The Terrible Mercy of God's Word Text: 1 Kings 20:35-43
Introduction: When Obedience Looks Foolish
We live in an age that prizes reasonableness above all else. Our modern sensibilities demand that God’s commands fit neatly into our categories of what is sensible, what is practical, and what is, above all, comfortable. We want a God who is a senior partner in our enterprises, a divine consultant who offers helpful suggestions that we can take or leave depending on our own assessment of the situation. But the God of the Bible is not a consultant; He is a commander. And He frequently issues commands that, to the natural man, appear utterly bizarre, counter-intuitive, and even self-destructive.
Think of Abraham commanded to sacrifice the son of promise. Think of Hosea commanded to marry a prostitute. Think of Ezekiel commanded to lie on his side for over a year. And here, in our text, we have a prophet commanded by the word of Yahweh to tell another man to punch him in the face. This is not the sort of thing that fits well in a seeker-sensitive church service. It is raw, it is strange, and it is intensely offensive to our therapeutic culture.
But this is precisely the point. God’s commands are not given to us for our peer review. They are given to test our obedience. The ultimate question is not "Does this command make sense to me?" but rather "Who gave the command?" The authority of the speaker, not the apparent wisdom of the directive, is what determines our response. This entire episode is a living parable, a piece of prophetic street theater designed to confront a king who thought he knew better than God. Ahab had just won a stunning, God-given victory over the Syrians, but in his moment of triumph, he decided that his own sense of clemency and political savvy was superior to the explicit command of God. He spared Ben-hadad, the man God had devoted to destruction. And in doing so, he signed his own death warrant.
This passage is a stark and necessary reminder that partial obedience is disobedience. It teaches us that God’s justice is not something to be trifled with, and that a king’s first duty is not to his political alliances or his public image, but to the explicit Word of God. Ahab’s sentimentality, which he likely mistook for mercy, was in fact a grotesque act of rebellion. And God sent a wounded prophet to show him that his life would now be required in the place of the life he spared.
The Text
Now a certain man of the sons of the prophets said to another by the word of Yahweh, “Please strike me.” But the man refused to strike him. Then he said to him, “Because you have not listened to the voice of Yahweh, behold, as soon as you walk away from me, a lion will strike you down.” And as soon as he had walked away from him, a lion found him and struck him down. Then he found another man and said, “Please strike me.” And the man struck him, wounding him. So the prophet walked away and stood by, for the king by the way, and disguised himself with a bandage over his eyes. Now it happened that as the king was passing by, he cried out to the king and said, “Your servant went out into the midst of the battle; and behold, a man turned aside and brought a man to me and said, ‘Guard this man; if for any reason he is missing, then your life shall be for his life, or else you shall pay a talent of silver.’ Now it happened that while your servant was busy here and there, he was gone.” And the king of Israel said to him, “So shall your judgment be; you yourself have decided it.” Then he hastily took the bandage away from his eyes, and the king of Israel recognized him, that he was of the prophets. And he said to him, “Thus says Yahweh, ‘Because you have let go out of your hand the man whom I had devoted to destruction, therefore your life shall go for his life, and your people for his people.’ ” So the king of Israel went to his house sullen and enraged, and came to Samaria.
(1 Kings 20:35-43 LSB)
The High Cost of Hesitation (vv. 35-36)
We begin with a strange and startling command, and a refusal that proves fatal.
"Now a certain man of the sons of the prophets said to another by the word of Yahweh, 'Please strike me.' But the man refused to strike him. Then he said to him, 'Because you have not listened to the voice of Yahweh, behold, as soon as you walk away from me, a lion will strike you down.' And as soon as he had walked away from him, a lion found him and struck him down." (1 Kings 20:35-36)
The first thing to notice is the source of the command: "by the word of Yahweh." This is not a personal whim or a bizarre fraternity hazing ritual. This is a direct, divine oracle. The prophetic office in the Old Testament was not about sharing personal feelings or offering inspirational thoughts. It was about speaking the very words of God. When a prophet spoke "by the word of Yahweh," he was not offering advice to be considered; he was delivering a command to be obeyed. The authority was absolute because the source was absolute.
