Malachi: Return in the fear of the Lord

1. Read Malachi 2:5 and Exodus 20:20 and try to put into your own words the the fear of the Lord. What words, pictures, or experiences would you use to try and capture the idea? The kind of fear God wants us to have is a "seeking fear," not a "fleeing fear." It should drive us towards him, not further away. What is an area where I have been shrinking back or shying away from his presence?
2. What high or low thoughts about God have you been cultivating through your quiet times or the content you're consuming?
3. How does it strike you when you hear that the only safe place from God is in God? What does it look like to "hide your unholiness in the wounds of Christ."
4. Where has the Holy Spirit convicted me that I've been bringing him "gimpy goats" as a sacrifice? In other words, where has my worship been half-hearted––where I've held back my best from God?
5. What is an area I need to confess that I have crossed a line and offended the holiness of God?

Practice: A holy and right fear of God is not something we can manufacture through our own efforts. It is a gift of his grace. But we can assess our practices, routines, and habits this week and ask ourselves, Where do these things contribute to high or low thoughts of God in my heart and mind? What content am I consuming and how is it consuming me? When I am struck with the grace of the fear and wonder of God, how do I direct it back to him in praise and thanksgiving? And what sacrifices have I made in my life that are half-hearted and not worthy of his name? Spend time in prayer asking for a holy fear.

I wonder how many of us have ever considered that fear, when rightly ordered, is actually a virtue.

We have a strong aversion to fear as a society, because it’s such a big problem for us. We’ll do anything and everything to eradicate it. We spend our resources, time, money, energy on managing our fears––and rightly so!!––through all different kinds of methods. We do all this because we know that fear can be crippling and detrimental to our lives.

We are more anxious and fearful than ever, with the ever-increasing knowledge of everything that could (and probably will) kill us––viruses, nuclear wars, cancer, mass shootings; or on the social side, the fear of loneliness, rejection, not fitting into any social group, not fitting into your pants, wondering if one more piece of cake will give me diabetes.

But this passage offers a different perspective on fear––a different side of the coin. All throughout Scripture, in the Old and New Testaments, there is a kind of virtuous fear that leads to life and peace.

Our emotions were made by God and fear is one of the strongest. But we have to distinguish what kind of fear and where that fear is aimed.

On the one hand, the Bible tells us that perfect love casts out fear and tells us over and over, “Do not be afraid!”

And yet, it also says that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom (Prov. 9:10) and in Luke that the mercy of God is for those who fear him (Luke 1:50).

So, we see distinct categories of fear in Scripture that raise all manner of questions. Which kind is good and which kind is bad? What does it really mean to fear the Lord? Do fear and love coexist?

The prophet Malachi helps us with this. It’s the very last book in the OT and calls the people once again back to covenant faithfulness with God. Their worship had broken down and had no substance to it. God calls it vain, because they weren’t bringing him their best. He says they had despised his name and treated him with contempt through their practices.

So, through these discourses with the people, God diagnoses the current problem, shows them what his heart was from the beginning, and then offers a future hope for those who fear his name.

The whole book is very personal. It has God speaking in the first person more than any other of the prophets and uses his covenantal name YHWH. But he also repeatedly calls himself the Lord of Hosts. For this people who have been attacked, exiled from their land, and brought back, they are all too familiar with the hosts of armies from the nations surrounding them. But God calls himself repeatedly the Lord of Hosts, because HE has his own host of angelic armies, HE routes kings and kingdoms according to HIS divine will. This God is personal and covenantal and draws near, but in a way that never diminishes that he is powerful and majestic and has the name above every other name.

This book that is so weighty with God’s grandeur begins with his love. The very first thing he says to the people is this:

Remember, LORD in all caps is how our Bibles render Yahweh, the personal, covenant name of God, because they considered his name too great to even say out loud. They didn’t want to use it lightly.

By his divine choice, he selected these people who would be called by his name and make his name great among the nations. And he made a way through his covenant for them to draw near and live with him.

But immediately we’re met with the objection by the people, “How have you loved us?”

