Jezebel wrote in the letters, "Proclaim a fast, and set Naboth at the head of the people." She directed that two worthless men be seated opposite him to testify, "You have cursed God and the king," and then that he be taken out and stoned to death (a paraphrase of 1 Kings 21:9–10).

Notice the evil of Jezebel. She was not simply evil; her evil was amplified by her intelligence. She made sure there were two false witnesses to testify against Naboth. One witness would not do. She likely remembered the requirement in the Law of Moses: "On the evidence of two witnesses" the one who is to die shall be put to death but not on the evidence of one (cf. Deuteronomy 17:6). And again, a single witness shall not suffice against a person for any crime; "only on the evidence of two witnesses... shall a charge be established" (cf. Deuteronomy 19:15).

In addition to the two witnesses, she framed the accusation in the setting of a religious fast, when people would be especially sensitive to blasphemy.

Here is a situation in which an evil woman used a good law to do evil.

Friends, while there is nothing obscure about the evil of Jezebel's actions, let us not simply dismiss them as though we could never be touched by such wickedness. In a sense, Jezebel used the Word of God to pursue her evil designs. I wonder: can we sometimes be guilty of using the Word of God to further our own interests?

The Pharisees taught a practice called Corban, by which people could dedicate to the temple money that would otherwise have supported their parents. Listen to Jesus' indictment: they had a fine way of rejecting the commandment of God in order to establish their tradition; for Moses said, "Honor your father and your mother," but they said that if a man told his father or mother that what he had was Corban — given to God — he was no longer permitted to do anything for them, "thus making void the word of God by your tradition" (cf. Mark 7:9–13).

Friends, the Pharisees may or may not have had wrong motives when they developed this practice, but Jesus clearly declared it wrong and a nullification of God's true command. So a good motive does not make a wrong teaching or practice right. That is why we are commanded to handle the Word of God rightly: "Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved," a worker who has no need to be ashamed, "rightly handling the word of truth" (2 Timothy 2:15).

Some well-known teachers have become widely known for rejecting biblical teaching on hell, and their motive, they say, is to preserve the loving character of God. As a testament to the slippery slope of what I believe is false teaching, one prominent example has gone on to support the redefinition of marriage, arguing publicly that the culture has already moved on and that the church becomes increasingly irrelevant when it appeals to letters written two thousand years ago instead of responding to the real people in front of it.

Is the Bible simply an outdated document with no relevance for people today? Certainly not! It is the Word of God. Such teachers draw attention because of their platforms, but I see Christians and Christian leaders with far smaller platforms treating God's Word with the same casual attitude. Rather than submitting to God's Word, many use it to serve their own ends and support their own views. They select verses here and there to "prove" a point while neglecting the context that drives the meaning of any verse. Let us all be wary of such a dangerous practice.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The Naboth episode is one of Scripture's clearest portraits of legal machinery turned to injustice. Naboth's refusal was not stubbornness but obedience: "The Lord forbid that I should give you the inheritance of my fathers" (21:3). The Law prohibited the permanent sale of ancestral land (Leviticus 25:23–28; Numbers 36:7), so Naboth was keeping God's command when he refused the king. Jezebel used the correct number of witnesses, a solemn assembly, and the proper penalty for blasphemy — every legal form was observed while murder was committed. Isaiah later denounced exactly this: "Woe to those who decree iniquitous decrees" (Isaiah 10:1).

God's response came swiftly. Elijah met Ahab in the vineyard with a word of judgment (21:17–24), and Ahab's humbling delayed but did not cancel it (21:27–29). Naboth's story stands behind Micah 2:2 and the prophets' repeated defense of the poor against the powerful. The comment's application — that Scripture can be misused to serve our own ends — is the same danger Peter names: some twist the Scriptures "to their own destruction" (2 Peter 3:16). The safeguard is the one the comment commends: reading in context, under Scripture's own authority rather than over it.

Jehoshaphat made ships of Tarshish to go to Ophir for gold, but they did not go for the ships were broken at Ezion-geber. Then Ahaziah the son of Ahab said to Jehoshaphat, “Let my servants go with your servants in the ships.” But Jehoshaphat was not willing (1 Kings 22:48–49).

