Barely audible murmurs of affirmation came from the congregation as they reverently listened to the lyrical words of their king’s prayer. Solomon was eloquent. Dropping to his knees before the Lord, he raised his hands toward Heaven and spoke words so beautifully poetic they stirred the hearts of his people like never before. Words of awe at God’s power and greatness. Words of gratitude for His faithfulness and love. Words of hope and petition for the continued presence of God among His people. Words so deeply moving they could not refrain from speaking out in confirmation.
The prayer was achingly honest. Solomon clearly knew the people well. He knew that somewhere in the following generations there would be failures and faults, people would act rashly, take an ill-advised path, choose sin over righteousness. He knew that punishment would be incurred because of their poor choices. Drought. Famine. Pestilence. War. Captivity. He also knew God. The covenant keeping God of steadfast faithfulness and love. The One who is always ready to forgive. The One who promised to return to His people when they leave their wanderings behind and return to Him. The God who promised to be their God if they would actively choose to be His people. And, at that moment, they did.
Caught up in the euphoria of the breathtaking build, the enchanting words of the poet’s prayer, the awe-filled wonder of the smoke-filled house, the people could think of nothing they wanted more. Nothing they could ever want more. For that moment. Gathered wide-eyed in the observing congregation, overcome by the gripping emotion and moving words of the moment, their hearts resounded with words of consecration. They would follow God. Forever.
Apparently, “forever” is not as long as one would think. It would not be so many decades after the people stood in the glory and presence of God that they would fall away. All of them. They would abandon the law of the Lord. Completely. And punishment would come. In spades. Shishak, the king of Egypt, his armies, his friends, his neighbors–countless throngs–came up against them armed for battle. They overtook the fortified cities and marched right up to Jerusalem’s doorstep. It was terrifying. Defeat was certain. And King Rehoboam, their leader, was in hiding. (II Chronicles 12:1-5)
Sequestered away in a disconcerted group with the princes, Rehoboam was struggling to comprehend where he’d lost control. His kingdom had been strong and successful. They had been enjoying a peaceful and secure existence. God had clearly blessed his reign. Until now. Now things had fallen apart. Things were uncertain. The outlook was bleak. Death loomed on the horizon. Yet still, try as he might, Rehoboam couldn’t put his finger on the cause of their distress.
The prophet Shemiah didn’t have that problem. He knew what the obtuse king appeared to not understand. God had told him. And he was on his way to share the knowledge, to offer the olive branch of hope and help to the terrified king. Entering their hiding place, he illuminated their understanding with words from God’s own lips, “You abandoned Me, so I abandoned you.” It was self-explanatory, really. Punishment follows sin. (II Chronicles 12:5-7)
Somewhere in the back of their woe-stricken minds, the words of Solomon prayed before the congregation echoed again. “Humble yourselves. Seek God. Turn from your sin.” Words of wisdom from the man who asked God for that very thing. Words God would later echo back to Solomon in the most solemn of vows. God’s words. For God’s people. (II Chronicles 6:1-7:22)
Centuries later God is still speaking the same words. He is still issuing the same invitation. In the middle of our own vortex of droughts and disasters, wars and famines, diseases and pestilence, God offers the same promise. “If my people, the people who have consciously chosen me to be their God, will come before me in utter humility, admit their abject guilt, urgently seek me in prayer and permanently turn away from the sin in which they are so deeply entangled, then, and only then, I will hear and help and heal.” It is God’s promise for God’s people. (II Chronicles 7:11-14)
Unfortunately the familiarity of the passage has softened its severity. In our modern day of self-service, it is often seen as a quick fix for unpleasant situations in our lives. It isn’t. This is not a sprinkles and unicorns promise. This is not a word to be taken lightly. This is not a vow of eternal rainbows and sunshine in exchange for an offhand prayer of repentance followed by a few days of good behavior. This is not a set of directions for manipulating God into rescuing us from our sinful, self-inflicted punishment so we can go on about our lives. This is not a fast fix for our years of slipping and sliding down the path of least resistance. No. This is a call to repentance. Not for the first time, but for the last time.
And it is a call to the church. Today’s church. You see, the whole passage, the entire promise is predicated on people who have already vowed over and over again to follow God. To be His people. To allow Him to be their God. It is handed out to people who were crystal clear on His requirements for living. They knew His laws, His commands. They didn’t always follow them. Sometimes they cut corners, changed parameters, altered requirements, and remained purposely obtuse. Too often, the people called to be saints were busy wasting time engaging in silly business. Just like us.
Somewhere along the line, the church has gotten distracted. Our vision has become clouded with the offers of the world. Our hearing has become tuned to the siren song of self. We have strayed. We are not the stalwart, faithful, God-fearing people we were in times past. We do not live as though we believe the Scripture is the infallible, immutable Word of God. We have allowed caveats and side roads. We have blithely subscribed to “Jesus lite,” a form of godliness that is anything but godly, lacking the power and presence of God Himself. (II Timothy 3:5; II Peter 1:20-21; Matthew 24:35; Hebrews 13:8; II Chronicles 20:33)
We have to change. The silly business has to stop. We were not called to be insipid, vapid, uninterested saints standing mutely while our society races headlong for destruction. We are called to be saints on a heavenly mission. A rescue mission. A mission to reveal God’s righteousness through our faith. It will not be easy. It will call for the speaking of hard realities. It will require the unashamed championing of God’s truth in a world all too happy to make up their own alleged truths. It will necessitate an end to the acceptance of excuses for sin, exchanges of fact for fiction, and endless blanket approval of questionable acts. It will demand an earnest humble repentance, a fervent seeking of God’s face, and an undeviated turn from sin to righteousness. It is time for the saints to stop engaging in silly business. (Romans 1; Isaiah 5:20; Malachi 3:7; Zechariah 1:3; Isaiah 44:22)
Surrounded as we are by the crescendoing echoes of all the things Solomon thought to list in his prayer, it would seem God is vigorously attempting to rally His saints. Raise them from their stupor. Revive them again. Renew their strength to continue His mission and go forward in His name. No compromise. No complacency. No silly business. (Psalm 85:6-8; Habakkuk 3:2; Zephaniah 1:12; Psalm 119:67,75; II Corinthians 12:8-10; Ephesians 5:14-21)