Malachi's People

Pastoral Wisdom from 2 Chronicles

I’d like to introduce you to a story-teller friend of mine.^¹ For a couple of months I met with him daily, listening to his stories. These stories at times seemed so theologically simplistic that I wanted to argue with him. I occasionally felt compelled to insert a nuance here and a qualifier there. But they were his stories, influenced by his commitments, and so, over time, I protested less and listened more. The more I listened, the more I wanted something of what this man had, an unpretentious, heartfelt, and uncynical faith. The God he knew was living and kind and compassionate and that seemed to impact everything about him.

Technically, I’ve never met this man, nor do I know his name. He’s the author of the biblical books of First and Second Chronicles, and so he’s known to us only as “the Chronicler,” which is kind of a cool sounding, well-deserved superhero name. We’ve all, though, in real life, met people like him. These superheroes are anonymous to most of the world, they’re unpretentious in their convictions, and they’re steady in their faith. I call them “Malachi’s People.” We need them in our lives.

Malachi, the fifth-century B.C. prophet, was well acquainted with and deeply critical of the powerful in Israel. But he was aware of another class of people, a group of whom he speaks with great warmth. These are those who simply

. . . feared the LORD and esteemed his name.

These are the ones honored by God.

“They shall be mine . . . in the day when I make up my treasured possession, and I will spare them as a man spares his son who serves him.²

They lack renown and position. They are uncomplaining. And they fear God without interest in personal gain. The bright, central core of their simple faith sustains them, and God is pleased with them.

The Chronicler was one like this, which I think is why I’m drawn to him. As he chronicled the history of Israel, he wrote of the nation’s persistent rebellion against God. He spoke of God’s judgment. But still, his eye was fixed on and hopeful for God’s compassion.

The LORD, the God of their fathers, sent persistently to them by his messengers, because he had compassion on his people and on his dwelling place.^⁠³

Even in the midste of great darkness, the Chronicler reminds me to look for mercy. We need friends like this, who remind us of the ever present kindness of God when we struggle to see it. When my heart is

Prone to wander, Lord I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love^⁠⁴

I need people around me whose lives and demeanor remind me that God’s compassion is still there, perhaps just over the horizon, but nevertheless certain.

God, kindly, has over the years surrounded me with such people. From my parents to early pastors to friends to mentors to classmates to writers, I’ve been blessed with men and women living before me their hopeful and uncomplicated faith. These are Malachi’s people, and they sustain us.

Prominent preachers, whose voices fill conference halls and arenas, may have a momentary, seismic impact upon us, but it’s the faithfulness of Malachi’s people that will sustain us. They model for us perseverance and joy over the long journey. By their faithfulness we are kept faithful.

Elizabeth, our church’s children’s ministry director, once showed me a picture of, a group of middle-aged women cutting out flannelgraph pictures for their church’s Sunday school. These women have names known to Elizabeth, but to few others. They’re doing a task some would mock, using time others might judge as wasted, to create a low tech visual for a bunch of kids. These are women with no sophisticated theology or complex pedagogical theory. They simply know that God loves them, and they are excited to tell the story of that love to children.

This picture has meaning for Elizabeth because she was one of those children. She is who she is because of these women, because of Malachi’s people. God in his kindness puts such people in our path. Their lives simply and joyfully point us to the deep compassion and faithfulness of God so that we might not forget.

We need them.

And we need to be them.

We pastors have been challenged to be executives heading an enterprise. We’ve been told we are generals mobilizing an army. Maybe instead we’re meant to be people of a simple and joyful faith shepherding other sheep to trust in the compassion of the one true God. Hanging out with someone like the Chronicler, or others like him, can recenter us in that way.

The hymn writer challenges us with a sentiment deeply foreign to the entrepreneurial American ideal that often animates us as pastors. She says

I would not have the restless will
that hurries to and fro,
seeking for some great thing to do
or secret thing to know . . . .

This is the spirit of Malachi’s people. We pastors are not here for some great thing to do, but to model a way of being, to be, like Malachi’s people,

. . . content to fill a little space,
if thou be glorified.⁵

That could be our super-power.

1. You can listen to this post here or here.

2. Malachi 3:16, 17

3. Chronicles 36:15

4. Robert Robinson

5. Anna Waring