Here is the parallel and fuller description of what happened in the Chronicles:

Later, Jehoshaphat king of Judah made an alliance with Ahaziah king of Israel, whose ways were wicked. He agreed with him to construct a fleet of trading ships. After these were built at Ezion Geber, Eliezer son of Dodavahu of Mareshah prophesied against Jehoshaphat, saying, “Because you have made an alliance with Ahaziah, the Lord will destroy what you have made.” The ships were wrecked and were not able to set sail to trade (2 Chronicles 20:35–37).

As to the matter of Ahaziah's request to have his servants sail with those of Jehoshaphat after the destruction of the ships, consider the following explanation by Keil & Delitzsch:

The brief notice concerning Jehoshaphat's attempt to build Tarshish ships for the voyage to Ophir is expanded in 2 Chronicles 20:36–37, where we learn that Jehoshaphat had allied himself with Ahaziah of Israel for this purpose, and that the prophet Eliezer predicted the destruction of his ships on account of this alliance. When the ships had been broken in pieces in Eziongeber, no doubt by a storm, Ahaziah made this fresh proposal to him: "Let my people sail with thy people;" but Jehoshaphat would not. Ahaziah evidently wanted to persuade Jehoshaphat to make another attempt, after the destruction of the ships which were first built; but Jehoshaphat did not agree to it any more, because it was impossible for him, after the fulfilment of Eliezer's prediction, to expect a more favourable result. Thus the two accounts can be harmonized in a very simple manner.

Jehoshaphat was a good king in all respects except in his insistence in allying with the ungodly kings of Israel. It appears that he felt that he could convert his brother kings to a right faith.

This seems very much like Christians that date or marry unbelievers in the hopes of converting them, yet the Bible says in no uncertain terms, "Don't do it!" (cf. 2 Corinthians 6:14–18; 1 Corinthians 7:39). It is easier for them to corrupt you than for you to convert them. But more importantly, the Lord has forbidden it; therefore, those who attempt this, already show themselves corrupted in part.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The accounts in Kings and Chronicles describe Jehoshaphat's shipping venture from different angles. Chronicles explicitly connects the destruction of the ships with his alliance with Ahaziah and records Eliezer's prophetic warning. Kings reports the failed venture and Jehoshaphat's refusal of Ahaziah's proposal concerning servants. Reading them together raises a legitimate question about sequence, and the quoted explanation by Keil and Delitzsch offers one way of coordinating the notices.

Their proposal is that the refusal concerns a renewed attempt after the first ships were destroyed. This is a plausible harmonization, but the full sequence is reconstructed rather than stated in either account as a continuous narrative. The claim that a storm destroyed the ships is likewise an inference in the commentary. The text reports the wrecking without specifying the physical cause. The commentary on 1 Kings 22:49 should therefore be read as an interpretive explanation, not additional biblical narration.

The moral concern is clearer than every chronological detail. Jehoshaphat's cooperation with an unfaithful ruler draws him into a relationship the prophet condemns. His earlier alliance with Ahab had already exposed the danger of subordinating discernment to royal solidarity. Nevertheless, the suggestion that he hoped to convert the northern kings is not stated. Economic advantage, political security, and dynastic relationships are possible considerations, but motives should not be supplied simply because they resemble a modern application.

The comparison with marriage to an unbeliever needs both firmness and care. First Corinthians 7:39 directs a Christian widow considering remarriage to marry in the Lord. Second Corinthians 6:14–18 warns against partnerships incompatible with allegiance to God, though its immediate scope is broader than a detailed marriage rule. These passages support taking shared faith seriously rather than entering marriage on the assumption that one can secure the other's conversion afterward.

The same chapter in First Corinthians also addresses marriages that already include an unbelieving spouse. Paul does not instruct a believer to abandon a willing unbelieving partner; he calls for faithfulness within the existing relationship. Thus the original's warning about entering such a marriage must not become a command to dissolve one or a judgment that the unbelieving spouse has lesser human worth. Love, respect, and honest witness remain required.

