The Baby They Forgot to Kill

My people, my people come and sit down because this gist is not the type you listen to while pressing your phone. This one requires your full attention. We are talking about a royal family where brothers killed brothers, a mother encouraged her son to do evil, a grandmother ordered the death of her own grandchildren, and one tiny baby was smuggled out of the palace while killers searched from room to room.

The woman at the centre of the whole gbas gbos was Athaliah.

And before we enter the main gist, let us quickly visit her family house, because this kind of wickedness did not just wake up one morning and say, “Good morning, Athaliah.”

Athaliah came from the house of Ahab, one of the most notorious kings Israel ever had. She was also connected to the royal house of Omri. She grew up in a palace where idolatry, manipulation, intimidation and the shedding of innocent blood had become normal.

Jezebel was the dominant queen in that household. Yes, that Jezebel. The woman who sponsored Baal worship, pursued God’s prophets and arranged Naboth’s murder because her husband wanted the man’s vineyard.

Imagine killing a man because he refused to sell you his family land, hmm!.

Ahab went home, lay on his bed, turned his face to the wall and refused to eat because Naboth had told him no. When Jezebel saw him sulking, she practically said, “Is this how you want to be king? Leave it for me.”

Before long, Naboth was dead and Ahab had his vineyard.

Now, the Bible does not explicitly call Jezebel Athaliah’s biological mother, so we cannot confirm that detail. But Athaliah certainly grew up within the corrupt royal dynasty of Ahab and Jezebel. She had seen what power looked like in that household. If somebody stood between you and what you wanted, you did not negotiate. You removed them.

So when Athaliah later began eliminating people because she wanted a throne, she was repeating the pattern she had watched in her father’s house.

Naboth was killed because Ahab wanted his vineyard.

Years later, Athaliah’s grandchildren were killed because she wanted their throne.

Different generation. Same wicked appetite.

Athaliah eventually married Jehoram, the son of the godly King Jehoshaphat of Judah. You would think entering a family with a godly heritage would influence her positively.

My sister, it was the other way round.

Instead of Jehoram influencing his wife towards God, he began walking in the ways of the kings of Israel. Once he became firmly established as king, he killed all his brothers with the sword.

All his brothers.

These were the same brothers who had grown up with him in their father’s house. But once power entered his hand, he began to see his own siblings as threats.

By this point, blood was already flowing inside the royal family. Brothers had been murdered because of a throne. The house was eating itself from within.

Jehoram eventually died, and the Bible says something painfully blunt about him: he departed without being desired.

In plain language, when the man died, nobody missed him.

His son Ahaziah became king after him, and Athaliah moved from being the king’s wife to being the king’s mother. This meant she was now the queen mother, a woman with enormous influence over the young king.

And influence she did.

The Bible says Athaliah advised her son to do wickedly.

Imagine having a mother who does not caution you when you are going astray but brings a chair, sits beside you and begins suggesting better ways to do the evil.

Instead of saying, “My son, remember your grandfather Jehoshaphat. Fear God and lead the people well,” Athaliah was there giving him premium wickedness consultancy.

Ahaziah did not reign for long. He became entangled with the royal house of Ahab and was eventually killed during Jehu’s bloody uprising.

Then the news reached Jerusalem.

King Ahaziah was dead.

Now, any normal mother would have collapsed in grief. Her husband was already dead. Now her son, the king, was gone too. You would expect Athaliah to tear her clothes, cover herself in ashes and mourn.

But Athaliah did not look at her dead son and see tragedy.

She looked at his empty throne and saw vacancy.

Ah!

Some people can see opportunity inside anything.

The woman had not even finished receiving condolences before her eyes moved towards the crown.

But there was a small problem.

Her grandchildren were still alive.

The sons of Ahaziah were the rightful heirs to the throne. They were royal blood. Even if they were still children, one of them would eventually become king.

As long as those boys were breathing, Athaliah could not sit securely on the throne.

That was when Mama began calculating.

She looked at her own grandchildren, children who had just lost their father, and did not see boys who needed comfort. She saw competition.

