The Almost Reformation: Azariah's Compromised Kingdom
Introduction: The Danger of the Asterisk
We live in an age of compromise, an age that loves the asterisk. We love the fine print, the exception clause, the footnote that allows us to have our cake and eat it too. We want our leaders to be "mostly" righteous. We want our churches to be "generally" faithful. We want our own lives to be "for the most part" obedient. We have become connoisseurs of the qualified success, masters of the moral mulligan. And so we read a passage like this one about King Azariah, also known as Uzziah, and we are tempted to nod along, thinking, "Well, not bad for a king. Better than most."
But the Word of God is not a participation trophy. It is a sharp, two-edged sword, and it does not grade on a curve. The story of Azariah is the story of a long and prosperous reign that is ultimately defined by a fatal "but." He did what was right in the sight of Yahweh, but. He followed his father's good example, but. This is the story of the almost reformation, the half-hearted purge, the well-intentioned failure. And in this, it is a story that should ring in our ears like a fire alarm, because the besetting sin of the modern evangelical church is precisely this sin of the high places. It is the sin of tolerating pockets of idolatry, of maintaining little hilltop shrines to our cultural gods, all while congratulating ourselves for doing what is right in the main.
We have torn down the obvious idols of Baal, perhaps, but we have left the high places of personal autonomy, sexual confusion, and therapeutic religion untouched. We sacrifice to Yahweh on Sunday morning, and then burn incense to the gods of convenience, pragmatism, and public approval the rest of the week. Azariah's story is a stark warning. A long reign is not the same as a faithful one. Apparent success is not the same as divine approval. And a fatal compromise, left to fester, will eventually bring the judgment of God, no matter how many other boxes you have ticked.
This passage is a diagnosis of a compromised kingdom, and by extension, a compromised church and a compromised heart. It shows us the nature of qualified obedience, the persistence of paganism, and the swift, personal judgment of a holy God who will not be trifled with.
The Text
In the twenty-seventh year of Jeroboam king of Israel, Azariah son of Amaziah king of Judah became king. He was sixteen years old when he became king, and he reigned fifty-two years in Jerusalem; and his mother’s name was Jecoliah of Jerusalem. And he did what was right in the sight of Yahweh, according to all that his father Amaziah had done. Only the high places were not taken away; the people still sacrificed and burned incense on the high places. Then Yahweh smote the king, so that he was a leper to the day of his death. And he lived in a separate house, while Jotham the king’s son was over the house, judging the people of the land. Now the rest of the acts of Azariah and all that he did, are they not written in the Book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Judah? And Azariah slept with his fathers, and they buried him with his fathers in the city of David, and Jotham his son became king in his place.
(2 Kings 15:1-7 LSB)
A Long and Limited Reign (vv. 1-3)
We begin with the basic facts of the reign.
"In the twenty-seventh year of Jeroboam king of Israel, Azariah son of Amaziah king of Judah became king. He was sixteen years old when he became king, and he reigned fifty-two years in Jerusalem; and his mother’s name was Jecoliah of Jerusalem. And he did what was right in the sight of Yahweh, according to all that his father Amaziah had done." (2 Kings 15:1-3)
The historical markers are set for us. Azariah, also called Uzziah in Chronicles and Isaiah, begins his reign as a teenager and holds the throne for over half a century. This is one of the longest reigns in Judah's history. From a purely secular standpoint, his rule was a resounding success. The parallel account in 2 Chronicles 26 tells us he was a military genius, an innovator in agriculture, and a master builder. He defeated the Philistines, subdued the Arabs, and fortified Jerusalem. Under his leadership, Judah became a regional superpower. His fame spread "even to the entrance of Egypt" (2 Chron. 26:8).
By all the world's metrics, Azariah was a great king. And the divine assessment begins on a positive note: "He did what was right in the sight of Yahweh." This is the fundamental standard for any leader. It is not about poll numbers, or GDP, or military victories. The only question that will matter on the last day is this: did you do what was right in the sight of Yahweh? Not in your own sight, not in the sight of the people, but in His sight.
But notice the qualification that is immediately attached. He did right, "according to all that his father Amaziah had done." This is both a commendation and a subtle warning. His father Amaziah also started well, but his heart was not wholly loyal to God, and he ended his reign in idolatry and defeat (2 Chron. 25:2, 14). To say that Azariah followed his father's pattern is to say that he inherited both his father's strengths and his father's fatal flaws. This is the principle of federal headship in miniature. We are not islands. We are shaped, for good and for ill, by the legacy of our fathers. Azariah received a legacy of partial obedience, and he faithfully carried that compromised legacy forward.
The Stubborn Idolatry of the High Places (v. 4)
Here we come to the asterisk, the fatal flaw that defines the entire reign.
"Only the high places were not taken away; the people still sacrificed and burned incense on the high places." (2 Kings 15:4 LSB)
This is a refrain we hear over and over again in the book of Kings. King after king is commended for his righteousness, only to be followed by this exact phrase: "but the high places were not removed." What were these high places? They were local, unauthorized altars, often on hilltops. Some were dedicated to pagan gods, but many, by this point, were used to worship Yahweh. The people thought they were worshipping the true God, but they were doing it in a disobedient way. God had commanded that all sacrifices were to be brought to one central location, the Tabernacle and later the Temple in Jerusalem (Deut. 12:5-6). This was to ensure the purity of worship and the unity of the people.
