"Any fool can know. The point is to understand."
— Albert Einstein
2 Kings 9–11: Knowing What Is Right vs. Understanding God's Heart
Jehu knew what God had commanded, and he acted decisively to carry it out. The Lord even commended him: “Because you have done well in accomplishing what is right in my eyes… your descendants will sit on the throne of Israel to the fourth generation” (2 Kings 10:30). But the very next verse offers a sobering contrast: “Yet Jehu was not careful to keep the law of the Lord… with all his heart” (v. 31).
It’s possible to execute the right actions without cultivating the right heart. Jehu knew what needed to be done—but he didn’t go far enough. He cleaned the surface, but failed to let the truth take root deep within. And as the text unfolds, we watch another powerful scene of reform: Jehoiada’s bold protection of the rightful king, the covenant renewal between the Lord and His people, and the violent but purifying dismantling of Baal worship (2 Kings 11:17–20). This was more than knowing what was wrong—it was about understanding what it meant to truly belong to God.
John 5: From Rule-Knowing to Relationship-Living
Jesus faced opposition from religious leaders who knew the law but didn’t understand the heart of the Father. After healing a man who had been lame for thirty-eight years, Jesus is harassed—not for what He did, but for when He did it (John 5:16). He responds with a statement that reframes everything: “My Father is always working, and so am I” (v. 17). Jesus wasn’t just obeying commands—He was walking in complete unity with the Father’s will, revealing what it means to understand divine purpose.
He explains, “The Son can do nothing by himself; he does only what he sees the Father doing… the Father loves the Son and shows him everything” (vv. 19–20). This isn’t mechanical obedience—it’s relational alignment. And it leads to life: “Those who listen to my message and believe in God… have already passed from death into life” (v. 24).
Journal Reflection
There is so much depth in these passages. The drama in 2 Kings is intense—political intrigue, courageous reform, and divine justice all wrapped together. I can only imagine watching it unfold like a film. But what strikes me more is that every king, every priest, every moment is a part of God’s tapestry. Even with their flaws, God weaves His purposes through broken people.
And then we see Jesus, standing in the middle of rigid tradition, pushing back—not with rebellion, but with healing. He reminds me that holiness is not about strict rule-keeping. It’s about love. It’s about freedom. It’s about understanding that God’s heart is always beating for restoration, not regulation.
There’s a line that keeps circling in my mind: A miracle is never just a miracle. It’s always more. The healing at the pool wasn’t just about a man walking—it was about revealing the Father. It was about confronting false systems. And it was about showing that God is near and active, even when we don’t understand how.
Likewise, the Bible is never just a book. As Paul wrote, “All Scripture is inspired by God and is useful to teach us what is true… to prepare and equip his people to do every good work” (2 Timothy 3:16–17). I don’t need a middleman to access this wisdom. God gives me His Spirit, and in seeking, I find—not always quickly, not always easily—but deeply.
And so I press on. Not to simply know more, but to understand more—of God, of His Word, of what He’s doing in and around me. There’s beauty in the struggle, in the questions, in the unfolding. That’s where the transformation happens.