The command itself is jarring: "Please strike me." The man on the receiving end of this command is placed in a difficult position. On the one hand, he has the clear command of God. On the other, he has all the cultural and moral programming that says you don’t just assault a fellow prophet. His hesitation is understandable from a human point of view. It seems kinder, more decent, to refuse. But his kindness was a form of rebellion. He substituted his own judgment for God's explicit word. He decided that his understanding of what was right and proper trumped the command of the Almighty.
And the consequence is swift and terrifying. "Because you have not listened to the voice of Yahweh... a lion will strike you down." This is not an overreaction on God’s part. It is a demonstration of a foundational principle: to disobey the revealed will of God is to step outside of His protective covering and into the realm of the curse. The world outside of God’s command is a wilderness full of lions. This man’s refusal, which seemed so reasonable to him, was an act of profound insubordination. He was a prophet himself, and should have known better than anyone that the "word of Yahweh" is not negotiable. His death serves as a grim and potent object lesson, setting the stage for the greater disobedience of the king. If God judges a prophet so severely for a "small" act of disobedience, how will He judge a king for a massive one?
Wounded for a Purpose (vv. 37-38)
The prophet, undeterred, finds another man who understands the nature of divine authority.
"Then he found another man and said, 'Please strike me.' And the man struck him, wounding him. So the prophet walked away and stood by, for the king by the way, and disguised himself with a bandage over his eyes." (1 Kings 20:37-38 LSB)
The second man obeys. He strikes, and he strikes hard enough to cause a real wound. This man feared God more than he feared looking foolish or aggressive. He understood that when God speaks, the only sane response is immediate and unreserved obedience. This act of obedience, violent as it seems, was an act of faith. It was necessary for the prophetic sign to be authentic.
The prophet then disguises himself. The wound and the bandage are not just props; they are his credentials. He is going to confront the king not as a pristine, detached theologian, but as a man who bears in his body the marks of obedience. He looks like a soldier wounded in the very battle from which Ahab is returning in triumph. This disguise is crucial for the prophetic trap he is about to spring. He is going to use Ahab’s own logic, his own standards of justice, to condemn him.
The King in the Prophet's Court (vv. 39-40)
The trap is set, and the king walks right into it.
"Now it happened that as the king was passing by, he cried out to the king and said, 'Your servant went out into the midst of the battle; and behold, a man turned aside and brought a man to me and said, "Guard this man; if for any reason he is missing, then your life shall be for his life, or else you shall pay a talent of silver." Now it happened that while your servant was busy here and there, he was gone.' And the king of Israel said to him, 'So shall your judgment be; you yourself have decided it.'" (1 Kings 20:39-40 LSB)
The prophet presents a hypothetical case to the king, a common tactic used by prophets to get a ruler to render an impartial judgment before realizing the case is about him. Nathan did it with David concerning Bathsheba. The story is simple and plausible: a soldier was entrusted with a prisoner of war under a strict penalty, his life for the prisoner's life. But through negligence, "while your servant was busy here and there," the prisoner escaped.
Ahab, full of the self-assurance of a victorious king, immediately passes judgment. He is a man who understands the rules of war. He understands responsibility. He confirms the justice of the penalty: "So shall your judgment be; you yourself have decided it." The king declares that the soldier’s life is forfeit. In that moment, Ahab has judged and condemned himself out of his own mouth. He affirms the principle of substitutionary justice, a life for a life. He has no idea that the prisoner in the parable is Ben-hadad, and the negligent soldier is himself.
The Unmasking and the Verdict (vv. 41-43)
The disguise comes off, and the word of the Lord lands like a hammer blow.
