My Name Is Jehoiakim...
To you, believers in the Most High, my life may serve as a testament of how not to live...
To the ever-persistent believers of the God of Israel,
I am Jehoiakim, son of Josiah, and once the king of Judah. My reign extended from 607 BC to 596 BC, a time when I held unmatched power and exercised it unapologetically. I pen this not to seek your absolution or to earn your pity. Instead, I write to lay bare my heart, filled with pride and arrogance, for your understanding or disdain.
From the time I ascended to the throne, I ensured my dominance was unrivaled and my power unchallenged. The temple, the very house of your God, became a testament to my grandeur as I rebuilt it with the sweat and blood of the oppressed.
“You have built houses of hewn stone, but you shall not dwell in them; you have planted pleasant vineyards, but you shall not drink their wine.” (Amos 5:11, ESV)
Your prophets, like Jeremiah, dared to speak against me. In defiance, I cut up his scroll, tossing it into the fire, emblematic of my disdain for the words of your God.
"As Jehudi read three or four columns, the king would cut them off with a knife and throw them into the fire in the fire pot, until the entire scroll was consumed in the fire that was in the fire pot." (Jeremiah 36:23, ESV)
My tyranny wasn’t limited to defying prophecies or the suppression of the faithful. I exacted taxes, plunging the already burdened into deeper poverty. My palace, built through forced labor without pay, stood as a monument to my relentless ambition.
"Woe to him who builds his house by unrighteousness, and his upper rooms by injustice, who makes his neighbor serve him for nothing and does not give him his wages..." (Jeremiah 22:13, ESV)
Despite my actions, there was no lightning strike from the heavens, no divine retribution in the immediate aftermath. This emboldened me further, and I reveled in the thought that perhaps your God was either indifferent or powerless against me.
However, the realities of geopolitics proved to be less malleable to my will. The great Babylonian king, Nebuchadnezzar, turned his attention to Judah, and I became his vassal. The gold of the temple, the very symbol of your faith, was used to fill his coffers as tribute. Yet, in my hubris, I rebelled against him, bringing further calamity upon our land.
"Yet our eyes failed, looking in vain for help; from our towers, we watched for a nation that could not save us." (Lamentations 4:17, NIV)
To you, believers in the Most High, my life may serve as a testament of how not to live, of the perils of pride and the futility of challenging the divine. Even though I remained unrepentant till the end, the consequences of my actions were inescapable. Not just for me, but for the entire land of Judah, which suffered under the weight of my choices.
As you reflect upon my reign, remember this: though God may seem silent during the reign of tyrants and the spread of iniquity, His justice is neither blind nor dormant. It waits, and when it unfolds, it engulfs both the guilty and those caught in their wake.
"Because the sentence against an evil deed is not executed speedily, the heart of the children of man is fully set to do evil." (Ecclesiastes 8:11, ESV)
In the annals of history, I may be remembered as a godless king who sought greatness at the expense of his people and faith. But let my life also serve as a warning: that power, unchecked by humility and reverence, leads to a downfall both profound and inevitable.
In unrepentant reflection,
Jehoiakim.
