Amos 8:1-14 · A Basket of Ripe Fruit
God Notices
Amos 8:1-14
Sermon
by John W. Wurster
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It was the best of times. A time of prosperity and confidence, a time of relative peace, a time when most everything looked pretty good, a time when most everyone felt pretty good. It was a time maybe not unlike our own time.

In such a time, among such a people, naysayers are hardly welcome. Who wants to hear about the bad that could be coming in the future when what’s going on in the present looks so good? Who wants to hear protests when the prevailing winds of prosperity are blowing so strongly? Who wants to hear criticism and condemnation when it should be obvious to anyone that things have never been better?

It’s hard to be a preacher when all seems well. Who needs a word from the Lord when our own words appear to be quite sufficient? Who needs to acknowledge a creator when the works of our own hands have been so successful? Who cares what God thinks when our own thinking has produced so much wealth? It’s hard to be a preacher when all seems well and wallets are fat and tummies are full. It’s even harder to be a prophet when the vision you would share and the message you would speak contradict what the current evidence suggests and what so many believe to be true.

A preacher when preachers weren’t needed and a prophet when prophets weren’t welcome, that’s Amos. Sometime in the eighth century B.C., somewhere in Israel, somewhat like a dark rain cloud on a bright sunny day, Amos arrives as a preacher and a prophet amidst a prosperous and confident people. Nobody wants to see him. Nobody wants to hear him. Nobody wants a rain cloud when a parade is going on.

But Amos pours it on. He announces the end, the end of everything: The parade will end. The prosperity will end. The peace will end. The good times will end. The nation will end. Nothing will last.

Amos has seen what others have overlooked. He has seen the corruption and the greed and the sin by which the wealth has been achieved. He has seen behind the facade of affluence and achievement. He has seen the cracks in the structure and the weaknesses in the foundation. He has witnessed the deceitful practices at the scales; the cheating at the money tables (8:5b). Fortunes are amassed at the expense of others. The needy are trampled upon and the poor are ruined (8:4). Worship is half-hearted, something to be endured, something to pass the time until the marketplace is open again and the money can start flowing (8:5a). Amos contends that it is not the best of times. It is a time marked by dishonesty and deception.

Amos has seen all these things going on in the culture, and God has now set before him a vision of a fruit basket (8:1-2). Amos sees a basket brimming with succulent, ripe, summer fruit. The lesson is clear. The fruit that looks so good right now and for the moment is intensely sweet, will not be so for long. Summer fruit does not last. The ripeness ends. The sweetness ends. In just awhile the fruit rots and spoils and nothing is left.

That’s what it’s like to live in a land and in a time of injustice and unrighteousness, Amos says. It’s like a basket of summer fruit. Everything looks great right now. At this moment, life is sweet. But a rottenness is just around the corner. The good times won’t last. The good times can’t last. God will spoil them. The plans, the fortunes, the achievements, whatever has been dishonestly gained and deceptively maintained, God will spoil. Because God notices.

That’s the claim of prophets like Amos — that God notices. Our lives are lived under the watchful eye of God. God knows the truth about who we are and what we’ve done. It all matters to God. What kind of life we live as individuals, what kind of life we live collectively as a society, how we treat the last and the least and the lost among us. It all matters to God. That’s what Amos claims. So he is bold enough to rain on the parade, to announce the end of the good times, to declare the destruction of the nation. Amos believes that God notices what we do and that what we do matters to God.

Amos believes that and the pages of the Bible are filled with people who believe that. But I wonder how many of us believe that that God notices and God cares? Not many of us, I think. Maybe not any of us. For surely our lives would be different if we truly believed that who we are and what we do matter to God. We’d use our time differently, we’d vote differently, we’d spend our money differently. We wouldn’t drive so easily through the deteriorated places in this town, in this neighborhood. We wouldn’t permit other things to lead us away from being here on Sunday morning. Or when we are here we wouldn’t be simply going through the motions, but rather we’d worship God as if our lives depended on it. If we believed that God noticed and God cared, we’d rethink our commitments and reshuffle our priorities. We’d be more interested in caring for the environment, this beautiful world that God has given us. We’d be more concerned about the abuse and oppression of people with whom we share this planet. We’d count blessings more than dollars and seek to enrich our souls more than our bank accounts.