"Then he hastily took the bandage away from his eyes, and the king of Israel recognized him, that he was of the prophets. And he said to him, 'Thus says Yahweh, "Because you have let go out of your hand the man whom I had devoted to destruction, therefore your life shall go for his life, and your people for his people." ' So the king of Israel went to his house sullen and enraged, and came to Samaria." (1 Kings 20:41-43 LSB)
The moment the bandage is removed, Ahab recognizes the man not as a wounded soldier, but as a prophet of God. The blood drains from his face. He knows what is coming. The prophet is no longer speaking in parables. He delivers the direct, unvarnished word of Yahweh.
The charge is explicit: "Because you have let go out of your hand the man whom I had devoted to destruction." The Hebrew word for "devoted to destruction" is herem. This was not just any enemy; Ben-hadad was under the divine ban. He was to be utterly destroyed as an act of judgment from God. Ahab had been given the privilege of being God’s executioner, the deacon of His wrath. Instead, he made a treaty with him, calling this wicked king "my brother." He substituted political calculation for divine command. He chose a soft, sentimental, humanistic "mercy" over the terrible, righteous justice of God.
And the sentence is precisely the one Ahab himself just affirmed: "therefore your life shall go for his life, and your people for your people." This is the lex talionis, the law of retribution, applied at the highest level. Because Ahab spared the life of God’s enemy, his own life is now forfeit. And because he is the king, the covenant head of the nation, his personal sin has national consequences. His people will now suffer for his people’s enemy, whom he spared. This is a terrifying picture of covenantal responsibility. Leaders do not sin in a vacuum.
How does Ahab respond? Does he repent? Does he tear his clothes and fall on his face like David did before Nathan? No. "So the king of Israel went to his house sullen and enraged." This is the response of a man whose pride has been wounded, not a man whose sin has been broken. He is not sorry for his sin; he is angry that he got caught. He is enraged at the prophet, enraged at God. His heart is hard. He is not a man after God’s own heart, but a man after his own heart. And this sullen, impotent rage is the posture of the damned. It is the gnashing of teeth of a man who refuses to bow to the justice of God. He goes home, not to repent, but to sulk. And his sulking will lead him directly to his next great sin in the very next chapter: the theft of Naboth’s vineyard and the murder of an innocent man.
The Gospel According to Ahab's Folly
This story is a dark mirror that reflects a glorious gospel truth. It is a story about a required substitution, a life for a life. Ahab failed his test spectacularly. He was charged with guarding a man devoted to destruction, and he let him go. As a result, his own life was required.
We are all in a position far worse than Ahab's. We were not guards who failed; we were the prisoners. We were the ones devoted to destruction. By our sin, we were under the divine ban, the herem of God's perfect justice. The sentence was passed, and our lives were forfeit. There was no escape.
But God, in His terrible mercy, provided a substitute. God the Father took the one man who was not devoted to destruction, His only beloved Son, and He devoted Him to destruction in our place. On the cross, Jesus Christ became herem for us. He was the one whom God let not go from His hand. The Father did not spare His own Son, as Ahab spared Ben-hadad. He delivered Him up for us all (Romans 8:32).
The justice that Ahab affirmed, "your life shall be for his life", was perfectly fulfilled at Calvary. The life of the perfect Son was given for the lives of rebellious prisoners. He was wounded for our transgressions, He was struck for our iniquities. Unlike the first prophet who refused to strike, the Father struck the Shepherd, and the sheep were spared. Unlike Ahab, who went away sullen and enraged, Christ went to the cross willingly, obediently, for the joy set before Him.
The question for us, then, is how we respond to this great substitution. Will we be like Ahab, sullen and enraged at the suggestion that we are sinners who deserve judgment, clinging to our own self-righteousness? Or will we fall on our faces in gratitude, recognizing that the judgment we deserved has already fallen on another? Will we see the wounds of the Savior and recognize them as the marks of His perfect obedience on our behalf? To reject this substitute is to insist on paying the penalty yourself. And that is a debt you cannot possibly pay. But to receive Him is to have your life spared, not by a sentimental king, but by a righteous God whose justice and mercy kissed at the cross.