The story of the Gospels is inextricably connected with the story of the Romans in Judea from the account of the decree that was sent out by the Emperor Augustus that the Roman world should be taxed – leading to the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem – to the story of the Roman centurion who stood by the cross at Christ’s death.
 
In the decades before the life of Jesus, the Roman Empire increased its influence in the eastern Mediterranean, and by 40 BC the land of Judah became a province of the Roman Empire ruled by Jewish puppet kings. When King Herod the Great died in 4 BC, the emperor Augustus divided Herod’s kingdom among his three sons: Antipas, Philip, and Archelaus, who ruled Judea and Samaria. Archelaus ruled so badly that the Jews and Samaritans both appealed to Rome, and in AD 6 Judea became part of the larger Roman province of Syria, ruled by a Roman Governor.

As we read the Gospels, we find many references to the influence of the Roman occupiers. The Romans encouraged the development of several cities with heavy Greek and Roman influence, such as Caesarea on the Mediterranean coast which the Romans used as the administrative capital of Judea, and Tiberias – called after the emperor of that name – a city in Galilee mentioned in the Gospels.

A number of Roman soldiers were stationed in the province of Judea to keep order and to suppress the ever-present threat of rebellions – which occurred frequently and were just as quickly and brutally put down. Two cohorts (with about 500 men in each) were stationed in Jerusalem (Acts 23:23-32) and a third cohort guarded the capital Caesarea (Acts 10:1).  An additional two cohorts served throughout the province (Acts 27:1) along with a squadron of cavalry (Acts 23:23-32).

The rank and file soldiers of the Judean Legions were sometimes Roman (Acts 27:1), but many – possibly including a number of the soldiers who participated in Christ’s execution – were recruited locally. At least two and perhaps more cohorts in Judea were composed of Samaritans.

The military officers were mainly centurions (each commanding 80 rather than 100 men as often supposed). Seven of these centurions are mentioned in the New Testament, and two are particularly prominent in the Gospels – the one who asked Jesus to heal his servant (Matthew 8:5-13), and another who watched Jesus die on the cross and exclaimed “Truly this was the Son of God” (Matthew 27:54). Despite being Gentiles looked down upon by most Jews, the New Testament shows many of these men to have been honorable and accepting of the truth.

The Roman governors of Judea were also military men chosen for their rank and experience. They oversaw local government, taxation, and some building projects.  They also served as judges and, as Rome's governing authorities in the area, they alone had the power to execute criminals.  While several of the Roman governors are mentioned in the Gospels, only one – Pontius Pilate – is pictured in some detail.  Although he is mentioned over fifty times in the New Testament as well as in a number of historical documents, and archaeological evidence of his governorship was discovered in 1961, not much is known about him. The Gospels make it clear that Pilate was weak in dealing with the Jews regarding the false charges brought against Jesus, but they show that he was equally unwilling to execute him and tried repeatedly to avoid this.   What happened to Pilate?  Within a few years of the death of Jesus, the Roman Governor was recalled to Rome in shame due to his handling of an uprising among the Samaritans.  He died soon after, in AD 39.
 
Although Pilate is doubtless the most infamous example we meet in the Gospels, a great many of the events of New Testament history involved upstanding Romans.  It is perhaps not surprising that the Book of Acts shows the devout centurion Cornelius was the first Gentile converted to Christianity (Acts 10), and despite the Romans’ reputation for brutality among the Jews, the Gospels show that both Jesus and the early Church fully accepted the individual Romans who turned to God – sometimes with greater faith than that found among the Jews themselves.

The region of Samaria that is frequently mentioned in the New Testament has a colorful history that helps us understand many things written in the four Gospels. 
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samaria was the area between Judea and Galilee that had been the northern kingdom of Israel after Judah and Israel split into two monarchies following the death of Solomon around 931 BC.  Some two hundred years later, in 726–722 BC, the Assyrian king Shalmaneser V invaded the region, captured the capital city of Samaria and deported many of its inhabitants to Assyrian cities in Mesopotamia.  But some of the Samaritans remained in their land and eventually mixed with other groups who moved into the area.

This mixed – partly Jewish and partly pagan – population represented the Samaritans of Jesus’ day.  Although they worshiped the same God as the Jews and strictly upheld the commands of the Mosaic law, their religion was rejected by Judaism – both because of their partly Gentile ancestry, and because the Samaritans accepted only the first five books of the Bible and worshipped in their temple on Mount Gerazim in Samaria rather than in the Temple in Jerusalem.
 
