What Does God Want?

Lesson: Micah 6:1-8

Those of us who preach regularly, who interact with Scripture regularly, usually end up with some favorite passages, touchstones that shape our faith. Micah 6:1-8 is one of mine, and in particular Micah 6:8:

God has told you, O mortal, what is good;
and what does the LORD require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?

If you’ve ever wondered what God wants, there it is. Right there in black and white. One simple yet powerful verse. Bam!

In earlier chapters, the prophet Micah explains that God is unhappy with the way God’s people have been living. Micah spoke to the Southern Kingdom of Israel, called Judah, in the 8th century B.C.E. Micah saw that the rich were getting richer and the poor were getting poorer. More than that: the rich were getting richer because the poor were getting poorer. Those with land and power foreclosed on the small plots of land held by farmers. Wealth became concentrated in the hands of a small group of people, while many others were driven into poverty. Compassion and mercy were in short supply, but pious people just went on “worshiping” as though nothing important was happening around them. People went through the right motions, but their hearts were hard and their faces turned away from the suffering of those around them.

Sound familiar?

So, in Chapter 6, the prophet envisions a gigantic courtroom where the people are being called on the cosmic carpet. The prophet calls upon the mountains, the ancient witnesses to all of Israel’s history, to serve as the jury and listen to the case against Judah. The people have become “wearied” by God, which probably means that they’ve become tired of following God’s moral demands. God reminds them of the exodus from Egypt and the deliverance from the hands of the Moabite Balak as evidence that God has delivered on all the divine promises. Judah has no grounds for defense.

Judah doesn’t admit guilt or ask for forgiveness but rushes quickly to “Okay, okay; how can I fix this?” “What do I have to do, God? Just tell me. I’ll do whatever it takes. Burnt offerings, year-old calves, thousands of rams, tens of thousands of rivers of oil?” The defendant can tell that all this still isn’t enough and in desperation, offers his first-born child. “Will that take care of it? Is that what you want?”

But of course, that is not what God wants.

The people of Judah want to fix their relationship with God by doing things that show on the outside but don’t necessarily change them on the inside into people who care about the person standing right in front of them. Is Micah saying worship isn’t important? No. The people are already worshiping. What Micah is saying is something along the lines of that old adage: Sitting in a church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than sitting in a garage makes you a car. He’s saying that our faith should show in our lives, every day, in every encounter, not only in how we spend Sunday morning.

Micah tells the people they’ve missed the point. God wants and requires nothing less than that they live into their covenant with God. In other words, God wants them to become decent human beings. Micah boils this down to three basics: Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God.

I worked with an associate pastor who used to say, “It’s all that simple, and it’s all that hard.” That certainly applies here.

“Love kindness” might seem like the easiest of the three but it’s more than being “nice.” The Hebrew word which most Bibles translate as kindness is hesed, and it can mean mercy, charity, or compassion. Walter Brueggemann wrote that there is a covenantal and community element here that the word “kindness” doesn’t capture. Christine Pohl writes, “Kindness is far more than a single or random action; it is part of a way of life characterized by moral attentiveness that is both respectful of – and helpful to – others. Kindness involves a recognition of our common humanity and frailty that leads us to care about each person’s particular well-being and to treat him or her as deserving of generous response and respect.” I would summarize this, “Treat everyone you meet as though they are a child of God – because they are.”

“Doing justice” is tough for a couple of reasons. For starters, people have a hard time agreeing what justice is. Our politically polarized nation is dramatic proof of this. And besides that, it is so easy to feel overwhelmed. Brueggemann wrote that to “do justice” means to be actively engaged in the redistribution of power in the world, to correct the systemic inequalities that marginalize some for the excessive enhancement of others.” Yikes. That is a big, big job. Can any of us do enough?

Which points us to the third on Micah’s list of requirements: Walk humbly with your God. To “walk humbly with God” means to abandon our sense of self-sufficiency; to understand we can’t do what we need to do alone; we need other people and more importantly, we need God. Walking humbly can be a means to doing justice. By acknowledging that our views are a partial expression of gospel truth – as are the views of those who disagree with us – we make room for the other in our midst. Walking humbly also means understanding that we really can do only so much. When you bang your head against institutional inertia long enough you figure out that systemic change doesn’t happen without the personal transformation of others within the system, and sometimes we can’t just make that happen. Sometimes we have to trust in the grace of a merciful God. So walking humbly with God might mean saying the Serenity Prayer and asking ourselves the question, “What’s worth doing even if we fail?”