Imagine the impact of such a question. Have you ever had a child or a spouse or another close family member or friend question your love for them? Imagine giving and sacrificing and showing affection and compassion, pouring yourself out in love, only to be met with disdain and disbelief of your heart and true intentions towards them.

This is the state of the people’s heart toward God at this time. And maybe you’ve asked this same question of God when going through grief from a loss or an illness, or you’ve had to wait for something, or someone else gets the promotion at work that you’ve earned. Maybe your family or your business is falling apart, or you never seem to have enough financially to make ends meet. It’s very common to question God in these times and ask where he is or if he even loves us.

But he has shown his heart by giving us himself and drawing near to us. For the Jews, he did this through the covenant and the sacrificial system. For us, he’s shown us the fullness of his heart toward us on the cross, offering us the only way into his presence by accepting his sacrifice. And what do we do with that gift? Unfortunately, if things aren’t going our way, we often treat it with contempt as if it’s not enough.

Now, processing these questions and doubts is a very normal part of the human experience and the Psalms especially show us it’s good to work through these things with God in the context of community, maybe in your Life Group or with a biblical counselor, for example.

But it’s different to choose to stay there and let our hearts grow cold toward him. If we have a problem, he wants us to come to him with it. We should be processing our lives before God, but we too often forget our place. That's why God says this:

God has invited and brought the people into this incredible covenant of life and peace, but they treated God as if he were on the same level as them. He told his people in Psalm 50, “You thought I was just like you.”

It’s because of this that the people have despised his name for having any claim on their lives. Instead of bringing their best animals to sacrifice, they hold back and only bring God what is blind, lame, or sick. They’re bringing the gimpy goats.

Their worship has completely broken down because they fail to see God for who he is. And they fail to see their proper place in light of who he is. He says to them, “…where is my fear?” And he would say the same to us today. Where is the wonder, reverence, respect, trembling in delighted and joyful awe of his presence?

This is why A.W. Tozer tells us in Knowledge of the Holy, “What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us…Worship is pure or base as the worshiper entertains high or low thoughts of God.”

They entertained low thoughts of God, so they brought him their gimpy goats. And so, God says in v. 10, “Oh that there were one among you who would shut the doors, that you might not kindle fire on my altar in vain.”

God arranged this whole covenant and sacrificial system so that they could be in fellowship with him and dwell in his presence and make his name great among the nations. But he says he would rather them shut the doors and go home than offer this kind of half-hearted, debased worship, that only brings him lip service, while, in practice, treating his name with contempt.

It’s worth asking, what gimpy goats have we been bringing to God? Where is my worship half-hearted? What secret sin have I been harboring that’s affecting my worship and intimacy with him? What kinds of content am I consuming on a daily basis that gradually makes my view of God dwindle? What has God called me to sacrifice or where has he called me to be generous and I’ve held back? Where has he called me to a greater level of service, but I’ve been content staying comfortable?

We have a worship problem, and it starts with the kinds of thoughts we entertain about God and then the habits we develop that further diminish our view of him.

At our worst, we don’t want a king. We want a domesticated, emotional support pet we can take on walks and cuddle, and then leave at home and not have to bring into the rest of our lives except to show off pictures of the time we dressed it up for a holiday.

Nominal Christianity wants a domesticated god, not one who rules our lives. It wants to see where God fits into OUR lives and OUR schedules rather than how we fit into HIS world. It wants a therapeutic Jesus who has really good advice for living your best life now.

If those are the gimpy goats we’re bringing, God would rather we shut the doors and go home.

One commentator says, “We imagine that we can live in a neutral zone, and avoid decisive action. But there is no neutral zone. If we are not building our marriages year by year, then they are fraying. If we are not growing in our trust in God, then that trust is shrinking. If we are not dying to sin, then sin is growing in power. If we are not living in righteousness, then we are walking away from it. If we are not keeping in step with the Spirit, then we are walking to a different drumbeat, our own selfish desires. If the fruit of the Spirit is not increasing in our lives, then the works of the flesh will be gaining in power over us.”

This sort of half-hearted lip-service to God is not a neutral zone. It’s a gimpy goat. And it appalls him.

