Micah 4.1-5

A kingdom promised

(Micah 4.1-5)

Jason Procopio

This sermon marks a month in Micah for us, and as I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, our thoughts about this book, at this particular moment in history, will be inevitably wound up in what’s happening in Ukraine. Not that there’s anything new about what’s going on in Ukraine—from almost the beginning of humanity, war and violence have been a constant presence. 

If you know anything about the history of the world—and I don’t know a lot—then you have at least some knowledge of at least ten to twenty wars. Just about anywhere in Europe, we can just walk down the street and see some traces of past wars. Most of the time—when we’re in a time of relative peace—we think about war in the abstract. We go to museums and we remember things that did happen, but that we aren’t experiencing now—so it’s nice to be able to keep it all at an arm’s length.

But when war breaks out—especially when it breaks out somewhere close—we all take a deep sigh and think, Not again. And if we happen to have friends or family members who are directly impacted by the war—as several people in our church do—the exhaustion and despair are that much stronger.

Then we open the Bible, and we read about still more war, and threats of war, and even prophecies of war, and we feel that exhaustion all over again. That is what reading the first three chapters of Micah has been like, and—just to be clear—that exhaustion and despair is what we’re supposed to feel. The simplest reason the Bible is such a violent and bloody book is because these things actually happened, so there’s no getting around them. But the main reason these violent events are recounted in the Bible is because God wants us to clearly see what has happened to the world because of sin.

Sin is the rebellion of humanity against the Creator God, and it has poisoned the world. That poison has infected everything, and produced terrible effects. War is just one of the most visible of these effects.

God wants us to see that. He wants us to understand what sin is and why it is terrible and why it deserves punishment. And he wants us to see all of that because, ultimately, he wants us to see how good he is to save us from it.

Today is where we begin to see that goodness shine. I said during the first week of this series that this book would be depressing, and that whatever hope we saw would come in small bursts. Finally, in the beginning of chapter 4, we get our first massive burst. And it won’t be the last.

Let’s remember what we saw the last three weeks. God has sent Micah to prophesy against Israel and Judah, for their idolatry (chapter 1), the oppression of the poor by the wealthy (chapter 2), and the corruption of the civil and religious leaders (chapter 3). 

In our text last week, he ended by saying (chapter 3, verse 12): 

12  Therefore because of you 

Zion [another name for Jerusalem] shall be plowed as a field; 

Jerusalem shall become a heap of ruins, 

and the mountain of the house a wooded height. 

This is where Micah left us last week. He predicts judgment and war and destruction and exile, and all of those things did indeed come to pass, as we saw. Israel was sent into exile in Assyria and, after their return, became the people known as the Samaritans; Judah was sent into exile in Babylon and returned to Jerusalem some time later.

But it’s important to know that the chapter divisions we see in our Bibles—the line of demarcation between chapters 3 and 4—didn’t exist when Micah wrote it. He finished the last prophecy by speaking of the decimation of “the mountain of the house”, which refers to the temple in Jerusalem. But immediately after, in v. 1 of chapter 4, we see that same mountain of that same house, described in a very different way. 

So even here, in the midst of these prophecies of judgment, before that judgment comes, God makes it abundantly clear that whatever judgment he is rightly and justly sending on the people won’t last forever. What will last forever for God’s people is something entirely different.

The Mountain Lifted Up (v. 1)

It’s worth noting, by the way, that this section (v. 1-5) is almost identical to what we find in Isaiah 2.1-5. It’s possible that one prophet borrowed from the other, or used another source; but both prophets were contemporaries, and they were both speaking the words that God gave them to speak. So it’s not surprising that they would say the same thing. V. 1:

It shall come to pass in the latter days 

that the mountain of the house of the Lord 

shall be established as the highest of the mountains, 

and it shall be lifted up above the hills… 

So here we have it again: the mountain of the house, and this time it’s more explicit: it’s the mountain of the house of the Lord—the temple mount in Jerusalem. The last time we saw it, the mountain of the house of the Lord was a heap of ruins following God’s judgment on his rebellious people.

But now, we see this same mountain of this same house, established as the highest mountain, lifted up above the hills. Remember what we saw a few weeks ago: pagan temples were often constructed on “high places”—hills and mountains. And pagans could boast that their god was better than the other gods because their temples were “higher”.

But none of them hold a candle to the one true God. His house will be established in the highest place. What Micah means by this isn’t that the mountain in Jerusalem will become the tallest mountain in the world, but rather that God will be seen as the God: all the nations will see him exalted above all other gods.

Now when will this happen? Micah says it will happen in “the latter days.” This phrase almost always refers to a future beyond the horizon, beyond what we can see today. This can be a bit confusing, because we automatically want to think of “the last days” as being at the end of all things. And while that’s true, it’s not entirely true. 

