Blood and Sackloth

5–8 minutes

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There was never anyone like Ahab, who sold himself to do evil in the eyes of the Lord, urged on by Jezebel his wife.
1 Kings 21:25 (NIV)

Along this chapter-a-day journey I’ve been trekking for decades now, I’ve observed that one of the coolest aspects of the journey is that God’s Word always meets me right where I find myself on life’s road. What is going on in my life informs what I see and perceive in the text. Today is a great example.

For the next three Sundays I am kicking off a series of messages among our local gathering of Jesus’ followers. The series is taking a look at what has come to be in know through history as the “seven deadly sins.” They were first known as the “capital vices.” They are:

Vainglory (Pride)
Envy
Sloth
Avarice (Greed)
Wrath
Gluttony
Lust

Today’s chapter is a quick episode that illustrates the kind of people that King Ahab of Israel and his wife, Jezebel, really were. It starts with a vineyard, owned by a poor dude named Naboth. The vineyard happened to be next to Ahab’s royal residence and he thought it would make a convenient vegetable garden. So, he asks Naboth if he could buy it. Seems innocent enough from modern perspective, but there’s more here than meets the eye.

Naboth’s refusal makes much more sense within an ancient Hebrew understanding of the Law of Moses than it does through modern Western ideas about private property.

The land of Israel ultimately belongs to YHWH:

“The land must not be sold permanently, because the land is mine and you reside in my land as foreigners and strangers.”
Leviticus 25:23 (NIV)

Tribal and familial allotments were therefore an inheritance entrusted to families across generations. So Naboth isn’t merely being sentimental about Grandpa’s vineyard. His refusal is essentially an act of covenant faithfulness.

And that makes Ahab’s desire especially revealing. The king is supposed to administer God’s covenant faithfully. Instead, he regards covenant inheritance as something his wealth and position should enable him to acquire.

In addition, as I mulled this over I couldn’t shake the fact that Ahab proposes converting a vineyard—something requiring years of cultivation and carrying generational significance—into a garden convenient. It’s insulting. “Give me your ancestral inheritance and all the vines your family have faithfully cultvated for many generations. I want to rip them out and throw in a few easy-to-reach tomato plants.

Ahab’s response? The text says he got “sullen and angry.”

Because I’ve been focused on studying the capital sin of envy for my upcoming message — I immediately saw Ahab’s response as clear example of it. Envy is looking at others and what they have, and getting sullen and angry if you can’t have the same thing.

When Jezebel sees her husband sullen and angry and finds out that Naboth refused to sell Ahab the vineyard, she pulls a classic Level Three, Kingdom of this World move. She knows how this world works. Ahab is King. She is Queen. If someone won’t give you what you want — you simply use your power to take it. She arranges to have Naboth falsely accused of blasphemy and stoned to death.

What’s easy to miss, is that there is brutal irony in Jezebel’s scheme. She follows The Law of Moses meticulously in murdering Naboth. Deuteronomy requires two witnesses before someone can be executed. So she supplies two witnesses. Blasphemy could warrant death by stoning, so that’s the accusation she manufactures. Naboth is taken outside the city, consistent with execution practice.

Jezebel weaponizes forms of righteousness God established for His people’s good in order to accomplish wickedness to satiate her husbands envious desires. That’s just cold.

The easiest application of today’s chapter from a cursory reading is: “Don’t be Ahab. Don’t be Jezebel. Don’t murder people for their vineyards.”

Check. I made it to Friday without doing that this week. But there is something deeper flowing beneath the surface.

Ahab possesses enormous wealth, authority, land, servants, palaces, and military power—yet one man’s vineyard sparks an overflow of envy. Naboth’s vineyard becomes the thing he cannot stop wanting, and that’s spiritual disease that goes all the way back to Eden.

“You may freely eat from all these trees…except that one.”

And suddenly that one becomes everything.

David has wives and wealth and power, but sees Bathsheba. Ahab has royal estates, but sees Naboth’s vineyard. The human heart possesses ninety-nine blessings and becomes consumed by number one hundred.

And once desire becomes entitlement, something dangerous happens. People become obstacles. Naboth stops being Naboth—a neighbor, a fellow Israelite, a man with ancestors and children and a covenant with God. He becomes the guy standing between Ahab and what Ahab wants.

That’s where this ancient story suddenly feels painfully personal today. Because I don’t have to murder someone to do this. I can manipulate them. I can talk about them. I might use authority I have against them. I could ignore their interests, and resent their success. Wherever I have leverage, I can use that power to apply top-down pressure.

What I’m doing is convincing myself that what I want is sufficiently important that another person’s dignity becomes negotiable. And, just like Jezebel in today’s chapter, I can do all of that while maintaining respectable appearances.

Jezebel calls a fast.
She convenes the community.
She produces the required witnesses.
She invokes concern for God and king.
Everything looks righteous., but it is evil to the core.

That’s one of the things I’m learning as I study the seven capital vices. Evil rarely introduces itself as evil. I confess that I am extraordinarily talented at constructing righteous explanations for things I simply want.

And maybe that’s why Naboth and Ahab provide such a powerful contrast. Ahab possesses virtually everything and cannot tolerate being denied one thing. Naboth possesses one vineyard and is willing to lose everything rather than surrender what he believes God entrusted to him.

One man asks: “What do I want?”
The other asks: “What has God entrusted to me?”

Those two questions can lead my life journey in radically different directions.

And then—almost scandalously—the chapter leaves us with Ahab in sackcloth. He humbles himself. He shows remorse once Elijah proclaims God’s judgement for what he and Jezebel have done. The chapter ends with God graciously defering his judgement based on Ahab’s response.

Which means the final word isn’t merely beware what I desire. It’s also: When God exposes what I’ve become, I need to humble myself. Confess. Repent.

Even today, after making the terrible decision. Even after abusing my position. Even when consequences can’t be undone.

Ahab’s humility doesn’t resurrect Naboth or erase justice. But God sees it.

Which makes today’s chapter simultaneously a warning and an invitation:

Be careful what I allow myself to believe I deserve.
Be careful when another person becomes an obstacle to what I want.
And when God’s Word finally shows me that the vineyard I’m standing in—wearing clothes stained by choices I’d rather explain away—don’t defend myself.

Because, astonishingly, the God who saw Naboth’s blood also saw Ahab’s sackcloth.

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