Idolatry, the High Places, and the Modern Believer


As I read through the Bible this year, the phrase, “the high places,” caught my attention because it is used as a kind of litmus test and descriptor of the kings of Israel and Judah in Kings and Chronicles. Like a worn-out refrain, and a tired old drumbeat, king after king in Israel and Judah is identified for failing to remove the high places. Only Hezekiah removed them and only Josiah destroyed them completely.

In case you have not read Kings or Chronicles lately, each king is judged by whether he did what was right in the sight of the Lord and removed the high places. The phrase “the high places were not removed” functions like a spiritual diagnostic in Kings. Even of the kings who were not wholly evil, only two (2) of them did something about the high places that were scattered throughout the region.

I have glossed over the phrase every year that I have read through Kings and Chronicles until now. When I recognized I wasn’t exactly sure what the high places were, I took some time to lay my assumptions aside and look into it. What I found is interesting and surprisingly relevant for us today.

What Were the High Places?

The Hebrew word translated “high places” is bamot. These were worship sites, usually located on hills or mountain tops, on ridges, or sometimes even on raised platforms in cities. A typical high place might include a stone altar for sacrifices, standing stones (masseboth), wooden poles associated with goddess worship (Asherah poles), incense altars, or occasionally a sacred tree or grove.

Ancient Near Eastern people believed that worshiping on elevated places brought them closer to heaven. Thus, “high places” became a term synonymous with worship. I wonder, as I write this, whether our phrase for good worship or a good spiritual experience – a mountaintop experience – comes from the idea of “high places” (knowingly or unknowingly).

The First Reference to a High Place

The first explicit mention of a “high place” is in 1 Samuel 9. When Saul goes looking for his father’s lost donkeys and is told to seek out the prophet, Samuel, who was planning to meet the people “at the high place” for a sacrifice. They were waiting for Samuel to get there to bless the sacrifice before they ate. Saul meets Samuel on his way to the high place, and Samuel instructed Saul to go on ahead of him, to wait for him, and to eat with him. (1 Samuel 9:12–14, 19).

This first mention of a high place is interesting because it seems to carry no negative connotation. Samuel had a good reputation as a prophet who did what was right in the Lord’s eyes, and the sacrifice they enjoyed at the high place seems to have been acceptable.

Older Worship Practice


Although the term “high place” is first used in 1st Samuel, worship on high places by some of the most iconic people of God goes back much earlier. For example: Noah builds an altar after leaving the ark; Abraham builds altars at Shechem, Bethel, and Mt. Moriah; Jacob worships at Bethel, and Moses meets God and receives the Law on Mt. Sinai.

Man placing stones near a wooden ark under a cloudy sunrise in the mountains

The pattern of mountaintop worship and encounter with God is repeated and prominent. Just as noticeable, perhaps, is the absence of a negative comment about these practices. They seem to have occurred in ways that advanced relationship and covenant between God and key figures in the Old Testament. The pattern seems to have been acceptable to God, and those older mountaintop places of worship are not called “high places” (bamot).

A Change in the Worship of God

The early encounters of people with God were organic and free-flowing, but that way of relating to God changed with Moses and the Exodus. Although, Moses met with God on the top of Mt. Sinai, God changed the way people would relate to Him and worship Him going forward.

After Moses provided the blueprints from God, the Tent of Meeting (Tabernacle) was constructed to provide a place for the the Ark of the Covenant, for offering sacrifices to God, and for Moses to meet with God. The presence of God came to reside among the people over the Tent of Meeting with a visceral demonstration of fire by night and cloud by day.

Moses was instructed to consecrate the Levites, alone, to care for the Tabernacle and Ark of the Covenant, to carry, assemble, and to tear down the structures when they moved, and to conduct all of the ritual sacrifices that were very carefully prescribed.

Anyone who dared to approach God, offer sacrifices, or worship in a way that was not prescribed incurred the consequence of that transgression. No one but a Levite (and Moses) could enter the Tent of Meeting or offer sacrifices, and the Levites had to follow the the detailed instructions prescribed by God or pay the price.

