“No!” men shouted.
“Not us!” women wailed.
Children cried in confusion.
Temple guards surrounded Amos. “Come with us!”
When he tried to get through them, his staff was wrestled from him and he was taken by force.
“This way, Prophet.” They hauled him up the steps and inside the temple.
“Let go of me!”
“Do you think you can start a riot on the temple steps and not answer for it?” The captain ordered him taken to Amaziah, the high priest. The guards hit and punched Amos until he sagged, then half dragged him through a shadowed corridor to a chamber. “Keep him here.” The captain entered a room and spoke in hushed tones to several priests.
Amos wiped blood from his mouth.
After what seemed hours, a plainly gowned priest came out. “I am Paarai ben Zelek, son and servant of the most high priest, Amaziah. You will come in now. Do not speak unless you are spoken to, Prophet. Do you understand?”
Amos’s heart raged within him. But the Lord held his tongue.
Several priests stood talking to the high priest, who gazed out a window that overlooked the square. He took a long drink from a goblet, handed it to a servant, said something under his breath to the others, and turned. His head lifted as he studied Amos coldly. “I am Amaziah, high priest of the temple of Bethel.”
“And I am Amos, servant of the Lord our God.”
Amaziah gestured for Amos to come forward. Amos stood still, his gaze unfaltering.
The priest’s eyes darkened. “We thought it best to bring you here. For your own protection, of course.”
“If you wish to protect the people, you will let them listen to the message that the Lord has spoken!”
A muscle tensed in Amaziah’s cheek, but he spoke calmly, even pleasantly. “You have thrilled our hearts with your prophecies over the past eighteen months.” His eyes narrowed. “Why do you change your message now?”
“The message is not changed. Judgment is coming upon the nations, Judah and Israel included. Unless we humble our hearts and turn to the Lord, we have no hope.”
The high priest spread his hands, the rich fabric of his robes flowing like dark wings around him. “This is the holy city.” He raised his hands. “And this is the holy temple. You have lived here long enough to know our people are devoted to God—more devoted to God than anyone in Judah.”
Amos went hot with fury. “Does that golden calf you worship have ears that can hear your prayers? Does it feel anything? Can it walk on its golden legs? Or utter one word from its golden throat?”
“Silence him!” Paarai commanded.
A guard hit him hard across the face.
Amaziah smiled faintly, eyes like obsidian. “You must not blaspheme the Lord.”
“It is you who blaspheme the Lord.”
The guards pummeled him until he lay half conscious on the floor. One kicked him hard in the side.
“Enough,” Amaziah said and waved them away. “Lift him up.”
A guard grabbed Amos and hauled him to his feet. Gritting his teeth, he kept from groaning aloud.
Amaziah reached for a golden pitcher. “A goblet of wine, perhaps. It is the finest in all Israel.” When Amos didn’t answer, he raised his brows. “No? A pity.” He set the urn down. Crossing his arms, he tucked his hands into the heavy sleeves of his elaborately embroidered robe. “Why have you come to Bethel?”
“The Lord sent me to speak His Word to the people.”
“And they have listened to you in growing numbers since you first entered our gates eighteen months ago. They have listened to your prophecies and brought offerings because of them.”
Heat flooded Amos at the thought of those offerings being given to that hollow calf.
“The people have loved you.” Amaziah smiled as he gently mocked. “Until today. Today, you spoke most unwisely, Amos.”
“I spoke the truth.”
“Truth as you see it, perhaps.”
“I speak the words God gives me.”
“Leave me alone with him.”
“My lord?” The others protested.
Amaziah smiled and waved them away. “Paarai will remain with me.”
Amos wondered what subterfuge the high priest intended to try. Lord, give me wisdom. The attending priests entered a side room, and the guards remained outside the door.
“You are not the only man to see visions, my young friend. I have had many visions over my years in the priesthood and received abundance because of them. And I tell you God’s blessing is upon Israel. It is evident for all who have eyes to see. Look around you! We have wealth. We live in a time of great prosperity. We serve King Jeroboam, and he is as great as his grandfather, who was greater than Solomon’s son Rehoboam.”
