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.

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.

There may be many times when we ask God for something irredeemably selfish.  An unscheduled—and unnecessary—pay raise.  The honor and respect of others.  For our neighbor to “change his attitude.”  In those moments, we’re not terribly surprised to hear God say “no.”  But what about when we pray for good things?  When we pray for God to address our singleness, or a season of infertility.  When we pray for someone with a prolonged illness.  Are these not worthy items of prayer?  And yet many times God still says “no.”

David would experience this.  Having now centralized his power in Jerusalem, he desired to honor God through the building of a temple.  What was a temple?  Nearly every major religion—past and present—uses a temple as the physical means of connecting to God.  It was sort of a cosmic crossroads, a place where heaven and earth are thought to intersect.  For years, Israel’s portable structure—the Tabernacle—served this purpose.  But now that David occupied a palace, he rightly grew concerned that the Lord would occupy a lesser place:

Now when the king lived in his house and the Lord had given him rest from all his surrounding enemies, 2 the king said to Nathan the prophet, “See now, I dwell in a house of cedar, but the ark of God dwells in a tent.” 3 And Nathan said to the king, “Go, do all that is in your heart, for the Lord is with you.” (2 Samuel 7:1-3)

But the Lord would later speak through Nathan, and give David a resounding “no.”

4 But that same night the word of the Lord came to Nathan, 5 “Go and tell my servant David, ‘Thus says the Lord:  Would you build me a house to dwell in? 6 I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent for my dwelling. 7 In all places where I have moved with all the people of Israel, did I speak a word with any of the judges of Israel, whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, saying, “Why have you not built me a house of cedar?”’ 8 Now, therefore, thus you shall say to my servant David, ‘Thus says the Lord of hosts, I took you from the pasture, from following the sheep,  that you should be prince over my people Israel. 9 And I have been with you wherever you went and have cut off all your enemies from before you. And I will make for you a great name, like the name of the great ones of the earth. 10 And I will appoint a place for my people Israel and will plant them, so that they may dwell in their own place and be disturbed no more. And violent men shall afflict them no more, as formerly, 11 from the time that I appointed judges over my people Israel. And I will give you rest from all your enemies. Moreover, the Lord declares to you that the Lord will make you a house. 12 When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come from your body, and I will establish his kingdom. 13 He shall build a house for my name, and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever. 14 I will be to him a father, and he shall be to me a son. When he commits iniquity,  I will discipline him with the rod of men, with the stripes of the sons of men, 15 but my steadfast love will not depart from him,  as I took it from Saul, whom I put away from before you. 16 And your house and your kingdom shall be made sure forever before me.  Your throne shall be established forever.’” 17 In accordance with all these words, and in accordance with all this vision, Nathan spoke to David.

Why “no?”  First of all, there was no pressing need—the tabernacle had sufficed since the time of the Exodus, so why not wait a generation or so?  Second,  during the time of the judges, God had dealt with his people through these leaders in various regions—that is, without the need for a centralized temple.  And finally, David had been a man of battle.  Necessary though this may have been, God would not permit his blood-stained hands from being the one to build the temple.

But, God’s “no” came with a greater “yes.”  His “no” to David would establish a greater legacy through David.  Sometimes, God chooses to bless His children.  Other times, He chooses to bless others through His children.  This was among the latter.

We call this the Davidic covenant.  What is a covenant?  A covenant is a promise made between two parties.  When such a promise occurs between God and man, it refers to a promise God makes to His people.  Therefore a covenant, in the Biblical sense, asks and answers the question: How do I experience the presence of God in my life?  For instance, in the covenant with Abraham, God’s presence was experienced through the promise to bless the nation of Israel through God’s dealings with Abraham.  The covenant with Moses was an extension of this—wherein God said that the promise given to Abraham came with no strings attached, but, in order to fully experience the joy of this promise, man would now obey God through a codified series of laws.  Now, God is telling His people that they would experience God through His reigning representative—the King.

