When you settle in to read the Bible, you run into any number of difficulties—none of them fatal, of course. The sense of the Bible is not that hard, it is just that the writers of the Bible wrote, not only in a different language, but out of a different culture. Things that would be important to the modern reader don’t even cross their minds. There are mysteries in the Bible, to be sure, but there is enough plain talk for us to know where we stand with God. The more difficult problem is that the modern reader is used to history being presented in a certain way. The ancient writers of history operated on somewhat different principles.

One of the confusing things, for example, about reading the Book of Kings is the structure of the book. 1 Kings tells the story of the division of Israel into two kingdoms. After that, the story interleaves the parallel history of the two kingdoms and it is easy to get lost. There are any number of Bible handbooks and encyclopedias that provide charts and chronologies, but they are enough to make your eyes glaze over. If you really want to get the picture and keep it straight, the best way is to make your own. The careful reading, and then writing down names and relative dates, will give you a feeling for the passage of time.

One of the most important things to remember as you read is that there are real people back there who suffered greatly because of the sins and foibles of the leadership of the people. I can’t help reflecting on the poor guy on the farm—with his wife and six kids—plowing the ground, planting crops, breeding his livestock, trying to make a living for his family. It was a hard life even when times were good. But there weren’t a lot of good times, for reasons we will come to understand as we make our way through these chapters. The one who tells the story of this era, no doubt moved by the Holy Spirit, lets his frustration seep through from time to time. Remember, the one who wrote down these words was a real person, too.

By now, everyone realizes that we have a leadership crisis, not only in our country, but in the world at large. I wonder how we got to this place? Where does leadership come from and, maybe more importantly, where does it go? I believe that leadership is a gift from God, and if you’ll spare me a little time, I’ll explain to you why I think that. First, two statements about gifts from God, one from James and one from the Psalms:

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.

You have ascended on high, you have led captivity captive: you have received gifts for men; yea, for the rebellious also, that the Lord God might dwell among them. Blessed be the Lord, who daily loads us with benefits, even the God of our salvation. Selah.

For some reason, we would tend to assume that God only gives his gifts to people who deserve them. I used to think so. I would have told you that God gave his gifts to Christian people, and to good Christian people at that. But the Psalmist says that he gives his gifts to the rebellious also. What are we to make of that? Well, we know that God causes it to rain on the just and the unjust. He doesn’t make the rain run down the property line, with one man’s field getting a good wetting down and the other man’s getting dry and dusty, right? That would probably be an effective technique for promoting righteousness, but God does not work that way. There is a curious incident in the gospel accounts that I think may give us a hint on this very complicated subject. We can find it in John, chapter 5.

Never take counsel of your fears. The saying is often attributed to Andrew Jackson who also, plainly, read his Bible. It is fascinating how often fear strips a man of victories already won. This was the case with one Jeroboam, the son of Nebat. After the death of Solomon, God handed him the largest portion of Israel—10 of the 12 tribes. He was a good man, and an energetic leader. But he was afraid that, having made the break with Solomon’s son Rehoboam, the people would eventually return to the unity of the Temple. It was not an unreasonable fear except for the fact that God had given him the kingdom and stood surety for it. This fear led him to a decision with disastrous long-term consequences.

Therefore the king took counsel, and made two calves of gold, and said unto them, It is too much for you to go up to Jerusalem: behold your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt. And he set the one in Beth-el, and the other put he in Dan. And this thing became a sin: for the people went to worship before the one, even unto Dan.

The incident is uncannily similar to what Aaron did while Moses was up the mountain receiving the Ten Commandments. He made a calf of a God and said, These be your gods, O Israel, which brought you up out of the land of Egypt. Jeroboam had to know that, and yet he still did it. The seduction to idolatry in that world must have been extremely powerful. What Jeroboam does here is to substitute a political religion for the real thing. The lesson learned from David and Solomon is so easily lost. Both made moral errors, but because David never worshiped another God, the avenue of repentance was always open to him. When other gods begin to cloud the picture, however, the way back is lost in the fog. We’ll find the story of the prophet God sent to denounce Jeroboam’s spiritual wanderings—but who makes a costly detour of his own—in 1 Kings, chapter 13.