The Folly of Godless Alliances Text: 2 Kings 3:4-8
Introduction: The Pragmatic Heresy
We live in an age that worships at the altar of pragmatism. The chief question is not "Is it righteous?" but rather "Will it work?" This is true in business, it is true in education, and it is tragically true in politics. Men, even Christian men, are constantly tempted to form alliances and make compromises based on a spreadsheet of projected outcomes, rather than on the clear commands of Almighty God. They look at the political landscape, they see a formidable enemy, and they conclude that the only way to win is to join forces with those who, in any other context, they would recognize as enemies of God. This is the pragmatic heresy. It is the belief that God's law is a fine set of ideals for our personal lives, but when it comes to the "real world" of statecraft and war, we must be more practical. We must get our hands dirty.
The story before us in 2 Kings is a master class in the folly of this kind of thinking. It is a story of rebellion, military calculation, and a proposed alliance that is rotten from the start. We have the king of Israel, Jehoram, a man who dabbled in reform but kept the foundational idolatry of the state religion. We have the king of Moab, a rebellious vassal. And we have Jehoshaphat, the king of Judah, a genuinely good man who had one tragic, recurring flaw. His flaw was that he was a terrible judge of character when it came to his allies. He was a good king with a bad habit of yoking himself to wicked men. He wanted to do the right thing, but he kept trying to do it with the wrong people.
This passage is not just ancient history. It is a mirror. It forces us to ask ourselves where we are placing our trust. Are we trusting in chariots and horses, in political coalitions and strategic partnerships? Or are we trusting in the living God? When we are faced with a rebellion, whether it is a cultural rebellion against all standards of decency or a political rebellion against godly order, our first move must not be to dial up the nearest ungodly strongman for help. Our first move must be to fall on our faces before the Lord of Hosts. This story warns us, in the starkest terms, about the danger of making friends with God's enemies in order to fight God's battles.
The Text
Now Mesha king of Moab was a sheep breeder and used to pay the king of Israel 100,000 lambs and the wool of 100,000 rams. But it happened that when Ahab died, the king of Moab rebelled against the king of Israel. And King Jehoram went out of Samaria at that time and mustered all Israel. Then he went and sent word to Jehoshaphat the king of Judah, saying, “The king of Moab has rebelled against me. Will you go with me to fight against Moab?” And he said, “I will go up; I am as you are, my people as your people, my horses as your horses.” And he said, “Which way shall we go up?” And he answered, “The way of the wilderness of Edom.”
(2 Kings 3:4-8 LSB)
Rebellion and Revenue (v. 4-5)
The conflict begins, as so many do, with money and power.
"Now Mesha king of Moab was a sheep breeder and used to pay the king of Israel 100,000 lambs and the wool of 100,000 rams. But it happened that when Ahab died, the king of Moab rebelled against the king of Israel." (2 Kings 3:4-5)
Here we see the economic realities of the ancient world. Moab was a vassal state to Israel, and their relationship was defined by tribute. This was not a small tax. One hundred thousand lambs and the wool from one hundred thousand rams was a massive annual payment. This was a significant source of revenue for the northern kingdom of Israel. Mesha, the king of Moab, was a sheepmaster, and this tribute was his nation's primary export, sent north not by choice, but by coercion.
Notice the timing of the rebellion. It happens "when Ahab died." Ahab was a wicked king, but he was a strong one. His military power, backed by his Phoenician alliances, kept his vassals in line. But when the strongman dies, the jackals get bold. Mesha sees a moment of weakness, a transition of power, and he makes his move. He cuts off the tribute payments. This is a declaration of economic and political independence. It is an act of war.
This is how the world operates. Power is assessed, weaknesses are probed, and advantages are pressed. Mesha is not operating on theological principle; he is making a geopolitical calculation. He sees an opportunity to throw off the yoke of a foreign power and to keep his nation's wealth for himself. The world runs on this kind of self-interest. But for the people of God, our calculations must be different. Our question is not "When is the king of Israel weak?" but rather "What does the King of Heaven command?"
A Half-Hearted Reformation and a Call to Arms (v. 6-7a)
The new king of Israel, Jehoram son of Ahab, responds to this rebellion as any pagan king would.
"And King Jehoram went out of Samaria at that time and mustered all Israel. Then he went and sent word to Jehoshaphat the king of Judah, saying, 'The king of Moab has rebelled against me. Will you go with me to fight against Moab?'" (2 Kings 3:6-7a)
Jehoram's first instinct is military. He musters his army. He prepares for war to reclaim his lost revenue and reassert his authority. This is standard procedure for any king. But we must remember who Jehoram is. The first verses of this chapter tell us that he "did evil in the sight of the LORD," but not quite as evil as his father Ahab and mother Jezebel. He took down the pillar of Baal his father had made. This was a step in the right direction, a minor bit of house-cleaning. But the text immediately qualifies this: "he persisted in the sins of Jeroboam... he did not depart from them."
This is the picture of a man who trims the branches of sin but leaves the root intact. He got rid of the gaudy, foreign idolatry of Baal, but he kept the state-sanctioned, politically convenient idolatry of the golden calves that Jeroboam had set up. This was a religion designed to keep political control, to prevent the people from going to Jerusalem to worship. Jehoram's reformation was a political calculation, not a genuine repentance. He was willing to get rid of the sins that were unpopular or had brought recent disaster, but he was not willing to submit fully to the law of God. He wanted God's blessing without God's lordship.