As a result, the Samaritans were despised by most Jews – who treated their northerly neighbors terribly, as virtual “untouchables.”  The depths of this terrible disdain can be seen in the fact that Samaritans could not even be accepted as converts to Judaism. Rather than “contaminate” themselves by passing through Samaritan territory, Jews who travelled between Judea and Galilee would often cross over the River Jordan in order to bypass Samaria, rather than going through the area. Those who did take the direct route would hurry so as not to stay overnight there and would even refuse to eat in that area.  

The attitude is reflected in later statements in the Jewish Talmud such as: “He that eats the bread of the Samaritans is like to one that eats the flesh of swine” (Mishnah Shebiith 8.10).  Perhaps understandably, the Samaritans developed a deep antipathy toward the Jews, and there is no question that there was a great deal of mutual hostility and religious rejection between the two cultures (Luke 9:52-53).

This was the situation in the society into which Jesus was born.  When we understand this background, we see how remarkable Jesus’ teaching and actions regarding the Samaritans truly were.  We can sense the shock among many of his Jewish listeners when Christ told the parable of the “Good Samaritan,” an individual he held up as being not only “our neighbor,” but also someone more righteous than a representative priest and Levite – the Jewish religious professionals of that day (Luke 10:25–37).

The nature of Jewish-Samaritan relations (or lack of them) helps us to realize what a statement it was that Jesus chose to pass directly through Samaria instead of crossing the Jordan to avoid the area on the way to Jerusalem (John 4:4-5).  When Jesus spoke with a Samaritan woman outside one of their cities, it was directly contrary to Jewish custom (John 4:9), and when he agreed to eat with the Samaritans of the area – and even stay with them overnight – it was the ultimate outrage from the perspective of the Jews: Jesus accepted the Samaritans as being no different from the Jews themselves.

When Jesus healed ten lepers from the border of Samaria (Luke 17:11-16) – at least one of whom was a Samaritan (vs. 16) – he showed he loved the Samaritans just as much as anyone else.  In his teaching and serving alike Jesus accepted and cared for the Samaritans in a manner that completely negated their “untouchable” status in the eyes of many.

So, despite widespread Jewish antipathy, it is not surprising that the early Church recognized Samaritans as equal to Jews. Many Christians spread through the area of Samaria (Acts 8:1), and the evangelist Philip taught there (Acts 5:3-8).  Significantly, the leading apostles Peter and John were sent on a special mission to the area in order to confirm those Samaritans who had been baptized by Philip (Acts 8:14-17) – to show that their acceptance was the official position of the Church.
  
The ready acceptance of Christianity by many Samaritans is likely due to their expectation of a Taheb or “Restorer,”  a messiah-like figure whom they understood would be the prophet like Moses foretold in the Scriptures (Deuteronomy 18:15, 18).  The Taheb, they thought, would be so much like God that anyone who believed in him would believe in the Taheb’s Lord (God himself).

In his ministry, Jesus had taught that the time was coming when worship in the temples of both Jerusalem and Samaria would no longer be important (John 4:21), and the conversion of Samaritans was one of the first steps in the realization of that truth. The acceptance of Christianity by many Samaritans became a clear intermediate step between the preaching of the Gospel to the Jews and to the Gentiles – just as Christ had predicted (Acts 2).
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Even today a few ethnic Samaritans still survive in their homeland – mainly in the city of Nablus in northern Israel – and have maintained their traditional identity and worship. Some Samaritan Christians also maintain their faith – descendants of the second oldest Christian community in the world, and the only group of believers founded outside of Judea by Jesus himself. ​

“Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali,  the Way of the Sea, beyond the Jordan,  Galilee of the Gentiles — the people living in darkness  have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned” (Matthew 4:14-16, quoting Isaiah 9:1-2).


​The region of ancient (and modern) Israel that we call Galilee apparently was originally just a small circle of land (the name means “circuit” or “circle” in Hebrew) round the Canaanite city of Kedesh, which was conquered by Joshua and became part of the inheritance of the tribe of Naphtali (Joshua 20:7).   It was in this area that the twenty towns were located that King Solomon gave to Hiram king of Tyre, in payment for the workmen and cedar wood  he supplied  from Lebanon for building the Temple in Jerusalem (1 Kings 9:11).  Perhaps it was then that the area became settled by Gentiles from Phoenicia (Isaiah 8:23), though this may have occurred at a later time, when the Assyrians moved other populations into the area after the captivity of ancient Israel.

