The story of God’s prophet, Elijah, and his opposition to King Ahab and Queen Jezebel in Northern Israel is a story of boldness and fear. It is an appropriate story to consider a fourth reason that Israel went after other gods. The previous discussion of people in authority leading others astray now focusses on fear in the face of abusive power and the violent control of others. People can and do use their power to control others to make them do what they want. At times leaders justify their use of power over others by claiming that it is for a just cause. King Ahab and Queen Jezebel could have come up with various reasons to justify their opposition to God: openness, tolerance of other religions (which required intolerance of monotheism), diversity, and inclusion. Whatever the reasons, though, they oppressed God’s people and prophets. In this political and social context, God’s people were intimidated and fearful. The reason people went after other gods was more than yielding to peer pressure or following bad leaders. In this case, fear was at the heart of Israel’s apostasy.
In the story
told in 1 Kings 16.29-19.18, Ahab sought to enforce religious change in
Israel. He married a foreign wife who
introduced Baal worship. When Elijah
prophesied that there would be a drought, God told him to hide himself from the
king. God first hid him by the brook Cherith
east of the Jordan, where he was fed by ravens, and then with a starving widow from
whom Elijah asked food. The dramatic
story is one of weakness and dependency on God over against abusive power by
the king. The situation turned even
worse when the widow’s child died, but God raised the child from the dead
through Elijah. The widow then knew that
Elijah was a man of God and ‘that the word of the LORD in your mouth is truth’
(1 Kings 17.24).
The theme of
fear continues with the story of King Ahab’s right hand man, Obadiah. Obadiah was caught in the sort of
circumstances people often find themselves in, when they have the right heart
and devotion to God but are in an institutional situation that requires them to
follow a bad leader or administration.
He feared the Lord, but he was over Ahab’s household (1 Kings 18.3) and
feared the king. Queen Jezebel had ‘cut
off [killed] the prophets of the LORD,’ and Obadiah secretly hid and fed one
hundred of them in a cave (v. 4).
Parties were sent out to surrounding nations to capture Elijah, who was
held responsible for the drought in Israel.
When they returned to say that he was not there, they were forced to say
so under oath. The degree of fear is
illustrated when Obadiah encounters Elijah on the road as he searched, on the
king’s orders, for a place to graze the palace horses. Elijah told Obadiah to return to the king and
tell him that he was found. However,
Obadiah feared that, as soon as he left to do so, God would whisk Elijah away
and Ahab would kill Obadiah when the prophet was not found.
When Elijah met
Ahab, he called for a religious show-down between the Baal cult and God on Mt.
Carmel. Four hundred and fifty prophets
of Baal and four hundred prophets of Asherah (1 Kings 18.19) gathered on the
mountain with the one prophet of the one God.
Running throughout the Elijah narrative is the intimidation of being the
one person to stand against the power of both the crowd and the king. This goes well beyond peer pressure and is
outright intimidation and fear for one’s life.
The contest on Mt. Carmel was over which God would send fire from heaven
to consume a sacrifice. When the true
God sent fire, the crowd acknowledged that He alone was God, and the false
prophets were slaughtered (18.41). Then
Elijah prayed for rain, and it came (cf. James 5.17-18). It came dramatically, but in the sense of a
small cloud slowly approaching in a clear sky before the ultimate deluge (1
Kings 18.41-46).
Despite the
remarkably brave and successful story of standing up against authority in
obedience to God, Elijah feared Jezebel, who threated his life (19.2-3). Elijah went to the Southern Kingdom of
Israel, Judah, and hid himself in the wilderness a day’s journey from
Beersheba. There, he asked God to take
away his life. Recognising that he could
not rise above a corrupt system, he declared to God that he was no better than
his fathers (19.4). God’s response to
Elijah was to strengthen him for the journey to Mt. Horeb, or Sinai, where
Moses had met with God for the Ten Commandments. Once there, Elijah explains the situation to
God. While he was jealous for the Lord,
the Israelites had forsaken their covenant (the one made with them by God at
that very place where Elijah now stood), thrown down God’s altars, killed His
prophets, and sought the life of the sole survivor, Elijah (19.9-10).
God responds by
revealing Himself to Elijah as He had revealed Himself to Moses (cf. Exodus
34.5-7). Moses learned that God was
merciful, forgiving, and showed steadfast faithfulness to His covenant people
despite their sin. At the same time, He
was just and would not let sin go unpunished.
Now Elijah learned that God would not be found in power—in the power of
a rock-splitting wind or an earthquake or raging fire—but in a low whisper
(19.11-12). Just as God showed Moses
that He was both merciful and brought justice, so to Elijah He shows that He is
both in the low whisper rather than in power and would bring justice—the house
of Ahab would be overthrown and Baal worshippers put to death. The system of power and intimidation is not
where one finds God, and God will destroy it when it produces false religion
and injustice in the land.
As with most
narratives, various lessons might be learned.
In these stories of Elijah, one of the lessons is about standing up for
God in the context of power and intimidation.
To do so involves experiencing fear but remaining steadfast
nonetheless. When Elijah fled to the
river Cherith, his livelihood was threatened.
A brook gave him water, and ravens gave him food, by God’s grace. Obadiah faced fear of his employment, being over
Ahab’s household, and of his life.
Elijah overcame his fear of the religious establishment—the false
prophets on Mt. Carmel—but he was fearful of Queen Jezebel, who threatened to
kill him. Fear is the result of threats
and intimidation from those with power.
