From the early to mid–eighth century BCE, Israel experienced its greatest period of prosperity under the leadership of Jeroboam II. He built a powerful military, expanded Israel’s territory to its greatest extent, and implemented successful economic policies that ushered in an era of genuine national strength and wealth. The prophetic ministries of Amos and Hosea, who served during this period, also reveal that Israel experienced an unprecedented surge in religious activity and revival. Wasn’t political stability and economic prosperity a gift from God? If so, it seemed only natural that religion and worship would flourish alongside them.
And yet, paradoxically, there was never a time in Israel’s history when ethical corruption ran so deep. Amos fiercely condemned the luxurious lifestyles of the wealthy and exposed how they exploited the poor. This was a collapse of ethics. Why did morality deteriorate so severely during this era? Because there was an even more profound spiritual collapse. Was not Hosea’s own wife a woman who sold her body? How can those who do not fear God be expected to honor their commitments to other human beings? Religion flourished, but spirituality withered. The early-to-mid eighth century BCE presents us with precisely this contradiction—a nation with two faces.
The measure of spirituality is not the number of church members or the frequency of worship services. The disappearance of social justice amid economic abundance resulted from a deeply distorted understanding of spirituality. Through the prophet Amos, God declared:
“I hate, I despise your festivals;
I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.
Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings,
I will not accept them;
and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals
I will not look upon.
Take away from me the noise of your songs;
I will not listen to the melody of your harps.
But let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream”
(Amos 5:22–24; cf. Micah 6:6–8).
Another prophet active during this period was Jonah, son of Amittai (Jonah 1:1; 2 Kings 14:25). If we understand the spiritual corruption that pervaded Israel in the early eighth century BCE, Jonah’s decision to disobey God’s command and flee toward Tarshish—directly opposite from Nineveh—becomes somewhat comprehensible. Nevertheless, God used a violent storm and a great fish to redirect Jonah to Nineveh, regardless of Jonah’s own will. Jonah was now given what we commonly call a second chance.
At last, he proclaimed God’s message in Nineveh. And astonishingly, his words pierced the hearts of the people, igniting a massive movement of repentance. Even the king of Nineveh rose from his throne, clothed himself in sackcloth, sat in ashes, and began to repent. Empowered by a royal decree, this repentance spread throughout the city, and in response, God relented and spared Nineveh. Jonah—the messenger through whom the greatest city of the ancient world was saved—how did he respond?
“But Jonah was greatly displeased and became angry. He prayed to the LORD and said, ‘O LORD! Isn’t this what I said while I was still in my own country? That is why I fled to Tarshish at the beginning; for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing. And now, O LORD, please take my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to live’” (Jonah 4:1–3).
What is Jonah saying here? Is he not arguing with God, insisting that Nineveh should not be saved? Is he not petulantly asking God to kill him rather than spare the city? What, then, was Jonah’s real problem?
Jonah’s problem was precisely that he had two faces. The message he proclaimed and the fire burning deep within his soul were fundamentally different. Though he preached a call to repentance, what he truly desired in his heart was the destruction of Nineveh. His message and his character were completely disconnected. To put it plainly, Nineveh was not saved because of Jonah’s message, but in spite of it. God saved the city despite the messenger.
The English term for schizophrenia literally means a “splitting” (schism) of the mind (phrenia). When the mind is divided, a person’s thoughts and actions lack coherence. To be fair, individuals suffering from schizophrenia are often unaware that their thoughts and behaviors are inconsistent. Those who knowingly act in ways that contradict what they believe, say, or teach are not suffering from mental illness; they are hypocrites and double-minded individuals.
Neither hypocrites nor the mentally fragmented can be leaders. When there is a gap between a leader’s message and a leader’s life, followers will not respect that leader. And once respect is lost, leadership inevitably erodes. Leadership is not a position; leadership is influence. The reason the Korean church has increasingly lost its influence in society is not a lack of messages. Never in the two-thousand-year history of Christianity have there been so many sermons, books, and teachings. Yet the church fails to earn society’s respect because the lives and character of the messengers do not align with the messages they proclaim. A leader with two faces cannot lead.