Sometimes the greatest agonies aren’t those we feel, but those we don’t.  When we encounter someone in deep mourning over some tragedy, we rightly weep with them.  But when we encounter someone whose hardened heart refuses to spill tears, we feel all the more pity.

Story has its own way of re-sensitizing numb hearts to the reality around us.  The deadened nerves of human conscience are enlivened with truth layered with symbol and meaning.  Shakespeare’s Hamlet, for example, tells the story of Prince Hamlet trying to avenge his father’s assassination.  King Claudius had taken the throne after murdering his predecessor—Hamlet’s father.  Now Hamlet seeks to evoke a confession from Claudius by staging a play depicting his father’s murder.  “The play’s the thing in which I’ll catch the conscience of the king,” Hamlet utters in preparation.

Sometimes it’s easier to recognize the sin in others than it is to see the sin in ourselves.  We need an external conscience, someone to jar us out of our moral slumber and expose us to the penetrating light of reality.  Thankfully, David had this in Nathan.  At this point, David had thought his crime with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah to have been resolved.  But Nathan comes to him with a story that snaps David’s mind to reality:

And the Lord sent Nathan to David. He came to him and said to him, “There were two men in a certain city, the one rich and the other poor. 2 The rich man had very many flocks and herds, 3 but the poor man had nothing but one little ewe lamb, which he had bought. And he brought it up, and it grew up with him and with his children. It used to eat of his morsel and drink from his cup and lie in his arms, and it was like a daughter to him. 4 Now there came a traveler to the rich man, and he was unwilling to take one of his own flock or herd to prepare for the guest who had come to him, but he took the poor man’s lamb and prepared it for the man who had come to him.” 5 Then David’s anger was greatly kindled against the man, and he said to Nathan, “As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die, 6 and he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing, and because he had no pity.”

7 Nathan said to David, “You are the man! Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, ‘I anointed you king over Israel, and I delivered you out of the hand of Saul. 8 And I gave you your master’s house and your master’s wives into your arms and gave you the house of Israel and of Judah. And if this were too little, I would add to you as much more. 9 Why have you despised the word of the Lord, to do what is evil in his sight? You have struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword and have taken his wife to be your wife and have killed him with the sword of the Ammonites. 10 Now therefore the sword shall never depart from your house, because you have despised me and have taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your wife.’ 11 Thus says the Lord, ‘Behold, I will raise up evil against you out of your own house. And I will take your wives before your eyes and give them to your neighbor, and he shall lie with your wives in the sight of this sun. 12 For you did it secretly, but I will do this thing before all Israel and before the sun.’” 13 David said to Nathan, “I have sinned against the Lord.” And Nathan said to David, “The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die. 14 Nevertheless, because by this deed you have utterly scorned the Lord, the child who is born to you shall die.” 15 Then Nathan went to his house.

In his 2000 work simply called Humanity, Jonathan Glover chronicles what might be called a “moral history” of the twentieth century.  Glover notes the ways that human selfishness and unmitigated evil resulted in some of the most virulent bloodbaths humanity has ever seen.  But Glover goes on to note two countervailing forces—what he calls “moral resources.”

First, there is sensitivity to others.  Glover uses the example of Afrikaner police during South Africa’s Apartheid.  These police would often chase down protesters—club in hand—in meting out cruel justice.  In one such incident, an officer is chasing a young woman when she loses her shoe.  Suddenly she switches from being a faceless protester—a target, to the cop—and becomes a human being.  Chivalry wins the day.  The officer puts down his club and hands the woman her shoe.  Something similar is happening with David.  He begins to recognize that his actions had devastating consequences for the people in his life.  Uriah had been wronged—and murdered.  Bathsheba had lost everything.  And what about you and me?  Reality hits us when we recognize the women we objectify as actual human beings.  The woman on your computer screen is more than a collection of anatomical parts.  She has a name.  She is someone’s daughter.  Perhaps a sister.  A friend.  She had dreams, as a little girl, of growing up and becoming a mommy.  She had a favorite stuffed animal.  She played with her dog.  Suddenly we can no longer see her as only someone to be used, but a person who deserves love.

