Word Weld

Part 4

4. Jeroboam’s Son

At that time Abijah the son of Jeroboam fell sick.

– I Kings 14:1

The conclusion of Jeroboam’s story comes in chapter 14. I title this section Jeroboam’s Son, because there’s something very special in this passage that I think most people miss. The story opens with Jeroboam’s son, named Abijah, falling sick. Right away I noticed something interesting. Jeroboam has been disobeying God all of this time, taking the people of the northern kingdom into idolatry, heresy, and sacrilege, but here we notice that he has some connection, some respect, for the man of God who first came to him with the promise of kingship. He has named his son “Abijah,” which is functionally the same as the name of the prophet, Ahijah, both of which mean “worshipper of Jah (Jehovah).” This is yet another parallel between the story of Jeroboam and the story of Sammuel. Whereas Saul and Sammuel had a special relationship not unlike that of teacher and apprentice, or possibly even father and son, Jeroboam seems to regard Abijah as a spiritual father as well, evening appearing to name his own son after him. It is certainly an odd name to choose for someone who had sunk completely into idolatry for political reasons. But we read on:

And Jeroboam said to his wife, Arise, I pray thee, and disguise thyself, that thou be not known to be the wife of Jeroboam; and get thee to Shiloh: behold, there is Ahijah the prophet, which told me that I should be king over this people. And take with thee ten loaves, and cracknels, and a cruse of honey, and go to him: he shall tell thee what shall become of the child.

– I Kings 14:2-3

As an aside, a “cracknel” is thought to be a type of waybread that had very little moisture, and thus was good for long journeys because it did not easily spoil. The word comes from the Hebrew word meaning punctured or spotted, likely because the bread was poked with holes.

Jeroboam sees that his son is sick. Now, na’ar (nah-ar) is the Hebrew word here translated “child.” It is very important when reading a translation of a Hebrew text, even one so great as the King James Bible, that English cannot completely tell the story on its own. People who know me will let you know, as much as English is the language of our nation and I believe everybody in this country should speak it fluently, from a scholarly perspective, English is a junk language. It is the mongrel language of the world, a veritable Frankenstein’s monster, with a core based off the Anglo-Saxon tongue but with vast smattering of other languages hacked off and sewn together. On top of that, a lot of English slang has made it into the mainstream, meaning that the language is only getting more diluted. Hebrew, on the other hand, is an ancient, complex, well-established language, similar to Greek. Hebrew does not function like English and thus it is notoriously very difficult to translate. Now, I believe that God did inspire His Word and that the English translation you have before you is exactly what you need to be saved, to understand doctrine, and live your life as a growing, healthy Christian. However, deeper meanings and clarification may be found by going back to the original source, which is why I will occasionally talk about the Hebrew or the Greek. I am not a scholar of either of these languages, but even the most lay lay-person can pick up a copy of Strong’s Concordance or download E-sword on their phone, which I highly recommend. You can look up Greek and Hebrew words these days with very little effort.

If you do, what you will find is that much of the depth of the meaning of the Hebrew and Greek is often lost in the translation to English, no matter how faithful the translators were. This is especially true with Hebrew, because much of the meaning of its words depends on context. This isn’t really that hard to appreciate even for us English speakers, as to a lesser extent we do it to, with words that have different meanings depending the context, like “break,” or “nice.” But Hebrew takes this to a different level, with context sometimes drastically changing the implication of a word’s use. In the case of I Kings 14, the word “child,” (na’ar) is a very generic word for “boy.” The word is used in Genesis 22:5 (the story of Abraham offering Isaac) to refer both to Abraham’s servants who waited, as well as to his son. In Exodus 2:6 it is used to refer to Moses as a baby in the basket, and in Judges 13 it is used to refer to Samson before he is even conceived. On the other hand, it is used to describe Jonathan’s armor bearer in I Samuel 14:6, and even David himself when confronting Goliath. So the word basically refers to a male child who is not of age, from literally 0 all the way through being old enough to participate in war.

