When Good Kings Go Bad
What’s 2 Chronicles 24 about?
This is the tragic story of King Joash, who started strong with temple renovations and faithful worship but ended his reign by murdering the son of his mentor and abandoning God entirely. It’s a sobering reminder that a good beginning doesn’t guarantee a faithful finish.
The Full Context
The story of Joash unfolds during one of Judah’s most turbulent periods in the 9th century BC. After the wicked Queen Athaliah attempted to wipe out David’s royal line, baby Joash was hidden in the temple for six years by the high priest Jehoiada. When Joash finally took the throne at age seven, he inherited a kingdom where Baal worship had nearly destroyed true faith in Yahweh. The temple lay in ruins, its treasures plundered, and the priesthood scattered. This chapter picks up during Joash’s adult reign, when he decides to restore Solomon’s temple to its former glory.
What makes this passage particularly compelling is how it reveals the complex relationship between political power and spiritual leadership in ancient Judah. The Chronicler is showing his post-exilic audience that even the most promising reforms can fail when they depend too heavily on human leadership rather than genuine heart transformation. The literary structure deliberately contrasts Joash’s early faithfulness (verses 1-16) with his later apostasy (verses 17-27), creating a powerful narrative about the fragility of spiritual commitment and the devastating consequences of abandoning God’s covenant.
What the Ancient Words Tell Us
When we dig into the Hebrew text, some fascinating details emerge that our English translations sometimes miss. The word used for “repair” in verse 4 is chazaq, which literally means “to strengthen” or “to make firm.” Joash isn’t just fixing cosmetic damage – he’s fundamentally strengthening the house of God, rebuilding its very foundation.
But here’s where it gets interesting: the same root word chazaq appears later in 2 Chronicles 24:13 when the text says the workers “strengthened” the temple. The Chronicler is creating a wordplay – as they strengthen God’s house, God’s house should be strengthening them spiritually. The irony becomes bitter when we realize that despite all this physical strengthening, Joash’s spiritual foundation crumbles completely.
Grammar Geeks
The Hebrew phrase in verse 2 – “Joash did what was right in the eyes of the Lord kol-yemey Jehoiada the priest” – literally means “all the days of” Jehoiada. This isn’t just saying Jehoiada influenced him; the Hebrew suggests Joash’s righteousness was completely dependent on his mentor’s presence. The moment that influence disappears, so does his faithfulness.
The description of the temple restoration uses technical temple vocabulary that would have resonated deeply with the Chronicler’s post-exilic audience, who were themselves rebuilding the temple after Babylon. Words like bayit (house/temple) and ’abodah (service/work) carry religious weight – this isn’t just construction, it’s sacred service to Yahweh.
What Would the Original Audience Have Heard?
Picture the returned exiles hearing this story in the 5th century BC. They’re struggling to rebuild their own temple, facing opposition, dwindling resources, and wavering commitment. When they hear about Joash’s temple project, they’d immediately think: “That’s us! We’re doing exactly what he did!”
The detail about collecting money in a chest (2 Chronicles 24:8-11) would have struck them as remarkably familiar. They too were taking up collections, organizing work crews, and trying to restore what their enemies had destroyed. The joy described in verse 10 – “all the leaders and all the people rejoiced and brought their contributions” – mirrors their own experience of communal enthusiasm for God’s house.
Did You Know?
Archaeological evidence from this period shows that temple repairs often involved creating new water systems and storage facilities. The “chest” mentioned for collecting money was likely a sophisticated treasury system that prevented theft – a real concern when handling large amounts of silver for major construction projects.
But then comes the devastating turn in the narrative. After Jehoiada’s death, “the leaders of Judah came and paid homage to the king” (2 Chronicles 24:17). The Hebrew word for “paid homage” is hishtachavu – the same word used for worshiping God! The post-exilic audience would have heard this and thought: “They’re treating the king like God himself.”
This would have been a pointed warning for the returned exiles, who were living under Persian rule and constantly tempted to compromise their faith for political favor. The message is clear: when you abandon God for human leaders, disaster follows.
But Wait… Why Did They Stone Zechariah?
Here’s something that seems almost incomprehensible to modern readers: why would Joash order the murder of Zechariah, the son of the very man who saved his life and guided his kingdom? The Hebrew text gives us some clues that help explain this shocking turn.
