The Crown Divided - Five Guys

A Study in 1 Kings 15:25–16:28

Introduction

Welcome back to The Crown Divided.

Last week we were introduced to the first king of the northern kingdom — Jeroboam — and how he managed to take what could have been a generational blessing and turn it into a curse. The opportunity was real. The promise was genuine. God himself had handed him a dynasty. And he threw it away.

Why? Because he was driven by fear rather than faith. He was afraid of losing his grip on power, afraid the people would drift back toward Jerusalem, afraid of what might happen if he actually trusted God with the outcome. And so he took matters into his own hands — golden calves, unauthorized priests, a religion built around his own political survival. Fear will do that every time. It shrinks your world down to what you can control and blinds you to what God might do if you simply trusted him.

This week we continue our journey through the northern kingdom of Israel — and I want to be honest with you upfront. As I said last week: don’t get your hopes up.

The five kings we encounter today do no better than Jeroboam. In fact in some ways they do worse — because they had his example right in front of them and chose to follow it anyway. Different names, different circumstances, same verdict. The writer of Kings is going to repeat the same phrase over and over like a drumbeat:

He did evil in the eyes of the LORD and followed the example of Jeroboam.

Five kings. One verdict.

But before we get into the kings individually, let’s step back and get a bird’s eye view of this slice of history. [SHOW MAP AND TIMELINE] We are in the divided kingdom — Israel in the north, Judah in the south. These five kings all reign in the north, in a stretch of roughly 50 years that reads less like a royal chronicle and more like a crime blotter. Same throne, same sins, different names.

Let’s meet them.

King #1: Nadab — “Like His Bad Dad” (15:25–32)

Tony Merida, in his commentary on 1 & 2 Kings, gives each of these kings a nickname. Nadab’s is “Like His Bad Dad.” It fits perfectly.

Nadab is the son of Jeroboam. He reigns only two years before he is assassinated. The writer doesn’t give us much, but he gives us what matters: the new king “did evil in the eyes of the LORD and followed the example of his father.” He had an opportunity to lead a reformation. He could have looked at his father’s legacy and chosen a different path. Instead, he walked right into the same ditch.

And with his death, the dynasty of Jeroboam ends — completely. Gone in one generation after Jeroboam. Remember that God had promised Jeroboam a lasting dynasty if he would be faithful. He wasn’t. And the promise died with the faithlessness.

Application: The sins of parents do not have to become the sins of children. Every generation has a choice. Nadab chose poorly — but the choice was his to make. What patterns are you walking into from your family of origin? What patterns are you passing on?

And our next contestant... Baasha of Issachar! He assassinated his way to the throne, he’s got 24 years of experience, and absolutely zero interest in learning from the man he just replaced. Let’s meet Baasha!

King #2: Baasha — “The Basher” (15:33–16:7)

Baasha assassinates Nadab during a military campaign — Israel was besieging the Philistine city of Gibbethon when Baasha struck. It was a coup in the field, far from the capital. He then wiped out the entire house of Jeroboam, fulfilling the prophecy of Ahijah the Shilonite to the letter.

He reigns 24 years — one of the longer reigns in the northern kingdom. He was from the tribe of Issachar, a military man, not royalty. He establishes his capital at Tirzah, a beautiful city known for its gardens, groves, and abundant water. The Song of Songs actually references Tirzah: “You are as beautiful as Tirzah, my darling.”(Song of Songs 6:4)

But here is the observation that stops me: Baasha “did what was evil in the LORD’s sight and followed the example of Jeroboam,” demonstrating that some people, in the midst of beauty, don’t worship its Creator. The most stunning surroundings in the world cannot change a heart that refuses to turn to God.

God doesn’t give up on Baasha. He sends the prophet Jehu son of Hanani with a direct oracle. The message was painfully simple: God gave you an opportunity to change things. You acted like Jeroboam. You will die like Jeroboam. Live like Jeroboam, die like Jeroboam.