In our passage, I don’t know about you, by my mind went immediately to a baby, perhaps because of a mental association I unconsciously make between David and Bathsheba’s son, and this child. But I think we will see from the context that this child was older, though how old I will not guess. But this is very interesting. Let us read further.

And Jeroboam’s wife did so, and arose, and went to Shiloh, and came to the house of Ahijah. But Ahijah could not see; for his eyes were set by reason of his age. And the LORD said unto Ahijah, Behold, the wife of Jeroboam cometh to ask a thing of thee for her son; for he is sick: thus and thus shalt thou say unto her: for it shall be, when she cometh in, that she shall feign herself to be another woman. And it was so, when Ahijah heard the sound of her feet, as she came in at the door, that he said, Come in, thou wife of Jeroboam; why feignest thou thyself to be another? for I am sent to thee with heavy tidings. Go, tell Jeroboam, Thus said the LORD God of Israel, Forasmuch as I exalted thee from among the people, and made thee a prince over my people Israel, And rent the kingdom away from the house of David, and gave it thee: and yet thou has not been as my servant David, who kept my commandments, and who followed me with all his heart, to do that which was right in mine eyes; But hast done evil above all that were before thee: for thou hast gone and made thee other gods, and molten images, to provoke me to anger, and hast cast me behind thy back; Therefore, behold, I will bring evil upon the house of Jeroboam, and will cut off from Jeroboam him that pisseth against the wall, and him that is shut up and left in Israel, and will take away the remnant of the house of Jeroboam, as a man taketh away dung, till it be all gone.¹Him that dieth of Jeroboam in the city shall the dogs eat; and him that dieth in the field shall the fowls of the air eat: for the LORD hath spoken it.

– I Kings 14:4-11

First, we see God’s punishment upon Jeroboam. After tolerating his idolatry for years, and warning him against what he was doing, God finally gets Jeroboam’s attention. His son falls ill, and so Jeroboam goes to his old friend, Ahijah, for answers. He doesn’t consult the priests in Dan, and he doesn’t go to Bethel and pray before his broken altar. He knows where to find answers. And ultimately, all lost people do too. Most people, when at death’s door, or even when there’s just trouble in life, know to go to the God they’ve blasphemed. Many go to churches, though it may be Catholic churches or some other group, but they are all doing the same thing: looking for a real God, who may be able to help them really. This, I think, is what is meant in Romans 10:18. After Paul famously says, “How they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how shall they believe in whom they have not heard? And How shall they hear without a preacher? And so forth. Pastors and Christians quote this a lot, and with good intent, but very few people go on to verse 18.

But I say, have they not heard? Yes, verily, their sound went into all the earth, and their words unto the ends of the world.

– Romans 10:18

The gospel did go into the whole world, and while there are places now where people don’t know it or even the name Jesus, the concept of a personal God has remained even in the most far-flung places. People who want to seek God will find Him, because He is not willing that any should perish, and no one is going to want to know God only for God to say at the Throne of Judgment, “I’m sorry, I know you wanted to know me, but I just couldn’t get the Word to you.” God is able to reach people, and I say that not as an excuse to not be the person He uses, but as evidence that God can use anybody, even us. Jeroboam knew he needed real answers from a real God, not a calf he made with his own hands, and while a staunch, dying atheist may tell himself, “I’m going into the nothing because everything is nothing,” I believe that his heart trembles, and perhaps a prayer is uttered in the night.

Now, the person who has it the hardest in this passage is certainly Jeroboam’s wife. Her son is sick. Likely, he has been seen by every physician Jeroboam can afford, and he’s still dying. She’s worried about her son, and her husband tells her to go see Ahijah, but to disguise herself so he won’t know. But she can’t catch a break there, because God literally tells Ahijah everything. When she arrives, she probably thinks it will be easy; after all, the man is basically blind. But to her surprise, he knows who she is before she can even say a word. And then comes the bad news: Jeroboam’s entire house will be destroyed. She knows, even before we get to verse 12, that she will lose her son. Now, we know that Jeroboam had other children and family members, because chapter 15 talks of another son, Nadab, and the fact that Nadab’s successor kills everyone in Jeroboam’s household. This may have even included Jeroboam’s wife or wives, though it is uncertain. Ahijah then tells her that the timing is based on her own return.