First, notice that Zechariah delivers his prophetic word “in the court of the house of the Lord” (2 Chronicles 24:21). This isn’t just any prophecy – he’s speaking in the very space that Joash had just finished restoring! The irony is devastating: Joash kills God’s messenger in God’s house, using the very stones of the temple he claimed to honor.
The Hebrew phrase for Zechariah’s final words – “May the Lord see and avenge!” – uses legal terminology. Zechariah is essentially appealing to heaven’s court when earth’s court has failed. He’s invoking the same covenant justice that Joash once celebrated.
Wait, That’s Strange…
Jesus mentions “Zechariah son of Berechiah” in Matthew 23:35, but Chronicles calls him “son of Jehoiada.” Some scholars think there were two different Zechariahs, but others suggest “Berechiah” might have been Jehoiada’s father, making Zechariah his grandson. Either way, Jesus is connecting this murder to a pattern of rejecting God’s messengers.
What’s really happening here is a complete reversal of covenant loyalty. Joash, who owes everything to Jehoiada’s faithfulness, repays that kindness by murdering his benefactor’s son. In Hebrew culture, this violation of chesed (loving-kindness) was the ultimate betrayal.
Wrestling with the Text
This chapter forces us to confront some uncomfortable questions about spiritual leadership and personal responsibility. How do we explain Joash’s complete transformation from faithful reformer to murderous apostate?
The text suggests that Joash’s early righteousness was more about external compliance than internal transformation. Notice that he only “did what was right in the eyes of the Lord” during Jehoiada’s lifetime (2 Chronicles 24:2). His faith was borrowed, not owned.
This creates a troubling parallel with many of our own spiritual experiences. How much of our faithfulness depends on external influences – the right pastor, the right community, the right circumstances? What happens when those supports are removed?
“Good beginnings don’t guarantee faithful endings – character is revealed not in the enthusiasm of youth but in the choices of independence.”
The Chronicler also raises questions about institutional religion versus personal faith. Joash could organize temple repairs, manage construction projects, and oversee religious ceremonies, but he couldn’t maintain covenant relationship when it required personal sacrifice. The same hands that restored God’s house shed innocent blood in God’s courtyard.
Perhaps most challenging is the question of generational influence. Jehoiada raised Joash, guided his early reign, and provided a model of faithfulness. Yet within months of the old priest’s death, everything unraveled. What does this say about spiritual mentorship? About the limits of human influence in matters of faith?
How This Changes Everything
This passage revolutionizes how we think about spiritual leadership, institutional faith, and personal accountability. It demolishes any notion that external religious activity automatically produces internal transformation.
For those in leadership positions, Joash’s story serves as a sobering warning. You can be orthodox in theology, active in ministry, and effective in religious programming while still being far from God’s heart. The danger isn’t just in dramatic moral failures but in the subtle shift from serving God to using God for personal advancement.
The story also speaks powerfully to anyone who’s experienced spiritual disappointment through failed leadership. Joash’s betrayal of Jehoiada’s legacy reminds us that human leaders, no matter how godly, will eventually fail us. Our faith must be anchored in something deeper than human mentorship.
Did You Know?
The phrase “the Spirit of God clothed Zechariah” in verse 20 uses the same Hebrew construction as when the Spirit clothed Gideon in Judges 6:34. It’s a prophetic commissioning formula – God is taking direct action when human leadership fails.
But perhaps most importantly, this chapter reveals God’s commitment to covenant justice. Zechariah’s blood “cried out” just like Abel’s, and God responded with swift judgment. Even when his people abandon him, even when his temple becomes a place of murder, God remains faithful to his promises. The Aramean invasion that follows (2 Chronicles 24:23-24) isn’t random political upheaval – it’s covenant enforcement.
For the post-exilic community rebuilding their temple, this story provided both warning and hope. Warning: external religious activity without heart transformation leads to disaster. Hope: God remains committed to his covenant people even when they fail catastrophically.
Key Takeaway
True spiritual transformation can’t be borrowed from mentors or maintained through religious activity alone – it requires a personal, ongoing commitment to God that survives the test of independence and opposition.
Further Reading
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