We can notice five specific features to this king:

• David’s heir would occupy the throne
• David’s heir would build God’s temple
• David’s heir would have a unique relationship with God
• David’s heir would receive punishment for sin—but not be cast off like Saul
• God promises a kingdom that lasts forever

While some of these features have an immediate, obvious fulfillment in David’s immediate descendants, others won’t find fulfillment until the arrival of a true, better King in the person of Jesus.  This is why Isaiah would later prophesy:

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor,  Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 7  Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. (Isaiah 9:7-8a)

Jesus fulfills all the promises spoken of here to David.  And, what’s more, Jesus would not merely build a temple—Jesus would be the true temple.  How?  By being the person who connects heaven to earth.  Do you want to experience the presence of God?  Then you find God’s presence through Jesus.

David, of course, didn’t understand the half of this.  But still he responded to God with gratitude and admiration:

18 Then King David went in and sat before the Lord and said, “Who am I, O Lord God, and what is my house, that you have brought me thus far? 19 And yet this was a small thing in your eyes, O Lord God.  You have spoken also of your servant’s house for a great while to come, and this is instruction for mankind, O Lord God! 20 And what more can David say to you?  For you know your servant, O Lord God! 21 Because of your promise, and according to your own heart, you have brought about all this greatness, to make your servant know it. 22 Therefore you are great, O Lord God. For there is none like you, and there is no God besides you, according to all that we have heard with our ears. 23 And who is like your people Israel, the one nation on earth whom God went to redeem to be his people, making himself a name and doing for them great and awesome things by driving out before your people, whom you redeemed for yourself from Egypt, a nation and its gods? 24 And you established for yourself your people Israel to be your people forever. And you, O Lord, became their God. 25 And now, O Lord God, confirm forever the word that you have spoken concerning your servant and concerning his house, and do as you have spoken. 26 And your name will be magnified forever, saying, ‘The Lord of hosts is God over Israel,’ and the house of your servant David will be established before you.27 For you, O Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, have made this revelation to your servant, saying, ‘I will build you a house.’ Therefore your servant has found courage to pray this prayer to you. 28 And now, O Lord God, you are God, and your words are true, and you have promised this good thing to your servant. 29 Now therefore may it please you to bless the house of your servant, so that it may continue forever before you. For you, O Lord God, have spoken, and with your blessing shall the house of your servant be blessed forever.”

Too often God says “no,” and we sigh with rehearsed contentment, assuaging our disappointment with trite sayings about how “God must have something better for us.”  But the gospel tells us that Jesus is better.  Our greatest hope is not that if we’re good, if we’re patient, God will someday offer us His blessings.  Our greatest hope is that God is a blessing, offering us connection to Himself through His Spirit, and through the provision of His Son’s righteousness.

Is that enough?  When you don’t get that promotion you’d been daydreaming about—is God enough?  When you remain single longer than you’d expected—is God enough?  What if you fail that test, what if you suffer from ongoing depression, what if your kids don’t come home with a happy report card?  What if your kids don’t come home at all?  Is God enough?   All our life we live with a dream that says “My life would be better if_______________.”  The gospel comes along and says that your life is better because of Jesus.

Don’t waste God’s “no.”

If you’ve been to Hallmark lately—or even the greeting card section of your average megastore—you probably found yourself overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices.  First, it probably took a team of Sherpa guides to help you simply locate the “birthdays” section—bypassing all the other random holidays that are on display.  I mean, do people really send cards for St. Patrick’s Day (I mean, besides the Irish)?  And once you find the right holiday, you’re faced with rack after rack of increasing specificity.  Birthdays for him, birthdays from him, birthday cards with audio chips that play prerecorded age jokes, birthday cards for second cousins twice removed—we could go on, but you get the idea.   To me, the greeting card industry is evidence that we, as a society, have completely given up on trying to express our feelings for one another.  Instead, it’s easier to just run in, poke around until we find just the right card, and then quickly sign it and lick the envelope shut before the big party.

Worship has become very much like that.  For the better part of the last three decades, worship has shifted from an act we perform an hour on Sundays to encompass a whole genre of music.  And now, we may go to a big-chain store and stand in the “Christian” or “Religious” music section, where we are sold “worship” albums featuring airbrushed, glossy covers of worship leaders promising to bring us into the Lord’s presence through this craft.

I’m not throwing rocks, exactly.  I’m saying that the “worship-as-a-genre” approach can lead us to be just as shallow toward God as we are in the greeting card store.  We find just the right words and clever sayings, then recite them in the hopes that the newest and latest album will thrill our souls toward God.