In Roman times, and throughout the life of Jesus, all Palestine was divided into three provinces: Judea, Samaria, and Galilee, with Galilee being the largest (Luke 17:11). The area is extremely hilly and rocky, and most people lived in small villages – though the cities such as Tiberias built on the shores of the Sea of Galilee were larger. The Sea of Galilee was, in fact, the central focal point of the whole region.  Also called in the Bible the Sea of Kinneret (possibly from the “harp” shape of the lake) or its Greek form, Gennesaret,  as well as Ginosar and the Sea of Tiberius,  the large lake (today approximately 7 miles wide and 12.5 miles long) was the center of the fishing trade which was Galilee’s main industry. 

Many Bible commentaries give a picture of ancient Galilee as a rustic and socially backwards area looked down upon by Jews in Jerusalem and elsewhere, but modern archaeology has shown that although the Galileans may have had a different accent (Matthew 26:73) and may not have had the education of many of the Jerusalem elites (Acts 4:13), they were nevertheless respected for their thriving commerce.  The whole area of Galillee was known for its beauty, and the Jewish historian Josephus who lived shortly after the time of Christ (c. AD 37 – AD 100)  even wrote that “One may call this place the ambition of Nature.”

The Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke,) all give detailed accounts of the ministry of Jesus which was conducted in Galilee.  They tell us that it was there that Jesus chose his disciples and where he taught and performed many miracles in the scattered villages and towns.  Matthew tells us that he did this to fulfill what was said through the prophet Isaiah:

“Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali,  the Way of the Sea, beyond the Jordan,  Galilee of the Gentiles— the people living in darkness  have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned” (Matthew 4:14-16, quoting Isaiah 9:1-2).

Yet why did Jesus spend so much of his earthly life in Galilee?  It would have been possible, of course, for him to have grown up anywhere in Judea and to have simply travelled to Galilee to complete his prophesied work there.  Most scholars feel that because Galilee was relatively distant from the political and religiously volatile situation in Jerusalem, Jesus’ ministry was more likely to thrive and survive in the more out of the way area.
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But there is perhaps another reason why so much of Jesus’ ministry was completed in Galilee – and that was the nature of the Galileans themselves.  The common stereotype that paints the Galileans as unsophisticated  and “backwoodsy” fails to take into account an important trait for which they were well known.  The Jewish historian Josephus also wrote of the Galileans that they were “fond of innovations and by nature disposed to change, and they delighted in seditions.”  The latter charge, that they were fond of political seditions, was seen in the revolt against the Romans led by Judas of Galilee in  AD 6 and mentioned in the New Testament (Acts 5:37). 

However, the fact that the Galileans were socially and temperamentally inclined to innovation and change meant that they were doubtless far more receptive to the seemingly radical new teachings of Jesus of Nazareth.  Far less constrained in what they believed than the tradition-bound Jews of Jerusalem, the Galileans (apart from Jesus’ own family and those who had known him as a child – Matthew 13:54-58) may have been more open to the message of the Gospel than any other group in ancient Palestine.  It was among the Galileans, as Isaiah prophesied, that the light that was to come shone most brightly. 

“Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out!” (Romans 11:33).

The ancient Romans prided themselves on their roads. The famous “Roman roads” were not only expertly constructed (many still survive today and are still in use),  but they also formed a massive network stretching virtually from one end of the known world to the other.  Great highways radiated outward from Rome (you have doubtless heard the expression “All roads lead to Rome”),  and by the time of the late Empire all Rome’s 113 provinces were interconnected by 372 great roads totaling almost a quarter of a million miles (over 400,000 km). 

The Roman roads were used to move armies as well as for trade and international communication, and virtually everyone used the vast network of roads for any kind of travel by land. In fact, the roads of Rome became a kind of institution, and they were carefully maintained and protected by laws appropriate to their importance. 

So it is interesting to realize that, despite the vast amount of national and international travel in which the Romans regularly participated, they made few maps as we know them, with landforms and other features. Instead, the Romans made itineraria which were simply lists of roads (and in some cases, sea routes) with distances between the major points along the way.  These itineraria ranged from small local road lists to ones covering vast distances.

Julius Caesar and Mark Antony commissioned the first known master itinerary of all Roman roads in 44 BC.  Skilled Greek geographers were hired to compile the information on the Roman road system, and this task took over 25 years to complete. The result was a master itinerarium which was engraved on a stone set up in Rome from which travelers could make copies. The famous Tabula Peutingeriana is a later copy of another, Fifth Century, schematic listing of the Roman roads from Spain in the West to India in the East.
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So, with such an itinerarium, if you knew where a person was from, you could know where he or she could go and how long it would take them to get there. The possible roads any person could take were well documented, and the Romans were doubtless especially proud of this.  We should remember this fact as the context in which the apostle Paul wrote, in his letter to the Romans themsleves, of the wisdom and knowledge of God - whose paths (Greek hodoi: “travelled ways,” “roads”) were “beyond tracing out” (Romans 11:33).

