EPISODE 2: The Chariot Charge

2 Kings 9:14–26

Two kings stood in his path. By nightfall, both were dead.

The rebellion didn’t start with a sword.

It started with silence.

Jehu didn’t tell his men the full prophecy. He didn’t need to. The oil on his face said enough. They followed him because they feared him—or because they feared what might happen if they didn’t.

That same day, Jehu mounted his chariot and turned toward Jezreel.

He didn’t take the full army. Just a few trusted men. The rest would join later—if he lived long enough to seize the throne.

Joram, king of Israel, was still there, recovering from wounds. Ahaziah, the king of Judah—his nephew—had come to visit. Two kings. One city. One prophecy about to come true.

A watchman spotted the dust cloud first.

He called from the tower, “I see a company coming!”

Joram sent a rider on horseback. “Go meet them. Ask if they come in peace.”

The horseman galloped down the hill. But when he reached Jehu, he didn’t return.

A second rider was sent. Same result.

The watchman squinted. “The driving is reckless,” he said. “It looks like Jehu, son of Nimshi. He drives like a madman.”

Joram stiffened. He knew Jehu’s reputation.

Still weak, he ordered his chariot anyway. Ahaziah followed.

They met Jehu in the field—the very same field that once belonged to Naboth, the innocent man Jezebel had murdered for his vineyard.

Joram called out, “Jehu—do you come in peace?”

Jehu didn’t lie.

“How can there be peace,” he shouted, “as long as your mother Jezebel lives—with her witchcraft and her countless betrayals?”

Joram’s eyes went wide.

Treason.

He yanked the reins and shouted to Ahaziah, “Run!”

But it was already too late.

Jehu pulled his bow.

The arrow struck Joram between the shoulders and tore through his chest. He collapsed in the chariot, lifeless.

Jehu turned to his captain. “Throw him into the field. It’s the same land Ahab stole.”

And they did—tossing the dead king into the dirt like garbage.

Then Jehu turned to pursue Ahaziah.

The king of Judah fled fast—but he didn’t get far. He was wounded at a mountain pass and later died hiding in Megiddo.

By nightfall, two kings were dead.

And not one drop of mercy had fallen.