Nor is there a universal rule that another person will certainly corrupt us more easily than we can influence them. The practical concern is that deep commitments shape loyalties and daily decisions in ways one cannot fully control. It is unwise to treat another person's conversion as a project guaranteed by affection. Faithful love receives the other person's present convictions honestly rather than building a life upon an outcome we have not been promised.

The wider lesson concerns teachability after warning. A failed project is not always a divine verdict upon an alliance, but where Scripture and clear evidence expose a compromise, persistence can become stubbornness. We can reconsider a partnership, accept a loss, and change course without needing to justify every earlier investment. Trust in God includes the freedom to relinquish an advantageous arrangement when it conflicts with faithful allegiance to him.

Even though Ahab was the worst of the Northern Kingdom's kings, God graciously showed him mercy because he humbled himself. The LORD asks Elijah whether he's noticed how Ahab humbled himself, and because of that humility, promises not to bring the coming disaster during Ahab's own lifetime, but during his son's instead (a paraphrase of 1 Kings 21:28–29).

It was after Ahab's own death that judgment finally fell on his entire household, through Jehu — who kills everyone remaining of Ahab's family in Samaria, exactly as the LORD had spoken through Elijah (a paraphrase of 2 Kings 10:17).

If only Ahab had repented further, actually removing Baal worship from Israel entirely — I wonder whether God would have extended even more mercy. Reading this section on Naboth's vineyard, Ahab comes across as a man of weak character, easily intimidated, almost childish. When Naboth refuses to sell his vineyard, Ahab goes home sullen and angry, lying on his bed and refusing to eat (a paraphrase of 1 Kings 21:4). His wife clearly had the stronger personality — unfortunately, she may have been the most evil woman in the entire Bible. With someone like Jezebel at his side, a man of Ahab's weak character probably couldn't manage much resistance to her wishes. It shows just how much influence a spouse can have over our own lives.

I'll admit that when I got married, I had no real idea what I was getting into. Looking back at my own mental list of what I wanted in a husband, "God-fearing" wasn't actually near the top. These are things we learn as we mature in our walk with Christ. Scripture makes clear it's never too late to humble ourselves before the Lord. Let's each examine where our own heart stands today.

AI-Expanded Reflection

One small correction: Ahab's sulking over Naboth's vineyard is described in 1 Kings 21:4, not "1 Kings 4" (chapter 4 concerns entirely different events from Solomon's earlier reign). Beyond that correction, this comment's honest observation about spousal influence is worth extending slightly, since Scripture itself frames the marriage as the specific mechanism of Ahab's corruption — 1 Kings 21:25 explicitly attributes his uniquely wicked reputation to being "incited by his wife Jezebel," treating her influence not as incidental background but as the text's own stated explanation for how far he fell. That's a sobering confirmation of exactly the point this comment draws from personal experience: the text doesn't merely imply spousal influence mattered here, it names it directly as the operative cause.

Friends, we read this testimony about Ahab — that no one sold himself to do evil in the LORD's sight quite like he did (a paraphrase of 1 Kings 21:25). Yet God withheld judgment on his household. Why? When Elijah confronted him over his sin against Naboth, Ahab humbled himself — tearing his clothes, putting on sackcloth, fasting, and going about in mourning (a paraphrase of 1 Kings 21:27). God responds by telling Elijah that because Ahab humbled himself, He wouldn't bring the promised disaster during Ahab's own lifetime, but would bring it instead on his son's household (a paraphrase of 1 Kings 21:29).

As wicked as Ahab was throughout his reign, once he genuinely humbled himself and repented, God accepted him. Once again we see David's own words in Psalm 51 demonstrated — that God's true sacrifice is a broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart He'll never despise (a paraphrase of Psalm 51:17). We see this with Israel's worst king here, and we'll see it again later with Judah's worst king, Manasseh — he too will receive mercy and grace.

Let's remember to humble ourselves before the Lord, since it's only by His grace that we're saved from eternal judgment.