Amaziah shook his head. “And yet you would tell our people we face destruction? We are strong enough now that no enemy dares come against us.” He clicked his tongue. “You should go back to your sheep. The people will not listen to you now. You have overstayed your welcome.” He shook his head in condescension. “We have nothing to fear from you.”
“From me, no. But you should fear the Lord.”
“Fear the one we love? Even after all these months of sitting on the temple mount and wandering our streets, you have learned so little about our people. You are blind and deaf. Have you missed the crowds who flock to the temple to give offerings to our god? Have you been deaf to their songs of praise? Have you failed to see the wealth of the temple itself? Our people are far more devout in worship and happy in life than those in Judah.”
“I see those who prey on the poor, your rich women who eat like cows. They fatten themselves for the slaughter!”
“Father, do not allow him to speak—”
“Be quiet!” Amaziah’s lips whitened. He spoke to his son as he glared at Amos. “A few stubborn fools still return to Jerusalem to worship, but they will not go back to the old ways. Nor do they need to. They have all they want right here.”
Amos glared back. “Not for long.” Let these wicked ‘priests’ be disgraced, Lord. Silence their lying lips. Don’t let them live long lives of leisure.
Amaziah smiled coldly. “If you have such a calling to become a priest, why don’t you bring us what is required and become one? We would welcome you to our society.” He looked at Paarai. “Wouldn’t we?”
Paarai hesitated and then agreed.
Amos narrowed his eyes. “Only a Levite can be a priest of the Lord.”
“But apparently anyone can be a prophet.” Amaziah smirked as he took in Amos’s old clothes, his sandaled feet. “Here, in Bethel, you can be a priest and a prophet. That is the way it’s done.”
Paarai smiled.
Amos looked between them. “Once, we were one nation under God.”
“You live in the past, Amos. It is unwise.”
“Are you threatening to kill me?”
“If I wanted to see you dead, I would have left you to the mob.” Amaziah clucked his tongue. “You disappointed them today.”
“I told them the truth.”
The high priest’s eyes flashed. “Where is your evidence? Where is the lightning and thunder? Nor have your other prophecies proven true. Had even one come about, your name would be great in Israel, and your place among the prophets assured. But all is as it has been. Nothing has changed. We merely grow stronger while you crow like a rooster.”
Paarai chuckled. “Careful you do not cause so much disruption you end up in a stew.”
Amos saw them clearly. Evil men who had no fear of God to restrain them. In their blind conceit, they couldn’t see how vile they really were. Everything they had said thus far was crooked and deceitful. “Everything will happen just as the Lord has said, and it will happen in His time, not yours.”
“We await the Day of the Lord as eagerly as you do.” Amaziah’s voice took on lofty tones. “For in that day, all our enemies will be put under our heel!”
“S
o speaks the Lord.” Paarai’s eyes glowed.
The Spirit of the Lord took hold of Amos and spoke through him. “What sorrow awaits you who say, ‘If only the Day of the Lord were here!’ You have no idea what you are wishing for. That day will bring darkness, not light.”
Amaziah’s eyes went black. “You do not listen well, do you? Some men must learn the hard way.” He raised his voice. “Guards, take him! Give him twenty lashes and send him on his way.” He pointed at Amos. “Your false prophecies will gain you nothing. The people will never listen to you!”
“Repent! For judgment is at hand.”
Paarai smirked as the guards entered and took hold of Amos. “Get him out of here.”
It was night when Amos was thrown out of the temple. He fell down the steps, banging his shins, his shoulder, his head. As he lay at the bottom, he heard a voice from above him.
“Don’t forget this!”
His staff clattered down the steps. He reached for it, using it to brace himself as he slowly stood. On fire with pain, shoulder and head aching, Amos managed to stumble from the square.
“There he is. . . .”