Arise thou therefore, get thee to thine own house: and when thy feet enter into the city, the child shall die.

– I Kings 14:12

Her return will be the death of her son, but she is commanded to return. I wonder if she thought about not coming home, if perhaps she could alter the outcome. But something in me believes that this was not the midset of the people of the time. When God said something through a prophet, I think the mindset was that it would come to pass.

We feel for this mother, and Ahijah seems to as well, but the child’s fate is sealed, and so is that of Jeroboam’s house. But the next verse, verse 13, is something that I had not really zeroed in on until lately, and it is one of those verses that it is easy to quickly read without sorting through completely. I think it is worth touching on, and it is slightly a rabbit hole, but it is here in our study and so I think it’s worth our time to dive into it.

And all Israel shall mourn for him, and bury him: for he only of Jeroboam shall come to the grave, because in him there is found some good thing toward the LORD God of Israel in the house of Jeroboam.

– I Kings 14:13

Now, there are two ways to interpret this verse, and because God is not explicit about the meaning, I think it is possible that both interpretations have merit. The first assumes that the child is older. So in this view, because God says that there is found “some good thing” in him, that Abijah is old enough to have done deeds that please God. This means that Abijah is likely an of-age child, perhaps a teen or older teen, and has chosen to follow God in some meaningful way that goes completely against the paganism of his father.

The second view is that this Abijah is a young child, possibly even an infant. In this interpretation, since Abijah is too young to have done anything to please God, that Abijah himself is the good thing that is described.

In both cases, God says that the child’s death is a good thing. In fact, this implies that his death is a reward. Though it is never brought up (to my knowledge) in discussions about the sovereignty of God, this passage brings up important insight into the way the God views death. The Bible teaches a paradoxical response to death with God. God is moved by death and views it as an enemy, and yet is also able to appreciate it in a way that is less negative. I think of it like an elevator that takes you from your home to an unpleasant basement. Because the basement has become necessary, there must be an elevator or stair to take you there and back up again. The basement is the evil place, the elevator is not, and yet is also only there because of the evil place. It seems clear God is able to view death in both senses at the same time. There is no greater picture of this dichotomy, in my opinion, than John 11. We know the story, I think. Lazarus is Mary’s and Martha’s brother, and he is sick. Jesus is sent word, and Jesus chooses to delay. Notice, Jesus, who knows Lazarus will die from the illness, intentionally delays. He seems to view the death of Lazarus from this non-negative, high-level view. He even tells His disciples:

When Jesus heard that, he said, This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby.

– John 11:4

Notice that he tells them the sickness is not to death, or that its ultimate end is not death. He knows at the very beginning of the story what will happen. Make a note of that in your mind. He knows that in the end, Lazarus will be alive. Then, later on, after he knows Lazarus has died, he says this:

These things said he: and after that he saith unto them, Our friend Lazarus sleepeth; but I go, that I may awake him out of sleep.

– John 11:11

Again, we see this God-level view of death, we see this view of death as an elevator and Lazarus is just riding it from the basement where we live, back to the main house, and that at the end he will be back again with them. The disciples of course take his analogy literally, as most of us would, so Jesus tells them in verse 14 that Lazarus is dead, and that it is for a reason, a positive reason. Now the disciples don’t understand this apparently, but Jesus goes to Bethany, and prepares to do His work. He seems to still be coming at Lazarus’ death from this perspective, the same perspective that we would if we knew the future. It’s like watching a prequel to a film you know. In the main film, there’s a certain character there, so if you watch the prequel, if that same character is put in danger, you don’t have any sense of fear about their fate. You know it’s going to turn out ok. You have foreknowledge and so you don’t really feel the same way you would if you were in the dark. But then, amazingly, Jesus switches his perspective. He comforts Mary and Martha, sees their grief, and continues to express that everything will be alright and Lazarus will live again. Then, we read this:

When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned in his spirit, and was troubled, And said, Where have ye laid him? They said unto him, Lord, come and see. Jesus wept. Then said the Jews, Behold how he loved him!

