Because I live and work in Southern California, I often find myself stuck in traffic on the freeway. Obviously, that’s to be expected during rush hour—though I think I should point out that “rush hour” is a lot longer than an hour, and nobody’s rushing. But even when traffic seems to be flowing well, it can suddenly grind to a halt for no apparent reason.

There is a reason, of course—I just can’t see it, because it’s further up the road. A lane closure. A stalled vehicle. An accident. Debris in the roadway. It could be anything, and the delay won’t make any sense until I get there and see for myself. And adding to the mystery, sometimes by the time I get there, whatever caused the problem has already been cleared out of the way.

At times like this, it would be nice to see a longer stretch of freeway all at once, instead of just my own little piece of gridlock. That is, after all, what traffic apps are all about; they let you know where the trouble spots are so you can take an alternate route. The apps are helpful, but not perfect; for us to get the most from them, the app would have to update constantly in real time, and you’d have to be looking at the app continuously.

Which…would probably cause an accident. Which would back up the traffic even more.

No, what I want is to be able to see the road from the ground and from the air at same time, as if I were both in my car and in a helicopter. From above, I’d be able to see the accident blocking the carpool lane a mile up the road, how quickly it was being cleared, and decide whether to stay on the freeway, change lanes, or get off the freeway and take a detour.

Naturally, I can’t do that. But think of all of this as an imperfect metaphor for how we might read prophecy. You and I are traveling along a road of history that stretches from horizon to horizon. Sometimes the traffic flows smoothly, sometimes not. Some of us travel mostly solo, others in caravans, carpools, and buses. We’ve experienced only some of the road and have individual and collective memories of where we’ve been. We can always see the space around us, but can only see into the distance when the road is straight—and even then we might not be able to see very far.

Only God has the view from above. Here, I’m reminded of the times I’ve sat in the window seat of an airplane as we descended toward the airport near my home. The cars on the freeways below looked like ants scurrying along in a line. And from my lofty vantage point, I struggled to identify the freeways and landmarks that I would have known well from ground level.

So imagine the plight of the prophet. Micah isn’t God; he’s a fellow traveler with a message from God. He’s given words and visions that see the road of history from a God’s-eye view. But the vision doesn’t unfold in IMAX and Dolby stereo. He can clearly call out the people’s present and past sins. He can speak to present threats and calamities. But as a fellow traveler, it may not be clear to him how a prophecy involving the future will unfold in real time, how the words may describe what’s right around the corner or many miles down the road.

So let’s look again at the beginning of Micah chapter 5. Verse 2, as we’ve seen, is the prophecy cited by Herod’s advisors as he connived to find and kill the baby who might undermine his rule:

But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah,
    though you are small among the clans of Judah,
out of you will come for me
    one who will be ruler over Israel,
whose origins are from of old,
    from ancient times. (Micah 5:2, NIV)

But the chapter begins this way:

Marshal your troops now, city of troops,
    for a siege is laid against us.
They will strike Israel’s ruler
    on the cheek with a rod. (vs. 1)

The present threat is Assyria, which will be made clearer in subsequent verses. As we’ve seen in previous episodes, during the time of King Hezekiah, Sennacherib of Assyria invaded Judah and laid siege to Jerusalem. That, most likely, is the siege Micah refers to here. The Assyrians, Micah says, “will strike Israel’s ruler on the cheek with a rod.” This is an image of humiliation, something like a military slap in the face.

Hezekiah became king at the ripe old age of 25. He had tried to break free of Assyrian domination, and what he got for his troubles was an invasion, forcing him to eat a very large slice of humble pie. He tried to bribe Sennacherib with silver and gold, emptying the temple and royal treasuries. But Sennacherib laid siege to Jerusalem anyway, mocking Hezekiah, and driving him to his knees.

We’ve seen the outcome of that story, which you can read for yourself in 2 Kings chapter 19. Through Isaiah, God tells Hezekiah that Sennacherib will not even set foot in the city. That night, God slays thousands of the Assyrians in their sleep, forcing Sennacherib to withdraw from Jerusalem in defeat.

The opening of chapter 5 thus speaks to the threat of Assyrian invasion and the reality of a humiliating siege. But the prophecy doesn’t speak of God slaying the Assyrians. It predicts instead the coming of a king from Bethlehem—meaning one from the line of David. This ruler, the prophecy goes on to say, this Davidic king will not only push the Assyrians back, but defeat them.

God’s miraculous intervention against Sennacherib, in other words, was not the military victory that Micah’s prophecy seems to describe. His words address the situation on the ground, but from a God’s-eye view, the view of history from above. And when the road is seen from above, the prophecy is about so much more than just the Assyrian threat. As we’ll see, it’s about the one from Bethlehem who will be our peace.