She did not see her son’s children.

She saw obstacles wearing sandals.

And Athaliah made a decision that would make even hardened palace officials tremble.

She ordered the destruction of the entire royal family.

Everybody had to go.

No prince must remain.

No little boy must escape.

No possible heir must be left alive.

If you could one day grow up, point at the throne and say, “This belongs to me,” Athaliah wanted you dead.

The palace immediately turned into a place of terror.

Heavy footsteps thundered through the corridors. Soldiers pushed open doors. Servants ran in different directions. Mothers pulled their children close. Frightened boys hid behind curtains and under beds. Cries filled rooms that had once echoed with laughter.

Imagine the confusion.

Imagine the screaming.

Imagine being a nurse carrying a small child and suddenly realising that armed men were searching for the baby in your arms.

The palace that should have protected the royal children had become the very place where they were being hunted.

And somewhere inside that chaos, Athaliah was waiting for one report:

“It is done. No heir remains.”

But before that report could become completely true, one woman moved.

Her name was Jehosheba, also called Jehoshabeath.

She was Ahaziah’s sister and the wife of Jehoiada the priest. She understood exactly what was happening. This was not merely a grandmother behaving badly. The royal line of David was under attack.

God had promised David that his line would continue. If every royal heir was destroyed, what would happen to that promise?

Then Jehosheba saw one small child.

His name was Joash.

He was only about one year old.

The poor baby knew nothing about royal politics. He did not know his father was dead. He did not know that armed men were searching for him. He did not know that a throne, a covenant and the future of a nation were connected to his tiny life.

He was probably only concerned about food and whoever had carried him away from his familiar room.

But while Joash knew nothing about the crown on his destiny, Athaliah knew enough to want him dead.

Jehosheba acted quickly.

She took Joash and his nurse from among the royal children who were about to be killed. She slipped them into a bedroom and hid them.

My people, pause and picture this properly.

Outside the room, soldiers were moving through the palace with weapons. Doors were being forced open. Children were crying. People were being dragged away.

Inside the room, a woman and a nurse were trying to keep a one year old baby quiet.

And you know babies.

That is the exact moment a baby will decide to test the full capacity of his lungs.

That is when hunger will suddenly remember him.

That is when he will spot one shiny cup across the room and begin shouting because nobody is giving it to him.

One cry could have exposed them.

One careless movement could have ended everything.

But somehow, God kept that child.

Jehosheba got Joash and his nurse out of the palace and hid them in the house of the Lord.

Just imagine her holding that baby tightly as she moved through the shadows, listening for footsteps, checking corners and praying that nobody would recognise the child.

Every step mattered.

Every sound mattered.

Every breath mattered.

Finally, they reached safety.

Meanwhile, Athaliah received the report she wanted.

The royal heirs had been destroyed.

Finished.

No opposition.

No competition.

No rightful king.

Or so she thought.

Madam adjusted her garment, lifted her head and took the throne.

No election.

No consultation.

No public approval.

No shame.

She simply made herself queen and began ruling Judah as though the throne had been handed to her legitimately.

And for six years, Athaliah ruled.

Six complete years.

For six years, people bowed when she passed.

For six years, soldiers obeyed her.

For six years, servants called her queen.

For six years, she wore royal garments, sat inside the palace and believed that nobody alive could challenge her.

But here is the gist she did not know.

While Athaliah was enjoying herself inside the palace, the rightful king was growing inside the temple.

The baby she thought was dead was alive.

The baby began crawling.

Then he began walking.

Soon he started running around.

The baby became a toddler.

The toddler became a little boy.

Every new tooth in Joash’s mouth was bad news for Athaliah.

Every inch he grew was one inch closer to the end of her reign.

Every birthday he celebrated was another year removed from the throne she had stolen.

Athaliah had the palace, but God had the promise.

She had the throne, but God had preserved the heir.

She had the crown, but the covenant was hiding in the temple.

She was visible, celebrated and powerful.

Joash was hidden, unknown and completely dependent on others.