– John 11:33-36

Suddenly, Jesus switches from his high-level view, His God’s eye view, and becomes a man, able to feel the significance of the grief and loss caused by death, in spite of His ultimate foreknowledge. To me this is a tremendous mystery, and one of the most interesting about the nature of God and Christ specifically. But it is a beautiful mystery. Hebrews tells us that Christ as a lofty high priest is still able to be “touched with the feeling of our infirmities.” He is able to live the dichotomy, to view death in an almost prosaic, matter-of-fact sense, as someone beyond death, and yet simultaneously understand and feel the grief and pain associated with it. God knows what we don’t know: that death is not evil, but it exists because of evil, and has no purpose without evil. Which is why it could not have existed prior to Adam’s sin, and cannot exist in the New Jerusalem.

But we see this same kind of dichotomy in I Kings. Whether you believe that the child Abijah was older and had done deeds that made him righteous in God’s sight, or whether you believe that he was an infant who was pure and innocent, having done no wrong and therefore was considered a “good thing” in the house of Jeroboam, the result is the same. Indeed, older or younger, he was the only good thing in Jeroboam’s house. What a fascinating concept. And notice the paradox presented here, just as in John 11. Ahijah the prophet explains to the mother that the child’s death is a good thing. All of the rest of Jeroboam’s house will be cut off. All of the men in his family will die awful deaths, until his line is completely destroyed, but this child, Abijah, he will die peacefully. He will be mourned, he will be missed. God will take him to paradise now, before he can experience the ruin and pain and suffering that will come. This is a high-level view of death, and yet, he also acknowledges the mourning, and tells Jeroboam’s wife right at the start that these tidings are “heavy.” So there is the human perspective: death is a hard thing, a sad thing, an unnatural thing, something that deeply affects us, contrasted with the divine perspective: death is a path to better things for the righteous, to the end of cares, the end of toils, then end of pain, the avoidance of the presence of evil. And that is really what we long for, isn’t it? Not the absence of work. We like work. Whether we are building something (in the creative spirit of God), or whether we are seeking a more perfect state of life (like when you clean your house, or trim you lawn. Making this life a little closer to heaven), or whether you are engaging in “play,” as Jordan Peterson refers to (pleasure, pure, wholesome, good pleasure that only heaven truly engenders), work is not bad. So it’s not work we’re trying to get away from. It’s really the presence of evil. Paul puts it this way:

Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of God. For we know the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now. And not only they, but ourselves also, which have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body.

– Romans 8:21-23

This isn’t a study in Romans, but as we consider young Abijah, a child of the wicked king Jeroboam, I would us to consider the implications. We have all experienced death, and we all know that death is in our future. We fear it, because there is no more complete breaking of the fellowship we cherish in our lives as when someone dies. And what is it we fear most about our own death but the separation? And I mean true separation. Separation from loved ones, yes of course, but also of separation from everything else. We are so accustomed to this world we live in: the pain, the troubles yes, but also the sensations, the familiarness of time itself. We are so immersed in this life that we cannot really easily accept our passing into someplace else, someplace so far from this place, so different, so wildly new. But that place is our real home. This place that is so familiar and (despite all of its evils and hardships) comforting in that sense, is not how we were intended to live. That place, the place we don’t know yet, that’s our home. Like the first line of Sweet Beulah Land says, “I’m kind of homesick for a country to which I’ve never been before.” We are like astronauts, having become accustomed to our travel through space, our space suits, our food pouches, our exercise machines, weightlessness, etc. And for the “righteous,” for the saved individual, it’s like coming back to ear years and years later. There’s an anticipation, a trepidation, a fear. But there’s also a sense of belonging that even a hundred years of life on earth cannot completely erase. C.S. Lewis put it this way:

For we are so little reconciled to time that we are even astonished at it. ‘How he’s grown’ we exclaim, ‘How time flies!’ as though the universal form of our experience were again and again a novelty. It is as strange as if a fish were repeatedly surprised at the very wetness of water. And that would be strange indeed: unless of course the fish were destined to become, one day, a land animal.

