On Wednesday evenings, we have spent the last year studying through the Minor Prophets. We are just about finished with that as we are in the final book, Malachi. If you are not familiar with Malachi, it consists almost entirely of a series of disputation speeches: an assertion is made, usually about God’s character; a hypothetical rebuttal in the form of a question follows; the prophet then restates the initial premise and offers evidence to demonstrate his claim.
A couple of weeks ago, we were looking at the second and longest of these disputations, found in Malachi 1:6-2:9. It concerns a corrupt priesthood who despise God. The underlying problem is essentially that a spirit of apathy had permeated the community; priests had come to consider serving God a burden and a nuisance. That led to inattention and just going through the motions, particularly shown in offering lame and diseased animals in sacrifice rather than the best of the flocks as the Law commanded.
As foreign as that specific historical context is, the principles of Malachi are strikingly relevant for us. The priests hearts are not right with God and think that he will be satisfied with mere ritualism. And even that is not something they truly want to engage in. Verse 13 in particular stands out to me: But you say, ‘What a weariness this is,’ and you snort at it, says the Lord of hosts. You bring what has been taken by violence or is lame or sick, and this you bring as your offering! Shall I accept that from your hand? says the Lord. (Mal 1:13)
Do we ever offer the equivalent of sick animals to the Lord? Anytime we figure our budget and only come to our contribution to the church last, out of what amounts to our spare change, we do. Anytime we make our plans and everything that does not involve worshipping or serving him takes precedence, we do.
Do we ever view worship is burdensome? Do we ever think that mere ritual is what satisfies? That we have those who only check off the box for their weekly Sunday morning assembly answers the question. Why, percentage wise, do we have poor attendance in Sunday School and on Wednesdays compared to the worship assembly? Why do parents not bring their children to Bible class? Why is it that we cannot count on people to attend small groups who have ostensibly committed to being there? Why is it that we can ask for volunteers without response?
Could it be that we are infected with apathy? That our hearts are not right with God?
As I was pondering these things a week ago in the aftermath of our class, a friend of mine shared a poem on Facebook. This is an original composition by John W. Boyd, preacher at the North Marshall Church of Christ in Kentucky. I think it offers something to think about.
Train Up a Child
The week is full, and time is tight,
The days rush by from morn to night.
But twice a week, the call is clear
To gather where God’s voice draws near.
Sunday’s dawn and Wednesday’s close,
Are not just days, but roots that grow.
They anchor little hearts, not in sacred ground,
But where truth is taught and grace is found.
Don’t say, “We’re too busy,” or “Next week, sure,”
Their souls grow roots through weekly cure.
The Gospel waits, the Spirit calls
But habits falter if duty stalls.
The world cries out with louder claims,
Of sports and screens and fleeting fame.
But hush that noise and choose instead
The path where Christ’s own sheep are fed.
For little eyes are always near,
They see the things you hold most dear.
They watch when faith is brushed aside,
And learn the ways we choose to hide.
When Sunday comes, and you prepare,
To bow in worship, kneel in prayer,
They see the weight your choices bear
And learn what truly matters there.
When Wednesday night brings one more chance
To let a child, observe your stance
With gathered saints who seek His face,
You train your child to love that place.
You teach them when you take your stand
That God comes first, not just on hand.
That midweek work and weekend rest
Can still bow down to what is best.
But let them see your head held high,
Your voice sing hymns that kiss the sky.
A legacy of grace and truth
I thank the Lord… I learned in my youth.
-John W. Boyd
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