In writing this Paul makes a point about the greatness of God that is easy to read over.  The documentation of the Roman roads demonstrated not only human ability to know exactly where and how others could come and go, the itineraria symbolized Rome’s – and humanity’s – knowledge and control of the world: over the very universe from a human perspective. 
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In pointing out to the Romans that God’s paths were beyond “tracing out,” Paul did more than simply tell them that God was great beyond our comprehension. That is an essential part of his meaning, of course, but he also reminded them of the true scale of things and that it was God, not Rome, who “mapped” the world and controlled it with unimaginable power.  

By Lenny Caccio

No, the centurions were not a 1950's Rock and Roll band, at least not as far as I know. Centurions were Roman military officers who were commanders over military units of about 100 men each. They were many of them in the Holy Land during Jesus' day because, after all, Judea and its environs were occupied territory.

Yet there is something curious about each and every centurion mentioned in the New Testament. Let's take a quick survey of these men and the accounts about them.

Luke 7:1-10 and Matthew 8:5-13 – A centurion sends word to Jesus, begging him to come and heal a servant who is paralyzed and near death. Jesus agrees and offers to go to the servant's bedside. As Jesus is on his way the centurion sends word to Jesus, stating his own unworthiness to have the Lord "trouble" himself to "enter under his roof", and instead just say the word, knowing that his servant would be healed. Jesus marvels at his faith and heals the servant from a distance.

Mark 15:39 – After seeing signs (a darkened sun, an earthquake, and the temple veil being torn), a centurion recognizes that "truly this man was the Son of God."

Acts 10:1-48 – The centurion Cornelius, "a devout man and one who feared God with all his household", and "who gave alms generously to the people", and "who prayed to God always" receives a special revelation from God to send for Peter for instruction in the way of God. God chooses this centurion and his household to be the first of the Gentiles to receive the Holy Spirit.

Acts 22:25-26 – Paul is delivered to the soldiers to be scourged even though there is no basis for it other than unfounded accusations by a small politically-driven religious class. Paul addresses a centurion who was standing by and reveals his Roman citizenship, which meant it was illegal for him to be scourged. The centurion prevents the scourging and appeals Paul's case to the commander, who rescinds his previous order.

Acts 24:23 –  A centurion at the command of the governor Felix allows Paul liberty.

Acts 27:1-3 – A centurion named Julius is charged with the transporting of Paul as a prisoner to Rome. He treats Paul in a "kindly" way by allowing Paul to go ashore to receive medical care. Later (verse 43) he saves Paul's life as the ship was about to break up.

I take a lesson from this, though I am sure there are many more than just one. First Century Rome was an extremely corrupt place. Its empire was corrupt, its morals were corrupt, its people were corrupt, its officials were corrupt. In spite of all this there were still men of honor who were a part of the Roman system. It is the same today. It is tempting sometime to paint everyone in the government employ with the same wet brush. But that just isn't fair, as the stories of the centurions show.


*Reproduced, with permission, from Morning Companion.

“For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him, saying, ‘This man began to build and was not able to finish.’ Or what king, going out to encounter another king in war, will not sit down first and deliberate whether he is able with ten thousand to meet him who comes against him with twenty thousand? And if not, while the other is yet a great way off, he sends a delegation and asks for terms of peace. So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.” (Luke 14:28-31)




In this parable with complementary halves, Jesus gave back-to-back examples of the potential problems resulting from a lack of planning. The first example, of building a tower without first counting the cost, is sometimes thought to be based on a failed building project in Jerusalem planned by Pontius Pilate – which may be possible if the allusion is not to building a watchtower on an estate or vineyard. The principle is straightforward, and the example expands upon the concept of building on a firm foundation given in the Parable of the Two Builders (Matthew 7:24-27). In that parable the focus is the nature of what we build upon, in this parable it is our spiritual preparation and dedication that is at issue, even if we have a proper basis for our faith.