This is where we’re going to need to think hard, because it’s not as simple as saying, “The latter days are the days just before the end of the world, or just after the end of the world.” Time becomes harder to pin down when we start talking about these things, so we’ll have to put our thinking caps on for a minute.

When Micah uses the term “the latter days,” he is describing something that for him, Micah, living in the 8th century B.C., is still far away. But for us, living in the 21st century, after the coming of Christ, “the latter days” Micah describes here are a period of time which have already begun, but which haven’t yet come to fulfillment. So we’ve already got one foot in the water, but we haven’t yet jumped in the pool.

Here’s why I say that. The authors of the New Testament use this expression “the latter days” (in its various forms) in connection with the person and work of Jesus Christ. They do this because Jesus Christ, through his life, death and resurrection, inaugurated a new era and a new kingdom.

What did Jesus so often say during his ministry? That the kingdom of God had come in him. In other words, he began a new epoch in which he, the Savior and Messiah God had promised, actually reigns over all things. And as King, he is bringing his creation towards an ultimate fulfillment, when Christ will return to this earth and renew it, and when every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that he is Lord (cf. Romans 14.11).

So what we see described in this chapter—these “latter days” Micah speaks of—has already begun in Christ, but hasn’t yet reached its complete fulfillment. 

I’ve always looked a lot like my dad: we have the same build, I have many of his physical features. You could see a resemblance already, when I was a kid. So back then—when he was forty and I was a teenager—we obviously looked very different, but you could still tell that I was his son. Now, however, I’m forty years old. And if you look at a picture of me now, and a picture of my father at my age, it’s almost like looking at the same guy.

We—the world that God created—are in the “adolescent stage” of our existence. Christ has come and he inaugurated his reign, and we can see aspects of his reign in the world (some aspects of what we see described in this chapter). But there are still a lot of differences. That’s why for a lot of these things, we could say, “Well, I see some of what he describes here, but not everything.” 

Right now, even though Christ absolutely reigns as King over all creation, not everyone sees that or believes it or accepts it. Right now, sin—that is, rebellion against God—is still allowed to continue. The kingdom of God has already been inaugurated, but it hasn’t yet been fulfilled.

But that fulfillment is coming. One day, when Christ returns, we will look at this chapter, and then lift our eyes and look at the world, and the pictures will be identical.

The Nations Drawn (v. 2)

So here’s the question, for most of the time we have today: what is the picture we see described here? What characterizes this kingdom? There are two main things we see here, and the first is that God will draw all people to himself. Look at the end of v. 1: 

...and peoples shall flow to it [the mountain, the dwelling place of God], 

2  and many nations shall come, and say: 

“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, 

to the house of the God of Jacob, 

that he may teach us his ways 

and that we may walk in his paths.” 

For out of Zion shall go forth the law, 

and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. 

So here’s what we see. When Christ returns, he will renew the earth, rid the earth of the sin that has poisoned it, and establish his heavenly kingdom over all the earth. The New Testament has two names for heaven as it will be after the return of Christ. The first is “the new heavens and the new earth”—so it won’t be a purely spiritual, ethereal plane (we won’t be floating on clouds playing harps); it will be a real, physical earth, but new. The other name for it is “the new Jerusalem,” or “the heavenly Jerusalem”.

Jerusalem was the capital city of God’s people; so it’s fitting that when God establishes his new kingdom, a renewed and purified Jerusalem would be the focal point of that kingdom. Now whether he’s speaking realistically—as in, it will be in the same place as Jerusalem is today—or symbolically, doesn’t matter. What matters is that not only will the earth be renewed, but Christ himself will be here too, reigning as King over all creation. 

And everyone will submit to his reign—without exception. They will come to him and learn from him and submit to his rule and obey him. 

If we’re being honest, most of us think of obedience as something which is difficult. If we think about what is hard about the Christian life, we inevitably end up thinking of the struggle to live in obedience to God. Because he asks us to do things we don’t want to do, and he asks us to not do things that we do want to do. 

But Micah describes this submission to God’s law and his Word as attractive. The nations look at what is offered to them, and they say, “Let’s go. Let us go up to God’s house, that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.” That works, because he’s describing a world which has been freed from sin. Sin puts blinders up over our eyes and makes us see things differently than they actually are. It makes us see good things as bad and bad things as good.

But when God removes the blinders of sin from our eyes, and reveals his will, his will is attractive. Everyone who sees it will want it. All peoples will go to him. His word will go out from him, throughout the whole world, and every nation will submit to his law and obey his Word and worship Christ alone, and it will be a joy for them. A day will come, when Christ returns, when every single member of God’s people, without exception, will do this.

