The Good, the Bad, and the High Places Text: 2 Chronicles 20:31-34
Introduction: The Anatomy of a Mixed Report
When the Scriptures give us the biography of a man, particularly a king, they do not do so in the way that modern, sentimental biographers do. Our age loves to either whitewash or tear down. A man is either a plaster saint, suitable for a stained-glass window, or he is a demon, suitable for nothing but cancellation. But the Word of God is unflinchingly realistic. It gives us the man, warts and all. And in the life of Jehoshaphat, we have a classic case of what we might call the mixed report. He was a good king. He was a godly king. And yet, there was a "nevertheless."
This "nevertheless" is one of the most important words in understanding the nature of our own sanctification, the nature of corporate reformation, and the nature of generational faithfulness. Jehoshaphat is a high-water mark in the history of Judah. He follows in the steps of his godly father Asa, and in many ways, he surpasses him. He institutes religious and judicial reforms. He sends teachers of the Law throughout the land. He trusts God in the face of an overwhelming military threat and sees a miraculous deliverance. By any reasonable metric, his reign was a smashing success. And yet, the Holy Spirit includes this qualifier, this asterisk, this "nevertheless."
We live in an age of compromise. We live in an age that despises black and white distinctions. Our entire culture is a vast, sprawling "high place," a monument to syncretism, where we want to worship God and mammon, Christ and Molech, Yahweh and the spirit of the age. We want to do "what is right in the sight of Yahweh," but we also want to keep a few high places around, just in case. They might be traditional, they might be popular, they might be convenient. And so we tolerate them. We get used to the smell of the strange incense.
The life of Jehoshaphat, then, is a profound encouragement and a sober warning. It is an encouragement because God blesses genuine, albeit imperfect, faithfulness. It is a warning because incomplete obedience always leaves a foothold for future trouble. The high places you fail to tear down today will become the snares your children are caught in tomorrow.
The Text
Thus Jehoshaphat reigned over Judah. He was thirty-five years old when he became king, and he reigned in Jerusalem twenty-five years. And his mother’s name was Azubah the daughter of Shilhi.
And he walked in the way of his father Asa and did not turn away from it, doing what is right in the sight of Yahweh.
The high places, however, were not taken away; the people had not yet set their hearts to the God of their fathers.
Now the rest of the acts of Jehoshaphat, first to last, behold, they are written in the chronicles of Jehu the son of Hanani, which is recorded in the Book of the Kings of Israel.
(2 Chronicles 20:31-34 LSB)
Covenant Succession (v. 31-32)
We begin with the summary of his reign and his foundational character.
"Thus Jehoshaphat reigned over Judah. He was thirty-five years old when he became king, and he reigned in Jerusalem twenty-five years. And his mother’s name was Azubah the daughter of Shilhi. And he walked in the way of his father Asa and did not turn away from it, doing what is right in the sight of Yahweh." (2 Chronicles 20:31-32 LSB)
The first thing to notice is the principle of generational faithfulness. God is a covenant-keeping God, and His blessings and judgments flow down through the generations. "He walked in the way of his father Asa." This is how it is supposed to work. God promises to show mercy to a thousand generations of those who love Him and keep His commandments. This is covenant succession. Asa had begun a significant reformation in Judah, and Jehoshaphat picks up the baton and runs with it.
This is a direct affront to the radical individualism of our day, which treats every person as an autonomous unit, disconnected from his past. The Bible knows nothing of this. We are all downstream from someone. Jehoshaphat had the immense blessing of a godly father, and he built upon that foundation. He "did not turn away from it." This speaks of a settled conviction, a durable faithfulness. This was not a flash in the pan. For twenty-five years, the settled policy of the throne was to do "what is right in the sight of Yahweh."
And what is the standard? It is not what is right in the sight of the people, or the priests, or the king himself. The standard is the sight of Yahweh. This is the bedrock of all true morality and all true reformation. God's revealed will is the plumb line. Jehoshaphat's reign was, in the main, oriented toward this objective, external, divine standard. He was thirty-five when he began, a man in his prime, not a rash youth. He had seen his father's reign, both the good and the bad, and he learned from it. This is the great calling of fathers: to live in such a way that their sons can walk in their way and find it to be the way of righteousness.
The Stubbornness of Syncretism (v. 33)
But then comes the great "nevertheless," the great "however."
"The high places, however, were not taken away; the people had not yet set their hearts to the God of their fathers." (2 Chronicles 20:33 LSB)
Here we have the anatomy of an incomplete reformation. What were the high places? They were local, unauthorized shrines. Originally, they were centers of Canaanite idolatry. God had commanded Israel to utterly destroy them when they entered the land. But they failed to do so. Over time, some of these high places were co-opted for the worship of Yahweh. It was a classic case of syncretism. It was an attempt to worship the true God in a false, man-made, convenient way. It was a blending of the sacred and the profane. It was worship on their own terms, not God's.