Yet the future belonged to the hidden child.

Athaliah may even have passed close to the temple without knowing that the person who would replace her was living just behind those walls.

This is why you must never assume that because everywhere is quiet, God is doing nothing.

Some miracles make no noise while they are growing.

Some testimonies are being fed behind closed doors.

Some promises must remain hidden because announcing them too early would expose them to unnecessary battles.

For six years, Joash’s name was not mentioned publicly.

No posters.

No trumpets.

No palace announcement.

Nothing.

The whole nation believed there was no surviving heir.

But absence of evidence is not evidence of God’s absence.

The king was alive.

He was simply not yet ready to be revealed.

Then came the seventh year.

Jehoiada the priest looked at Joash and knew the time had come.

Enough hiding.

Enough silence.

Enough of Athaliah sitting comfortably on a throne that did not belong to her.

Jehoiada began contacting trusted commanders, guards, Levites and leaders.

Secretly.

Not everybody could be invited into this kind of meeting. One wrong person would carry the entire gist straight to Athaliah.

You know how some people behave.

“Please, this information is highly confidential.”

Before you finish the sentence, they have forwarded it to seventeen people with the caption, “Please do not say you heard it from me.”

Jehosheba and Jehoiada had protected this secret for six years. They were not about to place it in the hands of somebody whose mouth had no door.

So Jehoiada chose trustworthy men and brought them into the temple. He made a covenant with them and placed them under oath.

Then he brought out Joash.

Imagine the room.

The men had been summoned secretly. They knew something serious was happening, but they did not yet understand the full matter.

Then a seven year old boy stepped forward.

They looked at the child.

They looked at Jehoiada.

They looked at one another.

“Wait first. Who is this boy?”

Jehoiada presented him as Joash, the son of King Ahaziah.

Silence.

You mean one of the king’s sons survived?

You mean Athaliah did not finish everybody?

You mean the royal line was never completely destroyed?

You mean the rightful king had been alive all this time?

Yes.

One child survived.

That was all God needed.

Athaliah did not need to miss ten children.

She only needed to miss one.

Jehosheba rescued one.

Jehoiada protected one.

God preserved one.

And that one child was enough to bring down an entire illegal government.

Jehoiada carefully arranged the coronation. This was not the time for anyhow behaviour. Athaliah still had soldiers, authority and the palace under her control.

The guards were divided into groups. Some were stationed at the entrances. Some protected the temple. Others formed a wall around Joash with weapons in their hands.

Jehoiada brought out the spears and shields that had belonged to King David and distributed them among the guards.

Can you picture it?

Rows of armed men stood shoulder to shoulder inside the temple courtyard. Sunlight flashed against their weapons. Every entrance was covered. Nobody was getting close to Joash without passing through them.

The boy might have been only seven, but he was surrounded by men prepared to defend the covenant with their lives.

Then Jehoiada brought Joash forward.

The courtyard held its breath.

He placed the crown upon the boy’s head.

He gave him the testimony, the written covenant that would guide the king.

Then he poured the anointing oil upon him.

For one brief moment, there was silence.

Then the people erupted.

“God save the king!”

Hands began clapping.

Trumpets blasted through the air.

Singers lifted their voices.

Feet stamped against the ground.

The sound travelled beyond the temple walls and rolled across Jerusalem.

After six years of fear, the rightful king had appeared.

Inside the palace, Athaliah heard the noise.

Trumpets?

Singing?

People shouting?

Celebration?

Madam must have sat upright.

“What is going on?”

“Who is making that noise?”

“Who authorised this enjoyment?”

She followed the sound towards the temple.

Maybe she expected the crowd to become silent once she appeared.

After all, she was Queen Athaliah.

The woman entered the temple courtyard with all the confidence of somebody who believed she had removed every possible rival.

Then she saw him.

A young boy stood beside the pillar where kings traditionally stood.

A crown rested on his head.

Armed commanders surrounded him.

Trumpeters stood nearby.

Singers filled the air with music.

And the people of the land were rejoicing as though somebody had finally opened the windows after six years of suffocation.

