https://open.spotify.com/episode/6alyTxeNSK8NokGssEhyHl?si=85upCe8XQFGfrNhn8RRRrQ

Hezekiah trusted in the Lord, the God of Israel. There was no one like him among all the kings of Judah, either before him or after him.
2 Kings 18:5 (NIV)

One of the lessons that I learned along the course of my career has to do with rules and exceptions. When I help guide a client on the journey toward a culture of service excellence, I teach them the rules of delivering a consistent customer experience that will drive satisfaction, loyalty, and retention.

When I coach and train front-line agents, I always hear a lot of what I call, “Yeah, buts.”

“Yeah, but Tom? This one time, I tried that and…”

Then I typically hear about a rare situation that was an exception to the rule I’m advocating. For example, I know for a fact that customers appreciate feeling like they are getting a personal service experience from a company. Therefore, conversationally addressing the customer by name is a great general rule practice.

“Yeah, but Tom? This one time, I accidentally called the customer by the wrong name. They were really offended and got mad at me. So, I don’t ever use the customer’s name because I don’t ever want to offend anyone.”

What they are telling me is that they have taken an exceptional, rare negative situation and decided to make a sweeping general rule about how they treat every customer. In doing so, they ensure that every customer they serve receives a less than “personal” service experience.

When we get rules and exceptions confused in life, things get wonky. I observed that this is equally true in life as it is in business.

Throughout the Great Story, God advocates for living right as a general rule. When I live a life of faith, hope, and love – sticking to God’s ways and trying to do the right thing by God and others, things generally go well. But that doesn’t mean that I’m immune to exceptions in this fallen world.

In today’s chapter, we read something exceptional in the history of the Kings of Israel and Judah. Hezekiah was a good king. He did what was right in the eyes of the Lord. That’s an exception, not the rule. Of the 19 kings of the Kingdom of Israel, all 19 of them did evil according to the narrator. In the Kingdom of Judah, the numbers are slightly better, but not by much. There are 20 total kings. Only eight are listed on the “good” side of doing what was right by God. In baseball, that’s batting .400, but it still means that 60% of the monarchs failed to be faithful to God and His ways.

Now as a general rule, we’d expect that Hezekiah’s exceptional goodness would result in a prosperous and successful reign (e.g. Solomon). Instead, the Assyrian Empire attacks, conquers several fortified cities in Judah, then surrounds Jerusalem and taunts Hezekiah with threats and smack talk. The chapter ends without resolution.

I couldn’t help but think about how often this happens in life. I want the “general rule” to apply 100 percent of the time.

Do the Right Thing = Success and Prosperous Outcome
Do the Wrong Thing = Failure and Painful Consequences

But there are always exceptional situations in this fallen and sinful world that remains, for the moment, the dominion of the Prince of This World and the kingdoms of this world.

Sometimes the righteous suffer tragedy.
Sometimes the wicked prosper.

In today’s chapter, the word trust is significant. In verse 5 (which I quoted at the top of the post), the narrator uses the Hebrew word batach, meaning “to trust, rely upon, or feel secure in someone” in describing Hezekiah’s trust in God.

The same root appears repeatedly in the Assyrian spokesman’s taunts and smack talk. The question of whom Hezekiah trusts becomes the rhetorical centerpiece of the confrontation. The author is deliberately drawing our attention to the competing objects of trust: Egypt’s military power, Assyria’s overwhelming force, Hezekiah’s leadership, or the Lord.

There are two powerful movements in this chapter, and I think they’re connected. In the first, Hezekiah destroys all the things his people have mistakenly trusted. In the second, the Assyrians arrive and the Assyrian spokesperson, a dude named Rabshakeh, challenges the one thing Hezekiah has chosen to trust.

Hezekiah removes the idols. He rejects false sources of security. He returns his nation to the worship of God. And then the greatest military power on earth arrives at his doorstep, essentially saying: “Your God cannot save you.”

It’s one thing to declare that God is trustworthy when life is peaceful and prosperous – when the “general rule” principle is working for me. It’s another to maintain that conviction when the exceptional tragedies of this fallen world kick in and everything around me appears to contradict it.

I found myself thinking about the voices that gather outside the walls of our my own lifes.

The voice of fear whispers that the future is uncertain.
The voice of regret reminds me of my past mistakes.
The voice of comparison insisting that everyone else has it better than me.
The voice of cynicism points to the world’s brokenness and asking how I can possibly believe that God is good.

Honestly? Sometimes those voices are persuasive because, like the Assyrian smack talk, they mix legitimate observations with distorted conclusions (e.g. the exceptions) bringing doubt what I know is true (e.g. the Rule).

The Assyrians really were powerful. Egypt really was unreliable. Judah really was vulnerable. The Rabshakeh’s facts weren’t entirely wrong. His conclusion about God was.

That distinction is critical.

Faith doesn’t require me to deny the reality of my circumstances. It asks me to remember that my circumstances are not the entirety of reality. And, in the quiet this morning, that’s why I find the chapter’s rather tenuous ending so powerful.

Hezekiah’s representatives refuse to engage the Assyrian spokesman. They return to the king in torn clothes. No dramatic victory. No miraculous rescue. Not yet. Just a group of frightened men carrying devastating news to a faithful but vulnerable king.

The chapter ends before God answers.

And, oh man, I have found myself right there so many times on life’s road. Living in the space between the threat and the deliverance. Between the prayer and the answer. Between what God has promised and what I can presently see. Faith is not always a triumphant shout from the mountaintop. Sometimes it’s a quiet refusal to surrender while the enemy is shouting from outside the wall.

There will always be exceptionally bad moments in life.

I will choose to keep trusting in the God I know rules.

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