From Judgment to Mercy: The Words of Amos
- Raymond Melendez
- Nov 9
- 8 min read
At TheGoodNewsCast.com we believe that justice roars and mercy rebuilds. Drawing inspiration from the prophet Amos and the current global crises, we align ourselves with Christ, confident that redemption is near even amidst the devastation of war.
The world today trembles under the weight of grave violations in Ukraine, Sudan, and the Palestinian Territories—three simultaneous humanitarian crises marked by shattered cities, displaced millions, and staggering loss of life. In each, the wounds of war cut deep into the fabric of humanity, exposing the persistent failure of nations to uphold justice and protect the innocent. Civilians bear the brunt of strategic assaults, starvation is wielded as a weapon, and international law—crafted to guard against such horrors—is repeatedly trampled underfoot. These are not distant tragedies; they are indictments, echoing across borders and centuries.
Long before these headlines, another voice thundered across a landscape of violence and betrayal. The prophet Amos, standing amid the injustices of his time, declared that God’s roar would not be silenced in the face of oppression. In Amos 1, the nations are summoned to the highest courtroom: Damascus, Gaza, Tyre, Edom, and Ammon—each condemned for cruelty, exploitation, and disregard for life. Yet Amos does not end with destruction. By chapter 9, the tone transforms—from the fury of judgment to the tenderness of God's mercy. The God who tears down also rebuilds; the one who judges also redeems.
In this journey from wrath to mercy lies a mirror for the world today. Accountability must still be pursued for those who desecrate human dignity in war. Yet beyond justice, there remains the invitation to restoration—to rebuild not just nations, but hearts. The story of Amos reminds us that even in the darkest chapters of world history, judgment is never God’s final word. Mercy is.
The Roar of Justice: Ukraine’s Agony and the Cry of Amos
The roar of judgment that once thundered from Zion echoes across our world today. In Eastern Europe, Ukraine bears witness to horrors that test the very limits of our conscience—over 190,000 documented war-crime incidents since Russia’s full-scale invasion began. Schools reduced to rubble, hospitals struck, entire neighborhoods erased. Behind the numbers are lives uprooted, families torn apart, and a generation of children taken from their homeland (Ukraine’s Prosecutor General’s Office). Ukrainian officials estimate that at least 19,546 children have been forcibly transferred to Russia or occupied territories—many placed in state institutions where they are “re-educated” or trained for war.
Such acts cut to the heart of international law. The deportation of children and the strategic targeting of civilians do not simply violate agreements—they desecrate human life itself. The International Criminal Court has already issued arrest warrants for Russia’s highest leaders, yet the work of justice is slow, and the cries of the victims remain urgent. The question that haunts every investigator, every observer, is the same one that haunted the prophets: How long will such evil go unanswered?
Centuries ago, the prophet Amos heard a roar from heaven that shook his nation’s complacency: “The Lord roars from Zion and utters his voice from Jerusalem” (Amos 1:2). He spoke not only to Israel but also to the nations—Damascus, Gaza, Tyre, Edom, and Ammon—each condemned for cruelty, betrayal, and bloodshed. Their violence against the innocent drew outrage, for God's justice is not bound by borders. “For three transgressions, and for four,” Amos declared, signaling both God's patience and breaking point.
The crimes of old kingdoms and the atrocities in Ukraine share a chilling pattern: the misuse of power against the powerless. Yet Amos’s message was never only about destruction. Within his roar of judgment was a call to repentance—to turn from vengeance toward righteousness, from cruelty toward compassion.
If the roar of Amos still speaks, it demands more than legal accountability—it calls for redemption. For as long as children are torn from their homes and civilians are crushed beneath the machinery of war, the roar of justice will not be silenced. But even now, beneath the thunder, mercy awaits—for nations, for leaders, and for all who dare to seek the restoration that follows repentance.
Ashes to Restoration: Darfur’s suffering and it’s Redeemer
In Sudan’s western regions, the soil of Darfur drinks once more from the blood of the innocent. Two decades after the world vowed “never again,” the city of El Fasher and its surrounding villages have become the epicenter of a new wave of terror (Amnesty International). The clash between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF) has unleashed a war of atrocities—mass killings, rape, starvation, and the deliberate destruction of hospitals and food systems.
