Amos Chapter 4
“Hear this word, you cows of Bashan, who are on the mountain of Samaria, who oppress the poor, who crush the needy, who say to your husbands, ‘Bring wine, let us drink!’” (Amos 4:1)
Amos begins this section with aggressive and deliberate language aimed at the wealthy women of Samaria. Coming from a shepherd and farmer, not a court prophet or scholar, the prophet speaks plainly and unapologetically. He calls these women “cows of Bashan,” comparing them to the well-fed, luxurious cattle from the rich grazing lands of Bashan in northern Israel, the modern-day Golan Heights. These cattle were known for being fat, strong, and well-cared-for. The insult is intentional. Amos is not simply commenting on physical appearance, but on their lifestyle marked by ease, wealth, appetite, and indifference to righteousness.
This insult is not without biblical precedent. In Psalm 22:12, David speaks of the “strong bulls of Bashan” surrounding him, referencing power, strength, and pride. Ezekiel 39:18 speaks of the “fatlings of Bashan,” referring to animals prepared for sacrificial judgment. Amos uses this image to condemn the women of Israel who live in luxury while ignoring righteousness. Even though in ancient times fullness was associated with prosperity and divine favor, no woman in any era has appreciated being likened to a fattened animal destined for slaughter. Amos uses it intentionally to shock, to awaken a numb and self-indulgent society.
Their sin was not that they had wealth. Their guilt rested in how they acquired and used it. Amos says they “oppress the poor” and “crush the needy.” Their comfort came at the expense of others. Whether or not they personally exploited anyone, their constant demands fueled injustice. Their husbands and leaders, pressured to maintain their lifestyle, engaged in oppression, bribery, and corruption. These women prioritized pleasure and prosperity rather than righteousness and compassion. They demanded from their husbands, “Bring wine, let us drink,” showing a lifestyle focused only on indulgence and luxury, unconcerned with the suffering around them.
These weren’t merely social flaws, but spiritual failures. Their lives revealed hearts hardened to God and to fellow Israelites. They feasted while others starved. They cared about wine, couches, and leisure while ignoring the needs of the oppressed. Just as fattened cattle are prepared for slaughter, they were unknowingly preparing themselves for judgment. God saw their actions, their attitudes, and their indifference. They may have been socially esteemed, but heaven saw them as fattened livestock awaiting divine judgment.
“The Lord GOD has sworn by His holiness: Behold, the days shall come upon you, when He will take you away with fishhooks, and your posterity with fishhooks. And ye shall go out at the breaches, every cow at that which is before her; and ye shall cast them into Harmon, saith the LORD.” (Amos 4:2–3)
God responds to the indulgent, unrepentant women of Israel with a declaration that leaves no room for doubt. “The Lord GOD has sworn by His holiness.” God swears by the one attribute that defines all His actions. Holiness is the essence of His character; it is His absolute moral perfection. Since there is no one greater by whom He can swear, He swears by Himself. This means His judgment is not only certain, but it is anchored in His own nature. For God to ignore sin, especially the oppression of the weak by the powerful, would be to deny His own holiness. That is impossible. Therefore, judgment is guaranteed.
The language that follows is violent and humiliating. God says He will take them away “with fishhooks.” This is not symbolic only; this is prophetic and literal. The Assyrians, who would conquer Israel in 722 BC, were known for their brutal treatment of captives. Archaeological discoveries and Assyrian reliefs depict prisoners being led with hooks pierced through their lips or noses, strung together like fish on a line. It was both torture and humiliation. The women who once commanded “Bring wine, let us drink,” would one day be marched away in chains, stripped of dignity, dragged like animals. They who prided themselves on luxury would be paraded through the broken walls of their own ruined city.
“You will go out through broken walls, each one straight ahead of her.” The image is of total collapse. The walls of Samaria would be breached by enemy armies. There would be no pride, no negotiating, no orderly exit. Each woman would be forced out in a straight line, through the gaps in the walls, like cattle being herded out of a pen. The same walls that once symbolized safety and separation from danger would no longer protect them. Their pride would be shattered like the stones of their city.
“And ye shall be cast into Harmon.” The exact location of “Harmon” is debated, but the meaning is clear. It is a place of exile, scattering, and shame. Whether it refers to a mountain region or a remote fortress used to hold prisoners, the point is unmistakable: these women who lived only for pleasure would be removed from everything they knew. Their homes, vineyards, ivory couches, and mirrors would be left behind. They would be carried off to a distant land as captives.
This passage is not only judgment against individual sin, but against a culture that had forgotten God. These women enjoyed the blessings of God—marriage, prosperity, security—but used them for self-focus, comfort, and excess while neglecting righteousness. They did not return to the LORD, therefore the LORD would come to them in judgment. What they would not surrender willingly would be taken by force. The holiness of God demanded it, and He swore by Himself that it would come to pass.