In the second example Jesus gives, he does appear to make an allusion to a specific event of that time. Herod Antipater (c. 21 BC – AD 39), known by the nickname Antipas, was the first century ruler under the Romans of Galilee and Perea on the east side of the Jordan. Antipas divorced his first wife Phasaelis, the daughter of King Aretas IV of Nabatea, to marry his brother’s wife Herodias (as condemned by John the Baptist: Luke 3:18-20), and this divorce added further friction to a dispute with Aretas over territory on the border of Perea and Nabatea. According to the Jewish historian Josephus, Antipas declared war on Aretas without proper planning, and his army was routed by the larger forces of the other king. These contemporary events would have been clear in the minds of Jesus’ hearers and would have made the allusion to the king at war seem particularly real.

Many commentators explain the verbal pictures used in this parable as simply prompting us to count the cost before engaging in the struggle that the follower of Christ faces against the many forces that “war” against him or her: not only those of our own human nature, but also external physical and spiritual forces (Ephesians 6:12). But if that is the meaning, the allusion to asking for “terms of peace” when realizing one is outnumbered does not seem to make sense. Other commentators see the parable differently – that the king with a much stronger force represents God, with whom we should ally ourselves rather than becoming His enemy. In this case the terms of peace make better sense and perhaps tie better to the words that follow the parable on being willing to renounce everything that we have (as “terms of peace”), which was the point that Jesus was making as he gave these two small parables:

“If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26-27).

The spiritual costs of building the “tower,” like the cost of engaging in “war,” Jesus tells us, are the costs of being willing to give up family, friends, possessions, position or anything else that might be necessary in order to succeed in what we set out to do – though, as biblical scholar Joachim Jeremias has written, this double parable is an “exhortation to self-examination” - are we willing to give up anything necessary -  rather than to planned self-denial.

* From our FREE eBook, The City on a Hill:  Lessons from the Parables of Jesus, available for download on our sister site here.

The “Game” of espionage is not only a dangerous one, but it is also a highly complex contest played between the minds behind the pieces “on the board.”  One of the greatest dangers of sending spies into enemy territory is that they might be “turned” to the other side. If that happens, then the spy trusted for reliable information actually becomes a source of mis-information and as such becomes a double agent serving the enemy.

The “turning” of spies is not always an obvious or entirely conscious thing, however. Sometimes spies are turned through subtle indirect influences which change the way they think. In some cases they may not even realize the degree to which their loyalty has been compromised. When Moses sent twelve spies into the land of Canaan to check out conditions there before Israel invaded the Promised Land, he sent twelve men who were hand-picked leaders from the twelve tribes (Numbers 13:1-2). We do not know much about these men, and only know the age of one of them – Caleb – who was 40 when dispatched on his mission (Joshua 14:7), but we might presume that was about average for established leaders in the tribes; but in any case, they were leaders and not young recruits. That fact makes it all the more surprising that we are told when the spies returned they had clearly been turned.

This is essentially what they reported to Moses: “We went to the land where you sent us. It really is a land flowing with milk and honey. Here is some of its fruit. But the people who live there are strong, and the cities have walls and are very large … We can’t attack those people! They’re too strong for us!”  (Numbers 13:27-33 paraphrased).

So the spies began to spread lies among the Israelites about the land they had explored. Only two of them – Joshua and Caleb – gave a balanced report showing that the land could be taken (Numbers 13:30, 14:30), so an incredible 10 out of 12 spies had obviously been compromised and became, in essence, assets of the enemy.  There is no indication that any of the spies had been directly subverted by the Canaanites, however. They had simply been influenced by sights and impressions and perhaps by other influences that they were unaware of (Ephesians 6:12) to such a degree that they were turned.   

Usually, this story is viewed from the perspective that the majority of the spies looked at what they saw and lacked faith regarding the help of God in overcoming the enemy – that they walked by sight and not by faith. But there is another and equally valid point to the story that we should remember.  Every time we put ourselves in a situation where we are being influenced negatively, we risk being deeply affected to our own detriment.  We risk being turned. That is why God commanded Israel to drive the Canaanites out of the land, because of the danger that Israel would be affected by their influence (Leviticus 18:29-30, etc.).  Unfortunately, many Israelites were influenced and they, like the majority of the spies, were completely turned.

This is where the story connects to us. Is there anything in our lives that is a constant influence for what is not right?  If there is, we should be careful not to presume that we are strong enough or “mature” enough to handle it – or think that we are unlikely to be turned by it.  The experiences of the twelve spies, and of the whole nation of ancient Israel, show that the odds are against us. Being careful to analyze the influences in our lives and turning from ones that are not good can help us to avoid being "turned."

