Judah has been unfaithful. A detestable thing has been committed in Israel and in Jerusalem... Malachi 2:11
Being a prophet of God in Old Testament days was no easy task.
You could expect to be rejected and abused by the people, especially by the religious establishment - this was the fate of, for example, Amos and Jeremiah.
You might feel that the job God had given you was mission impossible and, like Jonah, decide to run away as fast as you could.
You might find the strain so great that, even after a period of triumphant ministry, you collapse into exhaustion and depression: that’s Elijah.
Or you might feel, like Daniel, that all the weight of Israel’s failure rested on your shoulders, and spend hours and days fasting, weeping and praying.
I could go on. But it would be good if just this little sample whetted our appetites to get to know these strange, driven, slightly frightening men better: wedded as we are to our comfort and security, they are a reminder to us that serving God can be a life-consuming and painful business. Don’t worry if you can’t understand every word or every passage; just get a flavour, a feel, of what was going on in their sometimes tormented lives.
What about Malachi? Well, we know next to nothing about him.
We can’t even be sure of his name, because “Malachi” simply means “my messenger”, and there are no details such as “son of so-and-so... from such-and-such a town.”
We don’t even know for sure when he was active, but (as fits his position right at the end of the Old Testament), he seems to have belonged in that twilight period - after the kings are long gone, after Judah has been in captivity in Babylon, after the people (or just a pathetic remnant of them) have returned to the promised land and rebuilt their ruined temple, but before the appearance of John the Baptist and the coming of the promised Christ.
Remembering the glory days of Solomon and David, how flat these times must have seemed.
Mind you, Malachi’s prophecy ends with a stirring foretaste of great things yet to come...
“Test me in this” - God throws down the gauntlet - “and see if I won’t throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it...” (3:10). What a marvellous image that is - can you picture God ripping wide the sluices on his great celestial dam? Can you imagine this massive cascade of blessing tumbling onto the earth?
And here’s an even more wonderful promise: “For you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its rays” (4:2). Not water this time - but beautiful, health-giving, warming, comforting, healing sunshine.
Wonderful stuff - and very naturally these are the parts of Malachi that we are drawn to.
But in the early stages he has the thankless task of rebuking a carping, grumbling, complaining people who have lost any sense of God’s holy and powerful presence among them: “You flood the Lord’s altar with tears. You weep and wail because he no longer looks with favour on your offerings or accepts them with pleasure from your hands. You ask ‘Why’...?”
Oh, poor little you! says Malachi - how pathetic you are with your grovelling crocodile tears! You really want to know why God has turned his face away? Well, listen up and I’ll tell you (2:13-14)!
And he laces into them for their shallow, showy worship, for their lack-lustre praying, for their shoddy sacrifices. These are sorry times indeed.
It’s hard to avoid the feeling that there is a clear message here for many of us today, living as we do in what the Bible calls a “day of small things” (Zechariah 4:10).
As I read Malachi’s scorching words I can’t help being reminded of the message of the risen Jesus to the corrupted, compromised church of Laodicea through his servant John (Revelation 3:14-22): “I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm - neither cold nor hot - I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” Not nice.
We can’t, of course, ever deserve God’s blessing: but at the same time why should he bless us if our spiritual state is much like that of Malachi’s Israelites, or John’s Laodiceans?
If nothing else the Book of Malachi can prompt us to some serious self-examination. Are you due for a bit of that?
But wait a minute... isn’t it Malachi who also gives us those uncomfortable words about God “loving Jacob” and “hating Esau”? Yes, indeed. But I’ve run out of space - must leave that till next time...
Meanwhile, here’s a prayer of the hymn-writer William Cowper (1731-1800) which fits well the sombre mood of the Book of Malachi...
Lord, it is my chief complaint/ That my love is weak and faint;/ Yet I love Thee and adore;/ O for grace to love Thee more! Amen.
Being a prophet of God in Old Testament days was no easy task.
You could expect to be rejected and abused by the people, especially by the religious establishment - this was the fate of, for example, Amos and Jeremiah.
You might feel that the job God had given you was mission impossible and, like Jonah, decide to run away as fast as you could.
You might find the strain so great that, even after a period of triumphant ministry, you collapse into exhaustion and depression: that’s Elijah.
Or you might feel, like Daniel, that all the weight of Israel’s failure rested on your shoulders, and spend hours and days fasting, weeping and praying.
I could go on. But it would be good if just this little sample whetted our appetites to get to know these strange, driven, slightly frightening men better: wedded as we are to our comfort and security, they are a reminder to us that serving God can be a life-consuming and painful business. Don’t worry if you can’t understand every word or every passage; just get a flavour, a feel, of what was going on in their sometimes tormented lives.
What about Malachi? Well, we know next to nothing about him.
We can’t even be sure of his name, because “Malachi” simply means “my messenger”, and there are no details such as “son of so-and-so... from such-and-such a town.”
We don’t even know for sure when he was active, but (as fits his position right at the end of the Old Testament), he seems to have belonged in that twilight period - after the kings are long gone, after Judah has been in captivity in Babylon, after the people (or just a pathetic remnant of them) have returned to the promised land and rebuilt their ruined temple, but before the appearance of John the Baptist and the coming of the promised Christ.
Remembering the glory days of Solomon and David, how flat these times must have seemed.
Mind you, Malachi’s prophecy ends with a stirring foretaste of great things yet to come...
“Test me in this” - God throws down the gauntlet - “and see if I won’t throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it...” (3:10). What a marvellous image that is - can you picture God ripping wide the sluices on his great celestial dam? Can you imagine this massive cascade of blessing tumbling onto the earth?
And here’s an even more wonderful promise: “For you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its rays” (4:2). Not water this time - but beautiful, health-giving, warming, comforting, healing sunshine.
Wonderful stuff - and very naturally these are the parts of Malachi that we are drawn to.
But in the early stages he has the thankless task of rebuking a carping, grumbling, complaining people who have lost any sense of God’s holy and powerful presence among them: “You flood the Lord’s altar with tears. You weep and wail because he no longer looks with favour on your offerings or accepts them with pleasure from your hands. You ask ‘Why’...?”
Oh, poor little you! says Malachi - how pathetic you are with your grovelling crocodile tears! You really want to know why God has turned his face away? Well, listen up and I’ll tell you (2:13-14)!
And he laces into them for their shallow, showy worship, for their lack-lustre praying, for their shoddy sacrifices. These are sorry times indeed.
It’s hard to avoid the feeling that there is a clear message here for many of us today, living as we do in what the Bible calls a “day of small things” (Zechariah 4:10).
As I read Malachi’s scorching words I can’t help being reminded of the message of the risen Jesus to the corrupted, compromised church of Laodicea through his servant John (Revelation 3:14-22): “I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm - neither cold nor hot - I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” Not nice.
We can’t, of course, ever deserve God’s blessing: but at the same time why should he bless us if our spiritual state is much like that of Malachi’s Israelites, or John’s Laodiceans?
If nothing else the Book of Malachi can prompt us to some serious self-examination. Are you due for a bit of that?
But wait a minute... isn’t it Malachi who also gives us those uncomfortable words about God “loving Jacob” and “hating Esau”? Yes, indeed. But I’ve run out of space - must leave that till next time...
Meanwhile, here’s a prayer of the hymn-writer William Cowper (1731-1800) which fits well the sombre mood of the Book of Malachi...
Lord, it is my chief complaint/ That my love is weak and faint;/ Yet I love Thee and adore;/ O for grace to love Thee more! Amen.
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