Second, Glover noted a sensitivity to self.  We must ask the question: “Am I the sort of person who would do a thing like this?”  And the harsh reality is simple: if we do something, it’s because we’re exactly the sort of person who does things like that.  Nathan tells David: “You are that man!”  There’s  no escaping it.  Sin dehumanizes us.  We cease to function as agents and image-bearers of God and become creatures ruled by lust and greed.

Thankfully God provides a way out.  In almost the same breath, Nathan promises that God would “put away” David’s sin.  There would be forgiveness—though there would be consequences.

And the Lord afflicted the child that Uriah’s wife bore to David, and he became sick.16 David therefore sought God on behalf of the child. And David fasted and went in and lay all night on the ground. 17 And the elders of his house stood beside him, to raise him from the ground, but he would not, nor did he eat food with them. 18 On the seventh day the child died. And the servants of David were afraid to tell him that the child was dead, for they said, “Behold, while the child was yet alive, we spoke to him, and he did not listen to us. How then can we say to him the child is dead? He may do himself some harm.” 19 But when David saw that his servants were whispering together, David understood that the child was dead. And David said to his servants, “Is the child dead?” They said, “He is dead.” 20 Then David arose from the earth and washed and anointed himself and changed his clothes. And he went into the house of the Lord and worshiped. He then went to his own house. And when he asked, they set food before him, and he ate. 21 Then his servants said to him, “What is this thing that you have done? You fasted and wept for the child while he was alive; but when the child died, you arose and ate food.” 22 He said, “While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept, for I said, ‘Who knows whether the Lord will be gracious to me, that the child may live?’ 23 But now he is dead. Why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.”

Can you imagine the pain inflicted on David, who for seven consecutive days had to listen to his child’s cries knowing he was the one who caused him this pain?

But can you imagine the anguish of another Father, who had to watch His Son ascend the hill toward a place called Golgotha, a Son whose limbs were pulled from their sockets as He hung there bleeding?  Nathan looked at David and said: “You are that man!”  But the Roman governor Pilate presented Jesus to an unruly crowd and said “Behold the man!”  David was forgiven for his physical adultery.  Jesus was condemned for my spiritual adultery.   The marvelous good news of the gospel is that God’s grace triumphs over my sin.  Ultimately, God would use this incident to bring about the fulfillment of his promise to David to use Solomon in the furthering of His Kingdom:

24 Then David comforted his wife, Bathsheba, and went in to her and lay with her, and she bore a son, and he called his name Solomon. And the Lord loved him 25 and sent a message by Nathan the prophet. So he called his name Jedidiah, because of the Lord.

Still, we mustn’t gloss over the seriousness of sin and its consequences.  God’s grace offers forgiveness—but God also provides every resource we need to wage war against our own desires.  Is there a Nathan in your life?  Someone who challenges you?  Points out to you the consequences of your failings?

If you do not already pursue internet accountability, I urge you to do so.  Multiple programs exist that allow you to surf the web but will send reports of your activity to an accountability partner—a “Nathan” in your life.  If you have not already done so, I’d encourage you to check out www.covenanteyes.com for their program, or www.x3watch.com, both of which offer valuable resources in maintaining your purity in today’s digital world.

In his 1991 work Needful Things, horror novelist Stephen King tells the story of how the devil came to a small town in Maine.  Under the guise of a man named Leland Gaunt, the devil opens a small shop that sells…well, just what your heart most desires.  Gaunt’s first customer was a young boy named Brian Rusk.  In Gaunt’s shop, Brian discovers a 1956 Sandy Koufax baseball card—a must-have for his collection.  Gaunt sells him the card for the unexpectedly low price of eighty-five cents—but also for the promise that Brian would perform a small task on Gaunt’s behalf.  Brian is asked to throw mud at his neighbor’s sheets while they hang on the clothesline.  Brian complies.  But when the neighbor discovers the ruined sheets, she blames not Brian (who remains undiscovered), but another, rival neighbor.  Things escalate quickly.  Harsh words are exchanged.  Rocks are thrown through windows.  The feud culminates in a double homicide.  King’s novel contains dozens of such stories, as the town of Castle Rock visits Gaunt’s shop, performing these small “tricks” that spiral into town-wide anarchy.  As Gaunt tells young Brian, “when you slung that mud at [your neighbor’s] sheets, you started something.   Like a guy who starts an avalanche just by shouting too loud on a warm winter day.”