So, God says at the end of chapter 1, “Cursed be the cheat who has a male in his flock, and vows it, and yet sacrifices to the Lord what is blemished. For I am a great King, says the Lord of hosts, and my name will be feared among the nations.” (Mal. 1:14, ESV)

Our current problem, like the people here, is that our worship breaks down over time, because we are desensitized and grow further from the fear of the Lord, not standing daily in awe of him in all his goodness and glory, and entertaining high thoughts of him.

Our society only grows more anxious and fearful, because it’s lost this fear of God. When you don’t have a healthy fear of the Lord, the fear of man looms larger. We care more about the opinions of our friends or acquaintances or even total strangers liking our content.

When that happens, we treat his name with disdain through our actions.

That’s our current problem, but what is it that God desires from us? What is the fear of the Lord he wants to instill in us?

Let's pick it up in chapter 2.

Do you ever read your Bible with your 21st century eyes and think, God, what are you saying???

But this is no emotional, kindergarten, schoolyard insult. The word “dung” here is similar to a technical term we have in English for the entrails or waste parts of the butchered sacrificial animal (especially the undigested contents of the stomachs). That’s important because, according to Levitical law (Lev. 4:11–12; 8:17; 16:27), this dung or waste parts (Heb. pereš), along with the animal’s head, legs, and entrails, are meant to be disposed of by burning on the ash heap outside the camp. You have to go all the way outside the camp to burn them.

God is effectively telling the priests, “I’m going to make you wear on your faces the shame of these sacrifices that don’t even belong insinde the camp.”

And then he tells the priests, “…and you shall be taken away with it.” (Mal. 2:3, ESV)

After what he said earlier about wishing someone would shut the doors to the temple, this is as strong of a rejection God could make for their half-hearted worship. One commentator said, “No more radical condemnation of the [priestly] line can be imagined.”

Here’s our verse. Whatever this fear of the Lord is, it is wrapped up with the Jewish conception of life and peace (shalom)––fullness of life and wholeness. They’re tightly connected. It’s a rightly-ordered fear that brings life.

No one word we have can do justice to the concept of the fear of the Lord. All words fall short at some level. It’s something you have to unpack. Surveying the fear of the Lord throughout Scripture, you could say it’s a wild mix of deep awe and wonder, reverence and respect, pulse-racing delight, intense joy, and knee-knocking, trembling because you’re in the presence of someone so great and beautiful and powerful, and yet so humble and lowly at the same time. Both ends of the spectrum instill awe in us. It’s not a fear that makes you run and hide, but one that sucks you in, draws you nearer to investigate, even as your breath grows shallow and your heart beats faster. It’s this amazed, reverent, jaw-dropping, splendor that draws you further into his presence.

You see the distinction in Exodus 20:20 where God is thundering on Mount Sinai and the people don’t want to talk to God, they want Moses to do the talking for them.

Moses wasn’t contradicting himself. He’s using the same word in Hebrew, just the noun and verb forms. We’re told not to be afraid, but to have the fear of the Lord. To fear and not be afraid is a paradox of faith. Michael Reeves says, “I want you to rejoice in this strange paradox that the gospel both frees us from fear and gives us fear. It frees us from our crippling fears, giving us instead a most delightful, happy, and wonderful fear.”

We sing about it in Amazing Grace,

“‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, And grace my fears relieved.”

It’s not the kind of fear the cripples us, but a fear that enables and empowers us. It’s not a fear that makes us run and hide, but one that draws us further into his terrifying beauty. Hosea 3:5 speaks of a time when “…the children of Israel shall return and seek the Lord their God, and David their king, and they shall come in fear to the Lord and to his goodness.” (ESV) It’s a “seeking fear,” not a “fleeing fear,” as Charles Spurgeon put it. Any fear which drives us away from God is a sinful fear. But the fear that draws us nearer towards God, Spurgeon says, is a virtue to be cultivated.

For example, on the one hand, the book of Hebrews can talk about judgment for sinners and say, “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” (Heb. 10:31). That’s a dreadful fear of God that retreats from him in fear of judgment. It’s the kind of fear the demons have that make them flee from his presence. It’s the kind Adam and Eve had when they hid in shame in the garden.

