A Year Held in His Hands| A New Year Sermon
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Alright, here we are—the final chapter of the Book of Amos. Chapter 9. If you’ve been following this journey through Amos, you know it’s been intense, sobering, and honestly, heavy. But also, hopeful in its own gritty way. Amos wasn’t writing fairy tales. He gave us a straight-up dose of divine reality. And now, in Chapter 9, we land at both judgment and restoration. Final reckoning and future redemption. It’s a powerful way to end this prophetic book. Let’s dig in.
"I saw the Lord standing beside the altar, and he said: ‘Strike the capitals until the thresholds shake, and shatter them on the heads of all the people.’”
Amos 9:1 opens up with a vision. Not just any vision—but God Himself standing by the altar. That’s not the usual feel-good church image we’re used to, right? This is serious. The altar here isn’t a place of worship anymore—it’s a place of judgment.
This vision is different than the previous ones Amos had (locusts, fire, plumb line, etc.). This one is final. It’s God standing at the center of Israel’s religious life—the altar—and declaring judgment. It's like He’s saying, “Even your religion can’t save you anymore. I see right through it.”
He tells whoever’s listening to strike the temple’s support beams so the whole thing crashes down on the people. Brutal, right? But that’s how far Israel has gone. Their sins—especially the hypocrisy of worshiping God while practicing injustice—have piled up to the heavens.
And God says there’s nowhere to run. No escaping. Even if they dig into the depths of Sheol (the grave), or try climbing up to heaven, or hide on Mount Carmel, or sink into the sea—God’s hand will reach them. It’s like Psalm 139 in reverse. You know how David said, “Where can I go from your Spirit?” But in this case, it’s not about being comforted by God’s presence—it’s about being caught by His justice.
These verses are like a poetic pause to remind us just who God is.
“The Lord, the God of hosts, he who touches the earth and it melts…”
It’s like the curtain is pulled back and Amos says, “Hey, in case you forgot, the One we’re talking about here? He controls it all.” Earthquakes, tides, heavens, creation—everything. This is not some weak tribal deity or local god who needs defending. This is Yahweh, the God who formed the mountains and created the winds.
These verses are meant to inspire reverence. A holy fear. Not terror for terror’s sake—but a wake-up call. Israel had been treating God like a mascot for their nation, someone to bless their politics and rituals. But He’s the God of all creation. You don’t play games with that kind of power.
Now here’s a curveball:
“Are you not like the Cushites to me, O people of Israel?”
Wait, what? God’s saying Israel is no different from the Cushites? Or the Philistines? Or the Syrians?
Yup. That’s exactly it.
See, Israel had this assumption—they were God’s special people (which was true), so they could do whatever they wanted (which was false). They thought that being chosen meant being privileged without responsibility. But God’s flipping that logic. He reminds them He brought other nations up too—Philistines from Caphtor, Arameans from Kir, etc. He’s saying, “You’re not above My justice just because you have a covenant.”
This doesn’t mean God’s covenant with Israel was meaningless. What it means is that God’s justice is impartial. Privilege doesn’t equal a free pass. With great blessing comes great accountability. Sound familiar? It should.
Now we start getting a glimmer—just a glimmer—of hope.
“Behold, the eyes of the Lord GOD are upon the sinful kingdom, and I will destroy it from the surface of the ground, except that I will not utterly destroy the house of Jacob,” declares the LORD.
So yes—judgment is coming. The “sinful kingdom” (aka Israel) will be brought down. But God says, “I won’t wipe out Jacob completely.” There’s a remnant. A flicker of mercy in the middle of the wrath.
He’s going to sift Israel like grain. Shake them in a sieve. And every pebble—every guilty one—will be caught and judged. But the wheat? The faithful ones? They’ll remain. That’s important. This isn’t destruction for the sake of destruction. It’s a refining. A purification.
It’s a theme we see across the Bible—God judges sin, but He preserves a remnant. Not because they’re perfect, but because He’s merciful.
Now here comes the switch. From doom to hope. From judgment to restoration.
