We often hear the question, "Why me?" especially during times of suffering, misfortune, or injustice. The phrase captures our natural instinct to see ourselves as undeserving of hardship. This morning, I want to challenge that question. Instead of asking, "Why me?" perhaps we should consider asking, "Why not me?" Let me start with a story to illustrate this.
A friend of mine once told me about a man on the London Underground during rush hour. For those of you who have never been to London, the tube can get pretty warm, and that is especially true during rush hours as tens of thousands of people crowd into the system each hour, sharing their body heat and pushing the warm air from outside down underground in front of them. As they hear the beeps people run the last few stairs and jam themselves onto the trains even as the doors are closing stopping only as the train doors close moments before the train pulls out of the station. It is often so bad that my Dad, who used to work at THQ would often walk from Waterloo station rather than just take the tube for 2 stops to the office, when it used to be based at Elephant and Castle. On this occasion one man – the last man to make it into the carriage – was squeezed in against the door facing outward. As the train moved away from the station, the walls of the tunnel passed before his eyes, moving faster and faster. The train swayed and bumped. The air was hot and stuffy and smelled as only an old underground train can. The man realised that he felt sick, and the further the train went, the sicker he felt.
Finally the train pulled into the next stop, the door opened – and the man on the train immediately vomited all over an unfortunate man who happened to be standing on the platform waiting to board the train. For several seconds, as the doors stood open, nobody moved. The sick man, the people on the train behind him, the unfortunate man on the platform, the others on the platform – everyone stood still and stared in horror at what had just taken place.
Then the beeps ... and the door closed and the train moved out of the station. Looking down at the mess that covered his suit, the man on the platform wailed, “why me?!”
It’s a humorous but relatable moment. How often have we cried out to God in frustration, feeling that life’s difficulties are uniquely unfair to us? The prophet Amos challenges this perspective by confronting Israel’s sense of entitlement and reminding them of God’s impartiality. Today, we’ll explore how Amos’ message invites us to view suffering, blessing, and fairness through God’s eyes.
The Question of Fairness
Oops! (2)
Amos begins with a striking declaration: “The words of Amos, one of the shepherds of Tekoa—what he saw concerning Israel two years before the earthquake, when Uzziah was king of Judah and Jeroboam son of Joash was king of Israel” (Amos 1:1). Right away, we see that Amos was not a professional prophet. He was a shepherd—an ordinary man—called by God to deliver an extraordinary message. This context is important because it underscores the universality of God’s calling. God does not choose people based on their status, background, or qualifications.
In the opening chapters, Amos paints a picture of God’s judgment. He begins by addressing the sins of Israel’s neighbours: Damascus, Gaza, Tyre, Edom, Ammon, and Moab. The Israelites must have nodded in agreement as Amos condemned these nations for their violence, greed, and betrayal. "They got what was coming to them!" they might have thought.
But then, Amos turns the spotlight inward. He declares that God’s judgment will also fall on Judah and Israel. This was shocking. The Israelites believed they were God’s chosen people, set apart and favoured. How could God treat them the same as their enemies? Wasn’t that unfair?
Here’s the first lesson from Amos: God is impartial. His justice applies equally to everyone, regardless of nationality, status, or perceived privilege. This challenges our human tendency to see ourselves as exceptions to the rules.
To help us grasp this truth, imagine the reaction of a congregation that enjoys hearing about the faults of others. A minister might preach against societal sins like corruption or greed, and the congregation enthusiastically agrees: "Yes, those people need to repent!" But when the sermon turns inward, addressing personal sins like gossip or self-righteousness, the mood changes. People become uncomfortable, defensive, even resentful. Amos’ audience likely felt the same. They were eager to hear about God’s judgment on others but resistant to the idea that they, too, were accountable.
Wrestling with God’s Impartiality
Ugh!
The idea of God’s impartiality can be uncomfortable. If God doesn’t play favourites, then we can’t claim special treatment. Amos reminds us that God’s standards are based on His holiness, not on our achievements or affiliations.
Consider Amos 3:1-2: “Hear this word, people of Israel, the word the Lord has spoken against you—against the whole family I brought up out of Egypt: ‘You only have I chosen of all the families of the earth; therefore I will punish you for all your sins.’”
Think about it. Deep down, we want to believe that life is fair. That good things happen to good people, and bad things happen to bad people. It’s comforting, isn’t it? To think that we can earn God’s favour by being "good enough." But Amos strips away that illusion. He tears it down brick by brick, leaving us standing in the rubble, exposed.
Israel’s special relationship with God didn’t exempt them from judgment; it heightened their responsibility. They had been given the law, the prophets, and countless blessings. Yet they turned away from God’s ways, exploiting the poor, neglecting justice, and engaging in idolatry. Amos’ message is clear: Privilege comes with accountability.
How does this apply to us? We might not think of ourselves as privileged, but many of us enjoy freedoms, opportunities, and resources that others around the world do not. Do we use these blessings to honour God and serve others, or do we take them for granted? When we face trials, do we see them as unfair, or do we recognize that God’s justice is impartial and His ways are higher than ours?