Now here’s why I love this passage. We could look at that and think, That’s great, sure, but it still seems a long way off. It doesn’t seem like it changes anything in our world today.

But that’s not the case. What Micah describes here will be perfectly fulfilled when Christ returns…but it has already begun. 

When Jesus spoke of his death, he sometimes described it as being “lifted up from the earth” (which literally happened, when he was nailed to the cross and lifted up for all to see). And what did Jesus say would happen after that event? John 12.32: 

When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all peoples to myself.

This is what we began to see, very quickly after his death. Christ established the church—the new and ultimate dwelling place of God (as Paul says in Ephesians 2.20-22)—and the church began planting other churches and spreading the gospel to other cultures and other nations…and people who didn’t belong to God’s people were drawn to him, and put their faith in him, and believed in him. The Spirit caused them to be born again, freed them from sin, and gave them eyes to see their submission to God as a joy, rather than as a burden.

This is why we have missionaries. This is why true, biblical Christianity isn’t centered around one holy city—like Mecca in Islam or Rome in Catholicism or Jerusalem in Judaism. Christ has established his kingdom, and that kingdom spreads out into all the world, in order to draw people in towards Christ. Wherever the gospel is proclaimed, people are drawn to him. This is why Christ encouraged the apostle Paul in Corinth, telling him (Acts 18.9-10):    

“Do not be afraid, but go on speaking and do not be silent, 10 for I am with you, and no one will attack you to harm you, for I have many in this city who are my people.” 

These people didn’t know it yet, but they were Christ’s people—and when Paul went out and preached the gospel, they discovered that no matter what they had thought about themselves before, they belonged to God. They were drawn to Christ, as Christ said they would be—as Micah said they would be.

This has begun, and it will be completed.

Peace Established (v. 3-4)

The second characteristic of this future kingdom is the reign of perfect peace. The triumph of biblical faith will bring peace the people have never yet known. V. 3:  

He [God] shall judge between many peoples, 

and shall decide disputes for strong nations far away… 

Now, it’s difficult to know exactly what these “disputes” might be, or what it will look like for God to judge and settle these disputes. Some believe it describes the effect of the nations gradually submitting to Christ (as we saw before). Others believe it refers to Christ’s reign on the earth during the Millenium (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, don’t worry about it). Others (myself included) believe this is a prediction of Christ’s reign in the new heavens and new earth, with the details still a little mysterious for us.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. The point is that at the time Micah is writing—and still today—we see constant conflict and disputes between nations. We see war and oppression. But one day, when Christ returns, whatever disputes we see happening between nations today will be ended. Whatever animosity exists between nations today will disappear. Where there is faithful judgment, there is peace.

V. 3 again: 

…and they [the nations] shall beat their swords into plowshares, 

and their spears into pruning hooks; 

nation shall not lift up sword against nation, 

neither shall they learn war anymore;  

4  but they shall sit every man under his vine and under his fig tree, 

and no one shall make them afraid, 

for the mouth of the Lord of hosts has spoken. 

In other words, people will no longer need weapons to defend themselves against hostile invaders. Their swords and spears will be useless, so they’ll be reforged into tools. The “vine” and the “fig tree” are frequent Old Testament images of peace and prosperity. Have you ever taken a nap, or read a book, or enjoyed a picnic, under the shade of a tree? That’s the picture: where before, people had to stay vigilant and alert, on the lookout for danger, in that day, they will be able to rest. 

Think about what this means for a minute—particularly if you’ve been touched by what’s happening in Ukraine. This means that no matter how bad it seems, no matter how much despair we feel, it will not last forever. War will end, because there will be no need for war. No one will feel the need to attack, and no one will need to defend themselves against attackers. The nations will be unified under one single banner—the kingdom of God in Christ—and conflict will be a thing of the past.

And with the end of conflict, with the end of war, comes the end of fear : no one shall make them afraid. We already know that sin and its effects—sickness and death and decay—will be removed from the earth. So will war. So anything that could possibly frighten us today—whether natural or of human origin—will be removed.

Can you imagine what it would be like to live the rest of your life with nothing to fear? No pain, no unpleasant work, no boredom, no conflict? That is what it will be.

And how can we be sure that this will come to pass? Because the mouth of the Lord of hosts has spoken. When the Bible talks about God as “the Lord of hosts,” it’s talking about God’s rule over the armies of heaven, God’s rule over every power in existence, and his power to do his will. In other words, if the Lord of hosts says he will do something, he will do it. If he says something will happen, it will happen.

And again, this has already begun. 

Now, we might look at the world around us and think things are worse now than they’ve ever been. That’s never precisely true, even from a geopolitical standpoint—things have always been terrible—but even so, our world still seems to be far from this conflict-free paradise we see described here.

