
The best way to summarize the story of King Uzziah is with the familiar adage, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” At just the age of sixteen, Uzziah had all the authority and responsibility of the king of Judah thrust upon him, in large part because of his dad’s disgraceful final act as Judah’s incumbent monarch. Through a series of events that are better left for another time, Uzziah is exalted to his dad’s throne in a move that proved politically expedient, considering his reign lasted for over five decades. This, to be sure, should have been Uzziah’s legacy: a half-century on the throne coupled with mountains of diplomatic and strategic successes. But that’s not how he is remembered. Ultimately, Uzziah’s reign ends with a whimper. “And King Uzziah,” writes the chronicler, “was a leper to the day of his death, and being a leper lived in a separate house, for he was excluded from the house of the Lord” (2 Chron. 26:21).
Much like his father saw his legacy go down the drain in a wave of conspiracy and murder (cf. 2 Kings 14:17–22), so, too, does Uzziah’s time as Judah’s king end with not much more than a blip on the radar. His life is a veritable tragedy. What began with so much promise and potential was quickly suffocated by his own conceit. Indeed, like so many before and after him, Uzziah’s downfall can be traced back to that ancient menace: pride. His story is one that unapologetically displays the downward spiral that ensues when we surrender to our own hubris.
1. The Success of Seeking God
It would be hard to overstate how popular King Uzziah was during his heyday, but that’s what the chronicler attempts to convey in 2 Chronicles 26:6–15. Despite how tedious it might seem to record such a résumé, it is preserved so that we might glean just how affluent Uzziah was. Indeed, while it might seem like some of his exploits have been exaggerated or embellished, archaeological evidence backs up much of what the chronicler claims. This is just to say that around the time we start to feel like Uzziah’s successes are “over the top,” that’s when we have the right idea of how famous and prosperous he was. Notwithstanding the industry or interest, Uzziah’s accomplishments were indisputable. Nearly every phase of his reign came up “golden.” Every war was a triumph; every building project was a showstopper, and every agricultural innovation turned out to be an abundant harvest.
He had the best inventors, the best craftsmen, the best engineers, the best farmers, the best soldiers, and the best innovators, which allowed him to secure Judah’s borders from their longtime enemies, the Philistines, and fortify their status as a leader in international trade (2 Chron. 26:2). He even modernized Judah’s economic position by taking tribute money from the Ammonites (2 Chron. 26:8). Everything was looking up. His approval rating was off the charts. He was becoming a household name, even in the halls of the Egyptian Pharaohs (2 Chron. 26:8, 15). By every conceivable standard, Uzziah was a sensation. If you didn’t know better, it might’ve felt like King Solomon had been brought back from the dead! The point of all this elaborate detail, however, isn’t to make us marvel at Uzziah’s leadership abilities, nor is it to leave us in awe of his vision, shrewdness, or fearlessness. Rather, all these extravagant triumphs are meant to show us the abundance of God’s blessings for those who follow him.
In reality, Uzziah’s strength and success had nothing to do with him. He couldn’t take credit for it (not really), which is the prevailing theme of the narrative. Three times within the chronicler’s inventory of Uzziah’s achievements, he reminds us who was behind it all. “God made him prosper . . . God helped him against the Philistines . . . his fame spread far, for he was marvelously helped” (2 Chron. 26:5, 7, 15). In short, everything he attained was traceable to the “marvelous help” and favor God showed him. It wasn’t Uzziah but Yahweh who deserved all the credit and glory for this newfound renown emanating from the Kingdom of Promise.
Those early days were marked by a disciplined seeking after the things of God (2 Chron. 26:4–5). He surrounded himself with wise counsel and submitted himself to the instruction of a prophet who helped him discern the word and will of God. This, of course, was always God’s intent for those responsible for leading his people. They must put the Lord first. Not only was this David’s parting wisdom to his son Solomon (1 Chron. 28:9), but this also became the litmus test by which every subsequent king was judged (2 Chron. 15:2; cf. Jer. 29:13). Everything hinged on their devotion to Yahweh. But this isn’t only a benchmark for kings — it’s also a criterion for our faith as well (Prov. 8:17).
The beginning of Uzziah’s reign reminds us that God is the author of every blessing. Everything we are made to enjoy is downstream of his grace for us. It’s all because of him. “Every good gift and every perfect gift,” the apostle says, “is from above, coming down from the Father of lights” (James 1:17). This, to be sure, isn’t some “prosperity gospel formula,” which tells us that more faith leads to more material wealth. No, on the contrary, the thrust of the chronicler’s message to us is the pervasiveness of God. In other words, he is not one of many priorities; he’s every priority. He’s everything. We don’t, and can’t, necessarily “put God first,” as we possess the authority to adjust the rankings as we see fit. Instead, all we can do is acknowledge and confess that God is first and foremost — the center and foundation of all things. “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last,” the Lord declares to John, “the beginning and the end” (Rev. 22:13).
Part of “seeking God,” therefore, is learning the “fear of God,” which, as Scripture everywhere reminds us, is the “beginning of wisdom”:
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have a good understanding. His praise endures forever!” (Ps. 111:10).