Fifth in Our Lessons from the Kings Series

Josiah was undoubtedly one of ancient Judah’s best rulers. This king ruled for thirty-one years (c. 640-609 BC), accomplishing great good during his reign.  Yet his death is puzzling and provides a sobering lesson to anyone who reads the story. 

Perhaps under the influence of Jeremiah, in his eighteenth year Josiah began a great reformation of the faith of Judah. He first repaired the Temple of Solomon and renewed the ancient covenant with God (2 Kings 23). The king then began to cleanse Judah of idolatry. The temple was purged and idolatrous “high places” were destroyed throughout Judah and even beyond. Josiah clearly returned to the one God and humbly led his people to return also.  But something went horribly amiss. Josiah did not die in peace, as we might expect, but as a result of a foolish gamble.

To understand Josiah’s sad demise we need to understand the basics of international relations in his day. When Josiah ascended the throne the ancient Near East was in political flux.  That world’s established “superpower,” the Assyrian Empire, was disintegrating and the Neo-Babylonian Empire was rising to replace it.  Egypt, another key power player under the strong pharaoh Necho II, led an army north to fight the Babylonians. 

This is where Josiah enters the picture. Necho requested permission to pass through Judah on the main road to Syria in order to fight the Babylonians, but, ironically – considering Judah’s soon-coming downfall at the hands of the Babylonians – Josiah refused.  According to II Chronicles 35:20-21 Necho  then sent messengers to Josiah saying, “ … I am not coming against you today but against the house with which I am at war, and God has ordered me to hurry. Stop for your own sake from interfering with God who is with me, so that He will not destroy you.” This message is amazing not only in that Necho pleaded with the relatively minor king Josiah not to interfere, but also claimed that God Himself instructed him to do what he was doing. 

Was this just a detail of cleverly contrived psychological warfare, or was Necho really marching under the influence of God who raises kingdoms and diminishes them (Daniel 2:21)?  The biblical account appears to indicate the latter as  Chronicles tells us that “Josiah … would not listen to what Necho had said at God’s command but went to fight him on the plain of Megiddo”  (2 Chronicles 35:22, emphasis added).  The results of this battle were disastrous for the Judean king.  Archers shot Josiah, and he was taken back to Jerusalem, where he died (vs. 23).

Josiah’s taking a huge chance with his life at Megiddo not only led to his own death, but also to the loss of Judean independence. So what happened to this good king of Judah?   Proverbs 26:17 gives the principle of  not meddling in a matter that does not concern us, and Josiah may have paid the price for not knowing or heeding that principle. Josiah certainly took a huge chance with his own life – and lost. There is no doubt that God sometimes  mercifully protects those who love Him from the results of foolish decisions and actions, but He does not guarantee that He will do this in any or every circumstance, and the principle of not “tempting” God by taking unnecessary risks (Deuteronomy 6:16) certainly applies here.  We can jeopardize our success, our happiness, and even our lives through taking foolish chances – despite our relationship with God.

The great lesson we can all learn from Josiah’s demise is don’t run the stop lights of life – physical or spiritual. 

Hezekiah is often remembered as the best king in the checkered history of the divided monarchy of Judah and Israel.  While a great many of the successors of David and Solomon turned from true worship to the pagan religions of the nations around them, Hezekiah is remembered for his faith and faithfulness:

“He trusted in the LORD, the God of Israel, so that there was none like him among all the kings of Judah after him, nor among those who were before him. For he held fast to the LORD. He did not depart from following him, but kept the commandments that the LORD commanded Moses. And the LORD was with him; wherever he went out, he prospered” (2 Kings 18:5).

We remember not only the story of God’s healing of Hezekiah (2 Kings 20:1-6), but also numerous other details of the king's reign, such as  his successful destruction of pagan idolatry and other figurative and literal enemies including the story of how God defeated the Assyrians on Hezekiah’s behalf when they attacked Jerusalem (2 Kings 19:32-36). He even survived, at least temporarily, the enemy of death (2 Kings 20:1).  All these events show a Hezekiah who was truly an individual who followed God and who was blessed in being able to overcome his enemies.

Yet there was one enemy which appears to have remained, that even Hezekiah was apparently unable to overcome.  A final undefeated enemy is evident in the record of Hezekiah’s last years.  When the king of Babylon sent diplomatic messengers to Hezekiah, the king unwisely showed the Babylonians every part of his kingdom and its treasures. We do not know whether this was the result of pride or just lack of strategic wisdom, but as a result the prophet Isaiah warned Hezekiah that this foolish action would result in the Babylonians eventually attacking Judah and destroying Jerusalem (2 Kings 20:12-18).

