Commentary - 2 Chronicles 16:11-14

Bird's-eye view

The final verses of 2 Chronicles 16 provide a somber conclusion to the long and largely commendable reign of King Asa. After decades of faithful reform and reliance upon God, which brought Judah great victory and peace, Asa's life ends on a discordant note. The Chronicler, having just recounted Asa's sinful alliance with Syria and his angry rejection of prophetic rebuke, now turns to his final years, marked by disease and a misplaced trust. This passage is not merely a historical footnote; it is a potent warning about the critical importance of finishing well. It demonstrates that a long track record of faithfulness is no guarantee against a final stumble. The central issue is one of trust: having once trusted God for deliverance from a massive army, Asa now trusts in physicians, but not in Yahweh, for deliverance from his ailment. His story serves as a tragic bookend, a case study in the subtle slide from faithful reliance to practical atheism.

The account of his disease, his death, and his burial is recorded with a telling detail. The problem was not that he sought medical help, but that he did so to the exclusion of God. His end highlights the persistent temptation for God's people to rely on the created means of deliverance rather than on the Creator Himself. The passage concludes with his burial, which was elaborate and full of honor from his people, yet it stands in stark contrast to the spiritual dishonor of his final years. It forces the reader to weigh the difference between temporal honor from men and lasting faithfulness before God.

Outline

Commentary

11 Now behold, the acts of Asa from first to last, behold, they are written in the Book of the Kings of Judah and Israel.

The Chronicler begins his conclusion with a standard formula, pointing his readers to a more exhaustive historical record. This is not a dismissal, but rather an appeal to a recognized authority, much like a footnote in a modern work. He is saying, "If you want all the political and military details, the archives are over there." But the Chronicler is a theologian, not just an archivist. His purpose is to distill the history down to its essential spiritual lessons. He has already given us the highlights, the pivots upon which Asa's reign turned for good and for ill. The phrase "from first to last" is crucial. It invites a complete evaluation. We are not to judge Asa solely by his glorious beginning and middle, but by the entire scope of his life. This is a recurring biblical principle: faithfulness is a marathon, not a sprint. The final lap matters immensely.

12 And Asa became diseased in his feet in the thirty-ninth year of his reign. His disease was severe, yet even in his disease he did not seek Yahweh, but the physicians.

Here is the heart of the tragedy. After a long reign, in his thirty-ninth year, Asa is struck with a severe disease in his feet. The location is likely significant. The same feet that had once stood firm in faith, and the feet that had run to imprison God's prophet (v. 10), are now the source of his affliction. This is the way God's providence often works; the punishment fits the crime, sometimes with a poetic irony. The disease is described as "severe," indicating this was no minor ailment. It was a genuine, life-altering trial.

But the real disease was not in his feet; it was in his heart. The text is precise: "he did not seek Yahweh, but the physicians." The sin was not in seeking physicians. Medicine is a gift of God's common grace. The created world is full of remedies, and the skill to apply them is a gift. The error was one of priority and ultimate trust. He sought the physicians instead of Yahweh. He turned to the means of healing, but not to the God of healing. This is the very definition of practical atheism. It is to profess belief in God with your lips, but to live your life, especially when the pressure is on, as though He were irrelevant. Asa, who had once faced down a million Ethiopians by seeking the Lord (2 Chron. 14:11), now faces a disease in his own body and leaves God out of the equation. He had forgotten the lesson of his own life: that God is a very present help in trouble, whether that trouble is an invading army or a failing body.

13 So Asa slept with his fathers. And he died in the forty-first year of his reign.

The narrative moves to its inevitable conclusion. Two years after the onset of his disease, Asa dies. The phrase "slept with his fathers" is a common Old Testament euphemism for death, particularly for the kings of the Davidic line. It speaks of a continuity, a gathering to one's people. It is a gentle phrase, but here it is tinged with sadness. He dies after a long reign of forty-one years, a reign that began with such zeal and promise. But his final act of unfaithfulness hangs in the air. He did not die in a blaze of faithful testimony, but rather as a man who, in his final and most personal trial, leaned on the arm of flesh. His death is a solemn reminder that a long life and a long reign are not in themselves the ultimate prize. The prize is a life of faith, from first to last.

14 And they buried him in his own tomb which he had cut out for himself in the city of David, and they laid him in the resting place which he had filled with spices of various kinds blended by the perfumers’ art; and they made a very great fire for him.

Asa receives a royal and honorable burial. He is laid in a tomb he himself had prepared, a mark of his foresight and royal standing. The ceremony is lavish, filled with costly spices, and a great fire is made in his honor. From a worldly perspective, this is a successful end. The people remembered his decades of good rule, the peace he had secured, and the reforms he had enacted. They gave him the honor due to a great king.

But the spiritual reader is left with a profound sense of dissonance. The pomp and circumstance of the funeral cannot erase the spiritual failure recorded just two verses prior. Men may honor a great public figure, but God weighs the heart. The fragrance of the spices cannot cover the stench of unbelief. The great fire of honor cannot substitute for the fire of a heart wholly devoted to God. This is the final lesson of Asa. It is possible to win the accolades of men and yet fail the final exam with God. The great question is not how grand our funeral will be, but whether we, in our final trial, sought the Lord.

Application

The story of Asa's decline is a standing warning to every believer, especially those who have walked with the Lord for many years. It is a warning against the subtle pride that can grow after decades of faithfulness. Past victories do not guarantee future faithfulness. We must never graduate from a position of utter dependence on God.

Asa's sin was not using doctors; it was trusting in them. This is a thoroughly modern temptation. We live in an age of medical marvels, and we should thank God for them as instruments of His common grace. But they can easily become idols. When our first instinct in a crisis is to call the expert, to check the web, to trust the science, but our last and most feeble instinct is to pray, we are walking in Asa's footsteps. We are acting as practical atheists. The question this text puts to us is this: Who or what do you seek first? Where is your ultimate reliance?

Finally, we must be zealous to finish well. It is not enough to have a fiery start. The Christian life is about endurance, perseverance, and a faith that holds fast to the end. Asa was honored by men in his death, but the divine record notes his failure. Let us be more concerned with the final verdict of God than with the temporary honors of men. Let us resolve to seek Yahweh, not just in the great public battles, but in the quiet, personal trials of a sickbed, from first to last.