The Grief of God's Enemies Text: Nehemiah 2:9-10
Introduction: The Unmasking Power of Obedience
Whenever God's people determine to rise and build, they accomplish two things simultaneously. The first is the assigned task itself, the work of reformation, restoration, or reconstruction. The second, and just as important, is that they force the enemies of God to show their hand. A dormant church, a church that is content to manage its own decline in a respectable way, is no threat to the established disorder of the world. But the moment a man like Nehemiah receives a burden from God, prays it through, and begins to act, the spiritual landscape is thrown into sharp relief. The friends of God are energized, and the enemies of God are revealed for what they are.
The book of Nehemiah is a case study in applied reformation. It is not a story about a man who wished the walls of Jerusalem were rebuilt. It is the story of a man who rebuilt them. And in doing so, he provides us with a crucial diagnostic tool. If you want to know who the Sanballats and Tobiahs are in your generation, simply begin the work of faithful obedience. Propose to seek the genuine good of the people of God, not as the world defines good, but as God defines it. Propose to build something that will outlast you, something that honors Christ and extends His dominion. When you do, the opposition that rises up to greet you will not be a sign that you have done something wrong. On the contrary, it is the infallible sign that you have done something profoundly right.
In our text today, we see this principle in miniature. Nehemiah arrives on the scene, armed with the authority of a pagan king, and before he has laid a single stone, the local opposition is already "exceedingly grieved." Their reaction is not to his work, for he has not yet begun it. Their reaction is to his intention. This is a spiritual reflex. The darkness hates the light, and it hates the mere rumor that the light is coming. We must understand this if we are to have the stamina to build anything of consequence in our own day.
The Text
Then I came to the governors of the provinces beyond the River and gave them the king’s letters. Now the king had sent with me commanders of the military force and horsemen. Then Sanballat the Horonite and Tobiah the Ammonite official heard about it, and it was a very great evil to them that someone had come to seek the good of the sons of Israel.
(Nehemiah 2:9-10 LSB)
Godly Means for Godly Ends (v. 9)
We begin with Nehemiah's arrival and his credentials.
"Then I came to the governors of the provinces beyond the River and gave them the king’s letters. Now the king had sent with me commanders of the military force and horsemen." (Nehemiah 2:9)
Nehemiah does not show up as a rogue agent. He is operating under lawful authority. And we must not miss the source of this authority. It is Artaxerxes, a pagan king, the head of a world empire. God, in His intricate providence, moved on the heart of this unbelieving monarch to authorize, fund, and protect a crucial project of covenant restoration. This is a classic example of God making the unbelieving world serve His ultimate purposes. This is our God. He is the king of kings, and the hearts of all of them are in His hand, and He turns them wherever He wishes, like channels of water (Prov. 21:1).
Some might be tempted to see this as a worldly compromise. Shouldn't Nehemiah have just trusted God, without all these letters and soldiers? But this is a false piety, a gnostic spirituality that disdains the material means God provides. Faith is not a denial of reality; it is the engine that engages with reality. Nehemiah prayed fervently to God, and then he asked the king for timber (Neh. 2:8). He trusted God, and so he accepted the cavalry escort. This is not a contradiction. God answered Nehemiah's prayer through the king's provision. To have refused the escort would not have been faith, but presumption.
Notice the wisdom here. Nehemiah is using the established civil structure to accomplish a spiritual goal. He is leveraging the authority of the higher magistrate, the emperor, against the recalcitrance of the lesser, local magistrates he is about to encounter. This is a profoundly Reformed principle. God has established various spheres of government, and it is right and proper to appeal to a higher authority when a lower one is unjust or obstructive. Nehemiah understands that God is sovereign over Caesar, and therefore Caesar's legitimate authority can be, and should be, used for the good of God's people.
This is not a partnership with the world in the sense of spiritual compromise. Later, these same enemies will offer to "help" Nehemiah build, and he will flatly refuse them (Ezra 4:3). The line is drawn at the work of worship and covenant building itself. Nehemiah will accept the king's timber and the king's guard, but he will not accept a Samaritan's help in laying the stones of God's holy city. One is a matter of practical providence; the other is a matter of spiritual fidelity. A wise reformer knows the difference.
The Allergic Reaction of Malice (v. 10)
The arrival of a man with a mission immediately triggers a response from the local powers.
"Then Sanballat the Horonite and Tobiah the Ammonite official heard about it, and it was a very great evil to them that someone had come to seek the good of the sons of Israel." (Nehemiah 2:10)
Here we meet the central antagonists of the story: Sanballat and Tobiah. These are not principled opponents with a different political philosophy. They are the personification of spiritual malice. They are entrenched local leaders who have profited from the broken-down state of Jerusalem. The rubble is their friend. A weak and demoralized people of God is good for their business. A restored Jerusalem, a confident and thriving covenant community, is a direct threat to their influence and power.
But the text goes deeper than mere political calculation. It tells us the precise nature of their grievance. It was "a very great evil to them." The Hebrew says it grieved them with a great grieving. It caused them deep, personal distress. And what was the cause of this profound sorrow? It was "that someone had come to seek the good of the sons of Israel."
Let that sink in. Their misery was directly caused by the prospect of blessing for God's people. This is the very definition of envy, which is sorrow at another's good. It is the spirit of Cain, who was angry because his brother's offering was accepted. It is the spirit of the elder brother in the parable, who was angry because his prodigal brother was welcomed home. It is the spirit of the religious leaders who handed Jesus over to Pilate, who knew that they did so "out of envy" (Mark 15:10).
This is the native language of the seed of the serpent. It does not just want to be left alone. It does not just disagree with the people of God. It is constitutionally incapable of rejoicing when the church is blessed, and it is sickened and grieved when the church prospers. The good of Israel is a great evil to them. This is a perfect spiritual inversion. What God calls good, they call evil. The welfare of the saints is the torment of the wicked.
We must not be naive about this. When we, as the church, seek to do good, when we build institutions, when we catechize our children, when we seek to apply the Lordship of Christ to all of life, we will inevitably encounter this same spirit. The modern Sanballats will not say, "We oppose you because we are filled with a spiteful, envious rage at the thought of your flourishing." No, envy always dresses up in the borrowed robes of justice or public concern. They will say we are a threat to pluralism, that we are bigots, that we are seeking to impose our morality. But underneath the mask, the motive is the same as it was in the days of Nehemiah. It grieves them exceedingly that someone has come to seek the good of the sons of Israel.
Conclusion: The Inescapable Conflict
These two verses, set side-by-side, teach us a foundational lesson for any work of reformation. Godly, prudent, and authorized action (v. 9) is the necessary catalyst for revealing ungodly, envious, and malicious opposition (v. 10). You cannot have one without the other. If there are no Sanballats in your life, you need to ask yourself if you are actually building anything.
Nehemiah came to do good, and his opponents were grieved. We are followers of the one who "went about doing good" (Acts 10:38), and they crucified Him for it. The central conflict of history is between those who would build up the City of God and those who are tormented by its very existence. The world's opposition to the gospel is not, at its root, an intellectual problem. It is a moral and spiritual allergy to the goodness of God.
Therefore, take heart. When you set your hand to the plow, when you resolve to seek the good of God's people, and the Tobiahs of the world begin to write their angry letters to the editor, and the Sanballats start their whispering campaigns, do not be dismayed. Do not think that some strange thing is happening to you. You are simply being vindicated. You have declared your intentions, and the enemy has heard you. Their grief is the first sign that your work is of God. It is the first stone laid in the foundation. The dogs are barking, which can only mean one thing: the caravan of the kingdom is on the move.