“November 16 Sunday Sermon Manuscript”
- Bkumc 열린교회
- 11월 15일
- 8분 분량

Hoping for the Day of Justice
Malachi 4:1–2a
Hoping for the Day of Justice**
The book of Malachi is a passage that is not easily read. It is like a restaurant located in a remote alley that no one visits and that does not even have a particularly special flavor.
I am not sure if this is an appropriate expression, but I thought that preparing a sermon from such a passage, particularly for a stewardship campaign, is anything but easy.
Malachi appears to have been written during the mid-to-late 5th century BC. It overlaps with the period of Nehemiah, and although the temple had been rebuilt around 515 BC, the anticipated glory did not return. In other words, instead of becoming a splendid and powerful nation like before, they remained economically impoverished, spiritually lethargic, and the sacrifices—what we would today call “worship”—were performed formally and without any grace. It is in this context that the book of Malachi was written.
The name Malachi means “My Messenger,” but it is unclear whether this was an actual person’s name or a functional title. What is certain, however, is that Malachi can be understood as a prophet who sought to restore lost worship and remind the people of their covenantal responsibilities, particularly their communal responsibilities.
The most distinct characteristic of the book of Malachi is that its sentences are written in the form of a dialogue between God and the people. Although I say “dialogue,” it reads more like a heated exchange or argument with God.
For example, in 1:2, when God says, “I have loved you,” the people retort, “How have You loved us?” In verse 7, when God says, “You are presenting defiled food upon My altar,” the people ask, “How have we defiled You?”
This dialogical structure clearly exposes what the Israelites’ problems were and how they were dealing with them—quite bluntly.
They had become so dull that they didn’t even know what their problem was. Perhaps because they were weary, they found every act of faith bothersome. It seems the identity of the relationship between God and the people of Israel had become blurred.
Malachi 3:10 is often quoted in connection with “the whole tithe,” and the book is frequently used in sermons emphasizing tithing or urging people to give properly and without deceit.
Although Malachi has often been used to emphasize giving, a careful reading shows that “the whole tithe” is not actually about “giving a lot of money” or “accurately giving ten percent of one’s income to God.” We must remember this when reading Malachi.
As mentioned earlier, Malachi was written during the Second Temple period. The spiritual condition that Malachi reveals is that the people were discouraged, faced with a reality that did not seem to improve, and were filled with despair.
Whatever they did was done without bearing true fruit. They lived with an attitude of “just get through this moment,” and such attitudes seeped into their relationship with God.
This past Thursday and Friday, I received a sudden meeting request and spent two days at the Conference headquarters in Sacramento. It was a gathering called CCEMO—the Conference Committee on Ethnic Ministry & Outreach—and most of the conversation centered on dissatisfaction about the grants received.
It was interesting that this group consisted of Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, Hmong, Fijian, Samoan, Indian, African American, and Korean communities, excluding white clergy. From the discussions, it seemed their focus was on supporting the ministries that each ethnic group was preparing.
Most of the conversation was about insufficient funding and decreasing budgets. Someone asked, “Who decides this budget?” The discussion continued, and eventually someone suggested: “Since the number of ethnic clergy now exceeds the number of white clergy in the Conference, we should work together, unite, and cultivate leadership so that we can sit at the tables where these decisions are made.”
Some responded positively, but others showed little interest. They were accustomed to the way things had always been and had no desire to explore anything beyond that.
This situation seems very similar to the context of Malachi. The people had worked hard to rebuild the ruined temple. At that time, temple ideology was strong; the belief was clear that God would act through the temple. But even after painstakingly completing the rebuilding, reality did not change much.
Put simply, what people expected was not honor, invisible energy, visions, or dreams, but tangible benefits. But when they saw no such benefits, when they could not experience them, a sense of futility filled the air, and the entire nation seemed to fall into a deep lethargy—“What’s the point of doing this?”
During this time, only formal worship remained. Even the offerings brought into the temple were not proper.
They no longer had the desire to bring whole and unblemished offerings. They had no hesitation in offering blind animals, lame ones, or sick ones.
In such a situation, Malachi cries out that it would be better to shut the doors of the temple altogether.
Personally, as I read the passage, I tried not so much to read Malachi himself but to read the hearts of the people who crossed the threshold of the temple.
Even today, some people may struggle with burdens and hardships just to walk through the church doors and sit in this seat—perhaps reluctantly, or even unwillingly.
Life remains hard; people may be floundering in a long tunnel with no resolution in sight. They may hope that faith brings deep comfort, but instead they may feel that their faith life is not helping at all.
Pastors also often feel this way. Even when working diligently, if there is no visible fruit of ministry; even when giving their best, if ministry repeatedly faces crises—
Pastors can also feel discouraged and think, “What’s the point of doing this?” when people leave, when plans fail, when responses are weak.
