Trump Is Not Jehu

In case you are wondering.

Trump Is Not Jehu

Who do people say you are? It’s a similar question Jesus asked the disciples of Himself. Comparisons can throw a few odd things into the mix. What about a present-day comparison of Donald Trump with King Jehu? It’s probably a bit unfair on Jehu and may incur a higher trade tariff on the UK. I can understand the instinct to do so though. The church feels side-lined, the culture hostile, and then along comes a disruptive, bull-in-a-china-shop figure and someone opens 2 Kings and says, there. There you go, that’s your man. Sent by God – God’s wrecking ball.

Trump? Really?

Such comparison demands a response, not because of politics but because of Scripture. And also because the prophetic community I love is doing itself serious damage every time we reach for a biblical typecast without following the whole story to the end.

Let’s start with the obvious.

Jehu’s anointing was genuine. Elisha’s young prophet arrives, clears the room, pours oil on his head and declares the word of the Lord with terrifying clarity: “I anoint you king over Israel… you shall strike down the house of Ahab your master” (2 Kings 9:6–7). Then he runs. Minutes later, after a few blasts of a trumpet, Jehu is king.

That’s how quickly God can turn a life. Commander at breakfast, king by nightfall. Jehu delivered on his commission, fired up his tanks and in the roar of military might, drew his bow, and Joram fell in the field of Naboth, the very place where innocent blood had been shed. The judgment landed exactly where God said it would.

God used Jehu. Completely. That should not be disputed.

But then, disaster. Jehu kept the golden calves at Bethel. That shiny metal…

“Jehu did not turn aside from the sins of Jeroboam… which he made Israel to sin” (2 Kings 10:29). He had zeal for God’s judgment and none for God’s presence, executed a commission without entering communion, functioned as an instrument but never became a friend. Scripture does not soften that, and neither should we.

Friendship with God leaves marks. It marked Abraham, who interceded for cities he could have walked away from. It marked David, who sinned grievously and came back not with spin but with a broken and contrite heart. It marked Moses, who stood in the gap for people ready to stone him. These men were not perfect, but they were pursued. The hunger was visible. The brokenness was real.

No one is asking for perfection, but for fruit. Not platform. Not performance. Not winning. Not a deal, even if it is a very good one – the greatest ever.. Just fruit. The kind that grows in a life that has been undone before God and remade in His presence.

That fruit takes time to recognise. It is a process. But in drawing this comparison, we are not being asked to observe a process. We are being asked to declare an anointing. And that requires evidence that goes beyond shared enemies or political outcomes.

There is also something else going on here, and it needs naming. This is a form of spiritual navel gazing. Not discernment, but projection. We are not letting Scripture speak. We are bending it toward our moment so that it baptises what we already want.

Scripture is clear. Jehu was Jehu. We are not looking for an encore of biblical characters. These lives stand as examples for us, those upon whom the ends of the ages have come. They are patterns and warnings, not roles to be recast in every generation.

Once you see this, the comparison starts to collapse. You can find something of Jehu in decisive leaders, something of Abraham in men of faith, something of Samson in raw strength, something of Obadiah in quiet faithfulness. But that proves the point. These are fragments of fallen humanity and common grace, not titles to be assigned. If everyone can be made to fit, then the pattern is no longer doing any work.

What grieves me most is what this does to the genuine prophetic voice. When we attach divine typology to political allegiance, we do not just risk being wrong. We risk becoming unrecognisable. We become people who cannot be trusted to call things as they are, because it is obvious we are calling things as we want them to be.

God absolutely uses unlikely people. Yourself included. Scripture is clear on that. But an unlikely instrument is not the same thing as a friend of God. Cyrus was an instrument. He did not know the Lord. That did not make the instrument less real. It simply made it less than some claim.

And Scripture does not let us forget how God deals with His people when they harden themselves. He raises nations. He humbles pride. He sends what we would never choose in order to turn our hearts back to Him. Babylon, as usual is never far from the story – not because God delights in judgment, but because He is relentless in mercy. He will never leave His people to their own devices and initiative.