Though we won’t find the gospel contained in horror fiction, King is onto something altogether basic—almost echoing the words of James.  Unchecked desire, writes James, “gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown leads to death” (James 1:15).  The compromises we make to secure our desires may seem small, but they “avalanche” into something demonic and unstoppable.

This is essentially what happened to King David.  His desire for his neighbor’s wife quickly spiraled out of control—to an extent that would bring desolation and destruction.

In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle, David sent Joab, and his servants with him, and all Israel. And they ravaged the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah. But David remained at Jerusalem.

In his analysis of 1-2 Samuel, Victor Hamilton notes that this isn’t the first time David sent others to fight in his stead (cf. 2 Samuel 10:7-14).  But here it seems to take a sour note—suggesting that trouble began when David neglected his duties in favor of resting in security.

2 It happened, late one afternoon, when David arose from his couch and was walking on the roof of the king’s house, that he saw from the roof a woman bathing; and the woman was very beautiful. 3 And David sent and inquired about the woman. And one said, “Is not this Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?” 4 So David sent messengers and took her, and she came to him, and he lay with her. (Now she had been purifying herself from her uncleanness.) Then she returned to her house. 5 And the woman conceived, and she sent and told David, “I am pregnant.”

It’s tempting to cast blame in Bathsheba’s direction.   Surely she should have been more discreet about bathing on the rooftop.  But not only does this reek of victim-shaming, it fails to account for some basic practices of the ancient world.  First, bathing typically took place outside—and it’s reasonable to think that only those with rooftop access (like David) would have had a vantage-point to see her bathing.  But secondly, bathing—in that era—did not necessitate a removal of clothing.  It’s perfectly reasonable to suggest that Bathsheba had been giving herself the equivalent of a sponge bath.

Nevertheless, David saw something he wanted—and took it for himself.  Now, the Bible uses a variety of words for sexual activity.  The most common—and most intimate—is the word yada meaning “to know.”  But here, we’re told, David “took her, and she came to him, and he lay with her.”  He took her.  Now, I’m not suggesting that this was an outright example of sexual assault.  But I’m also not clear that Bathsheba was in a position to refuse, either.  And it brings to the surface one of our culture’s most dangerous myths about sex.

THE MYTH OF “CONSENT CULTURE”

The Bible describes marriage as a relationship of radical unity.  Married partners literally become “one flesh”—united in both body and soul.  So marital intimacy is about sharing one’s whole self: thoughts, feelings, dreams, passions—and yes, our bodies.  But this is equally why Christianity has traditionally reserved sex for marriage.  We should never say with our bodies what we’re unwilling to say with our souls.

Today’s world insists on what I frequently hear referred to as a “consent culture.”  This “myth” (as I call it) insists that what goes on between two consenting adults is no one’s business but their own.  Religion has no place in the bedroom.

The problem is that it simply doesn’t work like that.  There’s a reason we feel profound guilt over our sexual history.  There’s a reason we tend to label sexual brokenness as being “dirty:” dirty bookstores, dirty movies, dirty websites.  There’s a reason young people refer to the return home after a one-night stand as the “walk of shame.”  But surely, the reason must only be a sense of “residual Catholic guilt,” right?  Surely we’re past the age of Leave-it-to-Beaver style sexual values?

Shame and guilt fall under the umbrella of “moral emotions.”  Contemporary psychologist Richard Shweder says that there are three different types of ethics.  If I accidently curse during a wedding toast, I feel embarrassed for having violated the “ethics of community.”  If I fail to receive the promotion I sought, I may feel frustrated or angry for having failed to meet my personal standards of “the ethics of autonomy.”  But if I violate some deeper law, I feel ashamed and ever dirty for having violated “the ethics of divinity.”  Shweder is an atheist, but his work in this area made him more fully appreciate man’s religious impulse.  Why else would sexual guilt and shame be common across all cultures unless there was some deeper principle at work?  Surely we recognize the profound gift of human sexuality—just as we recognize the way it’s been so repeatedly vandalized.