“In that day I will raise up the booth of David that is fallen...”
This is powerful. The “booth” or “tent” of David had collapsed. Israel’s monarchy had fallen. The kingdom was divided and broken. But God says, “I’m gonna rebuild it.” Not just structurally—but spiritually. He’s going to restore the line of David, pointing forward to the Messiah—Jesus.
This prophecy gets quoted in Acts 15 during the Jerusalem Council. James, the brother of Jesus, connects this promise to the inclusion of Gentiles in the church. That’s huge. It means God’s restoration isn’t just about Israel’s politics—it’s about the global reign of Christ, where Jews and Gentiles worship together.
“That they may possess the remnant of Edom and all the nations who are called by my name…”
This isn’t about empire. It’s about expansion of God’s kingdom to all peoples. Even Edom, Israel’s long-time enemy. All those who call on the name of the Lord will be part of this new community. That’s grace. That’s gospel.
And now—finally—we land on a picture of abundance. Restoration to the max.
“Behold, the days are coming,” declares the LORD, “when the plowman shall overtake the reaper…”
What’s that mean? It means the harvest will be so plentiful that the fields won’t even be done reaping before it’s time to plant again. The hills will drip with wine. Crops will flourish. There will be peace, security, and prosperity.
This isn’t just economics. It’s about a reversal of the curse. The land that had been dried up by drought and judgment will be fertile again. God will “plant” His people in their land, and they’ll never be uprooted.
“They shall plant vineyards and drink their wine, and they shall make gardens and eat their fruit.”
This language echoes Eden. It also echoes the promises in Deuteronomy—blessings for obedience, but this time secured by God Himself, not by Israel’s ability to perform.
Glad you asked. Here’s a few things I think we really gotta chew on:
He’s at the altar. At the heart of our religion. He knows when it’s fake. He knows when injustice hides behind worship. We can’t fool Him.
Amos uses all the extremes—Sheol, heaven, sea, Carmel—not to scare us but to remind us that God is not localized or limited. He’s the God of everywhere and everyone.
If anything, it puts you more on the hook. Amos 9:7 shatters any sense of religious elitism. Being chosen is a call to live rightly, not a get-out-of-jail-free card.
Even in wrath, God remembers mercy. He sifts, but He doesn’t erase. He disciplines, but He doesn’t abandon. And the story doesn’t end with ruin—it ends with renewal.
That “booth of David” getting rebuilt? That’s Jesus. He’s the King who reigns forever, and through Him, all nations are welcomed into God’s family. Amos 9 is messianic—even if Amos didn’t fully see how.
Wine, gardens, fruit, land—these are literal blessings. But they point to something deeper: security, joy, peace. The kind only God can bring.
Amos ends with hope, but it’s a hope that comes after the reckoning. And that’s how life works too, right? Sometimes we want resurrection without the cross. But real transformation often begins with God tearing down what we’ve built in our pride. Then, and only then, He builds something better—something rooted in Him.
So maybe you’ve been going through your own “sifting” lately. Maybe you’ve felt the shaking of your own personal altar. If that’s the case, don’t lose heart. God doesn’t shake us to destroy us—He shakes us to save us. To refine us. To restore us.
Just like He did for Israel.
And if He can raise up the fallen tent of David… then surely He can restore your broken places too.
Closing Prayer
Lord, thank You for the book of Amos. Thank You for the honesty, the discomfort, the wake-up call. And thank You even more for the hope at the end. Help us not to hide behind religion or pretend that You can’t see our hearts. Instead, refine us. Shake out what needs to go. And rebuild us on Your truth. Restore us, Lord—not just with blessings, but with You. Amen.
Keep Reading, Keep Wrestling
Thanks for sticking with me through Amos. This book isn’t always easy, but it’s necessary. It reminds us that God isn’t tame—but He is good. And He’s not done yet. Next up: the prophet Obadiah—or if you're feeling bold, dive straight into Jonah. Either way, keep reading. Keep wrestling. Keep coming back to the Word.
God’s not through with you yet.
Until next time,
– A fellow traveler in the Word
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