THE DISOBEDIENT PROPHET

‘And it came to pass, as they sat at the table, that the word of the Lord came unto the prophet that brought him back,’ etc.

1 Kings 13:20

I. Consider what was the mission or work of this prophet of Judah.—Jeroboam, like many a statesman since his time, looked upon religion, not as the happiness and strength of his own life, but simply as an instrument of successful government. He saw that if, after the separation of the ten tribes, Jerusalem should still continue to be the religious centre of the whole nation, sooner or later it would become the political centre too. The prophet was to Jeroboam what Samuel was to Saul after the victory over Amalek. He announced God’s displeasure at the most critical moment of his life, when an uninterrupted success was crowned with high-handed rebellion against the gracious Being who had done everything for the rebel. The prophet placed the king under the ban of God. It was a service of the utmost danger; it was a service of corresponding honour.

II. Consider the temptations to which the Jewish prophet was exposed in the discharge of his mission.—It was not difficult for him to decline Jeroboam’s invitation to eat and drink with him. The invitation of the old prophet was a much more serious temptation, and had a different result. This old prophet was a religious adventurer who had a Divine commission and even supernatural gifts, yet who placed them at the service of Jeroboam. He wanted to bring the other prophet down to his own level. Looking at the sacred garb, the white hairs, of the old prophet of Beth-el, the prophet of Judah listened to the false appeal to his own Lord and Master, and he fell.

III. Notice the prophet’s punishment.—By a solemn, a terrible, irony the seducer was forced to pass a solemn sentence on his victim. If the sterner penalty was paid by the prophet who disobeyed, and not by the prophet who tempted, this is only what we see every day. The victims of false teaching too often suffer, while the tempter seems to escape. The lesson from the story is that our first duty is fidelity to God’s voice in conscience.

Canon Liddon.

Illustrations

(1) ‘No gifts could save this prophet from his ruin when once he left the pathway of obedience. He was a man of God inspired for a great work—there was given to him the power of working miracles—he was courageous and thoroughly in earnest—he had said in his heart “Here am I, send me”—yet darkness fell on him, and all was lost, spite of his calling, and all his gifts and graces, because he disobeyed the will of heaven. That is a lesson for the brightest boys, and for the girls who are beautiful or gifted. Are we not tempted to think, if we are finely dowered, that God will forgive us for a little liberty? But for the genius, as for the dullest brain, there is only one path to peace and power and safety, and that is to walk in God’s commandment, and strive to be obedient to His will.’

(2) ‘The prophet turned from the stir and throng of Bethel to the solitude of the road that led to Judah, and it was then, in the very flush of victory, that he was tempted again, and yielded to temptation. Many an army has been put to flight in the hours that followed on some great success. They became careless—they grew secure and easy—and all unexpectedly they were assailed again. And as it is with armies, so with men. It is a glad and a good thing to be victorious. But the season that follows on a moral victory is often a season that is big with danger. That is what Paul means when, writing to the Ephesians, he bids them “having done all, to stand.” This prophet had “done all” that God had laid on him, yet having done it all, he failed to stand. There is danger when the breaker lifts its head and with a wild thunder dashes on the shore, but not less dangerous is its retreat, as it moves back again into the deeps.’

(3) ‘The vital importance of this prophet’s work is to be found not only in his message, but in the fact that he was called to utter it when the kingdom of the north was in its infancy. Now in such circumstances would you not have thought that the name of the prophet would have been written large? Would you not have expected it upon the page of scripture, so to be held in perpetual remembrance? Instead of that we do not know his name, nor his home, nor his father or his mother—he is just “a man of God out of Judah.” Do you remember what Milton calls the desire for fame? He calls it “the last infirmity of noble minds.” Some of the greatest things the world has known have been done by men whose names are in oblivion.’

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