The Leaven of Compromise: Jehoram's Half-Hearted Reformation Text: 2 Kings 3:1-3
Introduction: The Danger of "Better Than"
In our modern evangelical landscape, we have developed a peculiar and dangerous standard for righteousness. It is not the absolute, white-hot holiness of God, but rather a squishy, comparative standard we might call "better than." We look at the moral chaos swirling around us, the open rebellion, the celebration of perversion, and we look at our own lives and say, "Well, at least I'm not like that." We look at churches that have completely capitulated to the spirit of the age and say, "At least our church isn't like that." This is the standard of the Pharisee, who thanked God he was not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. He was measuring down, not up. And this is precisely the spiritual condition of Jehoram, the son of Ahab, a man whose epitaph could be written as, "Well, at least he wasn't as bad as his father."
But God does not grade on a curve. His standard is not "better than Ahab." His standard is Himself. The history of Israel's kings is a long, sorrowful lesson in the absolute folly of partial obedience and cosmetic reformation. It is a lesson that our generation desperately needs to learn. We are masters of the superficial fix. We want to tidy up the living room of our lives while ignoring the structural rot in the foundation. We want to appear respectable to the world and even to ourselves, while clinging to the respectable, culturally acceptable idols of the heart.
The story of Jehoram is a warning against the leaven of compromise. It is a case study in the man who does just enough to feel better about himself, just enough to look like a reformer, but not nearly enough to please God. He mistakes the removal of a particularly ugly idol for the uprooting of idolatry itself. He is a picture of the man who stops one flagrant sin but continues to coast comfortably in the well-worn ruts of systemic rebellion. And in this, he is a mirror to much of the modern church, which is willing to condemn the most garish sins of the culture while remaining entirely captive to the underlying worldview that produces them.
As we come to this text, we must ask ourselves where we are practicing the religion of "better than." Where have we settled for a half-hearted reformation? Where have we torn down one pillar of Baal only to leave the entire false system of worship intact? For the sins of Jeroboam are always more subtle, more political, and more dangerous than the overt wickednesses of Ahab.
The Text
Now Jehoram the son of Ahab became king over Israel at Samaria in the eighteenth year of Jehoshaphat king of Judah, and reigned twelve years.
And he did what was evil in the sight of Yahweh, though not like his father and his mother; and he took away the sacred pillar of Baal which his father had made.
Nevertheless, he clung to the sins of Jeroboam the son of Nebat, which he made Israel sin; he did not turn away from them.
(2 Kings 3:1-3 LSB)
A Legacy of Evil (v. 1)
We begin with the historical setting in verse 1:
"Now Jehoram the son of Ahab became king over Israel at Samaria in the eighteenth year of Jehoshaphat king of Judah, and reigned twelve years." (2 Kings 3:1)
The first thing we must note is the parentage. Jehoram is the son of Ahab. This is not just a biological fact; it is a theological anchor. He is the heir of a covenantal train wreck. Ahab, his father, was the man of whom it was said that he "did more to provoke Yahweh, the God of Israel, to anger than all the kings of Israel who were before him" (1 Kings 16:33). His mother was Jezebel, the pagan Sidonian princess who turned the state-sponsored apostasy of Israel into a blood sport, murdering God's prophets and establishing the cult of Baal as the official state religion.
Jehoram comes to the throne dripping with this legacy. This is the principle of federal headship playing out in history. Sins have consequences that ripple through generations. A father who establishes a wicked pattern of life, a wicked worldview, makes it exceedingly difficult for his son to walk in righteousness. This does not remove Jehoram's personal responsibility, not at all. But it does set the stage. He inherits a kingdom thoroughly corrupted, a religious system entirely perverted, and a court accustomed to the darkest forms of paganism. The air he breathes is toxic.
The mention of Jehoshaphat, the king of Judah, provides the contrast. While Jehoshaphat was a flawed man who made foolish alliances, most notably with Ahab himself, the text consistently describes him as a king who sought Yahweh. So at the very moment Jehoram, son of the worst king of Israel, takes the throne, the southern kingdom is ruled by a man who, for all his faults, was oriented toward the true God. The spiritual divide between Israel and Judah is stark. Israel is in a deep, dark hole, and the question is whether Jehoram has any interest in climbing out.
Cosmetic Reformation (v. 2)
Verse 2 gives us the divine evaluation of Jehoram's reign, and it is a masterpiece of damning with faint praise.
"And he did what was evil in the sight of Yahweh, though not like his father and his mother; and he took away the sacred pillar of Baal which his father had made." (2 Kings 3:2 LSB)
Let's be clear. The first clause is the headline: "he did what was evil in the sight of Yahweh." That is the final verdict. From God's perspective, which is the only one that constitutes reality, his reign was evil. Full stop. All that follows is merely commentary on the particular flavor of that evil.