If pastors feel this way, how much more might the congregation struggle to offer true worship or genuine devotion?
What Malachi speaks of as “the whole tithe” is not meant as rebuke but as a question about the true function of the tithe.
Pastors are not discouraged because ministry itself is hard; they are discouraged when—although ministry must bear fruit—they expend their energy in the wrong places, resulting in no fruit.
We must examine whether our work is truly for the church or for our own recognition. Sometimes we must courageously confess our shortcomings. But when a person insists that they have no issue while blaming everyone else, they fall into deep despair and cannot escape.
In this sense, “the whole tithe” does not indict certain individuals as the problem. Rather, it points to the issue of lacking sincerity and moving in the wrong direction.
Tithing was not simply about financial giving; it was a survival mechanism for sustaining the community of God. The tithe supported the livelihood of the Levites who cared for the spiritual community. It also supported the vulnerable—the orphans, widows, foreigners, and immigrant laborers. It was an essential instrument for maintaining communal justice.
This means that if the whole tithe was not offered, the justice of the community collapsed—meaning the social systems designed to protect the most vulnerable would fall apart.
Therefore, when Malachi calls for “the whole tithe,” he is not saying, “Give your money well to God.” He is urging the people to reclaim the responsibility for upholding God’s justice and the community’s covenantal justice.
Put differently, he is urging the weary and directionless Israelites to turn back fully toward the right path.
Even if the former glory they expected never returns, the justice of God must still be established within the community. This is what must not be abandoned.
Thus, in 3:5, Malachi points out societal injustices—those who oppress hired workers, widows, orphans, and foreigners, and those who fill society with fraudulent justice and dishonest dealings. These issues stem from failed worship, failed tithing, and ultimately the failure of community care.
In the end, “the whole tithe” is an appeal for the restoration of worship and the revival of a community that does not become negligent in its care for one another.
In today’s passage, Malachi 4:1 says, “All the arrogant and every evildoer will be like chaff,” and they will be burned up. Here, “the arrogant and the evildoers” refers to those who destroyed the community’s care system—those who crushed the vulnerable for their own benefit. It does not simply mean “arrogant” or “wicked” people; it refers to those who reject their covenantal responsibilities to the community.
The judgment here is unilateral and severe. Like the fire of a furnace burning straw instantly, such judgment will come swiftly.
This passage does not seem to address the historical realities that made people powerless, nor the despair of those who felt helpless in a reality that refused to change.
If we read only this verse, we may feel a heavy sense of gloom because of its weight.
But verse 2 introduces a different condition: “But for you who revere My name…” Here, Malachi points to a special group: “you who revere My name.”
“You who revere My name” includes those who long for worship but hesitate because they feel unprepared; those who struggle in despair yet hold a resolve that when this hardship passes, they will stand rightly before God.
It does not refer to those who perfectly revere God, but also to those who are lacking and hesitant due to various circumstances. Yet within them is a heart that reveres God—a heart that endures inconvenience to open the door and come to worship.
God receives that heart as He receives “the whole tithe,” and declares: “The sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its rays!”
You do not need to be perfect. You may be lacking. You do not need to give large offerings. What matters is a heart that strives to establish God’s righteousness, a heart that works to uphold communal justice.
We expect perfect faith, perfect worship, perfect devotion—but Malachi emphasizes “revering His name.”
The word “revere” here is בָּעַת (baʿath), meaning “to fear.” If one fears God, this means they are constantly aware of their shortcomings, believing they are still far from where they should be, thinking they are unworthy, saying that someone else is more qualified, feeling shame because of their inadequacy. To such people, God promises that “the sun of righteousness will rise with healing,” and everything will be restored.
There is a phrase: Not Prepared, Yet Ready.We may not be perfectly prepared, but by God’s grace we can be fully equipped. We cannot be perfect, but because we are lacking, we can be prepared by God’s grace.
Beloved congregation, the direction of a stewardship campaign is not an effort to secure enough of your offerings or commitment to enrich next year’s ministries.
As we finish 2024 and prepare for a new year, the fears that arise from our insufficiencies, uncertainties, and what remains unfulfilled—through the surprising declaration, “But for you who revere My name”—we are invited to recognize how our small actions reveal God’s great righteousness.
What we see may still look insufficient. But if we have even a heart that fears God and seeks to establish righteousness within the community, we will live next year with the confidence that God will provide beyond what we imagine.
Next year may be harder than this year. Your faith may still feel stagnant. But one thing is certain: if you have a heart that fears God—a heart of reverence—then by offering “the whole tithe,” God’s justice will be firmly established in Yeolin Church.
It does not have to be big. It does not have to be great. It does not have to be extraordinary.If we simply revere God, if we simply fear Him, that alone will make us the light that reveals His righteousness in this world.
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