When the prophet Samuel, sent to anoint one of the sons of Jesse, was anxious to hail Eliab, the eldest, as King, he was forbidden to do so, and was advised “The Lord seeth not as man seeth.” In that instance, no harm was done, because Samuel was ultimately guided to a right choice, but the Jews, and particularly, the ten-tribe kingdom of Israel, on more than one occasion in after-times paid dire penalties for failure to realize the truth of the maxim. The story which we recount from the annals of Israel, deals expressly with one of those times when divine wisdom and human wisdom were at variance.
The father of Benhadad, King of Syria, had been at war with Omri, King of Israel and had compelled him to cede certain cities, and also to allow Syrian merchants to establish bazaars in the streets of Samaria. Benhadad himself, intent on improving the position, had collected an intimidating army and had marched on Samaria. Arrived outside the city, he presented an ultimatum to Ahab, who had succeeded his father Omri, as King of Israel. “Give us your gold, your silver, your children and your wives.” Ahab did not feel able to meet the superior force opposed to him, and sent a reply agreeing to all the demands. Apparently, Benhadad was surprised that his endeavour was so readily successful, for he sent his envoys again, having put up his demands, “Within twenty-four hours, our soldiers will march in with orders to search your palace and the houses of your people, and they will take from you anything they choose.”
This arrogant claim, dismayed Ahab. He called together his ministers and privy councillors and explained that he saw no end to the Assyrian blackmail. If they yielded, further demands would be presented until they had nothing left. The unanimous decision of the council was, that the second ultimatum should be rejected. The Syrian envoys were sent back with the reply, that, though the Israelites were still willing to comply with the original demands, they could not agree to the increased requirements. Benhadad immediately sent his messengers back again, drawing attention to the vastness of his army, including as it did, the troops of thirty-two vassal kings. Ahab was not to be moved. Although not usually a very wise man, he made one of history’s sagest and most famous replies: “Let not him that girdeth on his armour, boast himself as him that putteth it off.” Benhadad, drinking with his generals in his tent, received this answer with rage. The commencement of the siege was ordered at once, and Israel prepared for the worst.
At this crisis a Prophet of God appeared. “Do you see those great Syrian Armies ?” he asked. “God will shew his power and defeat them for you.” Heartened by this assurance, Ahab asked how the battle should be waged. He was told that he himself, should take supreme command, and that the young provincials, who had been driven into Samaria by the Syrian advance, should lead. The total force was miserably small—only 7,232. Benhadad was still drinking himself drunk when, at midday, the tidings came in that a small company of men had been seen coming out of the city. “Take them alive!” was the order; but those who tried to carry it out, found themselves faced by resolute foes. In the initial skirmish, the Syrians suffered such casualties that they were thrown into a panic. Benhadad himself, barely managed to escape with a few horsemen.
Naturally, the Israelites were jubilant at their success, but they were quickly warned that their difficulties were not yet over. The prophet appeared again and told them to be prepared, because as soon as the next campaigning season opened, the Syrians would return. The event proved him right. The Syrians called up more men to replace those lost; reorganized their higher commands, dismissing the vassal kings, and substituted Syrian captains, and reconsidered their tactics. As regards the last, they argued that they had lost the previous battle because they had fought in hilly country. This meant, they said, that the Israelitish gods were gods of the hills, and that, if they could persuade their foes to fight in the plains, the outcome could be different. Their theory was based on military history as well as superstition. From the days of the Judges, when the tribes of Judah dislodged their enemies but could not drive them out of the lower-lying country, because they had chariots of iron, the Hebrews, seemed not to have exploited the use of chariots. The Syrians, no doubt, considered this would give them an advantage, but we know from the Assyrian monuments that Ahab was more interested in chariots than his predecessors, and it seems that Benhadad miscalculated here.
In the meantime, the Israelites had not been idle. Their small numbers were fully armed, but when they encampel opposite their foes, they looked pitifully small,—like two little flocks of kids—besides the Syrians who seemed to fill the country. Again, however, they were heartened by the words of a Prophet, who announced that God would show the Syrians that His supremacy was not limited to the hills.
For seven days the armies maneuvered for position, and on the seventh the battle was joined. The Syrians were even more conclusively beaten than before. 100,000 were slain in battle, and 27,000 more lost their lives in Aphek, owing to the collapse of a wall. Benhadad had to take refuge in an inner-chamber in that city.
The Syrians were dismayed. Twice they had given battle to a much inferior foe, and twice they had been overwhelmingly defeated. If the Israelites followed up their victories, the consequences for Syria and for Benhadad would be very serious. Something must be done. At this stage the diplomats took charge. What could not be accomplished on the battlefield, might be achieved in the council chamber. The Israelite kings had the reputation of being less ruthless than other monarchs; in fact they were considered merciful. As a result of the council, envoys were again sent to King Ahab, not this time with arrogant demands, but as humble suppliants. Benhadad, who boasted so much, when he assumed his armour, put it off with the feeble words, “Thy servant Benhadad saith, I pray thee let me live.”
