Micah 2:3

Therefore, thus saith the Lord: Behold, against this family do I devise evil

The great antagonist

Here is Micah, the flesh child of the country, who has communed with the Lord God in the ploughed field in the flagrant vineyard, amid the primeval forest, in lonely wilderness, and in secluded height.

He comes to human affairs with keen and unblunted perceptions. Through this man’s eyes we may gaze at the outlines and colours of the golden age, we may look upon the causes of lukewarm and congealed affection, and we may also contemplate the fated and inevitable consequences of sin. It is this latter awful vision which I want to bring before yore “Behold, against this family do I devise an evil.” Let us get the connection of this word. In an earlier chapter I come upon this indictment: “Woe to them that devise iniquity upon their beds.” The people are busy devising, planning, plotting, scheming. They are building upon falsehood. They are arranging the items of their life in evil sequence. But there is a Counter plotter! “Against this family do I devise an evil.” The human schemer is confronted by a great Antagonist, God. The Antagonist evidences His working in adversities, disappointments, dissatisfactions, in failures, in fundamental and ignominious defeat. Micah’s initial teaching is therefore this: Every sin has its deliberately planned penalty. We cannot isolate the bacillus of sin; it makes its appointed ravages, and no human ministry can fashion an escape. Man devises iniquity; God devises the appropriate issue. One is as certain as the other. Prussic acid is not more certain in its ravages than sin, Now, with this expression of a general and unescapable law before us, let us see what this sharp-eyed prophet regards as some of the inevitable consequences of sin. “Uncleanness that destroyeth with a grievous destruction.” All sin is uncleanness, and uncleanness is a monster of destruction. As sure as a moth eats away the fabrics of a garment, so sin consumes the robes and habits of the soul. As sure as rust corrodes an instrument of steel, so sin destroys the implements of life. What does sin destroy? Our philosophers arrange the powers and endowments of man in a heightening scale. They begin with mere animal vitality, sheer naked energy, the basal aptitudes and passions, and they ascend through the senses, the intellectual perceptions, the powers of reasoning, the aesthetic tastes, alp to the moral realm, and higher still to the peerless sphere of reverence and veneration, where life looks out upon God! It is all-important that we remember this range of endowment when we are considering the destructiveness of sin. And I will tell you why. When sin breaks out in the life there are parts of this extensive range which appear to be untouched and if a man looked at these alone it might appear that sin has committed no ravages at all. Let us look at this. When a noxious gas gets into a greenhouse the most delicate things are the first things to suffer. When the coarser plants are smitten the finer, ones have long been dead. It is so in the life. When destructive uncleanness enters, the coarsest thing is the last to be hit. The body preserves its life the longest. Let us assume that a man has become ridden by lust. When that man’s body begins to shake the more delicate things of the soul are already destroyed. When the passion for drink shows itself in the face, other parts are already in ashes. The fire of sin always begins to flame in the upper chambers, and burns down towards the basement. The first thing to suffer is our affection. When purity goes out of life love droops like a bird whose cage is near the ceiling, and which faints amid the accumulated fumes of the burning gas. Let a man live an impure life, for one day; let falsehood, passion, malice, bear down upon him, and let him watch the effect upon his affection for wife and child. “Uncleanness,” according to this prophet, “destroyeth with a grievous destruction.” “It shall be night unto you, and ye shall have no vision. You will not be surprised to he taken this second step under the guidance of the prophet Micah. The sentence is descriptive of a second penalty. What is that? It is the loss of spiritual perception. In the higher realms of our being we are like instruments to be played upon by the Spirit of God. But what is the worth of the harp when the strings are eaten away? What is the use of a piano when the wires are corroded? The executant is unable to convey his message because the instrument is unable to receive it. And when the instrument of our higher self is corrupted or impaired we cannot perceive the approaches of the Spirit or discern the whispering counsels of our God. This is a law whose working I have proved by sad experience in my own life. There have been days when the Book of Scripture seemed closed before me. The page appears commonplace; it does not glow with the heavenly Presence. But on the day of moral alertness and strenuousness of spiritual nearness to my God the common bush is aflame, and His word becomes “a light unto my path.” Sin spoils our spiritual eyes and ears, and makes us poor receivers. “Thou shalt eat and not be satisfied.” This is the third of the penalties of sin. Sin issues in deep-seated weariness and unrest. The man makes money, but he sighs amid his abundance. His friends speak of him in terms of admiration: “He has got everything that heart could wish.” Ah, that is just what he has not got! He has got everything that flesh could wish, but the heart is mourning in secret impoverishment. These dissatisfied souls are all about us, in the pulpit and out of it. But our very dissatisfaction is more than the issue of sin; it is the merciful judgment of infinite grace and love. If our Father left us in satisfaction our perdition would be hopeless and complete. (J. H. Jowett, M. A.)