even be guilty of?
Knowing this is our final destination—that we belong to the remnant God is gathering—will change the motivation of 90% of the decisions we make. It will drive us to not seek for ourselves, but rather to give of ourselves, for the good of others and the glory of God. Because that’s what Christ did for us.
It will drive us to not seek comfort in things that are temporary—which will mean not stepping on one another to get what we want—but rather to seek our comfort and find our hope in the promise of eternal comfort and riches in Christ.
It will drive us to not stand idly by while others suffer oppression, if it is in our power to help them. It will drive us to no longer chase after our own desires at the expense of others.
Our King has come, and he is coming again. And like before, he will gather his faithful, standing before us, at our head, and bring us into our eternal home.
In the light of this glorious truth, how will we live? How can we give ourselves, for the good of others, because Christ gave himself for our good?
That is the question, and that is our goal.