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction” (Prov. 1:7).
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is insight” (Prov. 9:10).
“The fear of the Lord is a fountain of life, that one may turn away from the snares of death” (Prov. 14:27).
“The fear of the Lord is instruction in wisdom, and humility comes before honor” (Prov. 15:33).
This “fear” isn’t so much about learning to be afraid or petrified of God as much as it is about surrendering to his supreme will and sovereign grace. “The fear of the Christian,” Owen Strachan once wrote, “is reverential awe, trusting adoration, worshipful marvel at the character and works of our majestic Sovereign.” The more we seek God and diligently search for him in his Word, the more humble and more dependent we become, which is precisely where God wants us. Indeed, this is what the Word is supposed to do in us — namely, it shows us our place. But what happens if we forget that?
2. The Failure of Forgetting Your Place
There is an unmistakable shift in tone at the end of verse 15 — “And his fame spread far, for he was marvelously helped, till he was strong” — at which point the chronicler’s narrative changes from a glowing record of royal successes to a dismal retelling of a king’s fall from grace. “But when he [Uzziah] was strong,” we are told, “he grew proud, to his destruction” (2 Chron. 26:16). All the cards, so to speak, are on the table so that we don’t miss the point. Everything that transpires from this point forward is because Uzziah “grew proud.” He began to take credit for his success. As his fame spread abroad, so, too, did his ego swell, so much so that he started to believe his own press. You know what, I am amazing, we might imagine him thinking. After all, look at what I’ve done. Look at all that I’ve achieved. Whose résumé can rival mine? The extent of his achievements was only rivaled by the depth of his hubris. But as soon as some of these thoughts blossomed in his heart and mind, he set himself up for ruin (cf. Prov. 16:18).
King Uzziah’s pride was manifest in an arrogant display, which was flaunted right in God’s face. It happened when he pompously entered the Temple and marched right up to the place where priests burn incense (2 Chron. 26:16). The altar of incense, you might know, was a small table situated just outside of the Holy of Holies, wherein the very presence of Yahweh hovered. At the behest of God, the Israelite order of priests was to burn a special blend of spices on it every morning and every evening (Exod. 30:7–8). God’s instructions regarding this altar were scrupulous, down to the exact measurements for making the incense (Exod. 30:34–38). As the incense burned, its smoke represented the hearts of the priests, who themselves represented the people, burning with devotion to the Lord of all things — a visual herald of their “fear of God.” More to the point, though, burning incense on this altar was strictly prohibited for anyone but the priests. (Both Leviticus 10 and Numbers 16 graphically convey what transpires when the dictates of God are ignored.)
Accordingly, Uzziah’s actions indicate his blatant disregard for God and his Word. “Even as a Davidic king,” Joshua E. Williams comments, “Uzziah was not allowed to overrule the Mosaic stipulations regarding proper worship, specifically offering incense within the sanctuary.”1 This wasn’t an accident — this was an insolent act of arrogance. “What Uzziah did,” Williams continues, “violated God’s holiness by disregarding God’s choice to appoint only the priests to enter the sanctuary to offer incense.”2 Consumed with his own self-importance, Uzziah presumed that since he made such a fine king, he would make a fine priest, too. Even with the high priest and a regiment of eighty priests in tow denouncing his actions (2 Chron. 26:17–18), the king’s hubris could not be tempered. After all, he was no ordinary king. He was Uzziah! The evidence of his renown was readily available. “Don’t you know who I am?” we might’ve heard him protest.
As his pride gave birth to rage, Uzziah was ready to proceed with his arrogant exhibition when a sudden outbreak of leprosy appeared right smack in the middle of his forehead (2 Chron. 26:19). This king who thought he didn’t have to answer to anybody or bow to anyone was suddenly humiliated in front of everyone, in a devastating display of God’s power. Uzziah’s resistance to sound reason and biblical counsel resulted in an obvious sign of the Lord’s judgment. “Azariah the chief priest and all the priests looked at him,” the chronicler reports, “and behold, he was leprous in his forehead! And they rushed him out quickly, and he himself hurried to go out because the Lord had struck him” (2 Chron. 26:20). Just as the Lord was the author of all his success, so, too, was he the author of his humiliation. Both literally and figuratively, Uzziah defiled the house of God with his hubris and self-preoccupation.
God, as you might imagine, doesn’t sit idly by when his Word, authority, or supremacy is questioned, which is what pride ultimately is — namely, humanity’s attempt to supersede God himself. This is what led to Lucifer’s banishment from heaven and Adam and Eve’s exile from the garden. It’s the first of seven “things that the Lord hates” (Prov. 6:16–19; cf. 8:13). Indeed, a prevailing theme of Scripture is its constant reminder that the prideful will eventually be brought to ruin:
“God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6).
“Everyone who is arrogant in heart is an abomination to the Lord; be assured, he will not go unpunished” (Prov. 16:5).
“One’s pride will bring him low, but he who is lowly in spirit will obtain honor” (Prov. 29:23).