“Come to Bethel, and transgress; at Gilgal multiply transgression; and bring your sacrifices every morning, and your tithes after three years. And offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving with leaven, and proclaim and publish the freewill offerings: for this like you, O ye children of Israel, saith the Lord GOD.” (Amos 4:4–5)
God now turns from condemning the women of Israel to addressing the nation’s empty religion. His words are sharp, almost sarcastic. “Come to Bethel, and transgress; at Gilgal multiply transgression.” Bethel and Gilgal were major religious centers in the northern kingdom. Bethel was where Jeroboam I had set up a golden calf so the people would not go to Jerusalem to worship the LORD. Gilgal was used for false worship and idolatrous practices. These places kept the name of Yahweh, but they denied His truth. God is saying, “Go ahead, keep going to your altars. Keep worshiping—but understand, all you are doing is sinning more.”
They brought sacrifices “every morning,” and tithes more frequently than God commanded. The tithe was meant to be brought every three years (Deuteronomy 14:28), but even if they brought it every three days, their religion was still rebellion, because it was done in disobedience. God is not impressed by more sacrifices when hearts are far from Him. Outward zeal in worship means nothing if God’s Word is ignored.
“Offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving with leaven.” This is another deliberate strike. Nearly every offering in the law was to be made without leaven, because leaven symbolized sin and corruption. The only offering that included leaven was the peace offering made at Pentecost (Leviticus 23:17). Yet here, their thanksgiving offerings were made with leaven—not in purity or obedience, but mixed with sin and tradition. Their worship looked religious, but it was polluted. They proclaimed and publicly announced their freewill offerings, making a show of devotion. But they did it for attention, not for God’s glory. Their worship was loud, enthusiastic, emotional—and rejected by God.
“For this you love.” That is the tragedy and the indictment. They loved their corrupted religion. They didn’t worship idols in secret; they enjoyed a system where they could feel religious, violate God’s commands, and soothe their conscience at the same time. They loved worship that was easy, convenient, emotional, and self-focused. But God hated it, because it lacked obedience.
This passage reminds us that God is not moved by religious activity unless it flows from truth and obedience. Worship is not judged by how good it makes us feel, but by whether it honors God according to His Word. True worship comes from a humble heart submitted to Him. Israel had noise, sacrifice, ritual, and passion—but no obedience. Therefore God calls it transgression. Their worship did not cover their sin; it multiplied it.
“And I also have given you cleanness of teeth in all your cities, and want of bread in all your places: yet have ye not returned unto Me, saith the LORD. And also I have withholden the rain from you, when there were yet three months to the harvest: and I caused it to rain upon one city, and caused it not to rain upon another city: one piece was rained upon, and the piece whereupon it rained not withered. So two or three cities wandered unto one city, to drink water; but they were not satisfied: yet have ye not returned unto Me, saith the LORD.” (Amos 4:6–8)
God reminds Israel of His repeated attempts to draw them back through discipline. “I have given you cleanness of teeth,” meaning there was no food to dirty their teeth because famine had swept their land. Though they lived in a time of outward prosperity during Amos’ preaching, God spoke of famine in the prophetic present tense—as if it were already happening—because judgment was guaranteed. Their wealth would not last. Their tables would be empty. Their cities would feel hunger in every street. Yet even hunger did not humble them. God says, “Yet have ye not returned unto Me.”
Then God struck the land with drought. “I have withholden the rain from you, when there were yet three months to the harvest.” This was a deliberate, strategic judgment. Rain was most needed in the final months before harvest to make the grain swell and ripen. Without it, crops failed entirely. God controlled the sky. Rain fell on one city but not another. One field thrived while another withered. This was not coincidence or climate fluctuation; it was divine precision. He made the distinction so clear that Israel would have no excuse. One village’s cisterns overflowed while another’s cracked dry. One farmer rejoiced while his neighbor watched his crops turn to dust. This should have awakened them, but it did not.
“So two or three cities wandered unto one city, to drink water; but they were not satisfied.” People traveled from town to town, desperate for water, carrying empty vessels, seeking relief, but there was not enough. Their feet grew weary, their hope faint, but their hearts still hard. Even then—after need, after discomfort, after obvious signs of God’s hand—they still did not return. The grief of the passage is in the repeated refrain: “Yet have ye not returned unto Me, saith the LORD.”
This is the true tragedy—not the famine, not the drought, not the ruined harvest, but the unchanged heart. God is not merely punishing; He is calling. Discipline is not His delight, repentance is. But Israel preferred drought over humility, empty wells over a bowed heart, cracked lips over confessing sin. They endured judgment but refused restoration. They suffered, but they would not seek the One who alone could heal them.
“I have smitten you with blasting and mildew: when your gardens and your vineyards and your fig trees and your olive trees increased, the palmerworm devoured them: yet have ye not returned unto Me, saith the LORD. I have sent among you the pestilence after the manner of Egypt: your young men have I slain with the sword, and have taken away your horses; and I have made the stink of your camps to come up unto your nostrils: yet have ye not returned unto Me, saith the LORD. I have overthrown some of you, as God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah, and ye were as a firebrand plucked out of the burning: yet have ye not returned unto Me, saith the LORD.” (Amos 4:9–11)
God continues to recount His discipline toward Israel, showing how patiently and progressively He tried to draw them back to Himself. He sent agricultural disasters—“blasting and mildew”—dry winds from the east that scorched their grain and parasitic diseases that turned their crops pale and lifeless. Their gardens, vineyards, fig trees, and olive trees would begin to flourish, and just when hope of a rich harvest rose, God sent locusts to devour it. He took from them what their hands had labored to grow. Their economy, food supply, and sense of security were shaken. Yet after all this, God repeats, “Yet have ye not returned unto Me.”
