Have you ever wanted someone dead? Scripture tells us of a man who not only wanted someone dead but did everything he could to see that it happened. This man was Haman.

Many of you are familiar with the story of Esther, the queen who risked her own life to save her people. Many of you also know that Haman was the man responsible for trying to exterminate Esther’s people: the Jews. He attempted it because one man, Mordecai, cousin to Esther, didn’t bow to him (Esth. 3:1–6).

Jezebel. The name alone makes you think of an evil, conniving woman. The wife of Ahab, she led all of Israel into worship of the false god Baal. She manipulated, lied, and sometimes murdered to get what she wanted (1 Kings 21). When Elijah, the prophet, killed her prophets, she swore to kill him (1 Kings 19:1–2).

Do you see the commonalities between these two? They both did whatever it took to achieve and maintain power. Both were ready, out of hearts filled with murderous anger, to destroy anyone who threatened that power.

Americans are told to be like Haman; American women, like Jezebel.

No one says, “Now, girls, try to act a little less like Esther and a little more like Jezebel.” But media, books, parents, tell women time and again not to let anything (or anyone) stand in the way of our dreams. And we ought to make these dreams big. We laud female CEOs, top chefs, presidents. We label these women as empowered.

There is nothing wrong with big dreams or lofty aspirations. Nor is this a piece on the merits or maladies of the women’s empowerment movement. After all, men also have their fair share of pressure to aim for CEO, top entrepreneur, and so on. Suffice it to say, these messages have cultivated in women’s hearts a deep need to achieve and maintain power at any cost. We effectively make power, a good gift given by a good God (2 Tim. 1:7; Luke 10:19), our ultimate aim—our idol.

In my three previous articles, I discussed how our response to failure reveals our idols. If comfort is our idol, we look to things like food, sex, or television to soothe us when we fail. If we crave approval we seek out people to pet our ego when we fail. If control consoles us, we hyper-manage certain realms of our life when we’ve failed in others. But how do we respond to failure when power is our idol of choice? Do we go around head hunting? Imagine this scenario: you are in line for a promotion at work. You have logged long hours and stayed close to the right people in order to position yourself for the promotion. Then your co-worker gets the position. You failed. What is your response? If you seethe with anger, planning ways to get that co-worker fired, you probably have an inordinate (or unhealthy) desire for power.

Or, consider another scenario. Your children have always been obedient and respectful—you see to it. They respect your opinions and have done everything you suggested, whether it be where they attend college or what to wear to a job interview. Then, one of your children suddenly opposes you at every turn. That child drops out of school, dates the one person you told him or her to avoid, and hardly answers your calls. Now what? Do you find yourself ranting to your husband, or are you secretly promising to make your child’s life miserable? Watch out! You may be bowing down to power. Here I will pause to note, as I did in my previous posts, power is not evil. Power, comfort, control, and all are all gifts given by God. God even explicitly says that he gives all Christians his own power, that we may do whatever he asks of us (Col. 1:11; 2 Cor. 12:9; Isa. 40:29–31; Eph. 3:20–21). He gives kings power to punish wicked (Rom. 13:4), and church leaders power to discipline the wayward (Matt. 18:15–18). Power is not the problem. The problem is when we want the power God gives us more than we want God himself. The problem is (like control, comfort, or approval) when we set our heart on power, we can never have enough, and it will always disappoint us. How many people after receiving one promotion are contented to stay in that position? Or what amount of obedience will make a power-hungry mom happy? Consider too, the illusive nature of power. One minute we are company CEO, the next we find ourselves packing up the office after a string of layoffs. One minute our children are like dutiful minions, the next our neighbor calls distraught over what our child did to theirs. When power is our end goal and our source of hope, it will destroy us. Consider again the stories of Haman and Jezebel. Haman had persuaded the king to issue an irrevocable law to destroy the Jews. But upon arriving home from an exclusive meal with the king and queen, he complains, “Yet all this is worth nothing to me as long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at the king’s gate” (Esth. 5:13, English Standard Version). Thereupon, he built a gallows on which to hang Mordecai. Haman was hanged on these very gallows (Esth. 7:9–10). Likewise, Jezebel, after harassing and killing anyone who stood between her and her power, dies suddenly and violently. Not minutes after her death, dogs ate all but her skull, feet, and the palms of her hands (2 Kings 9:30–37). Though both of these characters had a significant amount of power, neither was content; and both died suddenly and brutally.

