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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.