The Wrong Stone

One of the things I find myself working on, almost every day, is learning to let go of my pride. It is something that has been in me for a long time and it does not leave easily. There is always that subtle pull, those quiet thoughts that make me feel like I know better, a sense of entitlement that rises within without much effort.

I can think of moments where I have listened to someone speak and, thought to myself that they did not really understand what they were talking about. It came from a place where I felt I knew better. And yet, I would come across someone who clearly saw things more deeply than I did, and I would find myself humbled.

Over time, something has been changing in me. I have been learning to slow down, to listen more, and to speak less. I have also begun to realize that everyone is on their own journey with God. My walk may have brought me to a certain place, but someone else may be ahead of me, or just beginning, or walking a path that I may not fully understand.

As I was reading 1 Kings 1, I could not help but notice a similar pattern, though in a very different setting. Adonijah steps into the story with a desire to become king. And in many ways, his actions begin to resemble those of his brother Absalom. There is a familiar movement, something rising from within, a sense of taking hold rather than waiting to receive.

David is now growing old, and while much of the attention is on his condition, something quieter is unfolding in the background. Adonijah begins to position himself.

And it made me pause.

Why did he do this?

At first glance, it almost feels understandable. With the older brothers no longer in the picture, he appears next in line. From a human perspective, it seems reasonable. But then again, God’s ways rarely follow what appears obvious.

As I kept reading, I came across a small detail that seemed easy to miss, yet it explained so much. It says in 1 Kings 1:6 that David had never really corrected him. And I found myself thinking about that.

What happens to a life that grows without correction? If I look at my own journey, I know that some of the most shaping moments came through correction, even when I resisted it. Without it, I can easily imagine pride taking deeper root without being challenged.

And perhaps that is what we are seeing here. Not just a moment of opportunity, but a life that had been forming in a certain direction for a long time. When pride is not addressed, it does not remain small. It grows quietly, and over time it begins to look like entitlement. A belief that something is already mine, even before it is given. And when that belief settles in, actions begin to follow.

Adonijah does not go to his father. He does not seek God. Instead, he begins to establish himself. He gathers people, prepares chariots and horses, and surrounds himself with those who seem influential.

On the surface, everything appears convincing.

But then there is one detail that begins to reveal something deeper.

He offers sacrifices but not in the place where God had established His presence but goes to the stone of Zoheleth. The name itself is interesting. Zoheleth carries the sense of something that crawls, often associated with the serpent. It reflects something subtle, something that moves low and quietly, something that is not immediately obvious.

And somehow, that feels fitting because what is happening here is not loud rebellion but subtle misalignment. Adonijah is not alone. Joab is with him, the commander of the army. Abiathar the priest is also there. From the outside, it looks structured, supported, even spiritual.

And yet, something is missing.

Now if you look at Solomon’s anointing, the contrast becomes clearer.

Solomon is not self-appointed. He is placed on the king’s mule and taken to Gihon, a place of flowing water. And with him are people who carry not just influence, but alignment. Zadok the priestm, Benaiah the commander and Nathan the prophet is there.

That detail is important.

Because Nathan represents something more than position. He represents the counsel of God.

And that is what Adonijah did not have. He had support but he did not have God’s counsel and slowly, the picture becomes clearer.

This is not just a story about succession. It is a story about alignment. One chose a place that looked right. The other moved in a way that was directed by God.

And that is where this began to feel personal for me.

Because it is possible to move forward, to gather people, to even do something that looks right, and still not be aligned with God. Perhaps that is where pride quietly leads us, not always into obvious error, but into subtle misalignment.

I was reminded of how easily something can begin in the wrong place, not because it looks wrong, but because it was never sought from God.

And maybe that is the deeper reflection here. It is not only about what we are doing but about what has been shaping us quietly before we act, because in the end, it is not just about offering something to God. It is about whether it comes from alignment, or from self.

And so I find myself asking a simple question.

Am I allowing God to shape me, even through correction, so that when the moment comes, I do not choose the wrong place to stand? We often say that pride comes before a fall, but perhaps it begins much earlier, in the quiet moments where correction is ignored.