The high places represented a syncretistic, man-centered, convenient form of religion. It was worship on their own terms. It was "Jesus and..." It was "the Bible plus..." It was a refusal to submit to the full counsel of God. Why did Azariah and so many other "good" kings fail to remove them? Because it would have been politically difficult. The people liked their local shrines. It was traditional. It was convenient. Removing them would have required immense courage and a willingness to be unpopular. It would have meant confronting the settled, comfortable sins of the populace. And so, Azariah did not do it. He reformed the central government but left the local parishes to their own devices.
This is the picture of so much of the modern church. We have our central, orthodox statements of faith, but we tolerate high places everywhere. We have high places of emotionalism, where experience is valued over Scripture. We have high places of pragmatism, where church growth techniques replace the foolishness of preaching. We have high places of political idolatry, on both the left and the right. We have high places of therapeutic deism, where God's job is to make us feel good about ourselves. A true reformation does not just clean house at the top; it tears down every last high place, no matter how cherished or popular.
The Stroke of Judgment (v. 5)
The narrative then makes a sudden, jarring turn. The consequence of this compromise is not a slow national decline, but a swift, personal, and devastating judgment from God.
"Then Yahweh smote the king, so that he was a leper to the day of his death. And he lived in a separate house, while Jotham the king’s son was over the house, judging the people of the land." (2 Kings 15:5 LSB)
The book of Kings states the fact bluntly: "Yahweh smote the king." There is no ambiguity. This was not a random illness or a tragic accident. This was the direct, judicial hand of God. The account in 2 Chronicles 26 gives us the specific sin that triggered this judgment. We are told that as Azariah became powerful, "his heart was lifted up to his destruction" (2 Chron. 26:16). In his pride, he entered the Temple to burn incense on the altar, a duty reserved exclusively for the priests. He conflated the roles of king and priest, of state and church. When the priests confronted him, he became enraged, and at that very moment, leprosy broke out on his forehead.
His sin of pride was the fruit of the same root that tolerated the high places: a refusal to submit to God's clear commands about worship. He would not restrict the people's worship to God's chosen place, and in the end, he would not restrict his own worship to his God-given role. The leprosy was a fitting judgment. As a leper, he was ceremonially unclean. He was excommunicated, cut off from the very Temple he had profaned. He who had acted as an unauthorized priest was now forbidden from even entering the courts of the Lord's house. He was forced to live in a "separate house," isolated and alone. His reign, for all practical purposes, was over. His son Jotham had to take over the administration of the kingdom.
An Unceremonious End (vv. 6-7)
The conclusion to this long and prosperous reign is brief and tragic.
"Now the rest of the acts of Azariah and all that he did, are they not written in the Book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Judah? And Azariah slept with his fathers, and they buried him with his fathers in the city of David, and Jotham his son became king in his place." (2 Kings 15:6-7 LSB)
The standard formula for the death of a king is recited. He "slept with his fathers." But even here, there is a shadow. 2 Chronicles tells us that while he was buried in the city of David, it was in a separate burial field "for they said, 'He is a leper'" (2 Chron. 26:23). His uncleanness followed him to the grave. The man who reigned for fifty-two years, who achieved great military and economic success, is ultimately remembered for his pride and his plague. His epitaph was not "Azariah the Great," but "Azariah the Leper."
This is the end result of a compromised faith. It does not matter how long you reign, how much you build, or how famous you become. If you tolerate the high places in your kingdom, in your church, or in your own heart, you are setting yourself up for a fall. God is not mocked. He demands total allegiance, worship on His terms, and the destruction of every last idol.
Conclusion: Tearing Down Our High Places
The story of Azariah is a sobering one. It shows us that it is possible to do many things right in the sight of the Lord and still harbor a fatal compromise that brings ruin. It is a warning against the pride that so often accompanies success. It is a call to radical, uncompromising obedience.
Like Azariah, we are all leprous. We are all unclean because of our sin, cut off from the presence of a holy God. Our pride, our self-will, our desire to worship God on our own terms, this is the spiritual leprosy that infects every one of us. We are isolated in our "separate house," spiritually dead and awaiting final judgment.
But the story does not end there. For there is another king, from the same line of David, who did not just do what was right, but was righteousness itself. Jesus Christ did not have a long and prosperous earthly reign. He was despised and rejected. His reign was cut short at thirty-three years. But unlike Azariah, He was not proud. He humbled Himself, taking the form of a servant. And unlike Azariah, who tried to force his way into the holy place, Jesus was Himself the true Temple and the great High Priest.
And on the cross, this perfect King did something astounding. He took our leprosy upon Himself. As Isaiah prophesied, "He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted" (Isaiah 53:3-4). He was "smitten by God." He became unclean for us, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.
Because of His sacrifice, we who were lepers can be made clean. We who were cut off can be brought near. We who were isolated can be welcomed into the house of the Lord forever. The only proper response to this grace is to, by the power of His Spirit, declare total war on the high places. We must not be content with a "mostly" righteous life. We must ask God to reveal the compromises, the pet sins, the cherished idols that we have allowed to stand. And we must, with ruthless determination, tear them down. For our King is not a leper in a separate house; He is risen, reigning, and returning. And He will have a kingdom with no high places at all, for He Himself will be all in all.