Somewhere back in that dusty part of your Old Testament (in Judges chapters 17-18, to be exact), there's a story of a man who hated confrontation. His name was Micah.

He was a man of peace -- and normally we'd think that was a good thing. But Micah went too far. Rather than blowing whistles and stomping on toes to stand up for what was right, he was willing to compromise morally. What would it matter if he blurred the lines of right and wrong a little as long as everyone was smiling?  He wasn't a man of peace -- he was a man-of-peace-at-all-costs.

Now, I'm no fan of people who constantly are looking for trouble -- who are ready to battle to the death over any and every moral or doctrinal issue. We know from Romans chapter 14 there are some disputable matters among believers that we can all disagree about. Nevertheless, some things are worth fighting for. 

This truth wasn't just for Micah's day. It's just as important for us as we struggle to uphold righteousness in a society where blind tolerance is our highest virtue. None of us want to be pinned as the "ugly, hateful Christian." But over thousands of years, the legacy of Micah whispers to us: "Speaking up for what's right may cost you, but keeping quiet may destroy many." 

Micah's Story

Micah lived during the time of the Judges, just after Moses and just before King Saul. The law of Moses was not being enforced, and there was no ruler in the land to bring order to the people. Think of that time like you would of the wild, wild, West -- only with camels. "In those days Israel had no king; everyone did as he saw fit" (Judges 21:25). There was no right, there was no wrong. Had the term existed back then, you could have dubbed those days as "postmodern." 

Our story starts out on a seemingly moral note: Micah confesses to his mother that he stole a huge pile of silver from her (Judges 17:2). Micah's mom, instead of being irate, gets inspired by her son's newfound piety and comes up with a great idea: "I solemnly consecrate my silver to Yahweh for my son to make a carved image and a cast idol" (Judges 17:3).

Micah must have been thinking, "Yikes! Mom, you want me to make an idol out of that silver? C'mon, let's not push our luck here. I already broke two of the 10 commandments by stealing and by not honoring you -- my mother. Isn't making idols one of those other things we're not supposed to do?" 

But had Micah stood up for what was right at that point, it would have cost him. He would have made his mom mad. More importantly, if he had gotten all "religious" on her and told her not to make an idol, she might have turned the tables on him. She might have demanded that that he pay back seven times what he stole from her, as Moses' law commanded. Apparently the price of speaking up was too high to pay. Micah probably figured that a little idol and carved image would be no big deal. After all, his mom had her heart in the right place because she was dedicating them to Yahweh.

As it turns out, Micah's refusal to stand up for what was right wasn't his problem alone. Micah brought his silver to a silversmith to make the idol and the image. Did the silversmith stand up and say, "No, I will not make an idol!"? Nope. It would have cost him business. He probably had a family to feed, and, besides, it wasn't his concern what someone else was doing in his own home. And so, Micah got his idol and carved image. 

During all this time, his sin was growing. Micah took his idol and carved image and also built an ephod and teraphim (items that were used in divination). On top of all this, Micah got his son to join in the sin (who, not surprisingly, also didn't stand up to his father). Micah installed him as priest over the shrine he had set up in his home (Judges 17:5). You read that right, he had a personal priest and shrine away from the tabernacle in Shiloh -- that certainly wasn't kosher. But no one was getting hurt, right? 

About this time a Levite priest (one of the God squad -- kind of like a modern-day pastor) came to Micah's house by chance. And this Levite wasn't just any Levite. He was Jonathan, the grandson of Moses (Judges 18:3). Surely this man of God would have the courage to confront Micah with his sin. Or maybe not. 

Micah unashamedly showed the priest his idol, image, ephod, teraphim and shrine. And then he offered the Levite a job -- to take over as his family priest. It just so happened that the Levite was looking for a job. If he had confronted Micah, he'd not only be out of a lucrative job but he'd also have to carry out the messy duty of gathering people together to expose Micah's sin. It just wasn't worth it. The Levite took the job. Now Micah's new religion had a veneer of legitimacy because he got Moses' own grandson to back it up.

From Micah's perspective things seemed to be going swimmingly. Surely God would bless him after all he had done with his sincere belief. 

But, to jump to the crux of the story, things didn't pan out for Micah. (Please read the whole of Judges 17-18 sometime to get the full story). A group of 600 grungy warriors from the tribe of Dan found out about Micah's idols and priest (Judges 18:11). They stole his idols and persuaded the Levite to serve them instead of Micah's family. Micah was robbed and was powerless to stop what had happened to him (Judges 18:26). 

As sad as Micah was that he lost his idols and priest, there was a far more serious tragedy that came from his sin: "There (in the city of Dan, to the far north of Israel) the Danites set up for themselves the idols, and Jonathan son of Gershom, the son of Moses, and his sons were priests for the tribe of Dan until the time of the captivity of the land. They continued to use the idols Micah had made" (Judges 18:30-31).

Those idols and priest became a stumbling block to an entire Israelite tribe. The tribe of Dan was told by God to settle in the south of the land of Israel, but by the false guidance of the Levite, they settled to the far north of the country (Judges 18:5-6). This resulted in them in being associated with the unfaithful Northern Kingdom during the divided kingdom period in Israel's history. Ultimately they would be taken captive and killed by the Assyrians.

Micah's sin -- which started out small and which would have been easy to nip in the bud early on -- grew and became unstoppable. He did try to stop the juggernaut of his own sin when the Danites showed up on his front door, but by then it was too late (Judges 18:22-26). Speaking up to his mom would have cost him little when this whole story started out, but his silence resulted in the destruction of many lives.

Unlike Micah, most of us don't have to deal with making literal idols out of silver. But we do have to face moral crises in our families, in our jobs and in society. It's tempting to think that keeping quiet about that shady practice at work or our spouse's addiction will make the problems go away. We don't need to fight every battle, but there are some battles we need to wage. If we don't plug up the dyke now, we will be responsible for the multitudes that may perish when the dam finally breaks.

"Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter. If you say, 'But we knew nothing about this,' does not he who weighs the heart perceive it?" -- Proverbs 24:12