“You save a humble people, but your eyes are on the haughty to bring them down” (2 Sam. 22:28; cf. Ps. 18:27).
“Whoever slanders his neighbor secretly I will destroy. Whoever has a haughty look and an arrogant heart I will not endure” (Ps. 101:5).
“Thus says the Lord God: Remove the turban and take off the crown. Things shall not remain as they are. Exalt that which is low, and bring low that which is exalted” (Ezek. 21:26).
Pride is a disease of sin, one that entices you to put yourself at the front of the line, to take credit for where you are and what you have, and to do all that you can to make sure you come out on top. But very quickly, the disease of pride metastasizes and spreads till all you’re left with is yourself. This is the unambiguous end for Uzziah, who spends the rest of his life in quarantine, away from any enjoyment of what he achieved. “King Uzziah,” we are told, “was a leper to the day of his death, and being a leper lived in a separate house, for he was excluded from the house of the Lord” (2 Chron. 26:21). The contrast couldn’t be more scathing: from the rousing success of his early years to wasting away during his final days all by himself. Don’t be fooled by the allure of pride. The same God who can make you strong can make you weak.
3. The Glory of the Humble King
King Uzziah’s epitaph is summed up by those who buried him (2 Chron. 26:22–23). Rather than entomb his body in the crypt reserved for the kings, they put him in a grave “in the field” since he was a leper. His enduring memory wasn’t tethered to any architectural monument he erected but to an incurable disease he contracted. Like so many before and after him, Uzziah was bested by pride. His successes, which were a direct result of God’s blessing and grace, ended up being his undoing. In many ways, Uzziah’s downfall parallels the tragedy of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s celebrated poem “Ozymandias,” in which a traveler describes the sight of colossal ruins of a once-grand statue:
On the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing besides remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Similarly, when Uzziah beheld his works and achievements, he deemed himself strong and mighty, but he forgot who made him strong, paving the way not only for his destruction but also for a prophetic glimpse at the only one who was behind it all. The chronicler’s seemingly throw-away note that “the rest of the acts of Uzziah” can be found in the writings of “Isaiah the prophet the son of Amoz” (2 Chron. 26:22) gestures for us to pay attention to Isaiah’s oracle, especially the immaculate vision he receives in Chapter 6:
In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him stood the seraphim. Each had six wings: with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. And one called to another and said: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory!” And the foundations of the thresholds shook at the voice of him who called, and the house was filled with smoke. And I said: “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” (Isa. 6:1–5)
It’s not by accident, of course, that this incandescent vision of the Lord of Hosts sitting on his throne comes about “in the year that King Uzziah died.” After the abysmal way in which Uzziah’s life ended, Isaiah sees the one who should be feared. Despite how glorious and accomplished Uzziah was in his own eyes, he was nothing compared to the glory of the one true King, whose renown fills the whole earth! Uzziah’s illustrious exploits were little more than “dust on the scales” in God’s eyes (Isa. 40:15). Consequently, any whiff of hubris is decimated by the unveiling of the one on the throne, “who is and who was and who is to come” (Rev. 1:4). But this isn’t the only remedy for pride, though; there’s another way in which God reveals who he truly is — namely, through the person of Jesus.
The teachings of Jesus are replete with similar refrains regarding the haughty and the lowly. “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted” (Luke 14:11; cf. 18:14; Matt. 18:4). This wasn’t just something Jesus said. He lived it. He embodied it. Indeed, the best remedy for pride is found in Jesus Christ, who came to the Earth not only to give us an example of humility but also to be the epitome of humility for us (Phil. 2:5–11). Instead of exalting himself, he abased himself and clothed himself in humility (1 Pet. 5:5) so that humanity might be redeemed. The gospel, in other words, humbles us by showcasing the lowly-mindedness of King Jesus.
At the heart of the good news is the announcement that the eternal Son of God has humbled himself to “the point of death, even death on a cross.” He who was enthroned in glory came to where we are, to our places of grief and haunts of sin, so that we might be reclaimed for his glory. God in Christ looked upon this world and noticed humanity’s plight, and with a heart teeming with unmerited favor and unlimited mercy, he took all that sin on himself. He put the needs of the world before his own. He lowered himself to such a degree that he succumbed to execution on a Roman cross with nails in his hands and feet. This is the superlative picture of humility and grace, one that punctures any bloated sense of pride that we might be nurturing.
In the end, what Uzziah presumed he could do of his own accord, Christ does for us. Whereas Uzziah was the king who lost it all because of pride, the true and better Uzziah — the Christ of God — gives everything away, including his own life, out of sheer grace. After all, he’s the only one who can act as both king and priest. He didn’t presume to don his crown through a pompous show of pride but by a humiliating act of self-sacrifice. Thus, when we stand before him, every last ounce of pride shrivels up and dies. But here’s the good news: while pride always ends in ruin, at the other end of that ruin is the humble King and the rescue that comes through his gracious humility for us.
Joshua E. Williams, “The Stable But Dynamic Nature of Biblical Worship: Reflections from 1 & 2 Chronicles,” Southwestern Journal of Theology 66.1 (2023): 20.
Williams, 21.