That’s what we might be like if we believed, like Amos did, that who we are and what we do matter to God. Until then, I suppose, we’ll continue to delude ourselves into believing that the basket of fruit will not spoil and the good times will just keep rolling and the way we live is our own business.

We may have lost our belief that God notices what’s going on with us and in us and among us. But children haven’t. Children understand God to be close and interested and involved in their lives. I see and hear their understanding in lots of ways around the church. Most regularly, I witness it in our children’s worship time. Each week, we pray together. Each week, different children thank God for giving them families and friends, for holiday gifts and special talents. They ask God to cancel school, to heal a sick friend, and to help them with their homework. These children believe that God notices them and that they matter to God.

A few years back someone gave me a little book called Children’s Letters to God. As the title suggests, it is simply a book of actual letters that actual kids wrote to God about all kinds of things. Their letters say much about how children experience God.

Sensing that thanksgiving is pleasing to God, these children are quick to appreciate what God has done. Jeff writes, “Dear God, it is great the way you always get the stars in the right places.” And Eugene writes, “Dear God, I didn’t think orange went with purple until I saw the sunset you made on Tuesday. That was cool.” And Ruth writes, “Dear God, I think the stapler is one of your greatest inventions.” Jeff and Eugene and Ruth have an eye for the things that God has done and they readily express their admiration for God’s creation.

Children sense and perceive God’s presence among them. Nora writes, “Dear God, I don’t ever feel alone since I found out about you.” And Elliot writes, “Dear God, I think about you sometimes even when I am not praying.” And Mickey writes, “Dear God, if you watch in church on Sunday, I will show you my new shoes.” Nora and Elliot and Mickey believe that God is with them, that God is present and interested in their lives, that God notices.

Because they believe God notices, children are not afraid to challenge God. Ginny writes, “Dear God, please put another holiday between Christmas and Easter. There is nothing good in there now.” And Joyce writes, “Dear God, thank you for the baby brother, but what I prayed for was a puppy.” And Janet writes, “Dear Mr. God. I wish you would not make it easy for people to come apart. I had three stitches and a shot.” Ginny and Joyce and Janet are not afraid to share with God how they really feel. They do that because they believe that God cares.

I’m not sure what condition my faith would be in if I didn’t spend time around children. Their fervent belief that God is close to us confirms what Amos says, confirms so much of what the Bible says, and reminds me of what so many of us tend to forget. God does notice. God does care. What we do matters to God.

That can be fearful news. Especially the way Amos says it, holding that claim above a society consumed with consuming, a society that is about to rot, a parade that will not last, a people that is about to end. A God who notices can be bad news, fearful news.

It can also be good news. Children think of it that way. A God close enough to see our shoes, compassionate enough to talk to, gracious enough to bring good things, “cool” things, into our lives, loving enough to hear our cries and complaints, powerful enough to help us out. A God who notices is good news.

I guess it all depends on what it is in your life that God will see. Children, in their beautiful, simple honesty, have nothing to hide. They want God to notice. Adults, however, in our tangled mix of motivations and attitudes, would prefer to believe that God doesn’t really care about what we do, otherwise we might actually have to change our lives.

So we’d rather leave the idea of a God who notices to children and to crazed preachers, like Amos. We know better, don’t we? We know that God doesn’t really notice. We know the Bible doesn’t always mean what it says. We know that Jesus was just teasing when he said we had to be like children to enter the kingdom of God (Luke 18:17). We know that ripe summer fruit will never spoil. We know it all, don’t we?




CSS Publishing Company, What If What They Say Is True?, by John W. Wurster