God then sent pestilence “after the manner of Egypt,” echoing the plagues He used against Pharaoh. Disease spread in their camps, sickness stole the strength of their people. Young men—the pride and security of a nation—fell by the sword. Their horses, symbols of military power and national defense, were taken away. Death filled their tents, and God says, “I have made the stink of your camps to come up unto your nostrils.” The smell of death, decay, and defeat rose from their armies. Still, “Yet have ye not returned unto Me.”
When even that did not move them to repentance, God sent more severe judgments. “I have overthrown some of you, as God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah.” This is not poetic exaggeration. Some towns in Israel were completely destroyed—reduced to rubble and ash, wiped out like Sodom and Gomorrah. And yet, even after witnessing such devastation, Israel did not fear the LORD. God says they were “as a firebrand plucked out of the burning,” meaning He spared them at the very edge of destruction. They were like a smoking brand, snatched from a fire moments before being consumed. Others fell, but they were spared—not because of their righteousness, but because of God’s mercy. Still: “Yet have ye not returned unto Me.”
This repeated refrain is the tragedy of the passage. The issue is not that God disciplined Israel, but that Israel ignored Him. Hunger, drought, disease, warfare, loss, and even near-annihilation—none of it moved them to repentance. They experienced consequences but not conversion. They suffered, but did not seek. They were preserved from total destruction, but did not give God glory.
God’s chastening is not cruel. It is loving. He did not destroy them instantly; He chastened them incrementally. First their crops, then their health, then their armies, then their cities—each time giving space to repent. They were a firebrand saved from the flames, yet they still would not return. This is not only historical; it is theological. God disciplines to restore. Judgment is meant to awaken. The greater tragedy is not the locust, the plague, or the sword—it is a hardened heart that feels pain but refuses to bow to God.
“Therefore thus will I do unto thee, O Israel: and because I will do this unto thee, prepare to meet thy God, O Israel. For, lo, He that formeth the mountains, and createth the wind, and declareth unto man what is his thought, that maketh the morning darkness, and treadeth upon the high places of the earth, The LORD, The God of hosts, is His name.” (Amos 4:12–13)
After listing the judgments He had already sent—famine, drought, pestilence, military defeat, and near-annihilation—God now declares the final outcome: judgment will fall in full measure. “Therefore thus will I do unto thee” is not a threat; it is a certainty. There is no more delay, no more warning, no more lesser chastisements. God now calls Israel to face Him: “Prepare to meet thy God.” This is not a call to worship, but a summons to stand before the Judge. They had ignored His mercy, rejected His warnings, and hardened their hearts through every disaster. Now, they must meet the One they refused to return to.
“Prepare to meet thy God” is one of the most solemn sentences in Scripture. It speaks of accountability. Every man, every nation, must one day stand before God. Israel had enjoyed privilege—covenant, prophets, worship, protection—and therefore their accountability was even greater. The call is not only for them, but for every person who will one day stand before the Creator. It is both challenge, invitation, and summons. As a challenge, it is as if God says to the rebel, “If you insist on fighting Me, then prepare yourself. Arm yourself, and step forward.” As an invitation, it is mercy—God calling sinners to return while there is still time to repent. As a summons, it is a legal mandate. All must stand before the One whose laws they have broken, whose grace they have rejected.
God then reminds Israel of Who it is they are about to meet. He is the One “that formeth the mountains,” the God of creation who shaped the foundations of the earth. He “createth the wind,” the invisible force man cannot see yet feels and cannot control. He “declareth unto man what is his thought,” meaning He knows every motive, every secret, every hidden reasoning of the human heart. There is no hiding, no mask, no deception that can stand in His presence. He “maketh the morning darkness,” showing His power over nature, light, and time. When He wills it, morning turns to night, prosperity turns to disaster, and peace becomes judgment. He “treadeth upon the high places of the earth,” ruling over every kingdom, every empire, every high place of human pride and idolatry. He is above all rulers, armies, false gods, and religions. He is “The LORD, The God of hosts,” the Commander of angelic armies, the Sovereign over heaven and earth.
The point is unmistakable: this is the God Israel must meet, and this is the God every man will meet. He is holy, all-knowing, all-powerful, and absolute in authority. Israel should have returned when famine came, when rain ceased, when plague struck, when war broke out, when cities were crushed. But they did not. Now, instead of returning in repentance, they must meet God in judgment. This is the consequence of resisting His mercy.
Yet even here, the verse carries grace. God is warning them before He acts finally. “Prepare” implies that there is still time to humble themselves. Even judgment is preceded by mercy. But if mercy is refused, only justice remains. Israel would soon learn that the God they ignored is the God they must meet.
