To the dutiful Bible reader, Chronicles might sound a bit baffling. As we read, we would find ourselves wondering, Haven’t I read this before? The short answer is yes and no .
The books of 1 and a couple of Chronicles retell among the same stories of Israel and Judah that appear within the books of Samuel and Kings. But the chronicler also offers a fresh perspective on those years by incorporating latest material and leaving other stories aside. His decision about what to maintain and what so as to add just isn’t arbitrary but intentional. And if we’re being attentive, we are going to find that the chronicler has a definite message that we are able to learn from today.
First, only 50 percent of Chronicles is repeated material from Samuel and Kings. On the one hand, that’s loads of overlap. But on the opposite, that also signifies that half of Chronicles is brand latest material. Which means we cannot afford to overlook it!
And while the content of Chronicles overlaps with previous material, it emerged over 100 years later—giving the chronicler the good thing about hindsight and the chance to handle a latest set of challenges for his generation. The people of Judah had just returned from exile and were facing the large task of rebuilding the temple of Yahweh in Jerusalem, which King Nebuchadnezzar had destroyed. This task profoundly shapes the backdrop to the books of Chronicles.
If you set Chronicles side-by-side with Samuel and Kings, you’ll find that the brand new material focuses on two primary topics: David and the temple. The chronicler spends time beyond regulation on the genealogy of David’s family and the main points of David’s legacy. And although Kings focuses on the northern kingdom of Israel, Chronicles highlights the southern kingdom of Judah, where David’s descendants reigned.
Likewise, the chronicler adds bonus content in regards to the temple. We examine David’s preparation of constructing materials and more details about Solomon’s constructing process and dedication. The chronicler also tells us about five distinct temple renovation projects spanning a whole lot of years. We hear the prayers of assorted kings on the temple and discover which of the Levites is assigned to which temple-related tasks.
These two essential themes—David and the temple—are evident from the start of the book within the genealogies listed. Now, it’s comprehensible to feel like skimming the nine chapters of genealogy that open the book. But when you do, it’s possible you’ll miss out on significant clues about what details matter to the chronicler and why.
Despite their length, the genealogies don’t offer an even-handed and exhaustive account of all 12 tribes of Israel. Rather, they focus especially on (you guessed it!) the family of David and the tribe of Levi, since their descendants were those primarily called to serve within the temple.
Another thing you would possibly notice when you compare Chronicles to Samuel and is that the chronicler leaves out a lot of the unflattering stories about David.
In Chronicles, David doesn’t reap the benefits of Bathsheba, nor does he lose his grip on his sons. It’s not that the chronicler is unaware of David’s failures; clearly, he has Samuel in front of him as he writes, since so many stories are taken from it verbatim. But, for essentially the most part, the stories of David’s struggles simply don’t advance the chronicler’s purpose—with one exception. Since it’s the exception that proves the rule, let’s take a more in-depth take a look at it.
Given the otherwise squeaky clean portrait of David in Chronicles, it’s surprising that the chronicler includes the story of David’s ill-advised census, when he ordered his commander to register their fighting men. His failure to trust God’s protection resulted in disastrous consequences for the nation.
To understand why this story appears in 1 Chronicles 21, we must pay close attention to the results for David’s actions. David had called for a military census against the recommendation of his commander, Joab. The exercise was each a flex of David’s power and a failure of trust in God’s protection. But soon after the numbers got here in, David realized he had sinned and prayed for forgiveness.
In response, God allowed David to decide on his own consequence from three options: “three years of famine, three months of being swept away before your enemies … or three days of the sword of the Lord—days of plague within the land, with the angel of the Lord ravaging every a part of Israel” (1 Chron. 21:12). David selected the last option, deciding to place himself and the dominion into God’s hands.