The Problem with High Places

When Israel entered the Promised Land of Canaan, hilltop shrines devoted to gods like Baal and Asherah were scattered throughout the area. At that time, God specifically commanded Israel to destroy the high places (bamot), saying, “You must not worship the  Lord your God in their way.” Instead, the people were instructed to “seek the place the Lord your God will choose from among all your tribes to put his Name there for his dwelling.” (Deuteronomy 12:1-7).

They were warned, “You are not to do as we do here today, everyone doing as they see fit, since you have not yet reached the resting place and the inheritance the Lord your God is giving you.” (Deut. 12:8-9) Yet, all they had was the mobile Tabernacle and the Ark of the Covenant, and they moved around until the Temple was built by Solomon. They were not always even in the same location.

The Transitionary Period

It was during this time frame that Samuel met Saul at “the high place.” Other people also offered sacrificed on high places during this period, despite the instruction from Moses. For instance, Joshua builds an altar on Mount Ebel after the conquest of Ai and offered sacrifices as Moses instructed them to do after crossing the Jordan into the Promised Land. (Deuteronomy 27; Joshua 8:30–35)


Stone firepit with smoldering ashes near river in natural valley landscape

Sometime later, the tribes that took the land east of the Jordan built an altar. Joshua and the western tribes prepared to go to war with their brothers, assuming that it was an unauthorized rival worship location. They relented when eastern tribes explained it was not an altar for performing sacrifices; it was a ceremonial altar meant to be a witness that they belong to Israel. (Joshua 22)


God specifically instructed Gideon to build an altar to the LORD and offer sacrifices on it after tearing down an altar his family constructed for Baal. (Judges 6) Samson’s parents built an altar and offered sacrifices in thanks to God that seems to have been acceptable, because the Angel of the LORD ascends in the flame. (Judges 13)

Samuel repeatedly participated in offering sacrifices away from the Tabernacle at Mizpah (1 Samuel 7), Bethlehem (1 Samuel 16), the high place at Ramah (1 Samuel 9) during the period when the priesthood centered at Shiloh had collapsed and the Ark and Tabernacle were no longer together. David also built several altars during this time, including an altar on the threshing floor of Araunah (2 Samuel 24) where Solomon would later build the Temple.

Finally, Solomon offered sacrifices at the high place of Gibeon. In Solomon’s case the text seems to excuse the practice by stating, “[T]here was no house built for the name of the Lord.” (1 Kings 3) This seems to suggest that it was a transitional time.

Not a Hard and Fast Rule

Though God had told them to “seek the place the Lord your God will choose from among all your tribes to put his Name there for his dwelling,” it didn’t seem to be a hard and fast rule after they entered the Promised Land the Temple was built.

Perhaps, this is because the issue wasn’t locational, but a matter of the heart. With “high places” for pagan worship scattered throughout the land, it was too tempting for God’s people to mix worship of Yahweh with pagan practices or outright idolatry.

After the Temple was built in Jerusalem, continuing to worship at local high places was usually viewed as disobedience to God’s command. That is why the books of Kings repeatedly evaluate rulers with statements like: “Nevertheless, the high places were not removed.” Even kings who were otherwise faithful often failed this test. Once the Temple was dedicated, the transitional period ended. From then on, the high places became symbols of covenant unfaithfulness.

The clearest passage on this theme is Deuteronomy 12, which does not merely forbid worshiping other gods on the high places—it forbids Israel from worshiping the LORD wherever they choose. They were to worship only at the place God chooses.

Notice the contrast:

  • First, Israel is commanded to destroy the Canaanite places of worship: “You shall surely destroy all the places where the nations… served their gods, on the high mountains and on the hills and under every green tree.” (Deut. 12:2)
  • Then comes the key command: “You shall not worship the LORD your God in that way.” (Deut. 12:4)
  • We are to approach God on His terms: “But you shall seek the place that the LORD your God will choose… there you shall bring your burnt offerings and your sacrifices…” (Deut. 12:5–14)

This theme is repeated. Deuteronomy 16:21–22 forbids setting up sacred poles or standing stones alongside the LORD’s altar, practices commonly associated with high places. Deuteronomy 17:3–9 requires sacrifices to be brought to the tabernacle rather than offered wherever people wish. Deuteronomy 17:9–11 condemns Israel because they “built for themselves high places… and there they burned incense on all the high places.”