Jehoshaphat was a good king, but he did not go all the way. He did not press the reformation to its logical conclusion. And the text gives us a fascinating reason why. It lays the responsibility in two places. First, by implication, on Jehoshaphat. He was the king; the buck stopped with him. But second, it says, "the people had not yet set their hearts to the God of their fathers."
This is a crucial lesson for any leader, whether in the home, the church, or the state. You can be personally pious. You can enact good laws. You can promote righteous teaching. But you cannot, by sheer force of will, regenerate the hearts of the people. Reformation is a top-down and a bottom-up affair. The leadership must be courageous, but the people must be receptive. Here, the people's hearts were not ready. They were accustomed to their convenient, localized worship. Going all the way to Jerusalem was a hassle. They liked their traditions. Their fathers and grandfathers had worshiped at these high places. It was comfortable. Their hearts were not yet "set" or "prepared" for the radical, exclusive claims of Yahweh's covenant.
And so Jehoshaphat tolerated it. Perhaps he thought it was a political necessity. Perhaps he feared a popular revolt. Perhaps he simply lacked the political capital to push it through. Whatever the reason, this failure was a seed of future apostasy. The high places that were tolerated under a good king became the launching pads for rank idolatry under his wicked successors. Compromise is never static; it is always a slippery slope. The things you tolerate in moderation, your children will embrace with abandon.
The Inspired Record (v. 34)
Finally, the chronicler closes his summary by pointing to his sources.
"Now the rest of the acts of Jehoshaphat, first to last, behold, they are written in the chronicles of Jehu the son of Hanani, which is recorded in the Book of the Kings of Israel." (2 Chronicles 20:34 LSB)
This is a wonderfully matter-of-fact statement that should bolster our confidence in the historical reliability of the Scriptures. The biblical authors were not inventing stories in a vacuum. They were historians, working with source documents under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. They openly cite their sources, in this case, a record compiled by the prophet Jehu, the son of Hanani, who had himself confronted Jehoshaphat for his foolish alliance with Ahab (2 Chron. 19:2).
This tells us several things. First, the Bible is rooted in real, verifiable history. It invites scrutiny. It says, in effect, "If you want more details, go check the public record." Of course, these records have since been lost to the sands of time, but their existence was known and accessible to the original audience. The biblical writers were not afraid of the facts.
Second, it shows us how God works through ordinary means. He used prophets like Jehu not only to preach, but also to write history. God's inspired and inerrant Word was not dropped out of the sky on golden plates. It was written by real men, who used historical sources, and whose work was superintended by the Holy Spirit to ensure that what they wrote was precisely what God intended to be written. The final product, our Bible, is the Word of God, but the process involved human authors engaged in normal literary activities, like research.
This reference points to a fuller account, a more detailed story. But what the Holy Spirit chose to include here, in the permanent record of Scripture, is what is spiritually necessary. He gives us the highlight reel, the final verdict. And that verdict on Jehoshaphat is that he was a great and godly king, whose reformation, while genuine, was tragically incomplete.
Conclusion: No Neutral Ground
So what do we do with this mixed report? We must first thank God for His grace. God does not demand perfection from his servants in order to bless them. Jehoshaphat was a flawed man, leading a stiff-necked people, and yet God used him mightily and blessed Judah through him. This is an encouragement to us all. Your own efforts at reformation in your life, your family, your church, are likely to be flawed and incomplete. Do not despise the day of small beginnings. Do what is right in the sight of the Lord, and trust Him with the results.
But second, we must take the warning to heart. The high places are a picture of every area of compromise in our lives. They are the sins we manage instead of mortify. They are the worldly philosophies we baptize and bring into the church. They are the little compromises with sexual ethics, or financial integrity, or the raising of our children. We think we can contain them. We think we can have "Yahweh-worship" at our convenient little shrines. But we are playing with fire.
The king was righteous, but the people's hearts were not ready. This is the challenge of our generation. We need leaders who will not just follow the people, but who will lead them. We need fathers and pastors and statesmen who will say, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord," and who will have the courage to tear down the high places, no matter how popular they are. But we also need a people whose hearts are being prepared by the preaching of the gospel to receive such leadership. Revival is the work of the Spirit, turning the hearts of the people back to the God of their fathers. Only then will a lasting reformation be possible. Only then will we stop building our own high places and return to worship God according to His Word, and His Word alone.