“This is what he showed me: The Lord was standing by a wall that had been built true to plumb, with a plumb line in his hand. And the Lord asked me, ‘What do you see, Amos?’ ‘A plumb line,’ I replied. Then the Lord said, ‘Look, I am setting a plumb line among my people Israel; I will spare them no longer.’” – Amos 7:7–8 (NIV)
Introduction
“Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose – the more things change, the more they stay the same.” This old French adage, first written by Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr in 1849, came to mind as I reread the prophetic book of Amos.
Amos was no priest or politician—he was a shepherd, a farmer of sycamore figs, called by God to speak truth to power. He lived in a time of great prosperity and deep injustice. Though the economy thrived and the rich became richer, the moral and spiritual fabric of the nation was unraveling. The poor were crushed under the weight of greed, the courts were corrupted, and worship had become performative rather than transformative. Into this context, God sent Amos—not to comfort, but to confront.
The Plumb Line
God’s message to Amos was both powerful and chilling. He gave the prophet a vision: a plumb line held against a wall that had once been built straight. In ancient construction, a plumb line—a simple tool made of string and a weight—was used to determine whether a wall stood upright and true. It symbolized the divine standard of righteousness and justice.
God wasn’t guessing. He wasn’t relying on opinion polls or partisan debates. He measured Israel against His own standards—and they had gone crooked.
In many ways, the plumb line still hangs.
False Religion and Real Injustice
One of the most damning critiques Amos delivers is of a people who worship with their lips but deny justice with their lives. “You levy a straw tax on the poor and impose a tax on their grain. Therefore, though you have built stone mansions, you will not live in them.” (Amos 5:11)
This duality—religious performance without righteous practice—is not new. But for Black Americans, it has been a painful and persistent part of our history. Christianity was weaponized during slavery, twisted and stripped of liberation theology. In How to Make a Negro Christian, Kmaau Makesi-Tehuti explores the insidious work of Reverend Charles Colcock Jones, proselytizer to the slaves, who crafted sermons for enslaved Africans that emphasized submission while omitting any reference to freedom, justice, or dignity.
He was only allowed to preach to the slaves if he focused on their ‘rewards in heaven’ and not their civil state. The so-called “Slave Bible” contained only 232 of the 1,189 chapters of the full text, carefully deleting stories like the Exodus, while highlighting texts about obedience and endurance.
This theological distortion has had generational consequences. It set a precedent where morality could be preached while inhumanity was practiced. Where justice could be claimed but not extended. Where “God bless America” was a ritual chant, even as America refused to bless Black lives.
The Modern Parallel
Today, we are again witnessing a nation being measured—and found wanting.
President Donald J. Trump’s second term has accelerated a moral unraveling that can no longer be ignored. His administration, like the Israel of Amos’s time, thrives on nationalism cloaked in religiosity, power devoid of compassion, and policy rooted in the consolidation of wealth rather than the pursuit of justice.
There is an open assault on diversity, equity, and inclusion—labeled as “woke” and therefore dangerous. Efforts to roll back DEI are not just symbolic; they are structural. Across universities, corporations, and government agencies, Black professionals and allies face mounting pressure and outright threats. The teaching of Black history is being sanitized, revised, or outright banned. The contributions of Black Americans—from inventors and scientists to activists and artists—are being erased from textbooks and public memory.
It is no coincidence that Black employment in government is under siege. For generations, state, federal, and local government jobs have been vital avenues for Black economic stability and mobility. Now, under the guise of ‘shrinking government’, Elon Musks’s DOGE is systematically dismantling these pathways. At the same time, police brutality continues unchecked. Mass incarceration remains a stain on our so-called justice system. Voting rights are being undermined at every turn.
This is the crooked wall. And God’s plumb line is hanging beside it.
The Warning and the Hope
Amos wasn’t sent just to pronounce doom. He was sent to provoke repentance. God’s judgment is never without a door to redemption. But the people must turn. They must recognize how far they’ve strayed from the divine design.
There’s a passage in The Color Purple when Celie, weary from the abuse and neglect she has endured, looks Mister in the eye and says, “Until you do right by me, everything you think about is gonna crumble.” That line echoes through the corridors of time and into the soul of this country. Until America does right by Black people, everything it builds will stand on shaky ground. Until there is truth, there can be no healing. Until there is equity, there can be no peace.
But there is hope.
Hope lies in a true reckoning. Hope lies in remembering that justice is not a trend but a requirement. Hope lies in the collective realization that God’s standard is still righteousness, not religiosity. That worship without justice is empty. That patriotism without equity is hypocrisy.
Parable and Prophecy
I am reminded of Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler, a prophetic novel that doesn’t just imagine the collapse of America—it diagnoses the disease. In Butler’s dystopia, society has disintegrated due to greed, climate disaster, and moral failure. A populist leader rises, echoing slogans like “Make America Great Again,” while the country burns around him. The parallels are undeniable.
Butler, like Amos, reminds us that catastrophe is not a fantasy—it is a consequence.
Yet even in that grim world, there is a spark of transformation. The protagonist, Lauren Olamina, births a new belief system: Earthseed, rooted in the idea that “God is Change.” It’s not theology in the traditional sense, but it reflects the same truth: if we are willing to change, to grow, to confront ourselves and our systems—then redemption is still possible.
Conclusion
The plumb line has been set. The wall is being measured. And the results are inescapable.
Like ancient Israel, America is at a crossroads. We can continue to ignore the misalignment between our values and our actions, or we can rebuild—brick by brick, truth by truth, justice by justice.
It is time to heed the warnings, honor the prophets, and do right by those whom this nation has wronged. Not out of pity, but out of principle. Not for charity, but for justice. Not for appearance, but for alignment with the divine.
The good news is this: we are not without a blueprint. We are not without builders. We are not without hope. But as Amos might say, the time for pretending is over. The line is drawn. Which side will you stand on?
“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land”
2 Chronicles 7:14.
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