The Land of Nothing Much: Solomon's Shabby Covenant-Keeping
Introduction: The High Cost of Royal Projects
We live in an age that is infatuated with grand projects. Our civil magistrates are constantly promising us gleaming new initiatives, massive infrastructure bills, and glorious societal transformations, all of which come with a price tag that would make your grandfather faint. And the principle is always the same: we will build this glorious future, and someone else will pay for it. Usually, that someone else is your grandchildren. But the temptation to build big things with other people's money is not a modern invention. It is as old as kingship itself.
We come now in our study of 1 Kings to the aftermath of Solomon's two great building projects: the House of Yahweh and his own royal palace. Twenty years of construction. Twenty years of logistics, of labor, of sourcing materials. And at the end of it all, the bills come due. Solomon, the wisest man on earth, had entered into a business arrangement with Hiram, the pagan king of Tyre. Hiram provided the raw materials, the lumber and the gold, and Solomon was to provide payment. This passage before us details one of Solomon's payments, and it is a transaction that should give us significant pause. It is a story about international relations, about covenant obligations, and about how even the wisest of men can get things profoundly wrong when they begin to think like the world.
This is not just a dusty record of an ancient real estate deal. It is a cautionary tale. It reveals the subtle compromises that can creep into the life of a man, or a nation, blessed by God. The glory of Solomon's kingdom was unprecedented, a direct result of God's favor. But here, in this seemingly minor exchange, we see a crack in the foundation. We see the beginning of a spiritual drift, a willingness to cut corners and to treat God's holy gifts with a casualness that borders on contempt. And we must pay close attention, because the same temptations that faced Solomon in his wealth and power face us in our own areas of blessing and influence.
The Text
Now it happened that at the end of twenty years in which Solomon had built the two houses, the house of Yahweh and the king’s house (Hiram king of Tyre had supplied Solomon with cedar and cypress timber and gold according to all his desire), that King Solomon then gave Hiram twenty cities in the land of Galilee. So Hiram came out from Tyre to see the cities which Solomon had given him, and they were not right in his eyes. And he said, “What are these cities which you have given me, my brother?” So they were called the land of Cabul to this day. And Hiram sent to the king 120 talents of gold.
(1 Kings 9:10-14 LSB)
A Deal Between Kings (v. 10-11)
We begin with the setup for the transaction.
"Now it happened that at the end of twenty years in which Solomon had built the two houses, the house of Yahweh and the king’s house (Hiram king of Tyre had supplied Solomon with cedar and cypress timber and gold according to all his desire), that King Solomon then gave Hiram twenty cities in the land of Galilee." (1 Kings 9:10-11)
Twenty years is a long time. A generation. For two decades, the defining architectural and economic reality in Israel was the construction of these two magnificent buildings. And throughout this period, Solomon had a faithful supplier in Hiram of Tyre. This was not a hostile relationship; it was a treaty, a partnership. Hiram had been a friend to David, and he continued that friendship with David's son. He provided the best materials, the finest timber from Lebanon, and gold, "according to all his desire." Hiram held up his end of the bargain.
So now, the time for payment has come. And what does Solomon give him? He gives him land. Specifically, "twenty cities in the land of Galilee." Now, on the surface, this might seem like a reasonable payment. A king has land, and he can dispense it as he sees fit. But we must immediately ask a question that any faithful Israelite would have asked. Whose land is it, really?
The land of Israel was not Solomon's personal property to trade like a baseball card. The land was a covenant inheritance from Yahweh Himself. The Torah is abundantly clear on this point. "The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine. For you are strangers and sojourners with me" (Leviticus 25:23). The land was apportioned to the tribes of Israel as a permanent, inalienable inheritance. It was part of God's covenant promise. For Solomon to carve off a piece of Israel's inheritance, a piece of God's own land, and hand it over to a pagan king as payment for a building project, was a flagrant violation of the covenant charter of the nation.
This is the first sign of trouble. Solomon, in his wisdom, has begun to act like a typical oriental despot, treating the nation's assets as his own personal slush fund. He is thinking like Pharaoh, not like the covenant king of Yahweh. He is giving away what is not his to give. The land belonged to God, and it was stewarded by the families of Israel. Solomon was its protector, not its seller. This is a profound theological misstep, and it shows that for all his intellectual wisdom, a spiritual rot is beginning to set in.
Hiram's Displeasure (v. 12-13)
Next, we see the reaction of the recipient. Hiram comes down from Tyre to inspect his new acquisitions.
