Tag Archives: King of the Mountain

Cardiac Self-Examination

Cardiac Self-Examination (CaD 2 Ki 10) Wayfarer

Yet Jehu was not careful to keep the law of the Lord, the God of Israel, with all his heart.
2 Kings 10:31a (NIV)

Much of human history is a violent, bloody affair. Pull back from the minutiae and look at it from a distance and the vast majority of it is the story of tribes and empires violently competing for power, wealth, and dominance, then clinging to that power against the next tribe or empire seeking to ascend to power in humanity’s never-ending game of King of the Mountain.

The story of Jehu the usurper in yesterday’s and today’s chapters is a microcosm of this violent game of tribes and empires. He’s a fascinating character because he was “The Son of Nobody” who was at the right place at the right time to seize a rare opportunity to ascend the political system of his tribe and to become King of the Mountain.

Being a military officer, Jehu had a front-row seat to witness and participate in the violent oppression with which Ahab and Jezebel had ruled the nation. Who knows how many atrocities Jehu had committed or overseen himself at their behest. Jehu had been told by the prophet to “destroy the house of Ahab” which certainly meant ensuring there were no male heirs left to claim the throne. Jehu, however, goes even further. He kills the King of Judah, who was Ahab and Jezebel’s son-in-law. He kills their friends, their cronies, their officials, and their known associates. He kills off all of the prophets and priests of Ahab and Jezebel’s patron pagan god, Baal, and turns the temple of Baal into a community latrine. The story is a perfect example of Jesus’ warning to Peter and His followers that violence begets violence. Ahab and Jezebel violently lived and ruled by the sword, and they violently died by it.

Jehu’s vengeance against the house of Ahab and Jezebel was beyond complete. Jehu’s devotion to God wasn’t. Jehu destroyed the worship of Ahab and Jezebel’s patron god out of vengeance against Ahab and Jezebel, not out of devotion to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel. His heart wasn’t devoted to God, it was devoted to vengeance and seizing the opportunity to grab power for himself and his family. As I meditate on the story of Jehu, I consider him to be an example of one who does the right thing (ridding the nation of an evil regime) for the wrong reasons (personal gain).

So, in the quiet, that leaves me ending this week in introspection. Is there a disconnect between my heart and my actions? Do I, like Jehu, do the right things for self-centered reasons? Jehu and David were both soldiers and warriors. They were both violent men who spilled a lot of blood. God used both of them in the grand scheme of the Great Story. The difference between the two lies in their hearts. David was called “a man after God’s own heart” while Jehu’s heart seems to have been after Jehu’s own self-interest. How much of my heart is truly about God’s desires and how much is just Tom’s self-interest?

As I contemplated these questions, the Spirit reminded me of Proverbs 21:2:

A person may think their own ways are right, but the Lord weighs the heart.

I head into this weekend with a cardiac self-examination.

I want to be a David, not a Jehu (or a Yahoo).

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

No Exemptions

“Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me.”
Mark 9:37 (NIV)

Yesterday I was doing some study and reviewing notes for an upcoming series of messages that will be given among our local gathering of Jesus’ followers. The focus of the messages is on the mystery and meaning of the Trinity, in which believers recognize God is one in three persons: God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. One is three and three is one. It is not either-or, but both-and. It is sometimes said this way:

God the Father: God for us.
Jesus: God with us.
Holy Spirit: God in us.

I love the Greek word for Trinity: perichoresis. “Peri” is circle (as in, perimeter) and “choresis” is dance (as in choreography). It is a circle dance.

As I was contemplating these things, it struck me how often I have observed the institutional church (and I include myself in this) mentally ascribing to the doctrine of the Trinity (e.g. we say we believe it), but ignore the very simple and practical conclusions I must come to if I really believe in the Trinity.

For example, in today’s chapter #TheTwelve were arguing about who was greatest among them. Nothing surprising here. As boys we play “King of the Mountain” on the piles of snow made by the plows, and as men we play a constant game of “Who’s Top Dog” in business, politics, sports, and social standing. I can’t point the finger at Peter and the boys without three fingers pointing back at me.

Jesus turns the very natural male instinct for competition on its head as He tells His closest followers that whoever wants to be “greatest” must become the “least” and the “servant of all.” He pulls a little child up into His arms and says, “If you welcome this child, you welcome me and the one who sent me.”

Follow the logic with me. If I believe that Holy Spirit (God in us) indwells believers, then if I welcome that child I welcome God’s Spirit in that child. Because One is indistinguishable with Three, I am therefore also welcoming Jesus and “the One who sent” Jesus. In treating that person with loving kindness I am treating God in that person with loving kindness. At the same time, if I treat that child or person with contempt, abuse, or condemnation I am treating God in that person with contempt, abuse, or condemnation.

At this point, my old-self wants to make a point-of-order that this “if you welcome them you welcome me/us” paradigm only applies to those in whom God’s Spirit is indwelling. But I am still left without excuse if 1) I believe that “in Him all things hold together” (Col 1:17) and if I ascribe to the teachings of Jesus who tells me 2) to love my enemies and bless those who persecute me and 3) He came to love and redeem that person whom I treat with contempt.

As I follow the circle dance all the way around I keep ending up back at the same conclusion: there are no exemptions to the law of love.

In the quiet this morning I can’t help but think of individuals for whom I would really like to have an exemption. I also can’t escape the fact that the most sensitive, self-centric, hair-trigger or rage for me is when I feel dishonored by another person. In those moments I’m not choosing to “serve the least” but staking my own personal claim as “Top Dog” worthy of honor.

It is Maundy (Latin for “Sorrowful”) Thursday as I write this. The day followers of Jesus remember His Last Supper and the agony with which He faced the suffering and crucifixion of the coming day. In those Thursday evening hours He prayed to the Father and expressed His despair at the prospect of humbly laying down His life for others. Still, He chose to press forward. The way of the cross. The law of love.

No exemptions.

Chapter-a-Day Psalm 140

The law of the playground. I prayed, "God, you're my God! Listen, God! Mercy! Psalm 140:6 (MSG)

I remember, as a kid, playing a game called "Mercy." It was your typical alpha male, king of the mountain, game of physical domination and abject humiliation. I'm sure it was created by some bully named Zeke who thought it up after he'd already given wedgies to every kid on the playground. Basically, two people face each other and put their hands together as if they were giving each other high fives. However, they lace their fingers together so that their hands are now clasping. Then they try to bend the other person's hands back until one of them is on their knees in submission and cries, "Mercy!"

How easily we come to equate "mercy" with defeat and humiliation. How quickly mercy becomes a cry to be avoided as we hang desperately to our pride and rugged self-sufficiency. As a child on the playground I learned that asking for "mercy" was a repugnant admission of defeat.

But, God is no school ground bully. If life were a mere playground game, God would have sent Jesus to be King of the Mountain. From his throne, Jesus would tyrannically force people in submission to his will. Instead, God sent Jesus to suffer humiliation and death on our behalf. The way of salvation became, not a meritous reward we earn in the dominating power of our own goodness, but an undeserved gift to any who are willing to pick up their own cross, follow Jesus and cry to God: "Mercy!"

Creative Commons photo courtesy of Flickr and mangee