The International Criminal Court warns that these acts may constitute war crimes and crimes against humanity. A UN Fact-Finding Mission calls it what it is: a war of atrocities. Entire communities are being erased. The U.S. Secretary of State condemned the RSF and allied militias for ethnically targeted slaughter and sexual violence, noting that men and boys have been executed for their ethnicity, while women and girls have been weaponized in acts of unspeakable brutality. This is not chaos—it is a strategy of annihilation, meticulously organized, and chillingly reminiscent of Darfur’s dark past.
Yet, amid the smoke of burned villages and the silence of mass graves, a voice from above whispers through the centuries—a voice of both judgment and mercy. After eight chapters of indictment, the prophet Amos ends not with wrath, but with restoration. “In that day,” God declares in Amos 9:11–12, “I will raise up the fallen booth of David… and rebuild it as in the days of old.” The same God who roared against oppression now promises redemption. Nations once condemned are invited into healing; ruins are rebuilt; mercy triumphs where vengeance once reigned.
Darfur’s agony confronts us with the same paradox Amos revealed: How can justice and mercy coexist? The answer lies in its fulfillment—when injustice is faced, confessed, and redeemed. True restoration cannot come without confession, but neither can despair have the final word.
The prophecy of Amos, spoken to a world of violence, still reaches into ours. It calls us to hold both the cry for justice and the call for mercy—to believe that even from the ashes of Darfur, the promise of redemption and restoration can rise.
Ruins and the Redeemer: Gaza’s Restoration
In the heart of the Middle East, the Gaza Strip lies in ruin—a landscape of shattered schools, demolished mosques, and silenced voices. A UN Commission of Inquiry has determined that Israel’s destruction of Gaza’s educational, religious, and cultural infrastructure “amounts to war crimes and the crime against humanity of extermination.” More than 90% of Gaza’s schools and universities have been damaged or destroyed, erasing the infrastructures where knowledge and hope once thrived (“Israeli Attacks on Educational, Religious and Cultural Sites”). Over half of the region’s sacred and cultural sites have been leveled, stripping away not just stone and structure but memory, identity, and the future of an entire people.
The Commission found little evidence of military necessity to justify such devastation. Instead, it pointed to a deliberate pattern—one that cripples a society at its roots by extinguishing its capacity to learn, create, and dream. The obliteration of education is more than physical ruin; it is a wound to the soul of a nation, a slow violence that outlasts the bombs. It threatens to orphan a generation from both heritage and possibility.
Yet even amid the desolation, the message of God speaks—a thread of hope through the tapestry of human tragedy. The prophet Amos, who once roared against the injustices of nations, ended his message with a vision of redemption: the fallen tabernacle of David restored, the ruins rebuilt, and the people redeemed (Amos 9:11–12). That promise finds its fulfillment in Jesus Christ—the descendant of David, the embodiment of both God's justice and mercy.
Paul’s words echo this balance:
“Behold therefore the goodness and severity of God.” Romans 11:22
The severity of judgment against oppression is real, but so is the goodness of mercy offered to all who turn toward righteousness. The Book of Mormon reinforces this universal principle: “This is a choice land… [free] from bondage… if they will but serve the head, who is Jesus Christ” (Ether 2:12). Blessing follows repentance; restoration follows submission.
In Gaza’s shattered classrooms and desecrated sanctuaries, the cry for justice rises alongside the faint whisper of redemption. The ruins themselves become a parable: where human hands destroy, God's mercy rebuilds. The Redeemer who restores the fallen tabernacle of David can also restore the fallen pride of nations—if hearts, even amid the rubble, will turn to Christ.
Justice Roars and Mercy Rebuilds
From Eastern Europe to North Africa to the Middle East, the world stands before three unfolding human tragedies—Ukraine, Sudan, and the Palestinian territories. Each reveals not just the brutality of modern warfare but the fragility of the order that holds nations accountable. Together, they form a single, urgent question: What kind of world will we allow to emerge from their ruins?