It is in Hezekiah’s  reply to this word of God that we see what was perhaps the king’s last undefeated enemy: “The word of the Lord you have spoken is good,” Hezekiah replied. For he thought, 'Will there not be peace and security in my lifetime?'” (2 Kings 20:19).   The king’s words seem humble and accepting on the surface, but his recorded thoughts reveal an incredible degree of selfishness: that despite the horrors he had been told he had brought upon his country, Hezekiah's attitude was “Will there not be peace and security in my lifetime?” Unlike the incident in which the king turned to God in weeping supplication regarding a problem  that applied to him directly, when he had unwittingly triggered disaster for others,  Hezekiah’s reaction was one of selfish lack of concern – of “Why should I care?” – of “Whatever!”

It is clear that despite his many righteous deeds and the many enemies he overcame, Hezekiah’s last recorded enemy - the reality of his own unconquered selfishness - was one he did not overcome. The biblical record of this king’s reign essentially ends at this point, with Hezekiah’s thoughts recorded as a poignant lesson to us all. Whatever the victories we may have accomplished, they do not matter much in terms of the fulfillment of God’s purpose for us if we are not dedicated to overcoming the enemy of selfishness. Hezekiah’s story should remind us all not to let our lives – or even a single day – end in an attitude of “Whatever!” 

*Note: We began this occasional series "Lessons from the Kings" on our sister site – LivingWithFaith.org – but we realized that many of the themes and details of the series  fit better here, so we have transferred the series and will now be carrying  the monthly installments here.



King Asa of Judah was the great-grandson of Solomon and ruled only two generations after the split between the tribes of Judah and the rest of Israel.  The son of king Abijah, who appears to have  trusted  in  the  true God (2 Chronicles 13:18),  Asa ruled Judah for 41 years and seems to have been upright in his acts for most of that time. 

He was clearly zealous in maintaining the worship of God and acted decisively to root out idolatry and its associated immorality, destroying  the pagan altars and sacred places throughout the kingdom.  The king even deposed his own grandmother for worship of pagan gods and turned the people back to the traditional worship of God. Asa, we are told,  did what was good and right in the eyes of the Lord his God (2 Chronicles 14:2).

Asa also fortified cities in Judah and successfully repelled an invasion by a hugely outnumbering Cushite-Egyptian force with a demonstration of clear faith. The biblical record  tells us: “Then Asa called to the Lord his God and said, ‘Lord, there is no one like you to help the powerless against the mighty. Help us, Lord our God, for we rely on you, and in your name we have come against this vast army. Lord, you are our God; do not let mere mortals prevail against you’”(2 Chronicles 14:11). Chronicles continues to detail how Asa’s forces routed the much larger army and drove it from Judah.  As a result, the kingdom had peace under Asa and for many years no one tried to make war against him.

But in his 36th year of rule Asa was confronted by Baasha, king of the northern tribes, who constructed a fortress at Ramah, less than ten miles from Jerusalem.  While Asa had responded in faith to the Cushite threat, he appears to have crumbled under this one. Taking all the gold from the temple of God he offered it to Ben-Hadad, king of Damascus, as a bribe to convince that king to negate his treaty with Baasha and to invade the Northern Kingdom (2 Chronicles 16:2-6). Ben-Hadad took the gold and invaded his erstwhile ally, Israel, forcing Baasha to withdraw from Ramah. 

Asa then tore down Baasha’s stronghold and used the stone to build two fortresses in his own territory. History shows these two fortified areas were not successful in protecting Judah from attacks that would occur in the future, so ultimately Asa traded the gold taken from the temple for a false security.  In that sense, Asa’s two fortresses are clearly symbols of a failure of faith (2 Chronicles 16:7-9).

Considering his earlier faith under sudden, more intense pressure, we can only conclude that Asa fell under a more prolonged and unrelenting stress as Baasha began to build his forces on Judah’s border. It seems Asa discovered that wars of attrition can erode our confidence more than sudden danger. Doubtless there is a lesson for us in this. It is often easier to respond in faith to a sudden crisis, but more difficult when the problem drags on and wears us down. In those circumstances we must be careful not to allow the problem to become an excuse for taking from God what is rightfully His – perhaps not in gold, but in our time and energy as well as our trust and confidence in Him.