The plague was indeed devastating, with many unnecessary deaths as a consequence of David’s folly. But amid the judgment, Yahweh showed compassion on the nation by stopping his angel from destroying more people—in a moment strikingly just like the one on Mount Moriah, when Abraham was about to kill his son Isaac and the Lord called for him to stop (Gen. 22:9–14). The narrator also tells us exactly where the angel of the Lord was when the plague stopped in its tracks— “standing on the threshing floor of Araunah the Jebusite” (1 Chron. 21:15).
This location is of paramount importance to the general plot of the book. The threshing floor was where people would process their grain harvests by dragging heavy equipment over the stalks of wheat to separate the grain from the straw. When possible, they carried out this work on hilltops so the wind could blow away the chaff, leaving only the nutrient-rich grain behind.
So, David bought this prime hilltop threshing floor from the Jebusite, constructing an altar there to supply burnt offerings and fellowship offerings, to revive fellowship with Yahweh and thank him for his mercy. Remarkably, “the Lord answered him with fire from heaven on the altar of burnt offering” (1 Chron. 21:26)—a dramatic response echoing the time the tabernacle was built (Lev. 9:24). David logically concluded that this is able to be the proper place to construct the temple, saying, “The house of the Lord God is to be here, and in addition the altar of burnt offering for Israel” (1 Chron. 22:1). But, as you would possibly remember, it was not David but his son who would take up this task.
The chronicler eventually draws these threads together in a dramatic flourish in 2 Chronicles: “Then Solomon began to construct the temple of the Lord in Jerusalem on Mount Moriah, where the Lord had appeared to his father David. It was on the threshing floor of Araunah the Jebusite, the place provided by David” (3:1)—where God showed mercy to David by sparing the Israelites and the very spot where God likewise spared Isaac. The chronicler doesn’t want us to miss this!
Why tell this unflattering story about David in a book that provides an otherwise positive picture of him? The census debacle is crucial since it ultimately results in establishing the placement of Solomon’s temple, which is the opposite key theme of the book. In this very place, God showed mercy to the Israelites and provided dramatic evidence of his presence and blessing.
The chronicler desired to underscore for his own generation the importance of rebuilding the temple and regathering those called to serve in it, who were just starting over after returning to the land. They desperately needed a way of continuity with the past and a few reassurance that God’s presence would grace their community once more. And if we skip over the books of Chronicles, assuming they’re on “repeat,” we may miss God’s call to our own generation to prioritize temple-building.
We face the same task today: How can the church rebuild after a worldwide pandemic? How can we be restored after so many public scandals and deep divisions? Yet our generation’s task just isn’t to rebuild a physical temple but to lean into our collective identity because the body of Christ. Especially within the West, where expressive individualism is so valued, the book of Chronicles offers a much-needed corrective. It’s not about me, it’s in regards to the people of God doing the work of God on the planet. And by underscoring our shared mission, we are able to rediscover our sense of purpose.
“Consequently, you aren’t any longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow residents with God’s people and in addition members of his household, built on the muse of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself because the chief cornerstone,” wrote the apostle Paul. “In him the entire constructing is joined together and rises to develop into a holy temple within the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to develop into a dwelling wherein God lives by his Spirit” (Eph. 2:19–22).
This just isn’t a solo project. As Paul and Sosthenes say elsewhere, “Don’t you recognize that you simply yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in your midst?” (1 Cor. 3:16). The yous listed here are all plural: “Don’t y’all know that y ’all are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells within the midst of all y’all?” No one goes on an architectural tour to admire a single brick, but as a substitute to face in awe of buildings made up of a whole lot of 1000’s of well-placed bricks.
For us today, temple-building involves meeting together commonly, looking for God together, learning to like each other well, and discovering the best way to honor God together in our generation. No individual can show the fullness of God’s glory to a watching world alone. Rebuilding God’s home is a bunch project—and all of us need one another.
Carmen Joy Imes is associate professor of Old Testament at Biola University and writer of Bearing God’s Name and Being God’s Image. She’s currently writing her next book, Becoming God’s Family: Why the Church Still Matters.