What’s the alternative?  The alternative is to change our view of worship—to repent of our view of worship as merely a musical genre and turn it back into a way of living.  David understood this.  This is why David decided to bring the Ark of the Lord into the capital city of Jerusalem:

 David again gathered all the chosen men of Israel, thirty thousand. 2 And David arose and went with all the people who were with him from Baale-judah to bring up from there the ark of God, which is called by the name of the Lord of hosts who sits enthroned on the cherubim. 3 And they carried the ark of God on a new cart and brought it out of the house of Abinadab, which was on the hill. And Uzzah and Ahio, the sons of Abinadab, were driving the new cart, 4 with the ark of God, and Ahio went before the ark. (2 Samuel 6:1-4)

This wasn’t errant superstition.  David wanted the city of Jerusalem to be as much a religious as it was a political capital.  So it’s only natural that David sees this as a cause for celebration.

In his Old Testament Theology, Bruce Waltke sees two distinct cycles at work in this chapter.  Both follow the same pattern: (1) there is a great parade and (2) someone is scorned by the Lord.

CYCLE ONE: DAVID AND THE SCORN FOR UZZAH

David is participating in a great parade:

5 And David and all the house of Israel were celebrating before the Lord, with songs and lyres and harps and tambourines and castanets and cymbals. 6 And when they came to the threshing floor of Nacon, Uzzah put out his hand to the ark of God and took hold of it, for the oxen stumbled. 7 And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Uzzah, and God struck him down there because of his error, and he died there beside the ark of God.8 And David was angry because the Lord had broken out against Uzzah. And that place is called Perez-uzzah to this day. 9 And David was afraid of the Lord that day, and he said, “How can the ark of the Lord come to me?” 10 So David was not willing to take the ark of the Lord into the city of David. But David took it aside to the house of Obed-edom the Gittite. 11 And the ark of the Lord remained in the house of Obed-edom the Gittite three months, and the Lord blessed Obed-edom and all his household.

This seems a harsh offense.  Why would God strike down Uzzah because he was only trying to help?  I can never forget a sermon I once heard from R.C. Sproul, who asked the pointed question: What makes you think his hand was cleaner than the ground?  God is ferociously and powerfully holy.  Our attempts to “improve” worship don’t make worship any better—they just make us look worse.

CYCLE TWO: DAVID AND THE SCORN FOR MICHAL

David realizes that the ark truly does bring the promise of blessing—again, through the Lord’s presence—so he decides to try again.

12 And it was told King David, “The Lord has blessed the household of Obed-edom and all that belongs to him, because of the ark of God.” So David went and brought up the ark of God from the house of Obed-edom to the city of David with rejoicing. 13 And when those who bore the ark of the Lord had gone six steps, he sacrificed an ox and a fattened animal. 14 And David danced before the Lord with all his might. And David was wearing a linen ephod. 15 So David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the Lord with shouting and with the sound of the horn.

The linen ephod was the attire worn by priests—though many commentaries have stressed that simplicity of the garment.  David wasn’t dancing in his underwear, here—but there was something undignified about the whole scene that set Michal—David’s wife—into a rage.

16 As the ark of the Lord came into the city of David, Michal the daughter of Saul looked out of the window and saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord, and she despised him in her heart. 17 And they brought in the ark of the Lord and set it in its place, inside the tent that David had pitched for it. And David offered burnt offerings and peace offerings before the Lord. 18 And when David had finished offering the burnt offerings and the peace offerings, he blessed the people in the name of the Lord of hosts19 and distributed among all the people, the whole multitude of Israel, both men and women, a cake of bread, a portion of meat, and a cake of raisins to each one. Then all the people departed, each to his house.

20 And David returned to bless his household. But Michal the daughter of Saul came out to meet David and said, “How the king of Israel honored himself today, uncovering himself today before the eyes of his servants’ female servants, as one of the vulgar fellows shamelessly uncovers himself!” 21 And David said to Michal, “It was before the Lord, who chose me above your father and above all his house, to appoint me as prince over Israel, the people of the Lord—and I will celebrate before the Lord. 22 I will make myself yet more contemptible than this, and I will be abased in your eyes. But by the female servants of whom you have spoken, by them I shall be held in honor.” 23 And Michal the daughter of Saul had no child to the day of her death.