Fearful of another beating, Amos hurried down a narrow street. A wave of dizziness came over him and he fell against a wall. He clutched his staff, his only defense. But someone grasped it and held it still.
“Let me help you, Amos.” The voice was familiar. Amos looked up. Though his vision was blurred, he recognized the young Levite who had come to ask him questions about Judah.
“You . . .”
“This is the man I’ve told you about, Father.” He slipped his arm around Amos. “When the guards took you inside the temple, I went for my father. We’ve been waiting. . . .”
Amos groaned in pain.
The older man took charge. “We will take him home with us and see to his wounds.”
The two men lifted him to his feet and supported him on each side. “Easy.”
“Our house is not far from here, Amos.”
They half carried him down a street, around a corner, and through a doorway. Amos lifted his head enough to see the dimly lit room. A woman asked whom they had brought.
“The man I told you about, Mother. The prophet of the Lord our God.”
“Oh! What have they done to him?”
“We’ll explain later, Jerusha.” The father sent her for water as they helped Amos to a pallet.
Amos fought the waves of nausea.
“Rest, now. You are safe here.” The older man squeezed his shoulder. “You are fortunate your skull didn’t crack like a melon on those steps.”
“I have a hard head.”
The elder man smiled grimly. “A prophet of the Lord needs one. I am Beeri. Jerusha is my wife.”
She knelt and began to gently wash his bruised and bleeding face. “Our son, Hosea, has told us much about you.”
Amos took the damp cloth from Jerusha’s hand. “I will see to my own wounds.”
She blushed. “I did not wish to offend. . . . ”
“You didn’t. I must go. I do not want to bring trouble on you.” When he tried to get up, he gasped in pain.
All three protested. “There is nowhere for you to go, Amos. The gates are closed for the night. You can’t sleep out in the cold. Stay with us. Please!”
Amos sank back with a grimace.
Hosea hunkered down before him. “His eyes are swelling shut, Father.”
“We have balm that will help heal his wounds.” Jerusha crossed the room and took something from a cupboard.
Darkness closed in, and Amos felt gentle hands lower him.
When next he opened his eyes, moonlight streamed through a high window. He saw Hosea sleeping on a nearby pallet. A small clay lamp cast a soft glow, by which he could see a table, two small benches, some storage urns, bowls, a water jug, a cabinet built into the wall. Every bone and muscle in his body ached when he pushed himself up.
Hosea also sat up. “You’re awake!”
“Barely.”
“How do you feel?”
“As though someone whipped me and threw me down some stone steps.”
“You’ve lain like death for three days.”
So long! He remembered none of it. “May the Lord bless you for your kindness.” Had he made it outside the city, he might have been lying in a field somewhere, unconscious and prey to scavengers.
“How is your head?”
Amos felt the bandages. He had a slight headache, but the dizziness was gone. “I’ll live.” His stomach growled loudly.
“It will be morning soon.” Hosea grinned. “My mother will make bread.”
Amos smiled.
“It is good to have you as our guest, Amos.” He grimaced. “Despite the circumstances, of course.”
Amos rubbed his head. A bump still protruded, but it was not as tender as the day he had received it. He still had trouble seeing, and realized after a slight exploration that his eyelids were swollen almost shut.
“I can’t serve you bread, but there is some wine.”
“A little wine and I’d probably sleep for another two days. Water, please.” Amos found his staff beside the pallet and struggled to rise.
Hosea helped him. “Please. Don’t go. Everyone shouted so loudly in the square I could not hear what you had to say. I want to know what you prophesied about Israel.”
“It is the Lord’s Word and not mine that stands against Israel for all its many sins.”
“You said God will punish Damascus, Gaza, Tyre, Edom, Ammon, Moab, and Judah. And now God will bring judgment on Israel as well. The entire world is condemned. Not one nation will remain standing after God’s judgment.”
Amos sank wearily onto the bench and leaned his forearms on the table. “Judah will be the last to fall.”
“Is there hope if Judah repents?”
