James Nisbet's Church Pulpit Commentary
2 Kings 9:2
JEHU THE ADVENTURER
‘Jehu the son of Jehoshaphat.’
Who was this adventurer? We may be sure he was no ordinary man who could found the most powerful of all the dynasties of Israel.
I. When we first meet with Jehu he is a young guardsman, just as Napoleon is at first a young lieutenant.—And as Napoleon said that every lieutenant carries a field-marshal’s baton in his knapsack, so perhaps young Jehu, ardent and enthusiastic, was dreaming strange dreams of power from the first. There was a glow of daring on the youth that marked him out for high and desperate enterprise. And long ago (though Jehu never knew of this) God had told Elijah that this young guardsman would be king (1 Kings 19:16). His father’s name was Jehoshaphat, and his grandfather’s Nimshi; but we find Jehu commonly referred to as ‘the son of Nimshi.’ I suppose there were fathers then, as there are fathers now, whom the children would willingly forget; fathers whose names recall no happy memories, but deeds and influences that were best forgotten. Jehu, then, was an aspiring soldier, and his promotion was evidently sure and rapid. It was a time when resolute enthusiasm, and when a ready and even reckless daring, were supremely necessary to distracted Israel. We find Jehu chosen from his company to ride in the royal chariot of King Ahab (2 Kings 9:25). It was a signal mark of the king’s confidence, and it was sure to lead to greater honours. So we are not surprised, when our chapter opens, to read that these greater honours have arrived, and that Jehu is chief captain in the army. There has been a great outcry that in our army promotion is secured in unworthy ways. It has been hinted that merit can do little, and social influence can do almost anything. But in the armies of Israel it was different. There was a great career for the born soldier. Jehu begins life as a lieutenant with a field-marshal’s baton in his knapsack.
II. When King Joram, then, was wounded at Ramoth-gilead (2 Kings 8:28), he was removed with all speed to the capital, just as our King hastened to London when a dangerous operation was impending.—Jehu was left in command at Ramoth-gilead. He was holding a council of war with his brother officers. Suddenly a young man burst in on their deliberations, and with a rude directness that compelled attention, and with a passion that had a note of frenzy in it, he demanded audience of the captain. Jehu retired with him into a secret chamber, wondering in his heart what this might mean. I think he was prepared for stirring tidings, but not for the swift act that followed. The young man had a vial of oil under his cloak. He unsealed it and poured the oil on Jehu. ‘In the name of the Lord God of Israel,’ he cried, ‘I anoint thee king over the Lord’s people.’ And then, having uttered a curse upon the house of Ahab, he opened the door behind him and was gone.
III. Jehu’s first thought was that this was all a plot.—It was a ruse of his fellow-captains to spur him on. The army, he knew, was seething with rebellion. The staff was sick and tired of their allegiance. It flashed on Jehu that the hour to strike had come, and that this was a veiled summons from his comrades. The hour to strike had come, it was quite true. But the call to lead came from a higher than man. Jehu was like little Samuel, who thought that the voice he heard was that of Eli, and all the time it was the voice of God. Then Jehu, like Samuel, discovered his mistake. The captains knew nothing of the matter. Jehu revealed it to them, word for word. Was not the oil still dropping from his head? It was the very tidings the captains had been longing for. Smouldering rebellion burst into a flame. They flung off their cloaks and made an impromptu throne with them. They blew the trumpets. They cried, ‘Jehu is king!’ The word of God to Elijah had come true. The sun of Nimshi had reached the throne at last (2 Kings 9:13).
IV. Three points sum up Jehu’s character.
(a) Zeal without obedience, love, or consistency. He was naturally thorough. He never did things by halves. He drove furiously through life, but he never kept the track of simple obedience. He was the whirlwind among the kings. Zeal alone is often terrible, but it is rarely beneficial.
(b) Occasional right acting, but always from base, and often from utterly bad motives.
(c) A destructive, but not a constructive, career. What good is it to wipe out superstition if we do not plant faith in its place?
Illustrations
(1) ‘In the rising and downfall of the dynasties of Israel there is much that reminds us of Scottish history. There is the same story of intrigue and bloodshed, illuminated by the truest heroism. If one were asked to name the most heroic of Scottish kings, the instant reply would be Robert Bruce. Yet in the eyes of England Bruce was a perjured traitor, and at the outset of his career, so fraught with glorious issues for Scotland, his hands were dyed with the blood of the Red Comyn. We are reminded of that story when we come to study the history of Jehu. He, too, in the eyes of his monarch was a traitor. His action was a base conspiracy. And he began the last stage of his career with deeds of bloodshed that can hardly be matched in any annals. When Bruce rushed from the altar at Dumfries crying, “I doubt I have slain the Red Comyn,” “Doubt!” answered Kirkpatrick of Closeburn; “mak’ siccar.” But no follower was needed to make the work of Jehu “siccar.” It was carried through with tremendous thoroughness, and with a fiery zeal that has passed into a proverb.’
(2) ‘You remember in Scottish history an instance of a sudden apparition before a king? It occurred in the south transept of Linlithgow Church, where King James the Fourth was praying before Flodden. A man with a great pikestaff in his hand, broke in, crying for the king, and saying he wished to speak with him. He warned the king not to go forward. Nothing but disaster would attend on him. And then, as the old Scots writer puts it (and Sir Walter has made the incident immortal in his Marmion), “he vanished away as he had been a blink of the sun, or a whip of the whirlwind, and could no more be seen.’ That sudden messenger came with a warning. The one who sought Jehu had another message. Yet in point of abruptness and lack of usual deference, and sudden departure like a whip of the whirlwind, the one scene suggests the other.’