The other day, Franklin Graham appeared on Fox News with Bill O'Reilly, and praise the Lord, he affirmed the gospel clearly on national television, even as O'Reilly seemed to suggest that "good" people, even apart from Christ, could still be saved — arguing God would judge everyone according to their own free will, based on whatever opportunity they'd been given. Franklin Graham, though, stood firmly on Scripture's own testimony that Christ is the only way to salvation. People who argue for a free-will-based salvation inevitably lean toward something inclusive or even universal, since at the heart of that argument lies a concern for fairness — the idea that it would be unfair for God to condemn people who were never given sufficient opportunity to believe. In the world's own logic, this makes sense, which is why voices like Rob Bell can argue everyone will eventually be saved because God is fair. But that isn't what Scripture actually teaches. If God judged us purely fairly, according to our own free will, we'd all be condemned, since none of us truly seeks God on our own (a paraphrase of Romans 3:10–12), and before Christ saved us by grace through the Spirit's new birth, we were all dead in our own transgressions and sins (Ephesians 2:1).

What's the actual price of complete freedom, of being fully self-determining except for the one, admittedly enormous, fact that we were created by God? In God's own economy, that price is eternal condemnation, since only God can be truly, totally free and self-determining — He won't share that particular glory with anyone else. Our forefather Adam came about as close as anyone to a genuinely free-will-based existence, having no sin nature yet, living in pure, undefiled relationship with God — yet even he turned away. Can anyone claim to be better than Adam? By his own free will, he was condemned, and we're condemned in him. That's how we all begin life — as David wrote, sinful from the very moment his mother conceived him (Psalm 51:5). We carry this inherited condemnation until we confirm it ourselves through our own actions (cf. Romans 5:12). After Adam sinned, he didn't immediately repent and seek God — God found him instead, and made provision for him. He extended grace to Adam then, exactly as He does for us today. Let's praise God that despite our own free will, He chose to save us anyway.

AI-Expanded Reflection

This comment touches one of Christianity's genuinely oldest and most seriously contested theological debates — how divine justice, human freedom, and the fate of those who never hear the gospel relate to one another — and it's worth noting the broadcast exchange it references reflects real, ongoing disagreement among thoughtful people, not a settled question with an obvious answer on one side. Serious Christian theologians across many centuries and traditions have wrestled honestly with the tension between God's justice and the reality that gospel access has never been evenly distributed throughout history, without reaching full consensus on every detail of how that tension resolves. What's shared much more broadly across Christian traditions, regardless of how that specific question gets answered, is this comment's underlying conviction that grace, wherever and to whomever it reaches, was never something any recipient could claim to have earned or deserved on their own.

Multiple times in the Old Testament, people are described tearing their robes, generally before falling down and begging God for forgiveness, or so it seems. What's the significance of tearing one's robes or clothes? Also, what's the significance of wearing burlap (sackcloth)? Scripture mentions Ahab tearing his clothes, then wearing and sleeping in sackcloth after Jezebel kills Naboth, with God saying Ahab humbled himself by doing so.

Yujin responds... Here's what I found consulting a respected theological reference work: scholars can't determine with full certainty the original meaning of tearing one's clothing. In the context of mourning, it likely symbolized a kind of ritual nakedness, a common ancient response to death — though it may also reflect an older cultural identification between clothing and the person wearing it, so that tearing the garment represented tearing at the wearer's own inner self. Either way, the act connects to broader rites of self-humiliation used to express a felt loss of dignity or standing, whether already suffered or anticipated.

The same source suggests sackcloth carried similar meaning — penance and self-humiliation.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The specific pairing this comment identifies — torn clothing plus sackcloth, often appearing together — is worth noting as a combined, escalating gesture rather than two separate customs, since sackcloth (typically rough goat's-hair fabric) was itself deliberately uncomfortable to wear, adding ongoing physical discomfort to the initial dramatic act of tearing. Together, they moved mourning or repentance from a single visible moment into a sustained, physically felt state — a useful reminder that ancient expressions of grief and repentance were rarely just symbolic gestures performed once, but often extended postures meant to be lived in, sometimes for days, until the crisis passed.