When we’re caught in cycles of habitual sin, we can tend to fear God in this way, knowing well that we’re undeserving of his grace and forgiveness and so moving away from him in shame. That is a fleeing fear, and it’s not what he wants for us.

1 John 4:18 says of that kind of shrinking, retreating fear, “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.”

When you come to Christ, his perfect love does cast out fear of punishment, because he took the punishment we deserved.

That’s why A.W. Tozer says, “We must hide our unholiness in the wounds of Christ as Moses hid himself in the cleft of the rock while the glory of God passed by. We must take refuge from God in God. Above all, we must believe that God sees us perfect in His Son while He disciplines and chastens and purges us that we may be partakers of His holiness.”

What a thought. When we sin, the only safe place from God is in God.

It’s a fear that draws us near as he transforms us from one degree of glory to another.

Where have you been running from God? Where have you been too ashamed to approach him? His invitation is to run into his arms, to hide your unholiness in his wounds, because when we hide ourselves in Christ, God sees Jesus when he looks at us. You see, the love of God and the fear of God are intrinsically bound and inseparable. They’re not at odds with each other, but work in a perfect harmony.

Charles Spurgeon says, “What is this fear of God? I answer, first, it is a sense of awe of his greatness. Have you never felt this sacred awe stealing insensibly over your spirit, hushing, and calming you, and bowing you down before the Lord? It will come, sometimes, in the consideration of the great works of nature. Gazing upon the vast expanse of waters,—looking up to the innumerable stars, examining the wing of an insect, and seeing there the matchless skill of God displayed in the minute; or standing in a thunderstorm, watching, as best you can, the flashes of lightning, and listening to the thunder of Jehovah’s voice, have you not often shrunk into yourself, and said, “Great God, how terrible art thou!”—not afraid, but full of delight, like a child who rejoices to see his father’s wealth, his father’s wisdom, his father’s power,—happy, and at home, but feeling oh, so little!”

My daughters who love to do all sorts of artwork and show it off and hear, “Good job!” They’ll see a breathtaking sunset and their first thought now is, “Wow, good job, God!” They see it as him showing off. And there’s an important principle here. You can’t conjure up the fear of God or manufacture it yourself. It’s something God gives as a gift. But when you are gripped by that sense of awe, a good practice is to direct it back in praise and thanksgiving. I don’t care if your mind tells you that it’s just light refracting through ozone layers. He created it in all its splendor. And when we’re gifted with something good that takes our breath away, we should direct it back to him in praise. Because “Every good and perfect gift comes from above, coming down from the Father of lights...” (James 1:17).

So, there’s a kind of fear of God that repels us, that makes us flee and hide. And there’s another fear which draws us in and moves us closer towards God. The first will leave us desolate when we find there is no place to hide from his presence. But the second offers a glorious future hope. Malachi is telling us that the fire is coming, but there are two very different places you could find yourself when that fire comes.

The refiner’s fire is one that is super-heated to burn away the impurities in precious metals. He is purifying us and transforming us into a kind of people for himself, but that requires a burning away of the impurities. But look at the promise given for those he refines:

Those who fear the Lord are God’s treasured possession. But for everyone else, there remains a terrifying judgment.

See the imagery of fire used in both places. This refiner’s fire and the fire of judgment in the Day of the Lord. It was Dallas Willard who said, “The fires of heaven burn hotter than the fires of hell.” There will be a contrast in the end between those who hid themselves in the wounds of Christ and were refined by the flame, made purer by it, but those who do not are left desolate by it.

God’s desire is that you come to him. He alone is our greatest good.

Look at the joy and healing and wholeness promised in God for those who fear him.

The only safe place from God is in God.

And it’s the most awesome and joyful and terrifyingly beautiful place you could be.

That’s the call today. Return to God in the fear of the Lord.
Don’t run anymore. Don’t hide from him.
When you feel the urge to run, press deeper.
And when you are gripped by the awe and delight of who he is and what he’s done, direct it back to him in praise and thanksgiving.