Solomon and the Queen of Sheba
I am still moving through 2 Chronicles, and this week I landed in chapter 9, the Queen of Sheba’s visit to Solomon. She heard the reports. She came to see for herself. And what she found exceeded everything she’d heard; the wisdom, the abundance, the joy of his servants. Everything was as advertised, and then some.
But what caught my attention was verse 8. Because when the Queen opens her mouth to respond to all of it, she doesn’t praise Solomon. She praises God.
That small moment stopped me. And it led me somewhere I didn’t expect.
I SAID:
I am still in 2 Chronicles. This time chapter 9, verse 8 especially. The Queen of Sheba visits Solomon. She finds he is full of wisdom just like the reports. His servants are content and happy, his riches beyond measure. But in verse 8 she gives the glory to God, not Solomon. Yesterday we were talking about how there are preachers now who take the glory from God. Solomon did a lot of sins, but what he didn’t do is take away the glory from God. And when the glory was put in the right place, Solomon only received more gold.
CLAUDE SAID:
What a rich observation. The Queen of Sheba comes having heard the reports, and when she sees it all with her own eyes; the wisdom, the servants’ joy, the abundance. Her response is to look straight past Solomon to God. She got it right. The glory landed where it belonged.
And you’re onto something important about Solomon. He had serious moral failures; the foreign wives, the idols he allowed in his later years. But even with all of that, there’s a pattern through his story where the glory of what God built through him kept pointing back up. The temple dedication. The prayer of 2 Chronicles 6. Even at this moment, he doesn’t correct the Queen or redirect her praise back to himself.
Contrast that with what you mentioned about certain preachers today. The platform, the brand, the name above the church door. The glory quietly migrates from God to the man or woman holding the microphone.
And here’s what the text seems to confirm: when the glory stayed in the right place with Solomon, more came. More gold. More wisdom. More honor. The blessing flowed toward someone who wasn’t trying to claim it.
I SAID:
It’s interesting how tempting it is to make it look like we do things on our own. Even I, the other day, was contemplating a need I had. Then I bought it months later. And I thought, well, I prayed, but I was the one who bought it. But then I caught myself. That’s how those preachers are. They worked so hard to use the gift God gave them, and then when the gift is realized, they start believing it’s themselves doing all the work. When the gift came from God. I found it is easy to think the same, because when it happens, it’s because I put in the work. But ultimately the gift comes from God. Solomon could probably say, yes Queen, I did the work and I should get the glory. But Solomon was wise and knew where all the blessing came from, even though he did lots of work to get it where it was.
CLAUDE SAID:
Yes — and you caught yourself in real time, which is exactly what Solomon’s wisdom looked like in practice. Not the absence of the temptation, but recognizing it when it surfaces.
What you’re describing is so subtle, and that’s what makes it dangerous. It’s not usually a dramatic decision to steal God’s glory. It’s just a quiet drift in the logic. I prayed AND I worked AND I bought it. All three things are true. But somewhere in the retelling, the “I” starts carrying more weight than it should.
And you put your finger on exactly why it happens with those preachers. The gift is real. The work is real. They did study, they did sacrifice, they did pour years into developing what God placed in them. So when the results come, the work is the most visible thing. God’s part is invisible. And slowly the visible starts getting the credit.
Solomon had wisdom enough to see past the visible to the source. That’s actually a piece of the wisdom itself — knowing where wisdom comes from. James 1:17 says every good and perfect gift comes down from the Father. Not some gifts. Everyone.
What strikes me about your example is how ordinary it was. A need, a prayer, a purchase months later. No dramatic miracle story. Just the quiet work of recognizing God’s hand in the everyday, undramatic moments. That might actually be harder than recognizing Him in the obvious ones.
CONCLUSION:
The Queen of Sheba stood in the middle of Solomon’s abundance and praised God. She saw clearly what belonged to whom.
Solomon had every reason to take the credit. He did the work. He built the temple, cultivated the wisdom, and established the kingdom. The results were visible and they were his. And yet, he didn’t correct her. He let the glory go where it belonged.
That is harder than it sounds. Because the temptation isn’t usually dramatic. It doesn’t announce itself. It just shows up quietly in the way we retell the story. I prayed AND I worked AND it happened. True on all three counts. But slowly the “I” grows larger and the source grows smaller.
I caught myself in that quiet drift recently; a need I had prayed about, a purchase I made months later, and a moment where my mind wanted to take the credit. I caught it. That catching is what Solomon’s wisdom looks like in ordinary life.
Every good and perfect gift comes from the Father. Not some gifts. Every one. The work we do is real. The effort we put in matters. But the gift underneath the work; the ability, the open door, the provision that finally arrives, that came from somewhere else.
When the glory goes to the right place, Solomon receives more gold. There’s something worth sitting with in that.
This blog captures my own journey of seeking God through Scripture. I share what I’m learning, but my real goal is to inspire you to open your Bible and discover truth for yourself. The Holy Spirit is your teacher. Let Him show you what you need to see. Read this as an invitation to your own conversation with God, not as the final word on any topic.
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