King Asa was living his best life. Really, he was. Of all the ancient biblical kings, he was one of a very few who honored God with his life and led people in a positive direction.
The good news starts in 2 Chronicles 14:2–4:
Asa did what was good and right in the sight of the Lord his God. He removed the pagan altars and the high places. . . . He told the people of Judah to seek the Lord God of their ancestors . . .
Of course, as God had always promised His people, there were blessings to be had by any who would obey Him, and Asa immediately experienced those benefits. For him, the good news kept coming, for thirty-five years!
It included: peace, growing prosperity, the divine protection of God against superior enemies, welcome devotion among the people, and even positive immigration as word spread that the blessing of God was upon Judah (2 Chron. 15:9). Asa became so confident in faith that he even stood up to his own grandmother, forcing her to give up her idol. (He helped her along by chopping her artwork to pieces and burning it in public. I don’t know about you, but my grandma was a tough lady. I’m not sure I could muster the boldness Asa did!)
There was a moment under Asa’s strong leadership that the entire nation gathered to commit themselves to the Lord.
Then they entered into a covenant to seek the Lord God of their ancestors with all their heart and all their soul. . . . All Judah rejoiced over the oath, for they had sworn it wholeheartedly. They had sought him with all sincerity, and he was found by them. So the Lord gave them rest on every side. (2 Chronicles 15:12–15)
But then something happened in the thirty-sixth year of Asa’s reign.
For some unstated reason, he forgot to remember.
He didn’t reject his faith; he didn’t bow to idols; he didn’t fall into immorality or greed. He simply made a battle plan without first consulting the Lord (a plan that worked, by the way). Perhaps he thought he could handle the situation without prayer, and from a human perspective, he did. But in that moment, he forgot that his was to be a kingdom ruled by the Lord; his was to be a reign marked by humility. He had such confidence in his national defense that he didn’t think to cry out.
When confronted, he didn’t repent and turn back to prayer. Sadly, he doubled down on self-sufficiency and, shockingly, responded with angry frustration (2 Chron. 16:10). Three years later, he contracted a foot disease and, with a patently absurd hardness of heart, chose not to ask God for healing. Can you imagine?
In the thirty-ninth year of his reign, Asa developed a disease in his feet, and his disease became increasingly severe. Yet even in his disease he didn’t seek the Lord but only the physicians. Asa rested with his ancestors; he died in the forty-first year of his reign. (2 Chronicles 16:12–13)
It was an anti-climatic ending to a wonderful story of blessing and obedience.
A Hidden Danger
Asa didn’t fall into overt, obvious pride. The Scripture doesn’t say anything about his rebellion or foolishness, arrogance or selfishness. His was a sin harder to detect: the pride that hides. It hides behind Bible readings and worship songs, formal prayers and spiritual disciplines. It hides inside growing churches and happy families, devoted disciples and learned teachers. It’s that growing sense of self-accomplishment, not necessarily sinful at first. It’s just forgetting to remember, neglecting to pray, assuming the status quo, and saying “thank you” a bit less often.
The pride that hides is a self-sufficient attitude, and it takes daily bread and divine protection for granted. It forgets to remember that, as Moses wrote, “When you eat and are full, and build beautiful houses to live in, and your herds and flocks grow large, and your silver and gold multiply, and everything else you have increases, be careful that your heart doesn’t become proud and you forget the LORD your God” (Deut. 8:12–14).
I don’t know all that went through Asa’s mind in the last few years of his reign. On balance, he was still a good king, and the nation celebrated his life as such (2 Chron. 16:14). But what could have been, we will never know.
Shining Light on the Pride That Hides
There is one decision you and I can make today that will prevent the pride that hides from ever taking root in our souls: the choice to be grateful. Every time we say thank you to God (or others), we recognize and admit that something was given to us—something we didn’t earn . . . something we didn’t originate. Saying thank you not only spotlights the value of the giver, but also the need and appreciation of the receiver. In this context, we can say that “thank you” equals humility.
I wonder: if Asa had cultivated a better rhythm of remembrance and gratefulness, would things have turned out differently? Had he recalled that it was God who rescued him from a vast army twenty years prior? Or that divine blessing brought prosperity to his nation, not just his own governance? Surely he knew these things, but they weren’t top of mind.
He forgot to remember.
Intentional gratefulness ensures that we won’t.
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