At the end of Elijah’s ministry, he learns that God is not found in the
halls of power but on the remote mountain in the wilderness. He is not found in the destructive power of
winds, earthquakes, or fire but in a low whisper. God is not in some systemic power of an
administration, but He does bring His mercy, like a small raincloud approaching
slowly after a severe drought, and He does bring His justice, like the
overthrow of King Ahab’s dynasty.
The lesson of
fear in 1 Kings 16.29-19.18 has various applications. It explains why Israel went after other gods,
first and foremost. People are fearful of the loss of their basic needs, like food and water. They are fearful of the loss of their jobs. They are fearful that those in power, whether
religious or political, will take these away. They fear for their lives. Such lessons can apply
to very different circumstances.
Consider two examples.
The Chinese
Church is experience its ‘Ahab moment’ as new regulations come into effect that
place the Church under the thumb of the Communist Party in an absolute way. Consider how Nanjing Union Theology Seminary
has succumbed to this exercise of power over Christianity and the Church. It says on its website that some faculty, the
dean, pastor, and executive vice-president have recently been educated in
patriotism ‘in order to further carry forward the Christian tradition [sic!] of
loving the [Communist] Party and patriotism, strengthen the education of
Chinese excellent traditional culture, and enhance the understanding of the
Sinicization [enforced enculturation] of Christianity…. The co-workers
earnestly studied the important thoughts of Xi Jinping's new era of socialism
with Chinese characteristics and the strategy of governing Xinjiang.’[1]
In a very
different context, consider a second example of how fear in the face of power
is experienced at a seminary turning to the woke pressures of Progressive Evangelicalism
in the United States of America. Wokism
is cultural Marxism, so there are, in fact, parallels with the previous example
that could be explored. The seminary in
view, which I will not name, received its new president a few years ago, just
before the cultural revolution took hold in the country driven on by fears of
being called a ‘racist’ when diversity, equity, and inclusion became the new
cardinal virtues of society and then by governmental imperialistic measures
during the Covid pandemic. Added to
these external forces, the seminary was in dire financial decline. As a result, the board gave the new president
its blessing to take drastic measures. The financial crisis was a gift to bring about a little Marxist-like, woke revolution for the Progressives. First, several faculty and staff were removed under the claim that the
budget had to be cut. (This had little
effect on the budget, but it weakened the one department that caused consternation
to those wanting sweeping change.)
Second, the non-theological department of counselling was strengthened,
which gives greater authority to Progressivism through the social sciences than
theology. Third, the new president
brought in a number of new administrators to oversee his policies—despite the
claim that the seminary was in financial trouble and needed to downsize its staff. Fourth, some of these new appointments were
from existing faculty, thus rearranging the power dynamics of the faculty
itself. Some previously minor faculty
members rose to positions of authority. Thus,
certain members of the community experienced empowerment and affirmation while
others experienced intimidation and fear.
One might say that this is inevitable in times of change, but it is only
so when relationships are experienced through power structures rather than the
way of God. Fifth, an atmosphere of
intimidation was introduced into the seminary in countless small ways, such as
by introducing diversity training from a secular agency (as though a seminary
needed to get its ethics from the culture) in the manner of higher education
institutions kowtowing to the woke agenda.
Sixth, a quasi-theological/ethical veneer was pasted over the changes to
give them added authority. This was done
by claiming that the secular value of ‘diversity’ needed to be affirmed over a
commitment to training for certain ecclesiastical constituencies or a
commitment to academic excellence. Even
on syllabi, faculty were required to include ‘diverse’ authors (the faculty approved
this proposal). The seminary had to face
its reason for existence: did it exist to survive financially or to accomplish
its original mission of training ministers and missionaries for the
Church? Of course, every seminary will
answer this in some way that involves the answer, ‘both.’ But this seminary tried to wrap these
together by trying to sell its campus and move into the nearby city. When this was not feasible, it justified itself in a new way. In a complex twisting of purposes, finances
drove vision, and mission was defined by woke values. Seventh, the seminary powers sought to find a
way to work with rather than against the post-Christian culture in which it
found itself. One applicant in
counselling explained the task of counselling did not involve telling people
God’s way but helping people to live consistently with their choices, such as
homosexuality. Some staff members
promoted the Marxist, anti-family, racist movement of Black Lives Matter, with
those uncomfortable with this aggressive culture intimidated lest they be
accused of racism. Finally, it should be
said that, at this seminary, well before the new administration brought its woke
agenda on board, the seminary suffered over decades of fear and intimidation
for other reasons.
The point of
these two examples is to show how powerful authorities can create such an
atmosphere of fear that those within the system are fearful. A seminary professor, for example, is fearful
of losing his or her job—there are very few seminary positions available. In a bad economy, one may try to survive by
obeying the rulers rather than being outspoken or even resisting. In China, any real Christians remaining in
the state Church will live in an atmosphere of fear and have to make very
uncomfortable compromises at the very least.
In a seminary such as has been described, at some point seminary faculty
and staff have to decide whether they simply have a job or are fulfilling God’s
calling on their lives. (And some can do so by saying that they are there for the students, not the seminary--though the ethos of fear in the face of power cannot be avoided.) One reason so
many in Israel went after other gods was simply fear, fear in the face of power
others held over them in the government, religious circles, and culture.
No comments:
Post a Comment