This is an important pattern worth noting. Even in the darkest periods of the northern kingdom, God never left himself without a witness. He kept sending prophets. He kept speaking. The kings kept refusing to listen — but God kept talking. That tells us something about the character of God. He is relentlessly patient even with those who repeatedly reject him.

The Irony of Baasha: He was God’s instrument to judge Jeroboam’s house, raised up specifically for that purpose. But rather than learning anything from being used by God, he immediately replicated the sins he had been sent to punish. He became the very thing he destroyed. His house would be wiped out just as he had wiped out Jeroboam’s — and it was.

The warning in Baasha’s story is not just for kings — it is for anyone who has ever been so focused on someone else’s sin that they didn’t notice the same sin quietly taking root in their own heart. Before you judge Baasha too quickly, ask yourself: is there someone in your life you have criticized, only to find yourself slowly becoming the very thing you condemned?

And coming up next... Elah! Son of Baasha, reigning for a whopping two years, and currently unavailable because he is at a party. Elah, everybody!

King #3: Elah — “The Drunken Frat Boy” (16:8–14)

Elah, son of Baasha, reigns two years. His downfall is highlighted by a particular sin: he is assassinated while drunk at the home of his steward. His military is out in the field at Gibbethon — still fighting the same Philistines his father fought — while the king is inside getting hammered.

Merida writes that drunkenness carries several practical dangers, like impairing judgment and diverting time and energy away from what matters. In Elah’s case it was even more problematic since kings were to set an example of responsibility and maturity (Prov 31:4–5). Instead, Elah is reigning like a frat boy, neglecting his responsibility.

Merida is direct and doesn’t mince words. He takes the Elah narrative and turns it into a pointed challenge to young men, and I want to pass it along just as he wrote it: “We need young men that will grow up, be men. We need men who will get serious about Jesus, study the Bible, serve others, keep their pants on, stop looking at porn, fight injustice, serve the poor, and take the gospel to hard places. Young dudes, don’t waste your life playing World of Warcraft or inventing drinking games. You’re only young once, but immaturity can last a lifetime.”

But before we get self-righteous about Elah, Merida’s next point lands just as hard. Any vice can divert us from what matters. He notes that some people can name the starting lineup of their favorite college team for the past ten years but have never taught their children the basic doctrines of the faith. The distraction doesn’t have to be a bottle. It just has to be something we love more than the kingdom.

Application: What is diverting you? What has your attention that shouldn’t? Elah lost his life to distraction. We may not lose our lives — but we can lose years, relationships, and spiritual depth to the same impulse.

And next up... Zimri! He had a plan, he had an army, and he had exactly seven days. Seven. Days. Zimri, come on down!

King #4: Zimri — “The Weeklong Warrior” (16:15–20)

Zimri is one of the most remarkable figures in the entire book of Kings — not because of what he accomplished, but because of how little time he had and how completely he wasted it.

He assassinates Elah, wipes out the entire house of Baasha — fulfilling Jehu’s prophecy exactly — and proclaims himself king. Seven days later, he is dead. When the army heard what he had done, they declared their commander Omri king instead. Omri marched on Tirzah, and when Zimri saw defeat was coming, he burned the palace down around himself and died in the fire.

Seven days. And yet the biblical writer still holds him accountable. God held him just as responsible for not making appropriate changes, even though he reigned only seven days. He had seven days and chose to use them exactly as every king before him had.

Application: We don’t know how much time we have. But we are accountable for what we do with whatever time we are given. Seven days. Seventy years. The question is the same: what did you do with it?

And our final king today... Omri! The Assyrians loved him. Scripture... less so. Please welcome Omri!