What are we to learn?  First, that God is not improved by our worship.  Too often we feel that it is our task to “make the gospel relevant.”  But why?  Is the gospel not already relevant?  Like Uzzah, we may put out our hands to offer the Lord some help—only to find that we look foolish in the process.  The gospel is always relevant—it’s our job instead to reveal its relevance by living it out in and through our lives.

Secondly, our worship is truly undignified.  David wore a simple ephod—not the Kingly garments that were befitting his position.  He came only with what he needed, because he recognized that it’s only a servant’s heart that the Lord truly demands.  When we come before God, we come before him not clad in robes of our own accomplishments, but because we have instead been “clothed in Christ” (Galatians 3:27).  Our dignity will never be found in the eyes of men, but eternally in the eyes of God.

Can you remember your first day of work?  I sure can’t.  For any job, ever.  Not even the one I have now.  If I think hard enough, I can remember a government position or two that entailed safety briefings, sensitivity training, that sort of thing—but beyond that I honestly can’t dredge up a single memory of my first day on any job.  Maybe I’m unusual that way (among others), but I can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with the fact that usually, our first days on the job aren’t nearly as memorable as the ones that come after.  The ones where you already “know the ropes,” can feel like you’re being productive, that sort of thing.

In 2 Samuel 5, we find David experiencing his “first day on the job,” so to speak. He’s finally anointed king (for the third time, mind you—cf. 1 Samuel 16; 2 Sam 2:1-4), establishing the city of Jerusalem (meaning “foundation of peace”) as the capital of Israel:

Then all the tribes of Israel came to David at Hebron and said, “Behold, we are your bone and flesh. 2 In times past, when Saul was king over us, it was you who led out and brought in Israel. And the Lord said to you, ‘You shall be shepherd of my people Israel, and you shall be prince over Israel.’” 3 So all the elders of Israel came to the king at Hebron, and King David made a covenant with them at Hebron before the Lord, and they anointed David king over Israel. 4 David was thirty years old when he began to reign, and he reigned forty years. 5 At Hebron he reigned over Judah seven years and six months, and at Jerusalem he reigned over all Israel and Judah thirty-three years.

6 And the king and his men went to Jerusalem against the Jebusites, the inhabitants of the land, who said to David, “You will not come in here, but the blind and the lame will ward you off”—thinking, “David cannot come in here.” 7 Nevertheless, David took the stronghold of Zion, that is, the city of David. 8 And David said on that day, “Whoever would strike the Jebusites, let him get up the water shaft to attack ‘the lame and the blind,’ who are hated by David’s soul.” Therefore it is said, “The blind and the lame shall not come into the house.” 9 And David lived in the stronghold and called it the city of David. And David built the city all around from the Millo inward. 10 And David became greater and greater, for the Lord, the God of hosts, was with him.

Notice two things: first, the strong emphasis on “shepherding” imagery—which was actually a common way of describing kingship in the ancient world (Egyptian Pharaohs, for example, were often depicted in art holding shepherds’ crooks).   Secondly, David despised “the lame and the blind.”  We rightly cringe at this sort of treatment—and rightly so.  David was God’s chosen king, but some of his practices reflected the primitive culture of his day more than the will of God.  Take his family, for instance:

11 And Hiram king of Tyre sent messengers to David, and cedar trees, also carpenters and masons who built David a house. 12 And David knew that the Lord had established him king over Israel, and that he had exalted his kingdom for the sake of his people Israel.

13 And David took more concubines and wives from Jerusalem, after he came from Hebron, and more sons and daughters were born to David. 14 And these are the names of those who were born to him in Jerusalem: Shammua, Shobab, Nathan, Solomon, 15 Ibhar, Elishua, Nepheg, Japhia, 16 Elishama, Eliada, and Eliphelet.