THE MYTH OF INVULNERABILITY

With Bathsheba pregnant, David now risks exposure.  So he seeks a solution.

6 So David sent word to Joab, “Send me Uriah the Hittite.” And Joab sent Uriah to David.7 When Uriah came to him, David asked how Joab was doing and how the people were doing and how the war was going. 8 Then David said to Uriah, “Go down to your house and wash your feet.” And Uriah went out of the king’s house, and there followed him a present from the king. 9 But Uriah slept at the door of the king’s house with all the servants of his lord, and did not go down to his house. 10 When they told David, “Uriah did not go down to his house,” David said to Uriah, “Have you not come from a journey? Why did you not go down to your house?” 11 Uriah said to David, “The ark and Israel and Judah dwell in booths, and my lord Joab and the servants of my lord are camping in the open field. Shall I then go to my house, to eat and to drink and to lie with my wife? As you live, and as your soul lives, I will not do this thing.” 12 Then David said to Uriah, “Remain here today also, and tomorrow I will send you back.” So Uriah remained in Jerusalem that day and the next. 13 And David invited him, and he ate in his presence and drank, so that he made him drunk. And in the evening he went out to lie on his couch with the servants of his lord, but he did not go down to his house.

14 In the morning David wrote a letter to Joab and sent it by the hand of Uriah. 15 In the letter he wrote, “Set Uriah in the forefront of the hardest fighting, and then draw back from him, that he may be struck down, and die.” 16 And as Joab was besieging the city, he assigned Uriah to the place where he knew there were valiant men. 17 And the men of the city came out and fought with Joab, and some of the servants of David among the people fell. Uriah the Hittite also died. 18 Then Joab sent and told David all the news about the fighting. 19 And he instructed the messenger, “When you have finished telling all the news about the fighting to the king, 20 then, if the king’s anger rises, and if he says to you, ‘Why did you go so near the city to fight? Did you not know that they would shoot from the wall? 21 Who killed Abimelech the son of Jerubbesheth? Did not a woman cast an upper millstone on him from the wall, so that he died at Thebez? Why did you go so near the wall?’ then you shall say, ‘Your servant Uriah the Hittite is dead also.’”

22 So the messenger went and came and told David all that Joab had sent him to tell.23 The messenger said to David, “The men gained an advantage over us and came out against us in the field, but we drove them back to the entrance of the gate. 24 Then the archers shot at your servants from the wall. Some of the king’s servants are dead, and your servant Uriah the Hittite is dead also.” 25 David said to the messenger, “Thus shall you say to Joab, ‘Do not let this matter displease you, for the sword devours now one and now another. Strengthen your attack against the city and overthrow it.’ And encourage him.”

Do you see the irony?  Not long ago King Saul had sought to eliminate David in a similar way—by sending David to battle seemingly impossible odds so that he’d be killed (1 Samuel 18).  Now David becomes the thing he once ran from.

The mysterious author of Ecclesiastes says that “because the sentence against an evil deed is not executed speedily, the heart of the children of man is fully set to do evil” (Ecclesiastes 8:11).  We might call this the “myth of invulnerability,” the lie that says I’m only as bad as my consequences.  I can hide.  I can deflect.  I can wear a religious mask. David believed himself impervious to consequence—even though all around him lay in shambles:

26 When the wife of Uriah heard that Uriah her husband was dead, she lamented over her husband. 27 And when the mourning was over, David sent and brought her to his house, and she became his wife and bore him a son. But the thing that David had done displeased the Lord.

Does your sin grieve you like it grieves God?  Or—like David—have you become numb to it?  Have you bought into one of the myths above?  The good news of the gospel can only be fully experienced by those who realize the bad news of their own condition.   Sin is a powerful, corrupting force—one that penetrates deeper than mere behavior to the very core of our souls.  And nothing that you and I do can possibly stem the tide of uncontrolled desire.

Paul writes that “Godly sorrow brings repentance” (2 Corinthians 7:10).  Sometimes the healthiest thing we can pray for is for God to make us sad.  Do you have the courage today, to pray for Godly sorrow?  For earnest and honest conviction of your own sin?  Because to do so may be the start of a larger journey toward repentance, toward faithfulness, toward renewal.