King #5: Omri — “The Seashell Collector” (16:21–28)

Omri wins a power struggle against a rival named Tibni and establishes a dynasty. He reigns 12 years. He builds an entirely new capital city — Samaria — buying a hill from a man named Shemer for two talents of silver (1 Kings 16:24). Samaria becomes one of the most significant cities in the ancient Near East, strategically positioned to overlook major trade routes.  It is worth pausing briefly on Tibni. He commanded enough loyalty to split the nation in two — Israel was literally divided between those who followed him and those who followed Omri — apparently for several years. And yet history swallowed him completely. No tribe is mentioned. No prophet addresses him. No foreign record references him. At least Omri made it into the Assyrian annals. Tibni didn’t even get that. Two men fighting over a kingdom that neither of them pointed toward God — and the world moved on from both of them.

By any worldly measure, Omri was a success. Foreign armies were kept out. He gave the people the religion they wanted. He made foreign alliances — including arranging the marriage of his son Ahab to the Phoenician princess Jezebel. Israel stopped fighting Judah during his reign. He was, by the standards of his world, an effective and powerful ruler.

What the Archaeological Record Shows

This is where it gets fascinating — and where archaeology actually validates the historical accuracy of these accounts.

The Bible gives Omri eight verses. The surrounding world couldn’t stop talking about him for over a century.

The Mesha Stele (Moabite Stone), c. 840 BC — Discovered in 1868 and now in the Louvre in Paris. This black basalt inscription by King Mesha of Moab directly names Omri: “Omri was king of Israel and he oppressed Moab for many days.” An enemy king, bragging about his own victories, couldn’t tell his story without acknowledging Omri’s dominance. This corroborates exactly what 2 Kings 3 describes.

The Assyrian Royal Annals— The Assyrians were the most meticulous record keepers of the ancient world. They called Israel Bit-Humri — “the House of Omri” — for over a century after his dynasty ended. Even Jehu, the man who wiped out every member of Omri’s family, is referred to in Assyrian records as “son of Omri” simply because he ruled the same territory. Omri’s name became the Assyrian word for an entire nation.

The Black Obelisk of Shalmaneser III — Currently in the British Museum in London. This 6.5-foot black limestone obelisk, erected around 825 BC, depicts Jehu bowing prostrate before the Assyrian king and is inscribed “Jehu son of Omri.” This may be the only contemporary visual depiction of an Israelite king that exists — carved in stone and on display in one of the world’s great museums, confirming the biblical account.

The City of Samaria — Archaeological excavations at modern Sebastiyeh in the West Bank have confirmed a massive building project on the hill of Samaria dating precisely to the 9th century BC. The Samaria Ivories found there — hundreds of intricately carved ivory panels — are consistent with the Bible’s description of Ahab’s “ivory palace” (1 Kings 22:39), a direct product of Omri’s Phoenician alliance.

You can literally visit the hill Omri bought. The city he built from scratch is sitting there in the archaeological record exactly where and when the Bible says he built it. We can trust these accounts.

The Great Irony: The Assyrians named a nation after Omri. The Bible dismisses him in eight verses. The biblical authors were not writing political history — they were writing theological history. Their measuring stick was not military power or economic prosperity. It was faithfulness to God. And by that standard, Omri was a catastrophic failure.

The Tragedy of Wasted Influence

And here is what makes Omri truly tragic — not just that he wasted his own life, but that he wasted his influence. He was the most powerful man in the northern kingdom. The Assyrians named a nation after him. He had the ear of foreign kings, the loyalty of an army, the resources of a new capital city he built from scratch. If any man in Israel’s history had the platform to turn the ship around — to look at the wreckage of Jeroboam, Nadab, Baasha, Elah, and Zimri and say “enough — we are going a different direction” — it was Omri.

He never even tried.

Scripture doesn’t tell us he wrestled with it. There is no moment of almost-repentance, no prophet he nearly listened to. He simply took everything God gave him and pointed it entirely at the wrong kingdom. And when he was gone, the world remembered him for a century. God gave him eight verses.

That is the question Omri forces us to ask about our own lives — not just are we avoiding obvious sin, but what are we doing with what we have been given? Our influence. Our resources. Our relationships. Our platform — however large or small. Our years. Every one of us has more spiritual influence than we probably realize, and every one of us will stand before God and give an account of what we did with it.