The total number of David’s “concubines and wives” is unknown, though in ancient times it was customary to “inherit” the concubines of one’s predecessor.  Not everything that David does represents things that God allows.  Which means if God blesses David at all, it says more about God’s character than David’s.  We see these blessings in David’s military advancement.  The war against the Philistines was certainly a lengthy one, but the text highlights two key victories:

17 When the Philistines heard that David had been anointed king over Israel, all the Philistines went up to search for David. But David heard of it and went down to the stronghold. 18 Now the Philistines had come and spread out in the Valley of Rephaim.19 And David inquired of the Lord, “Shall I go up against the Philistines? Will you give them into my hand?” And the Lord said to David, “Go up, for I will certainly give the Philistines into your hand.” 20 And David came to Baal-perazim, and David defeated them there. And he said, “The Lord has broken through my enemies before me like a breaking flood.” Therefore the name of that place is called Baal-perazim. 21 And the Philistines left their idols there, and David and his men carried them away.

22 And the Philistines came up yet again and spread out in the Valley of Rephaim. 23 And when David inquired of the Lord, he said, “You shall not go up; go around to their rear, and come against them opposite the balsam trees. 24 And when you hear the sound of marching in the tops of the balsam trees, then rouse yourself, for then the Lord has gone out before you to strike down the army of the Philistines.” 25 And David did as the Lord commanded him, and struck down the Philistines from Geba to Gezer.

David’s early career was therefore something of a mixed bag.  We rightly honor him as God’s chosen servant, but we nonetheless see reasons why we should look forward to a true, better King in Jesus.  In his commentary on 1-2 Samuel, Eugene Peterson observes the way that the life and ministry of Jesus reflects—and improves upon—the kingly role of David:

“David and Jesus both enter Jerusalem to establish the rule of God; they both clear the place of those who defile it; but the fate of the ‘blind and lame’ is turned around…When David enters the city of Jerusaelm as the new king of Israel to establish a capital for his kingly rule, clearing the place of the pagan Jebusites, the blind and lame are referred to as ‘those whom David hates.’  When Jesus, a thousand years later, enters the same city, acclaimed as both king and Son of David, he clears the area of all who defiled the holy place with exploitive practices.  His first act, after the cleanup, is to heal ‘the blind and the lame’ (Matthew 21:14).” (Eugene H. Peterson, First and Second Samuel, p. 158-9)

Today’s news cycle is dominated by tragedy and scandal.  Our celebrities and artists fare no better.  In a world where all of our heroes are failures, fiction, or ghosts, who is there to have confidence in?  The answer has to be Jesus, for who else can serve with His consistent level of integrity, His love, or His mercy?

And if Jesus is my true King, then it means that my allegiance to His throne surpasses—nay, overthrows—whatever allegiance I may have to my own heart.  By following this King, I have victory not over political adversaries, but the adversaries of sin and death.  And that changes everything, because now I have a whole new identity as a member of God’s kingdom.

When Thomas Pynchon titled his classic novel Gravity’s Rainbow, he did so as something of a dark joke.  The novel takes place in the era of nuclear fear.  The “rainbow” refers to the parabolic arc—the arch across the sky formed by intercontinental ballistic missiles.  The worst thing of all, according to the novel, is that when the missiles travel faster than the speed of sound no one can ever hear it coming.  One day, there’s a flash, and it’s all over.

What goes up must come down, and usually with no real precision or sense of target specificity.  The transition from the books of 1-2 Samuel comes with the decline of Saul, a man now caught in the “rainbow” of the gravity of his own failure:

Now the Philistines were fighting against Israel, and the men of Israel fled before the Philistines and fell slain on Mount Gilboa. 2 And the Philistines overtook Saul and his sons, and the Philistines struck down Jonathan and Abinadab and Malchi-shua, the sons of Saul.3 The battle pressed hard against Saul, and the archers found him, and he was badly wounded by the archers. 4 Then Saul said to his armor-bearer, “Draw your sword, and thrust me through with it, lest these uncircumcised come and thrust me through, and mistreat me.” But his armor-bearer would not, for he feared greatly. Therefore Saul took his own sword and fell upon it. 5 And when his armor-bearer saw that Saul was dead, he also fell upon his sword and died with him. 6 Thus Saul died, and his three sons, and his armor-bearer, and all his men, on the same day together. 7 And when the men of Israel who were on the other side of the valley and those beyond the Jordan saw that the men of Israel had fled and that Saul and his sons were dead, they abandoned their cities and fled. And the Philistines came and lived in them. (1 Samuel 31:1-7)

Saul takes his own life, while the people flee from battle.  He takes the easy way out, though the aftermath of this decision would be felt throughout the land.