But look at the details. Micah describes peoples from every nation coming to the Lord and being freed from the conflict that exists between them. And the Bible tells us how that global unity will begin—not on the geopolitical stage, but rather in the church. 

This is one of the major themes of the book of Acts. After Christ’s resurrection, the church was established amongst the Jews first. But very quickly—and to the surprise of nearly everyone—that church spread outside of the Jewish people. God sent his apostles not just to the Jews, but to the Gentiles also, inviting them in, giving them the same Spirit, the same faith, the same salvation in Jesus Christ. So Paul writes in Ephesians 2.19-22 (writing to mostly Gentile believers):  

19 So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, 20 built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, 21 in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. 22 In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit. 

Do you see it? Micah said all nations would be drawn to “the mountain of the house of the Lord,” the dwelling place of God on earth. What is that dwelling place? It is us. The church. We—people from many different nations and cultures and backgrounds—are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit. 

It’s not finished, but it has begun.

The Call to Faithfulness (v. 5)

There’s one more question this text answers, and it may be the most important one. Micah has spent three chapters announcing judgment on God’s people for their sin. Then he tells them that the judgment they will receive is not definitive; it is not eternal. It is right, and it is just, but it will not last. Then he gives this incredible description of what will last: enjoyment of righteousness and perfect peace in the kingdom of God. Yes, he has a plan for his people, at this time; but he has an even bigger plan, for all of his people, for all of his creation, for all of eternity.

So in the light of all of this, the question remains: How will his people now live? V. 5:  

5  For all the peoples walk 

each in the name of its god, 

but we will walk in the name of the Lord our God 

forever and ever. 

So you see Micah is now returning to his present. He’s just described the paradise that God promises, but like we saw, that paradise isn’t here yet. The nations are not all submitted to God; for now, the corruption and oppression he described in the first three chapters are still going strong. The idolatry he described in chapter 1, which earned God’s people the threat of judgment, is going strong everywhere. All the peoples walk each in the name of its god. 

Humanity has—and has always had—at its disposition a pantheon of available gods to worship. False gods, pagan gods, even unnamed gods of our own design. The modern god—the one that takes the place of a deity in our secular society—is me. It’s self. Whatever I want is what rules me. I will live according to my desires, and no one, God or man, has the right to tell me I’m not living right. And even if I say that God is the ultimate authority in my life, I’ll let him rule until he tells me to do something I don’t want to do, or until he tells me not to do something I want to do. If that happens, I exercise my right to self-govern, and I do what I want, because no matter what I say about God being my God, the only real god I have is myself.

That is how we live, if we’re left to our own devices. That is how we have always lived.

But it doesn’t take a lot of effort to see the limits of such a life. We try to rule ourselves because we want to be happy; but it never works, not ultimately. Even if we manage to do what we want to do, there is always something intruding. There is conflict and sickness and death, things we can’t control, that pour sand in the gas tank and plug up the works. 

This is why Micah has spent all this time describing the sin of God’s people, and the just consequences of that sin, before turning to the promise of God’s plan for his creation. He wants us to see the unbelievable contrast between what we do with our lives and with the world, and what God intends to do with it. He wants us to desire God’s will for his people more than our own. He wants the people who read his writings—who at the time are threatened by the just judgment of God—to wake up and realize where their self-centered living is bringing them, and to see what their God is offering instead.

And he is awakening this desire in them in order that they might say with Micah, “We don’t care what the other peoples are doing, we don’t care what the other nations are doing; we will walk in the name of the Lord our God forever and ever.”

This is what I’m still so frustrated about, even in myself: how reticent I am to believe that the call to obey God’s commands is actually leading us toward this end that God promises for us. Our obedience doesn’t serve to appease the whims of a capricious God; our obedience—and our joy in our obedience—gives the world a foretaste of heaven. 

In heaven—in this state of perfect peace and unity Micah describes—no one will live in disobedience to God. No one. And the result of that obedience is something every single human being desires.

And it’s still so frustrating to me, how easily I forget that God doesn’t make us wait before we can begin to enjoy the benefits of obeying his commands. He doesn’t make us wait before we can see that when he tells us to do one thing and not to do another, he really does know what he’s talking about. Because he knows how he made the world, and he knows how he made us.

So the call of this text is simple, and it is given right here: in the light of what life looks like in rebellion against God, and in the light of what life looks like with God—in part now, and in perfect completion when Christ returns—how will we live? How will we walk? What will the trajectory of our life become?

For the people of God, who have been saved by the life, death and resurrection of Christ, our resounding answer must always be this: we will walk in the name of the Lord our God forever and ever.