“There is always hope when a nation repents.” But they seldom did. It took famine, drought, or flood to bring a nation to its knees before God. It took war!
Hosea poured water and handed the cup to Amos. “But Judah will still fall in the end?”
Amos drank deeply and held out the cup for more. “Men fell long ago and still refuse the hand of God to help them rise again.” He drained the cup again.
“What then will be left, Amos?”
“God’s promise, my young friend. You reminded me that His faithful love endures forever. So it does. His mercy is poured out upon those who love Him. The eyes of the Lord search the whole earth in order to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to Him. Destruction will come as surely as the sun rises in the morning, but a remnant will remain. Men like you who love the Lord and want to follow Him. The rest will be like chaff in the wind, here one day and gone the next.”
“I should feel more hope than I do. I feel I must do something to help you.”
“Listen. And encourage others to do likewise. And then do what the Lord commands.”
The sun rose and with it Beeri and Jerusha. She prepared the morning meal. They prayed and broke bread together.
“Why don’t you stay here in Bethel, Amos?” Hosea looked at his father. “Wouldn’t it be far better for him to live here with us?”
Beeri nodded.
Amos fought the temptation. “More convenient, perhaps, but dangerous for you. I have a place to live.”
“At least stay a few more days.” Jerusha offered him more bread. “Until you’ve recovered from your fall.”
Amos thanked them.
After another day, Amos longed to stay. He enjoyed the conversations with Beeri and Hosea that lasted far into the night, always centering on the Lord and His commandments.
Beeri worked as a scribe, and Hosea studied the scrolls his father kept in the cabinet. Jerusha used what little money they had wisely. Beeri read from the Scriptures locked in the cabinet each evening. Much he knew by memory, and Hosea along with him. “They were taken away once,” Beeri told him, “but I had another copy hidden.”
Be
eri questioned Amos only once. “How is it a prophet of God does not know the Scriptures?”
“I’ve spent my life in the pastureland with my sheep. Other than a few years when I was a boy, I’ve had little opportunity to sit before a rabbi and learn the Law. What I know is given to me by God.”
Beeri was quick to apologize. “I did not mean to question your calling, Amos.”
“I take no offense, but I will say that had I had the opportunity, I doubt I could do as you have done. Some men have minds that can take in knowledge, like you and Hosea. What I know is the land, the night skies, my sheep.”
Beeri nodded. “That is a great deal in itself, my friend.”
“The Lord is our shepherd,” Hosea said. “Surely the Lord sent you here to show us the way home.”
“I’ve usually had to deal with a few wayward sheep.” Amos shook his head. “But never an entire flock such as Israel so determined to find trouble.”
After six days Amos knew he must leave. Here, in this quiet, devout household, he slept comfortably, ate well, and enjoyed warm fellowship. But, in this small dwelling tucked away in the labyrinth of Bethel, among these hospitable people, he could not hear the Lord’s voice as he could when he stood beneath the stars in an open field.
“I must go.”
“Back to Jerusalem?” Hosea leaned forward, eager. “Say the word and I will go with you!”
“No. I must go out into the hills and return to my place of rest.”
“But it’s only a cave.”
“I’ve slept at the entrance of many caves, Hosea. It is a sheepfold and reminds me of the simpler life I had before the Lord called me to come to Bethel.”
Jerusha looked downcast, Beeri confused. “Surely this is more comfortable than a cave.”
“Yes, it is.” But distracted by the pleasure of their company, he could not clear his mind long enough to hear the quiet Voice that directed his footsteps and his words.
Neither Hosea nor his father tried to convince him otherwise. Jerusha filled his scrip with roasted grain and raisins, almonds and barley bread.
Just before dusk, Hosea walked with him to the city gate. When he started to follow Amos outside, Amos turned.
“Go back, Hosea. Convince your father to move to Judah. Go to Tekoa and speak with my servant, Eliakim. Tell him I sent you. He will help you find a priest in Jerusalem to help you get settled. I know it will be difficult to start over there, but you have no future here.”