8 The next day, when the Philistines came to strip the slain, they found Saul and his three sons fallen on Mount Gilboa. 9 So they cut off his head and stripped off his armor and sent messengers throughout the land of the Philistines, to carry the good news to the house of their idols and to the people. 10 They put his armor in the temple of Ashtaroth, and they fastened his body to the wall of Beth-shan. 11 But when the inhabitants of Jabesh-gilead heard what the Philistines had done to Saul, 12 all the valiant men arose and went all night and took the body of Saul and the bodies of his sons from the wall of Beth-shan, and they came to Jabesh and burned them there. 13 And they took their bones and buried them under the tamarisk tree in Jabesh and fasted seven days. (1 Samuel 31:8-13)

Thus ends 1 Samuel, almost as a tag line from a newspaper headline.  The best case scenario was a few valiant men who came to claim his body before it could be fully desecrated.

2 Samuel picks up this same storyline:

After the death of Saul, when David had returned from striking down the Amalekites, David remained two days in Ziklag. 2 And on the third day, behold, a man came from Saul’s camp, with his clothes torn and dirt on his head. And when he came to David, he fell to the ground and paid homage. 3 David said to him, “Where do you come from?” And he said to him, “I have escaped from the camp of Israel.” 4 And David said to him, “How did it go? Tell me.” And he answered, “The people fled from the battle, and also many of the people have fallen and are dead, and Saul and his son Jonathan are also dead.”5 Then David said to the young man who told him, “How do you know that Saul and his son Jonathan are dead?” 6 And the young man who told him said, “By chance I happened to be on Mount Gilboa, and there was Saul leaning on his spear, and behold, the chariots and the horsemen were close upon him. 7 And when he looked behind him, he saw me, and called to me. And I answered, ‘Here I am.’ 8 And he said to me, ‘Who are you?’ I answered him, ‘I am an Amalekite.’ 9 And he said to me, ‘Stand beside me and kill me, for anguish has seized me, and yet my life still lingers.’ 10 So I stood beside him and killed him, because I was sure that he could not live after he had fallen. And I took the crown that was on his head and the armlet that was on his arm, and I have brought them here to my lord.” (2 Samuel 1:1-10)

The man is lying.  1 Samuel 31 tells us that Saul killed himself when even his armor-bearer refused.  Why lie about this?  The Amalekite makes it seem almost an act of mercy—or more likely, he wanted to be remembered as the man who finally put David in power.  Unfortunately the scheme backfired:

11 Then David took hold of his clothes and tore them, and so did all the men who were with him. 12 And they mourned and wept and fasted until evening for Saul and for Jonathan his son and for the people of the Lord and for the house of Israel, because they had fallen by the sword. 13 And David said to the young man who told him, “Where do you come from?” And he answered, “I am the son of a sojourner, an Amalekite.” 14 David said to him, “How is it you were not afraid to put out your hand to destroy the Lord’s anointed?” 15 Then David called one of the young men and said, “Go, execute him.” And he struck him down so that he died. 16 And David said to him, “Your blood be on your head, for your own mouth has testified against you, saying, ‘I have killed the Lord’s anointed.’”

David wants nothing to do with someone that would take the life of God’s anointed.  The irony, of course, is that the man was never guilty of this crime—yet his bragging only brought him ruin.

Much attention has been given to suicide in recent months—starting with the death of Robin Williams to the scheduled death of Brittney Maynard, a 29 year old cancer patient choosing to end her life on her own terms.  We might add to this list the literally thousands who struggle with anxiety, depression and suicidal thoughts.  What should the Christian response be?

First, contrary to other teachings on the matter, we should recognize that suicide does not equal a trip to hell.  Your acceptance before God is through Jesus.  If a person trusts in Jesus, yet takes their own life, then while God is displeased with that choice it does not remove the grace of His Son.