"So Hiram came out from Tyre to see the cities which Solomon had given him, and they were not right in his eyes. And he said, 'What are these cities which you have given me, my brother?' So they were called the land of Cabul to this day." (1 Kings 9:12-13)
Hiram is not impressed. The cities were "not right in his eyes." The Hebrew is blunt; he was displeased. He had provided Solomon with the best of the best, materials fit for the temple of God. In return, he receives what appears to be the ancient equivalent of swampland in Florida. His question to Solomon is dripping with diplomatic sarcasm: "What are these cities which you have given me, my brother?"
Calling him "my brother" is part of the formal language of treaties, but here it carries a sting. Is this how you treat your brother, your partner? You give me this? The place was so unimpressive that it earned a nickname: the land of Cabul. The exact meaning of "Cabul" is debated, but the context makes the sense plain. The Jewish historian Josephus says it means "what is worthless" or "displeasing." It was the land of nothing much. It was a joke.
So not only did Solomon give away land he had no right to give, he gave away the backwater, undesirable land. He was being cheap. He was trying to settle a massive debt with a lowball offer. The wisest man in the world was acting like a shady used car salesman. He was trying to be clever, to be a shrewd negotiator in the eyes of the world, but in doing so, he was failing on two fronts. He was failing to honor God by treating the holy land as a bargaining chip, and he was failing to honor his neighbor, Hiram, by giving him a shabby, worthless payment. He broke the first table of the law and the second in one transaction.
This is what happens when pragmatism replaces principle. Solomon likely justified this to himself. "It's just some border towns. We have plenty of land. This is a good deal for Israel." But covenant faithfulness is not about running a cost-benefit analysis. It is about obedience. Solomon's wisdom was given to him to govern according to God's law, not to find clever ways around it.
An Unsettled Debt (v. 14)
The passage concludes with a slightly cryptic but revealing verse.
"And Hiram sent to the king 120 talents of gold." (1 Kings 9:14)
At first glance, this seems out of place. Why, after being so displeased, would Hiram send Solomon a massive amount of gold? A talent of gold is roughly 75 pounds. We are talking about 9,000 pounds of gold. What is going on here?
Commentators have offered various explanations, but the most plausible one, given the context, is that this is not a new payment. This is Hiram stating the outstanding balance. The sense is something like this: Hiram rejects the worthless cities as payment. He effectively sends the deed back to Solomon and says, "No, this won't do. You still owe me." The 120 talents of gold mentioned here is likely part of the original agreement that Hiram had already sent, and which was still unpaid. The land of Cabul was Solomon's failed attempt to settle the account. Hiram's message is clear: "I am not satisfied. The debt remains."
So the story ends not with a successful real estate deal, but with a failed one. Solomon's attempt at being a worldly-wise operator backfired. He offended his ally, he violated God's law, and he was still in debt. This is the fruit of compromise. It never satisfies. When we cut corners with God's commands, we don't actually get ahead. We create a host of new problems for ourselves. Solomon, blessed above all men, was learning that God's ways are not just pious suggestions; they are the very fabric of reality. And when you pull on one thread, the whole garment begins to unravel.
Conclusion: The Greater Solomon and His Inheritance
This small story is a shadow. It is a pointer to a greater reality. Solomon, for all his glory, was a flawed king. He was a type of Christ, but an imperfect one. He was tasked with building God's house and ruling God's people in wisdom, but he stumbled. He treated God's inheritance, the holy land, as a disposable commodity to be traded for worldly glory.
But there is a greater Solomon, the Lord Jesus Christ. He too came to build a house for God, not a house of stone and timber, but a living temple, the Church (1 Peter 2:5). And He too had a payment to make. The price for building this house was not gold or cedar from Tyre, but His own precious blood. The debt we owed was infinite, and He paid it in full.
And what of the inheritance? Jesus does not trade away His inheritance for worldly gain. He purchases it. He redeems a people for Himself from every tribe and tongue and nation, and He makes them His own inheritance (Ephesians 1:18). We are the land. We are the inheritance that the Father has given to the Son. And unlike the land of Cabul, we were worthless in our sin, but He did not despise us. He saw us in our ruined state and He gave everything to make us His treasured possession.
Where Solomon was a shabby covenant-keeper, Jesus is the perfect covenant-keeper. Where Solomon tried to pay his debts with something worthless, Jesus paid our debt with something of infinite worth. The lesson for us is clear. We are part of that inheritance. We belong to God. Our lives, our families, our churches, are not ours to sell off or trade for the approval of the world. We are consecrated land, set apart for His purposes. We must not be like Solomon, who looked at a portion of God's holy portion and called it tradable. We must see that everything we are and everything we have belongs to the King. And unlike Hiram, when our King looks at us, the people He has purchased, He is not displeased. For He does not see a worthless land. He sees the righteousness of Christ, and He calls it good.