These crises matter because they expose patterns—not isolated explosions of chaos, but deliberate harm directed at civilians. In Ukraine, prosecutors have registered over 190,000 potential war-crime incidents: children deported, homes obliterated, hospitals turned to ash. In Sudan’s Darfur region, entire communities have been starved, massacred, and driven out, their suffering compounded by sexual violence and ethnic cleansing. In Gaza, the destruction of more than 90% of schools and universities has silenced a generation’s right to learn, while cultural and religious sites crumble beneath bombardment.
What connects these tragedies is not geography, but violation—of law and humanity. Civilian infrastructure has become a target, not collateral damage. Children have become strategic instruments of war. The architecture of international law—built from the ashes of past atrocities—now stands in peril. If high-level perpetrators evade justice, the very deterrent power of the law of nations erodes. What remains is a world where might, not justice, determines fate.
Yet, into this chaos, a roaring voice still thunders—and then softens. The prophet Amos, centuries ago, roared against nations that trampled the poor, enslaved the innocent, and scorched the earth.
“The Lord roars from Zion.” Amos 1:2
Judgment was certain; God's patience had run its course, but that was not the end of the story. By the book’s final chapter, the roar turns into a song of mercy: “I will plant them upon their land, and they shall no more be pulled up” (Amos 9:15).
The justice of God does not exist to destroy—it exists to rebuild. The same roar that shatters injustice becomes the voice that gathers the broken, restores the fallen cities, and replants the uprooted lives. It is a justice that confronts evil, yet refuses to end with despair.
As the world faces the wreckage of Ukraine, Sudan, and Gaza, Amos’s prophecy offers both wrath and mercy. Judgment calls the world to account—but mercy calls it to rebuild. If the roar from Zion still echoes today, it may be summoning nations not only to prosecute the guilty but also to heal the wounded. In the end, the redeemer—rather than the prosecutor—has the most power.
What's Next?
In each case, evidence is being established—though challenges are immense: access to conflict zones, verification of claims, gathering of incriminating material, and protection of witnesses.
What is likely to follow includes:
• Additional investigations conducted by various courts, including domestic, hybrid, or international, as well as fact-finding organizations.
• Pressure for arrests and indictments of senior officials. For example, the ICC’s arrest warrants in Ukraine are one model.
• Diplomatic, economic, and political pressure: sanctions, asset freezes, restraining orders, perhaps trials without the accused present or national prosecutions.
• Human-rights advocacy emphasizing verification, documentation, and the rights of survivors to truth, justice, and reparations.
• A struggle for accountability and memory: who writes the history, who recognizes the suffering, and who ensures the children and civilians are not forgotten?
The concurrent emergence of these three crises—in Ukraine, Sudan, and the occupied Palestinian territories—poses a severe test of the international community’s ability to uphold humanitarian law and protect civilians in war. Each region reflects not only brutal armed conflict but also strategies that aim to destroy infrastructure, uproot children, erase identity, and crush civilian populations.
If these patterns go unchecked, they will leave scars beyond the battlefield: shattered societies, generations of children deprived of normalcy or education, and a weakened rule of law that emboldens future violators. At stake is not only the justice for today’s victims but also whether tomorrow’s conflicts will face consequences.
Works Cited
Amnesty International. “Sudan: RSF Must End Attacks and Further Suffering of Civilians in El Fasher.” Amnesty International, 28 Oct. 2025, https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2025/10/sudan-el-fasher/
“Israeli Attacks on Educational, Religious and Cultural Sites in the Occupied Palestinian Territory Amount to War Crimes and the Crime Against Humanity of Extermination, UN Commission Says.” United Nations, 10 June 2025, www.un.org/unispal/document/israeli-attacks-on-educational-religious-and-cultural-sites-in-the-occupied-palestinian-territory-amount-to-war-crimes-and-the-crime-against-humanity-of-extermination-un-commission-says/
“Ukraine says Russia took 20,000 children during war. Will some be returned?” Al Jazeera, 10 June 2025, www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/6/10/russia-ukraine-children-war