Athaliah froze.

She looked at the boy.

She looked at the crown.

She looked at the guards.

Then back to the boy.

No DNA test was required.

No introduction was necessary.

No long family history had to be explained.

One look at Joash and the whole truth slapped her at once.

One survived.

After all her planning, one survived.

After all the bloodshed, one survived.

After six years of sitting comfortably on the throne, one survived.

After convincing herself that David’s royal line had ended, one survived.

The child she thought had died had returned wearing a crown.

Athaliah tore her clothes and screamed:

“Treason! Treason!”

Ma, please.

Who exactly committed treason here?

You killed the royal heirs.

You seized a throne that did not belong to you.

You ruled the kingdom for six years without invitation.

Now that the rightful king had appeared, you were shouting treason.

The audacity was wearing perfume.

This is how some people behave. They will wound you, step on you and take what belongs to you. But the day you stand up, they will point at you and shout, “Look at how wicked this person is!”

Jehoiada did not allow Athaliah’s performance to scatter the coronation.

He ordered the commanders to take her outside the temple because he would not permit blood to be shed in the house of the Lord.

The same woman who had entered the temple shouting and tearing her clothes was seized and led away.

Nobody fought for her.

Nobody stopped the guards.

Nobody said, “Please, leave our queen.”

The people simply watched her go.

Athaliah was taken through the horse gate near the palace, and there her reign came to an end.

Just like that.

Six years of wickedness collapsed in one day.

The crown she stole could not save her.

The soldiers she once commanded could not protect her.

The throne she killed for rejected her.

The people then went to the temple of Baal, pulled it down, smashed its altars and broke its images into pieces. Jehoiada renewed the covenant between the Lord, the king and the people.

Then they carried Joash from the temple to the palace.

Picture that procession.

The same child who had once been smuggled out of the palace under the shadow of death was now returning to it surrounded by guards, priests, commanders and a rejoicing nation.

At one year old, he left the palace in somebody’s arms.

At seven years old, he returned wearing a crown.

The gates opened.

The people followed.

And Joash sat upon the royal throne.

Then the Bible gives us one beautiful sentence:

“And all the people of the land rejoiced: and the city was in quiet.”

The city became quiet because the person troubling it had been removed.

For six years, the people had lived under oppression. They knew the throne had been taken through bloodshed. They knew something was wrong, but they could not see a way out.

Then one morning, the hidden king appeared.

Athaliah thought she had buried the future, but God had hidden it.

She thought the promise had died, but the promise was growing.

She thought silence meant victory, but silence was only heaven protecting what was not yet ready to be revealed.

And let us not miss another powerful part of this story.

Athaliah and Jehosheba came from the same troubled royal family, but they made completely different choices.

One woman used her position inside the palace to destroy children.

Another woman used her position inside the same palace to rescue a child.

One protected her ambition.

The other protected God’s promise.

Athaliah carried the wickedness she had witnessed into another generation.

Jehosheba stood in the middle of that wickedness and said, “It will not continue through me.”

So, yes, your background can explain what you were exposed to, but it does not decide what you must become.

You can come from a broken family and choose healing.

You can grow up around bitterness and choose forgiveness.

You can witness manipulation and refuse to become manipulative.

Somebody must decide that the pattern stops here.

Somebody must become the Jehosheba who enters the middle of destruction and carries the promise to safety.

And never conclude that God has abandoned you simply because you cannot see what He is doing.

Joash was alive even when Judah believed the royal heirs were dead.

The answer existed even when nobody knew where it was.

The king was growing even while the impostor was sitting on the throne.

And when the appointed time came, the child who had been carried out secretly returned publicly.

He entered the palace wearing the crown his enemy believed would never touch his head.

Athaliah had searched for a helpless baby.

She was not prepared for the king who eventually walked out.

The enemy does not have to miss many things.

Just one promise.

One opportunity.

One divine connection.

One seed that refuses to die.

One Joash.

That is enough for God to begin again.

The Baby They Forgot to Kill.