Today’s passage in 2 Samuel 10 serves as a bridge from what we have studied thus far in the account of David that carries us up to the next chapter which will be the topic for Chris’ sermon on Sunday – David’s moral failure.

Much of what we have looked at revolves around the solidification of David of the nation of Israel as he establishes his kingdom. But there were international matters as well, as Israel was surrounded by oft hostile Gentile nations and people groups.

At this time, Israel was the strongest and most dominant power in the region, but it did not mean that they were free from conflicts … almost seasonally and annually, as we see in the opening words of the following chapter: “In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war …”  This almost sounds like opening day of the baseball season!

God often used the nation of Israel as an instrument of judgment against the surrounding godless nations; and likewise, in times of disobedience, the judgment came in the opposite direction.

It is good to recall that the Lord God is the sovereign over all the nations. As it says in the 47^th Psalm …

God reigns over the nations; God is seated on his holy throne … for the kings of the earth belong to God; he is greatly exalted.

This is a good remembrance, not only for our understanding of biblical times, but for our modern era as well. It certainly is true that the Near East has seen wars and conflicts between Israel and surrounding nations for even thousands of years.

The only thing more frightening about watching the news these days and seeing the evil forces of ISIS / ISIL growing and advancing, would be to see all of this happening without the perspective of God’s superintendence over the affairs of the world.

David Defeats the Ammonites

10:1  In the course of time, the king of the Ammonites died, and his son Hanun succeeded him as king. 2 David thought, “I will show kindness to Hanun son of Nahash, just as his father showed kindness to me.” So David sent a delegation to express his sympathy to Hanun concerning his father.

When David’s men came to the land of the Ammonites, 3 the Ammonite commanders said to Hanun their lord, “Do you think David is honoring your father by sending envoys to you to express sympathy? Hasn’t David sent them to you only to explore the city and spy it out and overthrow it?” 4 So Hanun seized David’s envoys, shaved off half of each man’s beard, cut off their garments at the buttocks, and sent them away.

5 When David was told about this, he sent messengers to meet the men, for they were greatly humiliated. The king said, “Stay at Jericho till your beards have grown, and then come back.”

6 When the Ammonites realized that they had become obnoxious to David, they hired twenty thousand Aramean foot soldiers from Beth Rehob and Zobah, as well as the king of Maakah with a thousand men, and also twelve thousand men from Tob.

7 On hearing this, David sent Joab out with the entire army of fighting men. 8 The Ammonites came out and drew up in battle formation at the entrance of their city gate, while the Arameans of Zobah and Rehob and the men of Tob and Maakah were by themselves in the open country.

9 Joab saw that there were battle lines in front of him and behind him; so he selected some of the best troops in Israel and deployed them against the Arameans. 10 He put the rest of the men under the command of Abishai his brother and deployed them against the Ammonites. 11 Joab said, “If the Arameans are too strong for me, then you are to come to my rescue; but if the Ammonites are too strong for you, then I will come to rescue you. 12 Be strong, and let us fight bravely for our people and the cities of our God. The Lord will do what is good in his sight.”

13 Then Joab and the troops with him advanced to fight the Arameans, and they fled before him.14 When the Ammonites realized that the Arameans were fleeing, they fled before Abishai and went inside the city. So Joab returned from fighting the Ammonites and came to Jerusalem.

15 After the Arameans saw that they had been routed by Israel, they regrouped. 16 Hadadezer had Arameans brought from beyond the Euphrates River; they went to Helam, with Shobak the commander of Hadadezer’s army leading them.

17 When David was told of this, he gathered all Israel, crossed the Jordan and went to Helam. The Arameans formed their battle lines to meet David and fought against him. 18 But they fled before Israel, and David killed seven hundred of their charioteers and forty thousand of their foot soldiers. He also struck down Shobak the commander of their army, and he died there. 19 When all the kings who were vassals of Hadadezer saw that they had been routed by Israel, they made peace with the Israelites and became subject to them.

So the Arameans were afraid to help the Ammonites anymore.

Even in our modern era of world history, we have seen instances around the globe where former dictators or presidents of countries would be ousted, only to return later or to have one of their family come back and claim rights to governmental leadership.