The people around you are watching. Your children are watching. Your grandchildren are watching. Your neighbors are watching. The question is not whether you have influence — you do. The question is which direction you are pointing it.

The Seashell Collector

John Piper has a now-famous illustration that captures Omri perfectly. He contrasts the life of a successful American couple with the lives of two female missionaries serving in Cameroon — Ruby, over 80 years old, single her whole life, and Laura, a widowed medical doctor, also pushing 80, who gave their whole lives to make Christ known. Their lives were taken in a car accident.

Piper asked: “Was that a tragedy?” Two lives driven by a passion to make Christ known among the poor, even in their old age? His answer: “No. That isn’t a tragedy. That is glory. These lives were not wasted.”

Then Piper says: “I will tell you what a tragedy is.” He describes a magazine article about a couple who took early retirement to move to Florida, where they cruise on their 30-foot trawler, play softball, and collect shells. He says: “Picture them before Christ at the great day of judgment: ‘Look, Lord. See my shells.’ That is a tragedy.”

Take a vacation? Yes. Enjoy creation? Of course. Make it your life’s ambition? Absolutely not.

Omri built a capital city, dominated his neighbors, established alliances that made Israel a regional power — and Scripture essentially says: so what. He pointed everything he had at the wrong kingdom.

A Word to Our Retired Members

Now before I go any further, I want to stop and say something directly to our retired members — because this illustration could be misread as a word against you, and it is anything but.

Look around this room. Some of the most kingdom-minded people I know are sitting in these pews, and many of them have gray hair. While the world tells you that retirement is your reward — your time to finally live for yourself — many of you have chosen a different path entirely.

You are in the sewing ministry, stitching together gifts of comfort and warmth for people you may never meet. You are in the kitchen after every funeral, making sure a grieving family doesn’t have to think about where their next meal is coming from. You are at the Barnabas Center every week, standing on your feet distributing food to neighbors who are hungry. You are volunteering at Christian Theater Workshop, investing in the next generation. You are showing up for Senior Adult Ministry, for Mary Martha, serving your community in ways this church and this city would feel deeply if they suddenly stopped. And many of you are giving — not from surplus, but from a lifetime of savings — giving sacrificially because you believe in what God is doing here.  And then there are the quieter things — the things that happen largely unseen and yet hold this congregation together in ways we rarely stop to measure. You are writing birthday letters so that people know they are remembered. You are sending cards to visitors who are still deciding whether this might be their church home. You are putting a card in the mail to someone who is sick, and to a family who is grieving, because you know that a handwritten note lands differently than a text message. You are picking up the phone on someone’s birthday just to tell them you were thinking of them. And you are on your knees — faithfully, consistently, without fanfare — praying for this church, its leadership, its ministries, and its people by name. That prayer is not a small thing. It may be the most important thing any of us do.

You are not collecting shells. You are building the kingdom.

And I also want to say a word to those of you who may not be able to serve in those ways — whose health or mobility has limited what you can do physically. Don’t underestimate what you contribute simply by being here. When you get yourself dressed on a Sunday morning, make your way to this building, and take your place in this pew — you are preaching a sermon without saying a word. Your faithfulness is an inspiration to every younger person in this room who is watching what it looks like to finish well. The Psalmist wrote in Psalm 92: “The righteous will still bear fruit in old age — they will stay fresh and green.” That is you. You are bearing fruit. Don’t let anyone — including yourself — tell you otherwise.

A Challenge for Those Approaching Retirement

And then there are those of you who are on the horizon of retirement — maybe five years out, maybe less. You are making decisions right now, perhaps without fully realizing it, that will define what the next chapter of your life looks like.

The question you are really answering is this: when the structure of your work life falls away, what will be left?

The world will hand you a vision of retirement that looks like the couple on the trawler collecting shells. It is a perfectly comfortable vision. It is also, by the standard of Scripture, a tragedy in the making.