That is where many of us find ourselves these days. It helps to have a North Star, an orientation to keep us putting one foot in front of the other: Do justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly with God. It’s all that simple. And it’s all that hard.

© Joanne Whitt 2026 all rights reserved.

Resources:
Walter Brueggemann, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly Gaventa and James D. Newsome, Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV – Year A, James D. Newsome, ed. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995).
Christine Pohl, “Recovering Kindness: An Urgent Virtue in a Ruthless World, in The Christian Century, October 18, 2012, http://www.christiancentury.org/article/2012-10/recovering-kindness.
Scott D. Anderson, “Living By the Word,” in The Christian Century, January 30, 2011, http://www.christiancentury.org/article/2011-01/sunday-january-30-2011.
Brené Brown, Daring Greatly (New York: Gotham Books, 2012).

Which Story?

Isaiah 60:1-6; Matthew 2:1-12

Our traditional notion of who belongs in the Christmas nativity scene comes from a blending of two different Christmas stories. In Luke’s Christmas story you’ll find Joseph and Mary traveling to Bethlehem, no room at the inn, the stable, the sky filled with angels, the amazed shepherds, but no kings. You have to go to Matthew’s gospel for the kings, except they aren’t kings, they’re Persian astrologers, “magi.” What’s more, it doesn’t tell us there are three of them, only that they brought three gifts. There could be 2 or 20, for all we know. And they don’t find Jesus in a stable; they find him in a house.

Part of Matthew’s inspiration for his Christmas story is Isaiah 60, a poem recited to Jews who had been in exile but returned to find the city of Jerusalem in ruins. Isaiah invites his discouraged community to look up, to hope, and to expect everything to change. Yes, he says, darkness will cover the earth. But there will be a shaft of light breaking through the gloom: “Rise, shine, for your light has come. … Nations will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.” That’s where we get the kings.

Matthew’s magi have seen a special star. They know about Isaiah 60, so they go to Jerusalem and take gold, frankincense, and myrrh, apparently appropriate gifts to give to a baby in those days, or at least, a baby king. But when the current king in Jerusalem hears about this, he’s not at all happy. Herod the Great, a vassal of Rome, built his kingdom on political tribute and bloodshed. A new king would mean a new political rival, and as with his other rivals, including his own family members, Herod makes plans to eliminate him.

Matthew’s Christmas story makes Luke’s overcrowded inn seem pretty tame. In his panic, Herod gathers the experts on the law and the prophets, and asks, “Just what does Isaiah 60 say? What’s all this business about camels and gold and frankincense and myrrh?” The scholars tell him: “You’re looking at the wrong story. And so are the magi who just scared the pants off you by telling you they’re looking for a new king.” “Okay, then,” asks Herod, “what’s the right story?” The scholars don’t want to be next on Herod’s hit list so they tell him the right story is Micah 5:2 with a little bit of Second Samuel thrown in for good measure: “And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.” Not Jerusalem, but Bethlehem. Not Isaiah, but Micah.

Micah was a prophet who was not impressed with wealth and power. He’s the one who said, “God has told you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God?” Micah imagined a different future for the people; he imagined they’d be able to organize and resist rulers like Herod. Micah’s story is about the well-being of the people, not of the empire.

Herod tells the magi about Bethlehem because he wants them to do his reconnaissance for him. He tells them to find this newborn king, and then come back and give him the details so he, too, can go pay homage. We, the audience, are supposed to be imagining Herod twirling his mustache like Snidely Whiplash. What Herod plans, of course, is something more deadly than homage.

The magi travel the nine miles from Jerusalem and Herod, from what is corrupt and deadly, to Bethlehem, to what is humble, loving, and world-changing. Matthew’s Christmas story is the story of two different human communities: Jerusalem, the center of the elite, and Bethlehem, with its rural peasants. In 2025, you don’t have to be from the country to be marginalized, and you don’t have to be from a big city to be arrogant. For us, it’s not about urban verses rural; it’s more about world view. But it is still a choice between two stories. A choice between the story that leads to death and darkness, and a story that leads to light and life.

© Joanne Whitt 2025 all rights reserved.

Resources:

Walter Brueggemann, “Off by Nine Miles,” in The Christian Century, December 19-26, 2001.

Jona Lendering, “King Herod the Great,” http://www.livius.org/he-hg/herodians/herod_the_great02.html.