There’s something deeply human about the story in 2 Kings 12:1–17.

In this passage, we meet Jehoash (also called Joash), a king who began his reign as a child and “did what was right in the eyes of the Lord” — but the text adds a telling detail: he did so as long as Jehoiada instructed him.

That small phrase feels like it holds an entire spiritual lesson.

Jehoash’s early years were shaped by good guidance. Under Jehoiada’s influence, he set out to repair the temple — to restore what had been neglected and damaged. I can’t help but see that temple as a metaphor for our own inner life. Over time, things crack. Priorities shift. Devotion fades. Good intentions get buried under busyness. The work of repair always waits for us.

What stands out is that the repairs don’’t happen automatically. The money meant for restoration wasn’t being used properly at first. There was delay, mismanagement, drift. That feels painfully familiar. How often do I intend to “work on myself,” to strengthen my faith, to deepen my relationships — and then life just… absorbs the energy? The temple remains standing, but in need of care.

So Jehoash changes the system. A chest is set up. The people give willingly. The funds are used transparently. There’s accountability and shared responsibility. That speaks to the practical side of our spiritual journey: growth rarely happens by accident. It needs structure. Intention. Sometimes even new systems to replace the ones that aren’t working.

But the passage also carries a quiet caution. Later in Jehoash’s life (beyond this section), when Jehoiada is gone, his faithfulness wavers. It’s a reminder that borrowed conviction can only carry us so far. Mentors are a gift. Teachers are a gift. Community is a gift. But at some point, our walk has to become personal. Our integrity has to stand even when the guiding voice is no longer beside us.

For me, this passage asks two gentle but piercing questions:

What in my “temple” needs repair right now? And is my commitment sustained by someone else’s influence — or rooted deeply enough to endure on its own?

The beauty of the story is that restoration is possible. Neglect doesn’t have to be the final chapter. With honesty, structure, and willing hearts, what’s been worn down can be strengthened again.

And that feels hopeful.