When God Passes Through Text: Amos 5:16-17
Introduction: The Terrifying Presence
We live in an age that wants a domesticated God. We want a God who is a celestial therapist, a divine affirmation machine, a cosmic butler who brings us warm milk and cookies when we are feeling down. We want His presence, but we want it on our terms. We want the warm fuzzies of "God with us" without the consuming fire of a holy God who is, in fact, with us. We want to sing about His presence in our praise songs, but we do not tremble at the thought of what that presence actually entails for a people steeped in sin.
The prophet Amos was sent to a people just like us. The northern kingdom of Israel was prosperous, religious, and deeply corrupt. They had their feast days, their solemn assemblies, and their burnt offerings. They loved the idea of God. They looked forward to the "Day of the Lord" as a time when their God would show up and vanquish all their enemies, leaving them in their comfortable, self-satisfied piety. They wanted God to "pass through" and tidy things up. But Amos comes with a bucket of ice water and a sledgehammer. He tells them that the one thing they should fear most is the very thing they are asking for: the presence of God.
This passage is a description of what happens when the God of armies, the sovereign Lord of the universe, decides to take a walk through your town, through your culture, through your life, not as a friendly tourist, but as a divine Judge. It is a portrait of a society where every place of public life and every symbol of private joy is converted into a theater of wailing. And the reason for it is the most terrifying phrase in the passage: "Because I will pass through the midst of you."
The Text
Therefore thus says Yahweh God of hosts, the Lord,
“There is wailing in all the plazas,
And in all the streets they say, ‘Alas! Alas!’
They also call the farmer to mourning
And professional weepers to wailing.
And in all the vineyards there is wailing
Because I will pass through the midst of you,” says Yahweh.
(Amos 5:16-17 LSB)
A Grief That Stops the World (v. 16)
The pronouncement begins with the full weight of divine authority.
"Therefore thus says Yahweh God of hosts, the Lord, 'There is wailing in all the plazas, And in all the streets they say, ‘Alas! Alas!’ They also call the farmer to mourning And professional weepers to wailing.'" (Amos 5:16 LSB)
Notice who is speaking. This is not the word of Amos the shepherd. This is the word of "Yahweh God of hosts, the Lord." This is the covenant God, the commander of the armies of heaven, the absolute sovereign, Adonai. Every word that follows is backed by infinite power and authority. This is not a suggestion; it is a declaration of what will be.
And what will be? A pervasive, society-wide grief. The wailing is "in all the plazas" and "in all the streets." These are the centers of public life, commerce, and civic discourse. God's judgment is not a private affair. It will be a public spectacle. The entire culture will be engulfed in a singular cry of lament: "Alas! Alas!" This is the sound of a civilization coming apart at the seams. It is the sound of utter, hopeless despair.
The grief is so profound that it disrupts the fundamental patterns of life. "They also call the farmer to mourning." The farmer is the bedrock of the economy, the man whose work is tied to the non-negotiable rhythms of the seasons. For him to be called away from his fields to mourn means that the normal functions of life have ceased. The catastrophe is so great that planting and harvesting have become irrelevant. There is only death.
Furthermore, the grief is so extensive that it requires the hiring of "professional weepers." In the ancient world, these were women hired to mourn loudly at funerals, to give voice to the sorrow of the bereaved. To call for them implies two things. First, the scale of death is massive, like after a great battle or a devastating plague. There are too many funerals for ordinary people to handle. Second, the sorrow is so deep it requires specialists. This is not a quiet, dignified sadness. This is a loud, shrieking, national lament. God is promising a judgment so severe it will bring the entire nation to a dead stop, with nothing left to do but weep.
Joy Turned to Mourning (v. 17a)
The scene of judgment then moves from the public square to the place of celebration.
"And in all the vineyards there is wailing..." (Amos 5:17a LSB)
This is perhaps the most poignant and terrible image in the passage. A vineyard was the symbol of God's blessing, of joy, of celebration, of national prosperity and security. The vineyard was the place of the harvest festival, of singing, of wine, of weddings. It was the picture of the good life under God's covenant favor (Isaiah 5). To say there is wailing in the vineyards is a shocking reversal. It is like saying there is weeping at a wedding feast, or a funeral dirge at a birthday party.
God is telling them that He will take the very symbol of their joy and turn it into the epicenter of their sorrow. Their prosperity, which they had gained through injustice and oppression (as Amos has made clear), will become the fuel for their lament. The places where they felt most secure, most blessed, most happy, will be the very places where the grief is most acute. This is a fundamental principle of God's judgment. The thing you idolize, the thing you trust in instead of God, will be the very instrument of your undoing. Your sin will find you out, and it will turn your wine to poison.
The Terrifying Cause (v. 17b)
The verse concludes with the reason for this all-consuming sorrow. It is short, simple, and absolutely chilling.
"...Because I will pass through the midst of you,” says Yahweh." (Amos 5:17b LSB)
This phrase is a direct and deliberate echo of the tenth plague in Egypt. Before the death of the firstborn, God told Moses, "For I will pass through the land of Egypt on that night, and will strike all the firstborn in the land of Egypt" (Exodus 12:12). For the Egyptians, God's "passing through" meant death and judgment. For the Israelites, protected by the blood of the lamb on their doorposts, God's "passing over" meant salvation and deliverance.
Now, centuries later, God speaks the same word of judgment not to a pagan enemy, but to His own covenant people. Israel has become Egypt. Through their idolatry, their hypocrisy, and their oppression of the poor, they have forfeited their covenant protection. They have forsaken the blood. And so when God comes, He comes not as a Savior but as a Judge. The presence of a holy God among an unholy people is not a blessing; it is a consuming fire.
This is the central lesson for us. We cannot presume upon the grace of God. We cannot treat the covenant as a get-out-of-jail-free card that allows us to live however we please. To be a member of the visible church, to be baptized, to take communion, to sing the songs, is a great privilege. But if our hearts are far from Him, if our lives are marked by unrepentant sin and injustice, that very proximity to holy things becomes our greatest danger. The presence of God is either the greatest comfort or the greatest terror, and the difference is repentance.
The Cross as the Final Passover
This passage is a heavy dose of the law. It is a pronouncement of doom. So where is the good news? The good news is that God has provided a way for us to withstand His holy presence. The good news is that God has made it possible for Him to "pass through" our midst as a Father and not as a Judge.
The ultimate fulfillment of this passage occurred at Calvary. On the cross, God the Father did indeed "pass through" in judgment. He passed through His own Son. All the wailing of Israel, all the covenant curses, all the cries of "Alas! Alas!" were focused and poured out upon the head of Jesus Christ. He became the cursed one. He entered the ultimate darkness. He cried out in dereliction so that we would not have to.
Because Jesus endured God's judicial "passing through," we who are in Him can now enjoy God's fatherly "passing through." He walks in the midst of His people, the church, not to condemn but to bless, to purify, and to save. The blood of the true Passover Lamb, Jesus Christ, is on the doorposts of our hearts. When the Judge comes, He sees not our sin, but the righteousness of His Son.
Therefore, the warning of Amos remains sharp and clear for all who would hear it today. Do not seek the Day of the Lord, do not call for God's presence, if you are not covered by the blood of the Lamb. For the unrepentant, for the hypocrite, for the one who loves his sin more than his Savior, the presence of God means judgment. It means the wailing will come to your plazas, your streets, and your vineyards. But for those who have fled to Christ for refuge, for those who have repented of their sins and trusted in His finished work, the presence of God is our greatest joy. He has passed through in judgment once, upon His Son. And He will pass through again at the end of time, not for our condemnation, but for our final and glorious salvation.