Perhaps as a result of the attrition of his faith, it is recorded that in his old age Asa was afflicted with a disease of his feet, and he “sought not to the Lord, but to the physicians” (2 Chronicles 16:12), meaning his trust was only toward the physical. Nevertheless, Asa was considered for the most part a good king and was honored by many of his people when he died. The story of Asa's responses to different threats may also serve as a lasting lesson for us – especially in our response to protracted stresses and problems. Sometimes the greatest need for faith is not in sudden crises, but in the ongoing problems of everyday life.

*Note: We began this occasional series on our sister site – LivingWithFaith.org – but looking ahead we realized that many of the themes and details of the series will fit better on this site.  As a result we have transferred the first posts and will now be running  the monthly installments here. Enjoy!



The biblical books of Samuel, Kings, and Chronicles tell the remarkable story of the kings of ancient Israel – the united monarchy of Saul, David and Solomon, and the thirty-nine kings (and one queen) of Judah and Israel who followed them after the kingdom broke into two parts: the Southern Kingdom (the tribes of Judah and Benjamin, usually called Judah) and the Northern Kingdom (most of the remaining tribes, called Israel).

Reading the story of these kings helps one realize what a checkered pattern of righteousness and evil the history of ancient Judah and Israel was.  Actually, the checkered effect is mainly visible for Judah because the kings of the northern tribes of Israel were pretty much unfailingly corrupt according to their biblical obituaries.  But when we look at ancient Judah, the mixed good/bad pattern is very clear. Even beginning with the kings of the briefly united monarchy, we see the problem: King Saul started out good and ended up bad, his successor, David, started out good and despite some unfortunate lapses into sin ended up good. Solomon started out good, but despite his wisdom ended up swayed by evil. 

It’s when we then look at the successors of Solomon – the kings of Judah – that the situation gets almost bizarre. Of the 20 rulers of Judah, we are told that over half of them (10 kings and Queen Athaliah)  started out evil and stayed that way. Only a quarter of all the kings (Asa, Jehoshaphat, Jotham, Hezekiah and Josiah) started their reigns on the right track and apparently ended up as good.  Three kings (Joash, Amaziah and Uzziah) actually started out well, but ended up evil. Only one king – Manasseh, the son of Hezekiah –  started out evil and actually ended up well.

Looking at this checkered panorama of obedience and apostasy, we can only wonder at the patience of God in giving ancient Judah and Israel hundreds of years – over 40 rulers – to “get it right.” Eventually, however, the rulers of the kingdoms did only evil and God brought on them the judgment of which they were repeatedly warned. But the story of the kings of ancient Judah and Israel is a fascinating tapestry full of details which illuminate both human nature and the desire to obey God.  Our new monthly series – starting this week – examines the ancient kings and focuses on the many and often important lessons we can learn from them!

Scripture in Focus: Genesis 15: 9-21 

In Genesis 15:9-21 we find the story of God sealing his covenant with Abram (before he became Abraham) by means of animal sacrifices.  In response to Abram’s request for a sign that God would fulfill his promise (vs. 8),  God instructed him to take various animals and sacrifice them in a particular manner.  After killing the animals, Abram divided them into halves, placing them on the ground in such a way that someone could walk between the halves of the carcasses.  The narrative then states:  “When the sun had set and darkness had fallen, a smoking firepot with a blazing torch appeared and passed between the pieces. On that day the Lord made a covenant with Abram …” (Genesis 15:17-18).

Many biblical commentaries suggest that this event was symbolic of such things as the “furnace of affliction” Israel would suffer in Egypt, but there is no reason to make such a symbolic connection, especially one so stretched.   The real meaning of this event can be clearly seen from what is known of ancient Near Eastern land grant treaties (a type of “suzerain-vassal treaty” in which an agreement is made  between two unequal parties, one of higher status and one of lower status, in which land is granted to the ruler of lower status on condition of faithfulness to the higher king). In this type of ritual, sacrificed animals were divided in half and in some cases the participants to the treaty walked between the halves of the animals as a way to seal the agreement made by the participants.  This legal procedure of the world in which Abram lived is clearly central to understanding the story of Genesis 15.  Perhaps Abram walked between the animal halves when he arranged them on the ground,  but it is clear that God did – represented by the burning torch which "passed between the pieces."

Another, much later (c. 590 BC), but clearly parallel biblical example of this ritual in the time of Zedekiah involves an animal  being killed, cut into two pieces, and then individuals passing between the divided pieces (Jeremiah 34:8–22 and note vss. 15, 19).

The Hebrew Bible speaks of  covenants not as being “made” but as being “cut” (Hebrew karat ), and the ancient sacrificial covenant animal cutting practice explains that usage.