What if instead you began planning now for how your retirement years could be your most kingdom-productive years? More time. More availability. More wisdom. More resources, in many cases. The men and women in this room who are serving so faithfully didn’t arrive at that life by accident — they made choices, cultivated habits, and stayed rooted in this community long before they retired. You can do the same.

The retirees sitting in front of you are not a picture of what happens when life winds down. They are a picture of what happens when a life is well invested. That is the model. That is the target.

Don’t go the way of Omri. You have too much to offer.

Conclusion: Five Kings, Five Lessons, One Question

Five kings. Five verdicts. The same verdict, essentially, on every one. But before we leave these men in the pages of history, let’s not let them go without taking something with us.

Nadab speaks: “I had every chance to be different. My father Jeroboam left me a throne and a legacy of failure, and I chose to carry it forward without a second thought. don’t do what I did. You are not your parents. You are not your family history. You are not the patterns that were handed to you. I want you to know — the trajectory of a family can change. It can change with you. It takes courage. It takes intentionality. But you can be the one who looks at everything that was handed to you and says — this ends with me. Be bold enough to start something new.”

Baasha speaks: “God didn’t give up on me. He sent me a prophet. He spoke directly into my life through Jehu and told me exactly what was at stake. I just wasn’t listening. I heard the warning and kept walking. don’t make my mistake. God is still speaking — through His Word, through the still small voice of the Spirit, through spiritual counselors and trusted friends and a spouse who loves you enough to tell you the hard truth. When those voices show up in your life, stop. Take them seriously. I had my chance. I wasted it. You still have yours.”

Elah speaks: “I was at a party when my kingdom fell. My army was in the field fighting for their lives and I was inside getting drunk. I thought there was always more time — more time to lead, more time to get serious, more time to be the king I was supposed to be. There wasn’t. There never is. Enjoy your life — God made it to be enjoyed. But don’t be me. don’t be so absorbed in what feels good right now that you miss what actually matters. I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. I was just enjoying myself. But beware the things that make you feel good while keeping you from doing good — because by the time you realize what they’ve cost you, it’s too late to get it back.”

Zimri speaks: “Seven days. That’s all I had — and I spent every one of them the same way every king before me had. I keep thinking about what I could have done differently. What if I had used those seven days to turn something around? What if even one week of faithful living had pointed just one person toward God? You may feel like you don’t have much influence or platform or time. Neither did I. But I had seven days and I wasted them. You have today. don’t wait for more. Use what’s in your hand right now — because seven days can go faster than you think.”

Omri speaks: “The Assyrians named a nation after me. I built a city from scratch, forged alliances, kept my enemies at bay, and left a mark on the ancient world that lasted for generations. And God gave me eight verses. Eight. I spent my whole life building the wrong kingdom, collecting the wrong things, chasing a legacy that the only One who matters dismissed in a paragraph. don’t be me. The world will tell you that what I had is success. It isn’t. I stood before God with my seashells and they meant nothing. Invest in what will last. I didn’t — and I’ve had a long time to think about that.”

Five kings. Five failures. Five warnings for all of us.

It makes you wonder — is there a king who will finally get it right?

The New Testament's answer is yes.

Jesus is the king these kings should have been. Where they brought judgment, he brings grace. Where they set a bad example, he is the perfect example. Where they carried on the curse, he breaks it. Where every king has failed, Jesus has succeeded — and if we learn anything from these five failures, it is this: there is a King who has never failed us. And he — and he alone — is the King worthy of our allegiance.

Let’s stand and sing about him.

Sources & Notes

Merida, T. (2015). Exalting Jesus in 1 & 2 Kings, pp. 92–96. Holman Reference.

Piper, J. Don’t Waste Your Life, pp. 45–46.

Mesha Stele (Moabite Stone), c. 840 BC. Louvre, Paris.

Black Obelisk of Shalmaneser III, c. 825 BC. British Museum, London.

Samaria excavations: Archaeological evidence consistent with 9th century BC Omride construction.

Psalm 92:12–14 (NIV).