I am not implying that if we struggle with power idolatry God will release us to the wild dogs. Nor do I believe that God destroyed Haman and Jezebel solely because they lusted after power. Their corruption was more comprehensive. However, I think we can conclude that God does not take idolatry—including idolatry to power—lightly (see Gen. 11; Acts 12:21–23; Luke 10:18).

Bowing down to power is an affront to God’s supremacy. It is an attempt to oust God from his throne. Power worshipers are essentially saying they want the place of God in someone’s (or everyone’s) life. They want to dictate the rules and call the shots. They may only want it in a small sphere—complete power over husband, co-workers, children—but the desire is no less strong. Whether the sphere is large or small, this sin deserves a death like Haman’s or Jezebel’s.

What are we to do?

To find our answer, we need to look a story of another person who lusted after power: Nebuchadnezzar. Nebuchadnezzar was the ruler of Babylon, perhaps the most mighty empire of its time (Dan. 4:22). He it was who erected a giant statue and ordered all to bow before it. When three men, like Mordecai, refused to bow, he, in a furious rage, ordered the men burned alive. When God rescued them (as he had Mordecai), Nebuchadnezzar praised God (Dan. 3:1–4:3). However, he, not God, was still sitting on the throne of his heart. So one day, when Nebuchadnezzar was admiring his empire as something he’d built himself (though he knew it was given him from God), God made him like a wild beast (Dan. 4:28–33). But, unlike the stories of Haman and Jezebel, we don’t leave Nebuchadnezzar in this state of insanity:

At the end of the days I, Nebuchadnezzar, lifted my eyes to heaven, and my reason returned to me, and I blessed the Most High, and praised and honored him who lives forever,

for his dominion is an everlasting dominion,

and his kingdom endures from generation to generation;

all the inhabitants of the earth are accounted as nothing,

and he does according to his will among the host of heaven

and among the inhabitants of the earth;

and none can stay his hand

or say to him “What have you done?” (Dan. 4:34–35)

In effect, Nebuchadnezzar acknowledged that, while God may have given him a measure of power, it is God who has ultimate power, not him. He is doing the reverse of Romans 1:21. He is honoring God as God and giving him thanks.

When we worship power in place of God, we are like Nebuchadnezzar. Like him, we act as though any sway we hold over others is a result of our own skill and ingenuity. Like Nebuchadnezzar, God calls us to repent of our false pride and acknowledge that he is Lord, not us. He is the one who gave us whatever little power we do have. He is also the one who can take it away (Job 1:21). When we see power as a gift pointing to the giver, it frees us. Power is no longer the thing that controls us; it is a tool we can use to glorify God and serve others. God may take the gift away, but he remains. And is it not much better to have the giver than the gift?

All of our idols—comfort, approval, control, and power—ask us to look to them, a created thing, for salvation and hope. They promise joy and security but destroy those very things. We cannot will our way out of idolatry. Nor if we had ten lives could we do penance enough to cover our idol worship. The only solution to our idolatry is the cross of Christ.

Christ lived a life free from idol worship (Luke 4:1–13). He was bloodied, battered, and hung on a tree—dying the death of Haman—to take the punishment our idolatry deserves. Only when we see ourselves as beastly as Nebuchadnezzar (and every bit as prideful), and in our despair cry out to Jesus, acknowledging him as Lord, will he replace our idolatrous hearts with new hearts. Then, though these new hearts are still prone to wonder and still adept at creating new idols, the Holy Spirit begins his refining work on us; breaking down our idols one by one. And we need to cry out to him daily, asking him to continue destroying our idols and continue making us look more like him. For we will never be satisfied until we find our everything in God.

Elisabeth Bloechl a member of Orthodox Presbyterian Church Hammond, is a house cleaner and aspiring writer in Griffith, IN.