Jehu received four generations on the throne for the obedience he did offer. God is that faithful to partial faithfulness. But Jehu died without knowing God. That is not a legacy to celebrate. That is a category to handle with fear before placing anyone in it.

Donald Trump is not Jehu, but he still has time to repent of his sin, put his faith in Jesus Christ as his Lord and Saviour, and grow in faith and obedience, bearing much fruit not for himself, but for Jesus Christ.

Omniscience

What If God Let You Know What He Knows?

What If God Let You Know What He Knows?

We don’t know what we don’t know, but have you ever thought about what it’s like to be God, who does? To know everything! Something occurred to me as I bantered with my friend Paul on Sunday. Open your bible app to 2 Kings 6:15-17 in the ESV. There’s a moment in Scripture that draws you in to one or those scenarios reminding you where God’s done something in the past and you just wish He would do an encore.

Elisha’s servant wakes up one morning in Dothan, northern Israel, looks out of the window and sees an army surrounding the city. Tanks, armoured personnel carriers, apache helicopters, horses, chariots, the full weight of military power surrounding them… He panics. Of course he does. What else do you do?

Like a pigeon about to be savaged by a cat, he runs to Elisha, who in turn, shakes his head and prays a simple prayer. “Lord, open his eyes.” The response from heaven? Immediately the servant sees what was already there, what had been there the whole time. The mountain full of God’s overwhelming presence; horses and chariots of fire. The real situation. The fuller picture. Nothing has changed – except the servant’s perception! He now sees the bigger picture; a heavenly force that was there all the time. Bam! He’s finally seeing things from God’s point of view.

That’s the word of knowledge. Not a party trick. Not charismatic drama that makes for book and DVD sales. It’s God, in his sovereign mercy, briefly pulling back the curtain and letting a human being see a flickering glimpse of what only omniscience can see.

It goes without saying, we are not omniscient. We barely know what we know and forget vast portions of what we learn. God alone holds, retains (and knows) all knowledge, past, present and future, simultaneously, perfectly, without effort or revision. For our part when we see, we see and know in part, and honestly, that’s a grace in itself because the full weight of knowing all things would crush us. I guess we’d all love to know what is going on in Donald Trump’s mind, maybe not.

Paul, writing to God’s alternative society in Corinth, describes something remarkable – among the gifts of the Spirit, there is this dynamic; a specific word or kernel of knowledge. Not all knowledge. A word of it. A fine sliver. A targeted, sovereign disclosure of something hidden, that could not have known. Something God chose to divinely reveal because it mattered; in that moment, for that person, for his purposes.

Let your brain turn that one ever. The God who knows every secret, every hidden shame, every diagnosis not yet made, every prodigal’s location, every lie told in the dark, that God decides, at his discretion, to hand you a single piece of that knowing. Not because you earned it or because you’re spiritually superior, but because he has a reason and wants to encourage, challenge or redirect a believer.

[Consider this: Paul told us to eagerly desire this gift along with the others, that’s why God gives – it builds and encourages the church. So in terms of obedience, which gift(s) are you desiring?]

Jesus famously did this with the woman at the well, telling her things about her life that dismantled every single, solitary defence she had. Five husbands. The man she was with now. He wasn’t condemning her. He was reaching her. And it worked. The whole village came out because she said, “He told me everything I ever did.” That’s the word of knowledge in action, and it led to revival.

This is what separates the gift from guessing, ‘haunches’ or reading body language. It’s about God revealing. You know because He has told you. He takes something from his infinite capacity of knowing and places it, specifically, into a moment. A conversation between friends. A sermon. A ministry time. A quiet word spoken to someone who is barely holding on.

You (look in a mirror to see who I am referring to) carry the Spirit of the omniscient God. That Spirit intercedes for you with groanings too deep for words, which means he knows what to pray when you don’t. That same Spirit, on occasion, will show you what to say, who to pray for, what is actually happening beneath the surface of someone’s careful, guarded composure.

Not all knowledge. A word of it or at least, a burst of it. But that word, in the right moment, can change everything. Including yourself.