Go Up, You Baldhead

Dear God,

You see, there are stories in the Scripture that are not polite at all. They barge into your mind-space like that “I-pass-my-neighbour generator, loud, smoky, uncomfortable, and refusing to be ignored. One of such stories is that curious, almost scandalous moment involving Elisha, a group of noisy youths, and, of all things, two bears who clearly did not come to negotiate peace.

I have thought about this story since my childhood, and no one seems to know the right answers to the questions I carry in my heart, so let me bring it back to you. Why would you allow Elisha to use the power he has just been given to annihilate young children instead of blessing them? I remember asking my Parish priest this question when I was in primary school and instead of answering the question, he asked me to pray the Rosary 5-times as penance for asking. What did I do wrong?

Dad, no, no don’t look at me like that, let me relate the story again so you have my perspective.

Elisha had just stepped into Elijah’s big shoes. Not ordinary sandals, mind you, these were the prophetic sandals of Elijah, a man who didn’t exactly leave quietly. Fire had escorted him out of the earth like a VIP convoy. So, the atmosphere was already charged. Authority had shifted. The spiritual air was tense., power has changed hands. So, he had the charged anointing to bless and transform the world. And he carried all that heavy anointing into Bethel.

Not just any city. Bethel was that one place where reverence had been replaced with rebellion. Think of it as the headquarters of spiritual opposition. The kind of place where truth walks in as an underdog. But then again, isn’t that the right place to carry heavy anointing into? Isn’t that a place where if he raises his hand everyone will fall under anointing? But what did he do?

As he was walking (still swagging under the weight of succession, still adjusting to the responsibility Elijah left behind), suddenly, a group appears. Not toddlers with juice boxes. No. Young men, those loud, uncoordinated, intentional bullies that hang around corners. They started mocking him….

“Go up, you baldhead!”

Dad, I have read that verse so many times trying to understand what that even means? The only word I see there that looks remotely like an insult is “baldhead”. Growing up, we were subject matter experts at using mocking words to name people. Every teacher had a tag-name. Our maths teacher was “DxDy”, English teacher was “Dexterity”, French teacher was “Quesquece?”, Gamemaster was “Monkey face”, Principal was “baldhead”, Econs Teacher was “Pinocchio” ……just name it.

Those were playground banters that we aimed at authorities to get back. We didn’t mean it that much. Sometimes some of the teachers find it funny (though some didn’t), so I always wondered why Elisha took his too seriously.

“Go up, you baldhead” ……. And something in Elisha snapped. He turned and cursed them in the name of God. And then… nature itself stood up. Two bears, not one…… Two. And before anyone could say, “Jack”, things escalated quickly,” forty-two of them were gone. Forty-two, Dad. Not two. Not five. Forty-two. Mauled to death.

Now, my Lord… may I politely ask you……..:

Couldn’t Elisha have preached? Couldn’t he have paused, gathered them, and said, “My sons, let us reason together”? Couldn’t this have been a revival instead of a reckoning? And guess what? He used your name! He cursed in your name…Man of God oh!

And here is where it gets very uncomfortable for me, because we usually like our prophets’ gentle and our judgments delayed. But then again, heaven does not always have human public relations manager, abi?

You see, what happened that day was not just about boys and bears. It was about authority, divine authority, being publicly desecrated and power being misused.

Dad, I am not here to defend the boys…. they didn’t pay me enough to be their lawyer. Neither am I here to judge Elisha, I cannot touch God’s anointed. However, I want to walk us carefully into what is happening to anointings today.

Because if we are honest, Bethel did not die. It just relocated to Africa. It is in our pulpits. It is in our congregations. It is in our WhatsApp groups where pastors are reduced to memes and spiritual authority is dragged like a stubborn suitcase.

But here is the twist, today’s clergy practically behave like Elisha. Some have traded their mantles of worship for entrepreneurship. Some wield “thus says the Lord” like a weapon instead of a rhema.

In a different twist, the youth are questioning everything about divinity. Calling out priesthood with reckless disregard. And suddenly, the question flips.

Dad, if you defended your authority so fiercely then… why does it seem like you are silent now? Why are you not raining down bears on people that are currently desecrating your altars? Why no dramatic interruptions when divine authority is misused, manipulated, or monetized?

Ah. You are rolling you eyes……… Okay.

Maybe you should bring back the days of the old prophets again. In Elisha’s day, the prophetic office was established in raw, visible terms. There was no ambiguity. When God’s prophet speaks, God speaks.” And that was stamped, decisively.

But today? We are in a different dispensation. One where grace stretches longer than our patience and judgment often walk… slowly. Painfully slowly. Sometimes too slowly for our liking.

But do not be deceived, God’s silence is not approval. God’s restraint is not weakness. It is strategy. Because if bears were still roaming for every misuse of divine authority today… well, many pulpits would need security fencing. And some congregations too.

You see, every time I read that story, I ask, “Why was God so harsh then?” But perhaps the more piercing question should be: “Why is God so patient with us now?”

Because today, it is not just prophets being mocked. It is God being misrepresented. And the authorities of the clergy are no longer just challenged; they are commercialized in social media. And yet, no bears. No sudden mauling of bodies. Just silence.

And for me, the deeper wisdom hiding in this unsettling story is that God defends His authority, but He also tests what we do with it. Our collective responsibility is to defend and steward the divine order responsibly. Because power, especially divine power, is dangerous in the hands of ego.

And so, whether divine order is mocked like it was in Bethel… or manipulated like it is done in some of today’s altars… the danger remains the same.

So, what should we learn from this? That we MUST honour God and his instituted authorities. Not blind loyalty. Not foolish submission. But a deep, discerning respect for what God establishes. Because when everything becomes a joke, eventually truth becomes one too.

That divine authority is not immunity. Just because one speaks “in the name of God” does not mean one always reflects Him. God may delay response, but He does not forget accountability.

Now, this last one is uncomfortable: That sometimes judgment is mercy in disguise. Because imagine if those forty-two had lived long enough to give birth to generations rooted in contempt for God. That single moment… harsh as it was… may have prevented a culture of divinity disregard from fully forming.

But Dad, if I’m honest, I still don’t fully understand why bears were Your chosen communication strategy that day. It feels… dramatic. But then again, so is silence in the face of today’s excesses. And maybe, just maybe, both are speaking louder than we realize.

One said, “Do not mock My authority.” The other is saying, “Do not misuse my authority” And somewhere between the bears and the silence… lies the wisdom. The kind that makes us pause before we speak for You. The kind that reminds us that power borrowed from heaven must be handled with trembling hands. Because whether in Bethel… or in our modern sanctuaries today,… You are still watching. And You still care.

This is your daughter, I am checking in.