Dec 5 2019 Amos 4: 6-13

Yet you did not return to me

In this section of Amos, we hear Amos going through a litany of things that God has done to humanity, and yet, God says, you did not return to me. I created floods in some places, and droughts in others, and yet you did not return to me. I created blight, mildew and locusts to devour your fields, and yet you did not return to me. I killed your young men, created pestilence, overthrew some of you, and yet you did not return to me.

Reading this section, I find it poignant, with each brief paragraph of horribleness ending with ‘and yet you did not return to me’. It’s almost lyrical and poetic, although it’s not a very happy prophetic vision.

It reminds me of how the thinking behind training a dog has changed significantly. It used to be that you’d whap a dog on the nose with a rolled up newspaper for something it did badly. Or yell at it when it finally returned. But dog trainers have since realized that dogs associate the good behavior – finally coming to sit at your feet, with the yelling, and so they’re less inclined to come when called. Instead, when training a dog, you’re supposed to catch them when they’re doing something good, and praise them. If they’re supposed to sit for a minute, but at 20 seconds they get wiggly and distracted, right before they run off, you commend them for sitting. Carrots versus sticks.

I’m not surprised that people did not return to God, in response to God-created misery. That seems like a frightening, angry, judgmental, ominous God. Having said that, if the common understanding was that God created the misery to create followers, and the misery was commonly attributed to God, I can see how some might respond with obedience. Some dogs when maltreated by their owner become very attached and protective of their owner.

This is true of humans too. Some people, women generally, remain attached to abusive partners. The partners do horrible things, demonstrating that they have the power. And the women remain loyal. Frequently, women who are abused refuse to testify against their abuser. He didn’t mean it. He just had a bad day at work. With most other crimes, this would quash further criminal action; no victim to press charges and testify, no crime. Domestic violence is different. Many states now have made this a crime that does not require a victim; if the police document or believe a crime has been committed, the State effectively becomes the victim, so the testimony, or lack of it, from the person abused is not required.

So yes, sometimes a show of force does result in obedience. The sticks sometime work. But I believe it’s obedience out of fear, rather than love. If I believe in a God who demands obedience, that seems like a bad model for humanity to follow. Does that mean that I am also to demand obedience, or exert power over others so that I get my way? 

This morning, I’m thinking about our changing understanding of God’s power and love, what makes us both good followers and good models. I am grateful that with Christ’s example of unwarranted and unearned love and forgiveness, I have a model of God that compels me to return to God, rather than demands me to return. It’s the notion that despite all of the misery I’m in, or I’ve been complicit in, or I’ve created, that God loves and abides with me, that makes me return. Who else can offer that unconditional love?

In Advent, I can return to the notion that God came to show me what God looks like in a human and relatable form through Jesus. And although Jesus occasionally showed his human temper, he mostly showed his divine grace and love. In Advent, I can await Jesus’ arrival, so I’m again compelled to return.