To illustrate, think of the parable of the workers in the vineyard (Matthew 20:1-16). In this story, workers hired at different times of the day all receive the same wage. Those hired early complain, feeling it’s unfair. But the landowner reminds them that he has the right to be generous. Similarly, God’s impartiality may sometimes feel unfair to us, but it reflects His perfect justice and mercy.
The Gospel in God’s Impartiality
Aha!
But there is good news too: God’s impartiality is not just about judgment; it’s also about grace. If God shows no favouritism, then His promises are available to everyone who seeks Him.
Amos 5:4 says, “Seek me and live.” This invitation is universal. It’s not limited to a specific group of people; it’s extended to all who turn to God in repentance and faith. This is a theme echoed throughout Scripture. In Romans 2:11, Paul writes, “For God does not show favouritism.” In Acts 10:34-35, Peter declares, “I now realize how true it is that God does not show favouritism but accepts from every nation the one who fears him and does what is right.”
The impartiality of God is both a challenge and a comfort. It challenges us to examine our hearts and abandon any sense of entitlement. But it also comforts us with the assurance that God’s love and grace are not dependent on our status, accomplishments, or failures. Whether we feel unworthy or superior, God’s message is the same: Seek me and live.
Let’s think about the cross. The sacrifice of Jesus is the ultimate demonstration of God’s impartiality. Romans 3:23-24 reminds us, “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.” Every one of us is equally in need of God’s mercy, and every one of us is equally offered salvation through Jesus.
Living in God’s Justice and Grace
Whee!
Let’s go back to the train scene for a moment. Imagine that the man on the platform, covered in vomit, isn’t left standing there in disbelief. Instead, someone steps forward—a complete stranger—takes off their own pristine coat, drapes it over the man, and says, "Here, let me help." Now imagine that this person doesn’t stop there. They walk him to a nearby store, buy him a new suit, and pay for a taxi to his destination so he doesn’t have to get back on the train. That’s grace. Undeserved. Unmerited. Extravagant. And that’s exactly how God works.
When Amos declares God’s impartiality, it’s not just about judgment—it’s about a justice that brings restoration and a grace that brings new life. God’s justice isn’t like ours, which is so often fuelled by vengeance or self-righteousness. His justice is restorative. It seeks to heal, to set things right, to bring about wholeness. And His grace? It’s a gift so abundant that it overflows into every part of our lives, changing how we see ourselves and the world around us.
Amos 5:24 encapsulates this beautifully: “But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!” Can you picture it? A river of justice, powerful and unstoppable, sweeping away oppression, inequality, and sin. A stream of righteousness, pure and constant, refreshing and renewing everyone it touches. That’s the life God invites us into. A life where His justice and grace are not just abstract concepts but living realities.
But here’s the thing: living in God’s justice and grace isn’t passive. It’s not just about sitting back and basking in the glow of His goodness. It’s active. It’s participatory. It’s about aligning our lives with His values, letting His justice and grace flow through us to others.
When we live in God’s justice and grace, we stop seeing people through the lens of what they deserve. Instead, we see them through the lens of what God desires for them. We see the homeless person not as a nuisance but as a beloved child of God. We see the neighbour who drives us crazy not as an obstacle but as someone in need of grace. We see ourselves—not as the centre of the universe but as part of God’s greater plan to bring justice and grace to the world.
Living in God’s justice and grace changes everything. It changes how we spend our money, how we use our time, how we treat our families, our friends, and even our enemies. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth it. Because when you’re living in God’s justice and grace, you’re living in the fullness of His love.
Responding to God’s Call
Yeah!
Let’s revisit Amos for a moment. When God called Amos, he wasn’t a prophet. He wasn’t even the son of a prophet. He was a shepherd, a fig tree farmer, an ordinary man living an ordinary life. Yet God called him to do something extraordinary: to speak truth to power, to confront injustice, to deliver a message that no one wanted to hear. And Amos said yes. He didn’t make excuses. He didn’t wait for a more convenient time. He didn’t ask God to send someone else. He just said yes.
That’s what responding to God’s call looks like. It’s not about waiting until you feel qualified or ready. It’s about trusting that God will equip you for whatever He’s calling you to do. Because the truth is, even though it has become something of a cliche, God doesn’t call the qualified; He qualifies the called.
It is the moment when you say, "Yes, Lord. I’m all in." It’s the commitment to live as a reflection of God’s impartiality, to let His love flow through you into the lives of others. It’s the courage to confront injustice, to speak out against oppression, to stand with those who are marginalized and forgotten. Because if God’s grace is for everyone, then we are called to embody that grace in how we treat one another.
But the Yeah isn’t just about grand gestures. It’s about the small, everyday choices we make to live out God’s love. It’s about choosing kindness when it would be easier to look the other way. It’s about forgiving when it would be easier to hold a grudge. It’s about giving generously, even when it feels like we don’t have much to give. It’s about seeing the image of God in every person we encounter, and treating them with the dignity and respect they deserve.
So, what’s holding you back? Maybe you’re afraid. Maybe you feel inadequate. Maybe you’re not sure what God is calling you to do. But here’s the good news: you don’t have to have it all figured out. All you have to do is take the next step. Trust God. Say "yes." And watch as He does immeasurably more than all you could ask or imagine.
