Uzziah was showing the most dangerous kind of pride – a pride wrapped up under the guise of religious service.
There was an ancient tradition in the Roman Empire. When a general returned victoriously from battle, the citizens of Rome would parade him through the streets with great fanfare. But during this general's victory parade, there would be a slave riding alongside the general in his chariot. This slave had one job during the celebration. He was to keep whispering this Latin phrase into the general's ear: Memento mori. The phrase means, "Remember, you will die."
What a juxtaposition! At the greatest point of the general's life, he would have a lowly slave whisper a reminder of his ultimate doom into his ear. Why would a general allow such a thing? Because most Roman generals understood they needed to stay humble. Perhaps no phrase gets that point across better than the one whispered in the general's ear: Memento mori.
That phrase has been ringing in our ears during our Lenten journey through the tombs of the kings of Judah. King Asa was buried in a tomb he built for himself and we were reminded: Memento mori. Faithful Jehoshaphat was buried with his ancestors in the tombs, and yet for all the good he did, he wasn't perfect, and the words came again: Memento mori. When we peered in at Jehoiada, the only man not of royalty to be buried among the descendants of David, the whisper rang true: Memento mori.
King Solomon, the ancestor of these Judean kings, was no Roman. But his warning was just as clear: "Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit precedes a fall" (Prov. 16:18).
If only King Uzziah had a slave whispering that phrase into his ear! Like a victorious Roman general, King Uzziah started out with such promise. As long as he remained faithful to God, he had success. But sadly, Uzziah didn't always seek the Lord. God's Word even uses that age-old proverb to describe Uzziah: "When he had grown powerful, the pride in his heart led to his destruction" (2 Chron. 26:16).
At the height of his power and success, King Uzziah came up with an idea. He wanted to burn incense in the temple of the Lord. How could burning incense ever be a bad thing? King Uzziah simply wanted to show that his devotion to God went beyond his predecessors. But beneath this idea, something dangerous lurked: pride. Uzziah was showing the most dangerous kind of pride – a pride wrapped up under the guise of religious service.
The priests followed their King into the temple. This confrontation would not be easy. After all, who wants to show a king his sin? No wonder God's Word describes these priests as "courageous." They would need to be.
Entering the temple, those brave priests told the King that it was not lawful for him to do the work prescribed for the priests. King Uzziah wasn't allowed to burn incense. Now, he burned with anger. He raged against the priests right there in the temple. But amid his angry tirade, something happened to the kind. Leprosy broke out on his forehead. A leper now stood in the Lord's temple!
All of a sudden, the King's disposition changed considerably. Now, the King, who was so eager to raid the temple and carry out the duties of a priest, was eager to leave. He knew the Lord had given him this leprosy.
King Uzziah's pride led to his downfall—and what a fall it was. In minutes, he had gone from the powerful King of Judah to a lowly leper.
The religious leaders of Jesus' day had pride like Uzziah. They jealously desired to maintain their positions of power. When Jesus used the law to show them their sins, it became too much for these prideful men to bear. Then, when Jesus told them who he really was, the Son of God, they arrogantly refused to listen.
Pride remains a dangerous temptation for us, too. By nature, we are turned in upon ourselves. Instead of humbly serving, we want to serve in our time and on our terms. Pretty soon, we're thinking so much about ourselves that we forget why we are serving at all.
But God's Word serves as the slave riding in our chariot of pride, whispering in our ears: Memento mori. Remember, because of your sins, you will die.
Do you know why a victorious Roman general would choose a slave to remind him he will die? The slave served as a stark reminder that death is the great equalizer. Whether you are the emperor, a general, or a lowly slave, you will face death.
As our King of kings, Jesus took the role of the lowest of slaves. He died the death of the worst of criminals.
Uzziah's pride had gotten the best of him. He thought he could enter the temple and serve as a priest of the Lord as well. Uzziah couldn't. But another King did. This King was able to accomplish the work of a high priest. That King is Jesus. As our King of kings, Jesus took the role of the lowest of slaves. He died the death of the worst of criminals. And as our Great High Priest, he became the sacrificial lamb who took away the sins of the world.
Pride continues to be a temptation we all struggle with. It stalks us, lying in wait to overtake us and lead us down the path of self-destruction. But when the Lord grants us success, when he gives us victory, he reminds us not to look inward. He points us heavenward.
Our Lenten stroll through the tombs of the kings of Judah has certainly reminded us of that age-old phrase: Memento mori. We cannot help but remember that we will one day die. King Uzziah never recovered from his leprosy. He was forced to quarantine himself from the rest of his kingdom. His final resting place isn't among the tombs of the rest of the kings of Judah. Because he was a leper, Uzziah was buried in the field of the kings. Even in death, he had to be separated.
But there is another reminder our Lord gives us. It's another Latin phrase, but it doesn't come from the Romans. It comes from Christ. The phrase is Memento vivere. It means, "Remember, you will live." Because of your Savior Jesus, you will live forever.
"For you save humble people, but you bring low the eyes of the arrogant. Yes, you light my lamp, O Lord. My God turns my darkness to light" (Ps. 18:27-28).
