Walking
Humbly
a sermon based on Micah 6:1-8
by Randy L Quinn
Comedians have long poked fun at how
mothers can nag and how they can make effective use of our guilt to
make us act. Over the years there have been several television
sit-coms based on nagging mothers and mothers-in-law who use guilt
to get their way. One that is currently popular is Everybody
Loves Raymond.
In poking fun at mothers, comedians are tapping into a basic
characteristic of parents and parenting. We want the best for our
children. And we want to be appreciated for the work we've done.
But some of us are better at expressing those feelings than
others. And I don't know of many parents who haven't wanted to say
things that the comedians put into the mouths of their characters.
We also know how inappropriate it is to say some of those things.
But because we know those are real thoughts and because we also
know they are not to be spoken aloud, we either laugh or cringe when
we hear them. The surprise of recognizing our own thoughts spoken
aloud is what makes it good humor.
Our text for today could easily be said by one of those comic
characters, a mother who is ranting about her non-appreciative grown
son.
'What have I done wrong? Wasn't it enough that I
gave birth to you and worked two jobs to keep food on the table?
Would you rather go naked than wear the clothes I bought you? And
why do you act as if your college education was a gift from some
long lost uncle?
'You can ask the neighbors how often I woke up in
the middle of the night to feed you when you were a baby and how
many trips I made to the doctor with your sore throats, ear aches,
and broken arms. Just ask the people at the school how often I
volunteered to bring cookies to your class when you were growing
up.
'After all I've done for you, is it too much to
ask for you to call me on my birthday? Can't you find some small
way to show you appreciate all I've done for you?
Only in our text, God is the one who is speaking. And God begins
by calling the mountains and hills to listen as God recounts the
many times and places where the people of Israel had been blessed.
Listen to what the LORD says: 'Stand up, plead your case
before the mountains; let the hills hear what you have to say.
Hear, O mountains, the Lord's accusation; listen, you
everlasting foundations of the earth. For the LORD has a case
against his people; he is lodging a charge against Israel.
'My people, what have I done to you? How have I burdened
you? Answer me. I brought you up out of Egypt and redeemed you
from the land of slavery. I sent Moses to lead you, also Aaron
and Miriam. My people, remember what Balak king of Moab
counseled and what Balaam son of Beor answered. Remember your
journey from Shittim to Gilgal, that you may know the righteous
acts of the LORD.' (Micah 6:1-5, NIV)
Can you imagine the guilty silence that must have followed
Micah's proclamation of these words of God? Like the adult children
of the nagging mother, there is no excuse that can be made.
And like the children of Israel, we know we are implicated in the
accusations as well. We, too, have known God's love and grace. We,
too, have experienced the miracle of God's acceptance.
And like the children of Israel, we have not always expressed our
gratitude. We have taken God from granted.
And how many marriages have fallen apart because one partner or
the other has forgotten how to be grateful? How often do we have to
be ignored before we become incensed? When does it become a case of
neglect?
We can all recognize our own guilt, but what can we do?
What is the appropriate response when confronted with our own
self-focus in the midst of such a tremendous outpouring of love?
Yesterday I heard a comedian say that the best way to remember
your wife's birthday is to forget it – once.
Those of us who have romantic spouses know there is no amount of
flowers that can make up for a forgotten birthday or anniversary.
Bouquets of flowers, boxes of chocolates, rooms full of balloons
cannot change the past. We cannot make up for our mistakes with
things.
Like the repentant child or a comedian's mother, Israel asks what
God wants in return to make up for the past.
With what shall I come before the LORD and bow down before
the exalted God? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old? Will the LORD be pleased with thousands
of rams, with ten thousand rivers of oil? Shall I offer my
firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin
of my soul. (Micah 6:6,7 NIV)
Or to put it in the context of our church today, we could ask if
we are supposed to sign up for flowers every week or turn over our
entire retirement savings account. We might ask if God wants us to
abandon our jobs and our families and our children and live the rest
of our lives at the church.
We all know the truth. None of that will suffice. Nothing we can
ever do can compare with what God has already done. We cannot pay
God back for what has already been done just as we cannot make up
for what we have not done.
If you have ever seen an absent parent try to make up for lost
time with a child, you will understand the answer to the riddle of
what to do.
When I was growing up, my dad was in the Navy. I remember the
long periods of time that he was away on the ship. His last
deployment was during the height of the Viet Nam War. I didn't
understand what the war was about, but I did know he was gone for a
long time. He was gone for nearly eight months.
And when he came home, there were gifts that made it seem like
Christmas at our house.
But those gifts couldn't buy what we wanted.
Children may say they want things, but what they really want is
relationship.
And God is no different.
God isn't asking for the fatted calf. God doesn't need the cattle
on a thousand hills. All God wants is a living and vital
relationship with each of us and all of us.
He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the
LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk
humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8, NIV)
Two years ago a good Navy friend of mine was promoted to the rank
of Admiral. Shortly after his promotion, I was with him and quote
proud of whom he had become. In hindsight, I was also proud of the
fact that I knew him. I wanted people to notice who I was sitting
with.
I saw him again in New Orleans last month. This time, I was well
aware that he had other people to see. His schedule is full, and I
knew that I was just another Chaplain in the group.
So imagine my surprise when he asked me if I would join him for
dinner on Tuesday evening. Just the two of us. I was humbled and
honored to be in his company. Over dinner we talked about our
families and our personal lives.
On the way back to the motel, several people who knew whom he was
stopped us to talk. No one talked to me. And as much as I could, I
faded into the background so he could be the Admiral. The focus was
rightfully and appropriately on him.
I had learned how to walk humbly with my friend.
And I think that is the invitation God makes to us. We'll share a
special meal here in a few minutes. But the focus is not on the
guests at the table, it's on the host. The host is the one who wants
to maintain a relationship with you and with me.
God has done so much for us that we cannot begin to count our
blessings. And all God asks in return is a living and on-going
relationship that brings life and joy into our lives. It's what God
has been trying to do all along.
May we find ways to love God who has loved us first.
Amen.
