My mother was no Old Testament scholar though she did have an unconventional handle on Old Testament characters, thanks in part to her upbringing in an Orthodox Jewish home. These characters were often used as standards for our behavior, sometimes as good examples, sometimes bad.

The most frequent standard bearer was the queen of Sheba, as in “And who do you think you are, the queen of Sheba?” This was not a rhetorical question and typically posed when my mother thought my sisters and I were putting on airs—acting as if we were better or more deserving than others. " No," we hemmed and hawed, "we’re not the Queen of Sheba, but…"

In 1 Kings 10 we meet the queen of Sheba. She had heard all about Solomon and came to test him with hard questions, and she "arrived in Jerusalem with a large group of attendants and a great caravan of camels loaded with spices, large quantities of gold, and precious jewels.” (10:2, NLT)

The queen wasn’t a bad queen. She told Solomon that his wisdom and prosperity surpassed what she had heard. She saw how happy his men and servants were, and she blessed Solomon’s God, acknowledging that the Lord had set him on the throne.

It’s not until I read 1 Kings 10:13 that I begin to understand what was behind my mother’s question: “King Solomon gave the queen of Sheba whatever she asked for besides all the customary gifts he had so generously given. Then she and all her attendants returned to their own land.” (NLT) Even if Mother were as wealthy as Solomon, there was no way she would have given my sibs and me whatever we asked for—hence, the comparison to the queen of Sheba—and why were we asking anyhow? My childhood was far from austere; however, my mother did not want her daughters to grow up what we label today, as entitled.

It’s a word loaded with connotations, but in the end its definition is simple: a belief that we deserve or are entitled to certain privileges—even when it comes to salvation. Say what? We don’t believe in salvation by works, but there are times when we think salvation is more by entitlement than by grace. Like the Pharisee in Jesus’ parable in Luke 18, we’re impressed with ourselves and what we bring to salvation—status, wealth, achievement. Isn’t Christendom lucky to have us? Instead, let’s be more like the tax collector in the parable, overwhelmed with our sin, overwhelmed with God’s mercy and grace.

So, who do we think we are—the queen of Sheba who came to King Solomon with her retinue of gold, camels and spices?

No, we are the not the queen of Sheba. We come, instead, with nothing in our hands, no money for food or water, to the greater eternal king and receive the bread of life, living water and words that are more precious than gold—fragrant with gospel spices of death, burial and resurrection.