Not much is known about the prophet Micah.
To my knowledge, my Church of the Nazarene mother nor Southern Baptist father named me in his honor. That missing "h" after the "c". The "e" after the "a". The "l" before the "h".
Reborn into the spirit of understanding truth and welcomed questions of adulthood Micah has become my namesake. I am not St. Michael. I want to be Micah. I want to live Micah.
"Micah understood his task to be a preacher of truth- to expose injustice and inequity, to offer a word of hope and salvation, and to make known a vision of a new and transformed way of life for his community and his world." - Harper's Study Bible
It would probably be easier to be Michael. You know, Archangel and all. Superhero. Movie Deals!
I choose Micah. He was the first to let me in. As a freshly abused gay Southern Baptist, I discovered:
"What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God."
I love the "with" part by the way. Hand in hand.
Blessed Lenten journey travels, readers.
Don't require of yourselves any more than Micah's Lord. That will be. Enough.