Leftovers

Micah 7:1 What misery is mine! I am like one who gathers summer fruit at the gleaning of the vineyard; there is no cluster of grapes to eat, none of the early figs that I crave.

I love potluck dinners. So many different dishes in the same place. You get to pick what you want and enjoy it. A little of this, and a big scoop of that. No two plates are the same. The first walk through the line is the best. All the choices are still there.

But have you ever arrived late to a potluck? You can tell that the contents of the nearly empty container looked really appetizing since it is all but gone. But you pick up the spoon and scrape the sides hoping for some of the former glory, but it just doesn’t materialize. Disappointment.

Life can be that way sometimes. We arrive a little late and we don’t get what we had hoped for. We read the invitation wrong and we show up thinking you will be there at the opening bell, but it is time for the closing prayer. Empty plates scattered across the tables. Satisfied appetites settled in their chairs engaged in light conversation about how good the food was.

And all you get is scrapings.

Israel has faced the prospect of a coming judgment because of their rebellion and sin. They have been warned repeatedly that the time was getting short, but they didn’t heed the warning. They chose to stay as they were, carrying on in their rebellion.

But not everyone in Israel was on that path to destruction. Some had remained faithful to the LORD. Some had already repented and joined the faithful few. So they were waiting for the compassion and mercy of the LORD to arrive. But instead, they saw the impending judgment about to overtake them.

And this is the place Micah finds himself as he writes our text. He has waited for a wonderful harvest, having seen the crops growing, but all the fruit is gone. His hopes are dashed. There are no grapes in clusters left. They have all been taken already. Only a few dangling lone grapes remain, the meager harvest of the gleaners who gather up what is left.

The blessing of abundant harvest eludes him, his tastebuds ready for the early figs. I know that feeling. Last year the squirrels ate all my figs before I had a chance to harvest them myself. This year I am netting the whole tree! Let’s see who wins. I’m not counting on tasting them.

This chapter is filled with longings and relationship gone unfulfilled. Sounds like COVID-19, doesn’t it. We want to get together for fellowship and worship, but we can’t. We can only taste the sweetness of that future time, not actually partake.