19 Nov Amos, Who Do You Think You Are?

Amos, don’t blame us,
And who are you to shame us,
Why don’t you take your stale bread somewhere else?
Go back to Tekoa,
And leave us alone,
Pack it up, hit the road, fare thee well.
–“Amos” by The Hillbilly Thomists

The above Kentucky-bluegrass song has become a fresh window into Amos’ colorful cornucopia of prophetic visions.

Amos has helped me “hug my cactus” in so many surprising ways. Amos, like all of the prophets, is a heaven-sent-truth-teller. Arguing with prophets is just about as useful as arguing with a veteran baseball umpire over balls and strikes. The prophet and umpire are kindred spirits, with the same mantra:

“I call it like I see it.”

Nothing more. Nothing less.

If you want a quick context and summary of what Amos is all about, check out the video below.  

Here’s the headlines.

King Jeroboam was the worst.
Bethel was getting worse by the day.
So, God had a message for them:
The party’s over. Judgement is coming.

What happens next?
Well, what normally happens to most prophets:
They’re ignored. Eyes are covered. Ears are clogged.

But we’re no better. How do we treat…
Plainspoken prophets?
Troublesome truth-tellers?

But what if…
What if we were different?
What if we treasured truth-tellers?
What if we welcomed even the most painful prophecy?

I’m not talking about listening to pretentious pretenders—you know the type—with angry shouts in judgmental tones into a handy megaphone next to  a sign that reads,

“The End is Near!”

Instead, I’m talking about that one person in our life that’s bold and brazen enough to tell the truth—even when it hurts—about what they see in our lives. I’m talking about the friend who isn’t impressed with us. I’m talking about the family member that remembers “back when…” (back when we were immature and couldn’t even pretend to be good at “adulting”).

Even though we don’t like hearing bad news from prophets, we still need to hear it.

Here’s how this has looked in my life.

It’s when a best friend shares from his childhood trauma,
Hoping I don’t repeat the same mistakes as a parent.
It’s when a fellow pastor reminds me that I married my wife.
Not. My. Church.
It’s when my kids mimic
My best habits and
My worst habits.

And that’s just the ones I listened to recently. I’m sure I missed others along the way. I’m only beginning to have thick enough skin to handle this prophetic stuff. I’m learning that the truth cuts deep, all the way to the heart. I am discovering that listening to a prophet is just about as pleasant as literally “hugging a cactus.” But, fear not, my friends, you’re never hugging your cactus alone.