But the commentary is fascinating. "Though not like his father and his mother." Here is the "better than" standard. He wasn't a monster like Ahab and Jezebel. He wasn't actively hunting down prophets. He wasn't a foaming-at-the-mouth Baal zealot. And he proves his moderation with a notable act of reformation: "he took away the sacred pillar of Baal which his father had made."
This was no small thing. This sacred pillar, likely a stone obelisk, was a central cult object in Baal worship, a phallic symbol representing the fertility and power of the storm god. It was a public, visible statement of the nation's allegiance. Ahab had erected it, probably in Samaria, as a bold declaration of his syncretistic project. By removing it, Jehoram was making a public statement. It was a political move, perhaps to appease the remaining Yahweh followers or to distance himself from the excesses of his parents that had brought the prophet Elijah's wrath down upon them. It looked good. It was a tangible, measurable act of reform.
And this is where we are so easily deceived. We love visible, external changes. We will swap out the profane rock music for the slightly-less-profane CCM, and call it sanctification. We will stop one obvious sin and feel quite proud of ourselves, while our hearts remain thoroughly committed to our own autonomy. Jehoram's act was good as far as it went, but it did not go nearly far enough because it did not touch the root of the problem. He removed a symptom, but left the disease to fester.
The Enduring Sin (v. 3)
Verse 3 reveals the disease. It shows us why, despite his superficial cleanup, God's verdict on his reign was still "evil."
"Nevertheless, he clung to the sins of Jeroboam the son of Nebat, which he made Israel sin; he did not turn away from them." (2 Kings 3:3 LSB)
Here is the bedrock rebellion. He got rid of the gaudy, Phoenician import of his father, but he "clung" to the foundational, homegrown apostasy of Israel. The word is tenacious. He held fast to it. What were the sins of Jeroboam?
Jeroboam's sin was fundamentally political idolatry. When the kingdom split, Jeroboam feared that if the people of the northern kingdom continued to go to Jerusalem to worship at the Temple, as the law required, their hearts would eventually return to the Davidic king in Judah. His solution was to create a state-sponsored alternative religion. He set up two golden calves, one at Bethel and one at Dan, and declared, "Here are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up from the land of Egypt!" (1 Kings 12:28). He established his own priesthood from non-Levites and created his own festival calendar. It was a religion of political convenience, designed to secure his throne and consolidate national identity apart from God's explicit commands.
This is always the more respectable idolatry. The worship of Baal was debauched and overtly pagan. The sins of Jeroboam looked, on the surface, like a mere variation of Yahweh worship. It had calves, like the one at Sinai. It had priests and festivals. It was Yahweh-plus, Yahweh-lite, Yahweh-on-our-terms. It was a religion where the state, not Scripture, had the final say. It was the worship of God in a way that God had forbidden, all for the sake of political expediency.
Jehoram clung to this. He was willing to get rid of the embarrassing foreign god, the one that made them look like Canaanites. But he was not willing to dismantle the state-controlled religious apparatus that kept him in power. He was not willing to submit his throne to the throne of God in heaven. He would not command his people to return to Jerusalem for worship, because that would be political suicide. He was willing to be a religious reformer, but not at the cost of his political power. And so, he did evil in the sight of the Lord.
Conclusion: Root and Fruit
The lesson for us is sharp and clear. God is not interested in us simply pruning the ugliest fruit from the branches of our lives. He is concerned with the root. The root of Ahab's sin and Jeroboam's sin was the same: autonomy. It was the desire to be king, to define good and evil for oneself, to worship on one's own terms.
Ahab's sin was the gaudy, hedonistic fruit of this root. Jeroboam's sin was the subtle, political, religious fruit of this same root. Jehoram thought he could deal with the fruit without killing the root, and God pronounced his entire effort "evil."
True repentance is not simply removing the pillar of Baal. True repentance is a radical submission to the lordship of Jesus Christ in every area of life. It is to tear down the altars at Bethel and Dan, the places where we have set up our own convenient, self-serving forms of worship. It is to reject the notion that our politics, our traditions, or our personal comfort can define the terms of our relationship with God.
We cannot cling to the sins of Jeroboam and expect God to be pleased. We cannot cling to a compromised, man-centered, politically convenient faith and think that because we are "not as bad" as the pagans around us, we are somehow safe. The call of the gospel is not to be a better version of your old self. It is a call to die. It is a call to be crucified with Christ, so that it is no longer you who live, but Christ who lives in you.
The only true reformation is regeneration. It is the work of the Holy Spirit, who does not just tidy up the house, but demolishes the old structure and builds something entirely new on the foundation of Christ. Let us not be content with Jehoram's reformation. Let us plead with God for the real thing.