The point is not merely, “Don’t worship idols.” It is, “Don’t worship the LORD according to the pattern of the nations or at places you choose yourself.” In other words: the people can only worship and honor God properly on God’s terms – not on their own terms. God is God, and we are not.

The Spirit of the Law

This is the interesting part. Before the temple was built, there were periods when Israel lacked a single permanent sanctuary. During the days of Samuel and even early in the reign of Solomon, sacrifices at places like Gibeon were tolerated because that was where the tabernacle and bronze altar were located (1 Kings 3:2–4). The author of Kings even explains:, “The people were sacrificing at the high places because no house had yet been built for the name of the LORD.”


Once the Temple in Jerusalem was established as the place God had chosen, however, continuing to worship at local high places became an act of disobedience. That is why the historian repeatedly criticizes otherwise good kings by saying, “The high places were not removed.”

King kneeling on a prayer rug in front of an ancient temple altar with rising smoke

Deuteronomy is teaching that true worship is defined not by human sincerity or convenience, but by God’s initiative. The temptation of the high places was to approach God on one’s own terms—at a place of one’s own choosing, often borrowing from the belief systems and practices of the surrounding culture.

The prophets continually call Israel back to worship that is shaped by God’s word rather than by human preference. This theme reaches its fulfillment in the New Testament, where worship is no longer centered on a geographic sanctuary but on Jesus, through the Holy Spirit, who becomes the true meeting “place” between God and humanity (see John 2:19–21 and 4:21–24).

Continue reading “Idolatry, the High Places, and the Modern Believer”

Acknowledging and Honoring God’s Purposes for People from All Nations

Solomon’s prayer for foreigners who come from distant lands

King kneeling on a prayer rug in front of an ancient temple altar with rising smoke

When King Solomon completed the Temple for God in Israel that David committed to build, he praised God for being true to His promise, for bringing His people out of Egypt, for choosing them to dwell among, and to have a Temple dedicated to Him in the City of David – Jerusalem. (2 Chronicles 6:1-11) He said,


Lord God of Israel, there is no God like you in heaven or on earth – you who keep your covenant of love with your servants who continue wholeheartedly in your way.”

2 Chronicles 6:14 (NIV)


At the same time, Solomon acknowledged that not even the highest heavens can contain God – much less a temple built by human hands. (v.18) Our God is the Lord over all the earth, and He made a covenant with Abraham to bless all the nations of the earth.

Solomon petitioned God to hear the prayers of the people of Israel (vv.19-21), to remember them when they repent for failing to love their neighbors, to judge those who are guilty and vindicate the innocent are wrongfully accused, and to forgive them when they repent of their sin, to “teach them the right way to live,” and to fear the Lord and walk in obedience. (vv. 22-31) Strikingly, Solomon included foreigners in his prayers:


As for the foreigner who does not belong to your people Israel but has come from a distant land because of your great name and your mighty hand and your outstretched arm—when they come and pray toward this temple, then hear from heaven, your dwelling place. Do whatever the foreigner asks of you, so that all the peoples of the earth may know your name and fear you, as do your own people Israel, and may know that this house I have built bears your Name.

2 Chronicles 6:32-33


Solomon was mindful not just of the people of Israel; he was mindful of foreigners “who come from a distant land” because of God – asking God to do for them what they ask. He did this “so that all the peoples of the earth may know your name and fear you.” In doing this, Solomon remembered and honored God’s great promise to Abraham to bless all the nations through his descendants.

Let us remember and honor this promise of God today in our own land and in our own lives. God is no respecter of persons – or nations – who do not align themselves with and live out the promises and global purposes of God. Just as God promised judgment and and hardship for the ancient nation of Israel if they failed to live out their own covenant promises to God, He is and will be true to that promise for His people today – wherever they are scattered around the earth.

We are blessed when we are not just hearers of His word, but only if we are doers of His word. (James 1:22-25) God does not describe exactly how we do that. We need the guidance of His Holy Spirit to discern how to live this out in the 21st Century where we live. If we want to blessed by God and faithful to Him, however, we cannot ignore these things.