In Haiti, former President Jean-Claude Duvalier – known as “Baby Doc,” being the son of his life-president father “Papa Doc” Francois Duvalier – returned after years of exile in France with hopes of regaining the presidency. It created a mess in the country until he died last year.

In the Philippines in the 1980s, strong-man President Ferdinand Marcos was overthrown by Corazon Aquino – the wife of slain Benigno Aquino, opposition leader. She restored democracy to the land, and the Marcos family was exiled with their billions of dollars stolen from the country. Imelda Marcos, the wife of the late Ferdinand, has now returned to the country and in her mid-80s has even been elected to government, inciting much controversy.

This would have never happened in antiquity. If you were part of the family of the overthrown regime, you were simply eliminated, thus there would be no possibility of any return to “the good old days.”

When Israel was routed by the Philistines in battle on the day that Jonathan and Saul would die, the lone surviving member of that dynasty was Mephibosheth, the infant son of Jonathan. In the haste of running from the Philistines, his nurse fell on him and he was lame in both feet.

Largely forgotten, he grew up in obscurity, which was certainly just fine with him. But David sought out information about any of Saul’s surviving family, and a servant of Saul knew of the location of Mephibosheth. David sent for him; and as he came in before the king, he must surely have expected the worst. The following is the story of what really happened …

David and Mephibosheth

9:1  David asked, “Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness for Jonathan’s sake?”

2 Now there was a servant of Saul’s household named Ziba. They summoned him to appear before David, and the king said to him, “Are you Ziba?”

“At your service,” he replied.

3 The king asked, “Is there no one still alive from the house of Saul to whom I can show God’s kindness?”

Ziba answered the king, “There is still a son of Jonathan; he is lame in both feet.”

4 “Where is he?” the king asked.

Ziba answered, “He is at the house of Makir son of Ammiel in Lo Debar.”

5 So King David had him brought from Lo Debar, from the house of Makir son of Ammiel.

6 When Mephibosheth son of Jonathan, the son of Saul, came to David, he bowed down to pay him honor.

David said, “Mephibosheth!”

“At your service,” he replied.

7 “Don’t be afraid,” David said to him, “for I will surely show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan. I will restore to you all the land that belonged to your grandfather Saul, and you will always eat at my table.”

8 Mephibosheth bowed down and said, “What is your servant, that you should notice a dead dog like me?”

9 Then the king summoned Ziba, Saul’s steward, and said to him, “I have given your master’s grandson everything that belonged to Saul and his family. 10 You and your sons and your servants are to farm the land for him and bring in the crops, so that your master’s grandson may be provided for. And Mephibosheth, grandson of your master, will always eat at my table.” (Now Ziba had fifteen sons and twenty servants.)

11 Then Ziba said to the king, “Your servant will do whatever my lord the king commands his servant to do.” So Mephibosheth ate at David’s table like one of the king’s sons.

12 Mephibosheth had a young son named Mika, and all the members of Ziba’s household were servants of Mephibosheth. 13 And Mephibosheth lived in Jerusalem, because he always ate at the king’s table; he was lame in both feet.

What a turn of events! What an unexpected outcome, and what grace was shown by David.

But the story of Mephibosheth is our story. Because of sin we are exiles and far from God. There was no way we could stand in the king’s presence. But the true and greater David paid the price for us that we may be reconciled and brought near – adopted as it were into the new royal family as a child of the king. We have access with him, and we may come and eat at his table, even forever.

As it says in Ephesians chapter 2 …

But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ. … For he himself is our peace … Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone.

Most of us live more like peasants than like Kings.  Life’s daily rituals—however necessary—weigh us down with their lack of excitement.   Television and magazine ads seek to cultivate a sense of dissatisfaction with the way things are, and if we buy enough SUV’s and skin creams than we can finally have it all together.

If you follow Jesus, you might feel the same, even if you spiritualize it.  You may have laid your burdens at the foot of the cross only to wonder: now what?  If we’re not careful, we can be tempted to compare ourselves to others—or worse, compare our own successes to those the world lauds as true “greatness.”  What gets me is the way the Christian community often places emphasis on “dreaming big” or “doing huge things for God,” which is all well and good and all but there’s still laundry to get done, right?