– C.S. Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms

I hope you can see the depth of what he is saying. We were never meant to be in this place, in this way. The sin of Adam placed us in a world wholly contrary to what was intended. Suffering, pain, death, distance from God, lack of spiritual awareness: these are all things that we were never meant to experience, just as in Lewis’ quote the fish was never intended to remain in the water. It has to, for now, we have to groan, as Paul said, right now. But death for a righteous individual, such as this child Abijah, is not an evil thing. Indeed, it is the furthest thing from it!

“Because in him there is found some good thing toward the LORD God of Israel in the house of Jeroboam,” I Kings tells us. What a testimony. A thing of hope and beauty amid the darkness of the book of Kings. Acknowledgement that God is not willing to abandon even one person who is right with Him, but will take care of that person no matter what, even if “taking care of” means something much different to us than it does to Him.

How else to you explain the martyrs? Righteous people, in the midst of crushing darkness, but their deaths are not evil. Yes, they endure the terrible horror of such deaths, but when they are gone from this world, what awaits on the other side is nothing short of a new reality, one that will never make them endure those things again! I know this is perhaps a little hard to hear. We’re still fish right now. We’re still in the water, but especially as you begin to get older, you realize that even the good things in this life, the parts we are permitted to enjoy, are but passing shadows of the real pleasures that await us when we cast off the water, and become the creatures God always meant for us to be. Back in Romans 8, Paul lets us know what happens when the groaning is over:

For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.

– Romans 8:18

Peter puts in his own way:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, which according to his abundant mercy hath begotten us again until a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, To an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you, Who are kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.

– I Peter 1:3-5

Notice what Paul says, that the present sufferings are not worthy of comparison. In the same way that an outhouse is not worthy to be placed in a list with the White House, or a matchbox car is worthy to be compared with a Rolls-Royce, or a paper airplane is to be compared with the space shuttle: that is how much better our reward is than this life.

Peter’s take is almost better than Paul’s even, for he says that our inheritance (what we have to look forward to) is incorruptible and eternal. We have a place waiting for us when we die that is not just a better version of this place, but a place altogether new and wonderful. It won’t just be a different, beautiful location, but a new experience. We focus on no pain or suffering, but our bodies will be perfect, and perfectly balanced with our spirits. The smell, taste, and feeling will be different, not in the sense of there being new smells, tastes, or feelings, though there might be, but the very acts themselves will be different, unhindered, uncorrupted as Peter puts it. In the light of this, we can indeed look at I Kings 14:13 and realize that Abijah’s death was indeed God’s favor, not his punishment. No, the punishments would come later. And come they would, but after Jeroboam’s death.

Moreover the LORD shall raise him up a king over Israel, who shall cut off the house of Jeroboam that day: but what? even now. For the LORD shall smite Israel, as a reed is shaken in the water, and he shall root up Israel out of this good land, which he gave to their fathers, and shall scatter them beyond the river, because they have made their groves, provoking the LORD to anger. And he shall give up Israel because of the sins of Jeroboam, who did sin, and who made Israel to sin. And Jeroboam’s wife arose, and departed, and came to Tirzah: and when she came to the threshold of the door, the child died; And they buried him; and all Israel mourned for him, according to the word of the LORD, which he spake by the hand of his servant Ahijah the prophet.