I pray that we will lean into God’s great covenant promise to all the nations of the world to live out His purposes and intentions to attract all people to Himself. May we learn to follow the prompting of the Holy Spirit in our own lives acknowledge and honor God in this way in our daily lives, individually and corporately, as the people of God.

Acknowledging God for His Faithfulness

God’s faithfulness is new every morning

Solar system planets orbiting the sun with multiple galaxies in the background.

I am reminded often that God’s faithfulness is new every morning, and God’s faithfulness is the subject of my inspiration today. I am going to start my meditation with the Euthyphro dilemma – a strange place to begin, maybe, but it sets the stage for some thoughts I have on faithfulness.

The Euthyphro dilemma poses a seeming conundrum: Is God good because He determines what is good as a matter of fiat, or is God good because goodness is objectively required of God just as it is required of us? In other words, does God arbitrarily establish what is good, or is God subject to what is good?

Of course, this is a false conundrum. It assumes there are only two possibilities: that God arbitrarily establishes what is good or that God is subject to what is good.

There is at least a third possibility—that good is determined by the very nature of God. Good is simply a description of who God is. Faithfulness is good because God is faithful, and the virtue of faithfulness is a reflection of God’s very character.

If we take the Bible for our revelation of God, His faithfulness always is, always was, and always will be. It’s not as if God actually trots out a new dose of faithfulness every morning. The saying is poeti:c that God’s faithfulness is new every morning. We experience God’s faithfulness anew every morning.

It dawns on me, though it shouldn’t come as any revelation, that God desires us to be like Him. As our Father, He is proud of and appreciates when His children emulate Him. Just like the child who is proud of her father and wants to be like him, pretends to be him in play because she loves him and honors him in her heart, we are grateful for God’s faithfulness, and we seek to be faithful like Him.

If God is faithful and His faithfulness is new to us every morning, as the psalmist says, then we should desire to be like Him in faithfulness in our own lives. We should desire to be like him in this way.

I am aware that the virtue of faithfulness isn’t the most exciting virtue we could adopt. Faithfulness, perhaps, doesn’t get the kind of attention that faith, hope, and love get, for instance. But where would we be without the faithfulness of God, who gives His word and keeps His promise? Whose yes is yes and no is no. Where would we be if His faithfulness was not new every morning? If we could not count on His grace? If we were uncertain that God would keep His promise to us?

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Finding Hope in Death: Lessons from Ecclesiastes, Shakespeare, Pascal, and C.S. Lewis

What the inevitability of death and our response to its inescapable grasp suggests

Man in historical attire writing Shakespearean sonnet with quill and candle

I have been listening to Pensées by Blaise Pascal, who has become a favorite philosopher, theologian, and thinker for me. I resonate with his sentiments about reason and intuition in particular. He was brilliant in science, mathematics, and theology – way ahead of his time. He lived during the initial headwind of the Enlightenment. He was a contemporary of René Descartes, yet he was able to remain objective. He wasn’t swept up in the current of the Enlightenment. He managed to remain aloof from it.

I am inspired to think of death today from my reading of Pensées. Death is the great equalizer. It will come to all of us. The longest-lived among human beings may live to be 110. Most of us will not see 100 … or even 90; and many of us will not see 80 or 70 or even 60. Try as we might, we do not control our fate. We will die, and that reality is inescapable.

Pascal talks about the people who distract themselves from the reality of death. I suppose it’s natural to want to ignore something that is as grim as death. We can’t add a day to our lives by worrying and being anxious about it. Yet, anxiety about death is also natural for the same reason – we dread it, but we can’t avoid it.

I imagine that my cat has never thought a day in its life about the fact that it will die, but I have rationality, consciousness, and awareness of myself that my cat does not seem to have, certainly not in the same measure. To the extent that we have that ability, it seems to me that ignoring the reality death that we can certainly grasp is to be something less than human. To ignore the reality of death is, therefore, beneath us. It denies the qualitative difference between us and other animals.

The proverbial deer standing frozen in the headlights of a hurtling vehicle has little idea of the imminent impact those headlights impend. Like the deer we might shut our minds off in the grim headlights of death … but we know better. The deer doesn’t know any better.