And it is from this position of compromised worship and half-hearted obedience that he reaches out for an ally. Who does he call? He sends word to Jehoshaphat, the righteous king of Judah. This is a shrewd move. An alliance with the southern kingdom would dramatically increase his military strength. But it is a spiritually toxic request. The ungodly king of Israel is asking the godly king of Judah to join him in a war fought for purely economic reasons, a war initiated without any apparent consultation with God.
The Compromise of a Good King (v. 7b)
Now we come to the tragic and pivotal moment of the passage. How does the good king Jehoshaphat respond?
"And he said, 'I will go up; I am as you are, my people as your people, my horses as your horses.'" (2 Kings 3:7b)
This is a disastrous answer. It is a blank check. It is a complete identification with a compromised, idolatrous king. "I am as you are." No, you are not. You, Jehoshaphat, are a king who has led your people in righteousness, who has removed the high places, and who trusts in the Lord. Jehoram is a syncretist who maintains the state cult of the golden calves. Your people are the people of the covenant, who worship at the temple in Jerusalem. His people are led astray by a false priesthood. Your horses are dedicated to the service of the living God. His horses serve a king in rebellion against that God.
This is not the first time Jehoshaphat has made this mistake. He made this exact same pledge to Jehoram's wicked father, Ahab, in 1 Kings 22. That alliance led to a near-disaster at Ramoth-gilead, where Jehoshaphat almost lost his life. After that fiasco, the prophet Jehu son of Hanani met him and delivered a searing rebuke: "Should you help the wicked and love those who hate the LORD? Because of this, the wrath of the LORD is upon you" (2 Chronicles 19:2). You would think a man would learn from such a sharp rebuke and a near-death experience. But here he is, making the same foolish promise to the wicked son of the wicked father.
This shows us the seductive power of bad habits and the deceitfulness of pragmatism. Jehoshaphat likely saw this as a matter of national security, of Israelite solidarity against a foreign threat. But he failed to see that the greatest threat was not Moab, but the spiritual contamination that comes from yoking yourself to the ungodly. He blurred the lines. He erased the Creator's fundamental act of separation. And when you say to a compromiser, "I am as you are," you are the one who is going to move. The clean is always corrupted by the unclean; the holy is always compromised by the profane.
The Wrong Question (v. 8)
Having agreed to this unholy alliance, the conversation turns to logistics. The spiritual question has been ignored, so they move on to the tactical one.
"And he said, 'Which way shall we go up?' And he answered, 'The way of the wilderness of Edom.'" (2 Kings 3:8)
Jehoram asks Jehoshaphat for military advice. "Which way shall we go up?" This is the wrong question. The first question should have been, "Shall we go up at all? What does the Lord say?" But that question was never asked. Once you have made the fundamental compromise, all subsequent questions will be merely technical. Once you have agreed to do the wrong thing, your only remaining concern is how to do the wrong thing most efficiently.
Jehoshaphat, the godly king, is now in the position of giving military strategy to the ungodly king for their joint venture. He suggests the southern route, through the wilderness of Edom. This was a difficult route, but it would allow them to bring Edom, Judah's vassal, into the fight and attack Moab from its more vulnerable southern border. From a purely military standpoint, it might have been a clever plan. But a clever plan in the service of a foolish alliance is still folly. God is not impressed with our tactical genius when our foundational loyalties are compromised.
This is a warning to the church today. We can get so caught up in strategizing, in planning our "way up" against the Moabites of our culture. We can debate tactics, form committees, and build coalitions. But if we have already made a functional alliance with the world, if we have said to the Jehorams in our midst, "I am as you are," then all our clever strategies are just rearranging deck chairs on a sinking ship. The first question is always the question of allegiance. Who is our king, and by whose rules will we fight?
Conclusion: Unequally Yoked in Battle
This story is just getting started, and as we will see, this foolish alliance immediately leads the armies into a life-threatening disaster in the wilderness. They followed a clever plan and marched straight into a waterless wasteland. This is what happens when God's people yoke themselves to God's enemies. You adopt their goals, you adopt their methods, and you will soon share in their judgments.
The apostle Paul applies this principle directly to us. "Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. For what partnership has righteousness with lawlessness? Or what fellowship has light with darkness?" (2 Corinthians 6:14). Paul is not just talking about marriage, though he certainly is talking about marriage. He is stating a fundamental principle of the kingdom. Light and darkness cannot advance a common cause.
Jehoshaphat was a good man, but he was a naive man. He thought he could lend his strength to a wicked cause without being tainted by it. He was wrong. He was rebuked for it before, and he will be led into trouble by it again here. We must learn this lesson. In our political engagement, in our cultural battles, in our personal relationships, we must not make peace with those who are at war with God. We can be kind, we can be good neighbors, we can pray for their salvation. But we cannot say to them, "I am as you are, my people as your people."
Our identity is in Christ alone. Our people are the people of His covenant. Our horses, our strength, our resources, belong to Him. We must not lend them out to the Jehorams of this world, no matter how pragmatic it seems. For the way of Edom, the clever wilderness route, is always the path to thirst and desperation when you are walking it arm in arm with a rebel against God.