– I Kings 14:14-18

Notice the significance of this prophecy, and the significance of Jeroboam. God states that for Jeroboam’s sin, the nation would be conquered and removed from their land. There would be many kings after Jeroboam, all evil to varying degrees, and each would have their own sin, but they also carry this sin with them: the idols that Jeroboam had made. And it is for that sin, the sin that Jeroboam conceived at the first, that God determined that Israel would have to go into captivity. Verses 19-20 skip to the end of Jeroboam’s life. His kingship was 22 years, one of the longer regimes in the northern Kingdom, but shortly after his life, his line would end, just as his old friend Ahijah told him. Another of Jeroboam’s sons takes his place. His name is Nadab, a name shared by several other people in Scripture. God waits for two years to give him a chance to do things differently, but chapter 15:26 tells us that he “walked in the way of his father.” As a result, a man named Baasha, whose father’s name ironically is Ahijah, just like the prophet, rises up against him. It is highly unlikely that this Ahijah was the same as the prophet Ahijah, but Baasha overthrows Jeroboam’s family. Baasha’s name means “stink offensively,” and it is a fitting name but for the house of Jeroboam, and for his own house, as he turns out to be no better than his predecessor. But let’s finish the story of Jeroboam’s house.

And Baasha the son of Ahijah, of the house of Issachar, conspired against him [Nadab]; and Baasha smote him at Gibbethon, which belonged to the Philistines; for Nadab and all Israel laid siege to Gibbethon. Even in the third year of Asa king of Judah did Baasha slay him, and reigned in his stead. And it came to pass, when he reigned, that he smote all the house of Jeroboam; he left not to Jeroboam any that breathed, until he had destroyed him, according unto the saying of the LORD, which he spake by his servant Ahijah the Shilonite: Because of the sins of Jeroboam which he sinned, and which he made Israel to sin, by his provocation wherewhith he provoked the LORD God of Israel to anger.

– I Kings 15:27-30

And so ends the house of Jeroboam, a man appointed by God to right the wrongs of Solomon, but who fell deeper in them than ever. His house is destroyed by Baasha, who was likely a general or captain in his army, who waited for Nadab to be preoccupied in battle with the Philistines and then destroyed his king, and used his place in the army to destroy all of Jeroboam’s family and set himself up as king.

Jeroboam was a man who had great potential, who God had given everything he would need to be a good king and have a long and praiseworthy dynasty. But in the end his inability to have faith in God, and his unwillingness to look past his own human wisdom, to be spiritually minded instead of carnally minded, caused him to fail the test. I hope we can all take the lesson of Jeroboam with us as we lead our own homes.

5. Book Tie-in:

God presents some clear instructions for how a king should behave, and in Jeroboam, northern Israel’s first king, we find a case-study in how someone could go utterly wrong in that office. Jeroboam, like Saul, David, and really Solomon, was appointed directly by God, hand-picked to be the man who would lead the ten northern tribes back to God after Solomon had corrupted himself and the people, but Jeroboam only let the people in greater corruption.

The king God appointed was to take the job seriously, it being an honor to be hand-picked by God, and a huge responsibility, which Solomon realized when he began, as evidenced by his conversation with God after first coming to the throne. Solomon did not have the contentment that a king was supposed to have, multiplying material possessions, wives, and armies. Jeroboam followed suit, craving power and being afraid to lose it. Instead of remaining humble, as David had, Jeroboam exalted himself, even to the point of taking upon himself the role of the priests in offering sacrifices personally, and when challenged by the unnamed prophet not only did not repent, but tried to have God’s messenger imprisoned or even killed. He did not submit himself to God, even when warned that his evil deeds would cause the end of his house, and the annihilation of his bloodline. He was focused on his own material power, and in continuing to claim it himself, not trusting that God would preserve and maintain his position. Kings in Israel were not to multiply horses, wives, or treasures, but Jeroboam was only concerned with grasping those physical things with his own hands. A king was to be God’s minister, a servant, an under-shepherd, a physical extension of God’s will towards His people, but Jeroboam, like Solomon before him, ultimately succumbed to pride, and in a bid to continue his power, lost it for his whole family.

My son, forget not my law; but let thy heart keep my commandments: For length of days, and long life, and peace, shall they add to thee.

– Proverbs 3:1-2