2 Samuel 8 picks up right where chapter 5 left off.  It’s not that the book is out of order—it’s that the promise God gave to David occurred during a time when David and his “transition team” were seeking to solidify power in Jerusalem:

After this David defeated the Philistines and subdued them, and David took Metheg-ammah out of the hand of the Philistines.

2 And he defeated Moab and he measured them with a line, making them lie down on the ground. Two lines he measured to be put to death, and one full line to be spared. And the Moabites became servants to David and brought tribute.

3 David also defeated Hadadezer the son of Rehob, king of Zobah, as he went to restore his power at the river Euphrates. 4 And David took from him 1,700 horsemen, and 20,000 foot soldiers. And David hamstrung all the chariot horses but left enough for 100 chariots.5 And when the Syrians of Damascus came to help Hadadezer king of Zobah, David struck down 22,000 men of the Syrians. 6 Then David put garrisons in Aram of Damascus, and the Syrians became servants to David and brought tribute. And the Lord gave victory to David wherever he went. 7 And David took the shields of gold that were carried by the servants of Hadadezer and brought them to Jerusalem. 8 And from Betah and from Berothai, cities of Hadadezer, King David took very much bronze.

9 When Toi king of Hamath heard that David had defeated the whole army of Hadadezer,10 Toi sent his son Joram to King David, to ask about his health and to bless him because he had fought against Hadadezer and defeated him, for Hadadezer had often been at war with Toi. And Joram brought with him articles of silver, of gold, and of bronze. 11 These also King David dedicated to the Lord, together with the silver and gold that he dedicated from all the nations he subdued, 12 from Edom, Moab, the Ammonites, the Philistines, Amalek, and from the spoil of Hadadezer the son of Rehob, king of Zobah.

13 And David made a name for himself when he returned from striking down 18,000 Edomites in the Valley of Salt. 14 Then he put garrisons in Edom; throughout all Edom he put garrisons, and all the Edomites became David’s servants. And the Lord gave victory to David wherever he went.

I highlighted two key verses for a reason: they emphasize who the true Victor was.  The puritans had an old saying: “God loveth adverbs.”  By that they meant that sometimes what we do isn’t as important as how we do it.

We see this reflected in the final verses of this chapter, which also serve as summary for this portion of David’s life:

15 So David reigned over all Israel. And David administered justice and equity to all his people. 16 Joab the son of Zeruiah was over the army, and Jehoshaphat the son of Ahilud was recorder, 17 and Zadok the son of Ahitub and Ahimelech the son of Abiathar were priests, and Seraiah was secretary, 18 and Benaiah the son of Jehoiada was over  the Cherethites and the Pelethites, and David’s sons were priests.

So we see two extremes: military victory, and political administration.  At first blush, the first section seems far more exciting than the second.  After all, is David the warrior doing “bigger” things than David the administrator?   In his commentary on this section, Eugene Peterson writes:

“Administration is not as exciting as battle, but it is more important and the effects are more enduring….The flash of swords in battle catches most of the headlines, but the headlines do not last; the tedious decision making that takes place in meetings is largely unremarked, but the decisions enter the daily routines of people’s lives and affect the ways we love and care for our neighbors.” (Eugene H. Peterson, First and Second Samuel, p. 172)

Some of us have fairly uneventful lives—at least compared to the bear-wrestling, blues-musician King David.  Commuting to work, folding socks, taking care of the kids—not exactly the portrait of greatness that our culture tries to paint.

But the love of Christ—working in and through us—infuses our work with new nobility.  Whether teacher, astronaut, accountant, parent—each of our vocations becomes an opportunity for God to work through us in every detail.  And if God ennobles our every choice and every vocation (and yes, many Christian thinkers throughout the years include parenthood in the list of vocations), then if we insist on “dreaming big”—that is, thinking God is elsewhere—then we have put God inside of a box, tethering Him too tightly to some spiritualized version of the American Dream.   Both David and Jesus show us that strength can be revealed in patience—in victory as well as vulnerable devotion to life’s everyday details.  And God can ennoble and magnify Himself in the details of our lives if we give Him half a chance.  If we take our eyes off of some idolatrous “big” dream, and find instead the courage to dream small.