Not that we should have any pride in the fact that we have greater capacity than the other animals. It wasn’t anything we did. It simply is what it is.

Thus, to live into our capacity seems only fitting. Our anxiety about death is fitting for creatures with rationality, consciousness, and awareness of themselves.

I was first impressed about this humanly poignant characteristic – preoccupation with death – in college as an English Literature major. Death was the subject of many a novel, sonnet, and other forms of literature. Death is a common theme across the literary ages. The desire to escape the inevitability of death runs strong in creative and artistic minds living into the fullness of what it means to be human.

It was in a class on William Shakespeare, focusing on the sonnets, that the reality of the creative preoccupation about death crept into my own awareness. In that same time period, I must have been reading Ecclesiastes, because I associate Ecclesiastes 3:11 with that time in my life. Indeed, it has become my favorite verse in the Bible:


For God has made everything beautiful in its time, and eternity has been set in the heart of man, but not so that he could see the beginning from the end.”


We do live in a world full of beauty, even if the world is also full of pain, struggle, and anxiety. The contrast between beauty and the ugliness of pain and death does not escape us. Ultimately, these things are painful reminders of our own finitude that we would rather not face.

To put it in biblical fashion, the reality is that we are like a mist. We are like a flower that blooms one day and dies the next. Like the writer of Ecclesiastes said, “Everything is meaningless” in a world like that.

In that sense, we are no better off than the animals. From dust we were born and to dust we will return. We end up in the ground just like they do.

Everything that we accomplish fades into other people’s memories when we die. Most if not all of those memories will long be forgotten in a few generations. The things we accumulate that do not rust or rot while we live will be left to rust or rot for someone else. In more modern, poetic terms, no one tows a Cadillac to the grave.

And yet, the very fact that we wrestle with the poignance of death is something that arouses hope. This was the realization I made in that class on Shakespeare.

Why do we even care? Why does it even enter our mind to be anxious about it? Why aren’t we, like my cat or a deer in the headlights, clueless about it? The fact that we think about it and long for a different reality suggests the possibility of such a reality.

Continue reading “Finding Hope in Death: Lessons from Ecclesiastes, Shakespeare, Pascal, and C.S. Lewis”

The Missional, “Migrational” Nature of Faith

The migratory existence of God’s people in the missional progression of the Bible

Traveler walking on winding desert path toward floating city at sunset with glowing skyscrapers

Lesslie Newbigin says that scripture is missional. Among other things, that means Scripture has a movement to it. It begins with two people, Adam and Eve, who initially walk with God in the garden created for them, but they are naive. They are duped into not trusting God. They are exiled from the garden and are instructed to multiply and populate the earth.

Scripture tracks the story of God’s plan to redeem Adam and Eve. It progresses through God’s interaction with their children, their children’s children, and their descendants along a missional path.

God works through Noah, Abraham, and Moses to move his plans along. All the milestones along the path are missional in the direction of God’s established before the foundations of the earth.

They coalesce in the incarnation, where Jesus picks up all the missional threads, fulfilling them in himself and carrying them forward in his life. He proclaims the presence and the future coming of the kingdom of God. He gives himself up to death, and he rises again to defeat sin and death. Jesus takes his seat at the right hand of the Father after commissioning his followers to carry his message and to the ends of the earth as his ambassadors.

From the promise to Eve that her seed will crush the serpent, to the rainbow covenant to Noah, to promise to Abraham to bless all the nations of the earth through his descendants, the missional progression of God’s plan in Revelation: in the New Jerusalem coming down out of heaven and in God establishing His habitation among His people in a new heavens and new earth.

In that final chapter in which God’s plans come to fruition, all God’s people are gathered in one great assembly of people. They are from every nation, tribe, and tongue. (Rev. 7:9)

In this progression, God doesn’t move; people do. God doesn’t change; people do. The mission doesn’t change from beginning to end, but people change in relation to their understanding and involvement as the mission unfolds.

Another way of characterizing the missional character of Scripture from beginning to end is with the word, migration. Scripture is about the migration of people from the garden to the New Jerusalem.

Continue reading “The Missional, “Migrational” Nature of Faith”