Here was the test for Ahab. How would he act? Fearfully the envoys watched for a sign of his intentions. The king spoke, “Is he yet alive? He is my brother.” The envoys knew that their ruse had succeeded. A meeting of the two monarchs was arranged, and in Ahab’s chariot a treaty of peace was signed, one of the clauses of which provided for the return of the cites which Benhadad’s father had taken from Ahab’s father, and for facilities for Israelitish merchants to establish bazaars in the Syrian capital at Damascus.
The monarchs parted, and Ahab returned towards Samaria flushed with his triumph. To him it seemed that he had every reason to be satisfied. It was true that he had not followed up his victories, but he had secured an advantageous peace treaty. Further, Israel and Syria were both small kingdoms menaced from the north by the ever-growing power of Assyria. It was folly for them to waste their strength and resources in mutual slaughter, when at any time, both might be attacked by the Assyrians. Now, at least, they could stand together, if necessary. Decidedly, he had done well.
As he went on his way, however, he was accosted by a man who appeared to be a wounded soldier, with a head-band over his eye, apparently as a bandage for his wound. The king listened to his tale. He said:—
“Thy servant went out into the midst of the battle; and behold, a man turned aside; and brought a man unto me, and said Keep this man; If by any means he be missing, then shall thy life be for his life, or else thou shalt pay a talent of silver. And as thy servant was busy here and there, behold he was gone.”
Ahab was less merciful to the soldier than he had been to Benhadad . . . and refused to relieve him of the consequences of his mistake.
“So shall thy judgment be, thyself hast decided it” he decreed. The king was about to go on his way when, with a deft movement, the soldier removed the bandage, which was merely a disguise, from his eye. Immediately, Ahab realized that he knew the man, and that he was not a soldier at all, but a prophet. The story he told was not a statement of fact, but a parable. Before the king recovered from his astonishment the prophet continued speaking.
“Thus saith the Lord, Because thou hast let go out of thine hand a man whom I appointed to utter destruction, therefore, thy life shall go for his life, and thy people for his people.”
By his own decision, Ahab was condemned. He had been entrusted with a of the Syrians, but by his weakness in the hour of success, he had thrown away the fruits of his Divinely given victory. Had he utilized his triumphs to the full, mission by God to punish the blasphemy he would have freed his country from the Syrian menace for many years. As it was, all he purchased by his folly, was a precarious peace lasting but three years. The terms of the peace treaty regarding the return of Israelitish cities by the Syrians were not, in the event, completely kept, and Ahab found it necessary to try to recover at least one of them by force. This time, his armies were not successful, and he was killed at the battle of Ramoth-Gilead. Worse still, he had delivered his people to the Syrians who were their scourge for over 60 years, until the revival of the Israelitish kingdom under Joash and Jeroboam the Second. His life went for Benhadad’s life, and his people for Benhadad’s people.
Thus Ahab stands out as one of the world’s fools. Well might he return to his house, after his encounter with the prophet, heavy and displeased, far, owing to momentary slackness and inattention to the business in hand, his opportunity was gone, never to return. It had been given to him to see as God saw, but he had preferred to see through his own eyes.
This parable is another example of the acted kind, and, just as David was led by Nathan the prophet, to speak his own condemnation, so Ahab was similarly trapped. It was very apposite for the occasion on which it was used, but it clearly has a lesson for all times. Those who are given a knowledge of the purpose of God, or are furnished with opportunities in His service, are stewards of their privileges. They are expected to use them in accordance with the will of God. If by inattention, or immersion In other things, they neglect their duties, no amount of argument about the value of their own devices will excuse them for seeing not as God seeth. In the days of Jesus, the Jews were so “busy here and there” with their affairs that before they had realized that the son of God was amongst them, he was gone.
The vast majority of people today are so self-busy, that they recognize neither the accepted time nor the day of salvation, and ‘ere they have time or will to turn from their own ways, their opportunity will have escaped. The danger does not stop at the frontier of the brotherhood . . We who look upon ourselves as stewards of the mysteries of God, are often so “careful and anxious about many things” that the “one thing needful” is crowded out. Let us beware lest having known the best and known it to be the best, familiarity dulls the edge of appreciation, and before we know it, our “prisoner” is gone.
For most of us, life is a story of lost opportunities, mingled with times of achievement. If we have to regret neglected openings, let us not, like Ahab, become sullen and angry. Let us rather realize that our stewardship is not yet over, and that it is not yet time to cry, “too late!”
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One