Secondly, suffering is an integral part of life in a broken world.  Death is inevitable for us all.  Saul surely saw this—as do those suffering with cancer.  So how imminent should death be before we can justify such decisions?  We’re talking, of course, about euthanasia, or assisted suicide.  From an ethical perspective, there are two broad forms.  Passive euthanasia refers to allowing nature—in its cursed form—to follow its natural course.  This might mean withholding or even ceasing treatment from the terminally ill, and allowing their body to shut down.  As Christians, we rightly recognize that this horrific decision does not come easily—but we also should not cling so tightly to the here and now that we fail to prepare ourselves for the journey from nature to eternity.  In his book on the subject, M. Scott Peck—spiritual author as well as physician—repeatedly writes: “Let my people go.”  By that he meant Christians should not be surprised by suffering, nor should we approach death as if it’s truly final.

But active euthanasia, the act of terminating someone’s life through some direct intervention, is much more difficult.  As Christians, we recognize that suffering is never beautiful, never positive, though we might call it enriching.  We need not romanticize the notion of the noble sufferer, but on the other hand we must recognize the way that suffering connects to the core of who we are as humans.  Suicide, therefore, dehumanizes us, suggests that suffering is something that can be opted out of at our discretion.

Let’s not throw rocks.  Each of us faces a “rainbow” all our own.  We will face tough decisions about what to do about suffering—either our own or that of a loved one.  But the gospel promises that because Jesus suffered with us—nay, for us—we can allow our hurts to press us more closely into the character of God.

If you’ve read J.R.R. Tolkien’s classic Lord of the Rings saga, then you may have noticed Peter Jackson’s films omitted a large portion of The Return of the King.  Tolkien’s novel concludes with a lengthy section called “The Scouring of the Shire,” which records the way that the familiar homeland of the Shire had now become overrun by “ruffians.”  Tolkien was working in the years that followed the first World War.  Many young men had gone off to a war fought in trenches and stretches of territory called “no man’s land.”  When they returned home, they found they could not shake the evil they’d seen.  Tolkien’s fanciful story reflects this time—reminding all readers that it’s simply not possible to face evil without evil touching you, maybe even changing you.

If you’ve been through any sort of major trauma—a death in the family, a broken relationship, any sense of loss—there’s a sense in which you can’t really “get over it.”  There’s some part of you that always feels some sense of soreness, like some limp of the soul.

1 Samuel concludes with the coming war between Israel and the Philistines, but in chapter 30 the narration slows and focuses on David.  His wilderness years are drawing to an end, but the suffering he’d experienced was still very much a part of his life.

DAVID’S CRISIS

David and his men return to find a land in ruin:

Now when David and his men came to Ziklag on the third day, the Amalekites had made a raid against the Negeb and against Ziklag. They had overcome Ziklag and burned it with fire ² and taken captive the women and all who were in it, both small and great. They killed no one, but carried them off and went their way. ³ And when David and his men came to the city, they found it burned with fire, and their wives and sons and daughters taken captive. ⁴ Then David and the people who were with him raised their voices and wept until they had no more strength to weep. ⁵ David’s two wives also had been taken captive, Ahinoam of Jezreel and Abigail the widow of Nabal of Carmel. ⁶ And David was greatly distressed, for the people spoke of stoning him, because all the people were bitter in soul, each for his sons and daughters. But David strengthened himself in the Lord his God.

The men are incensed, and the natural target was David.  After all, he’d been their leader, surely he’s to blame for failing to protect their families?

When we’re hurt, it’s easy to cast blame.  And why not?  Anger is often preferable to hurt, because at least when you’re angry you’re not feeling helpless.  But this small measure of control will never truly serve you well, and in time such bitterness can prevent you from taking a realistic look at your circumstances.

GOD’S GUIDANCE

David’s first recourse was to seek God’s direction:

⁷ And David said to Abiathar the priest, the son of Ahimelech, “Bring me the ephod.” So Abiathar brought the ephod to David. ⁸ And David inquired of the Lord, “Shall I pursue after this band? Shall I overtake them?” He answered him, “Pursue, for you shall surely overtake and shall surely rescue.” ⁹ So David set out, and the six hundred men who were with him, and they came to the brook Besor, where those who were left behind stayed.¹⁰ But David pursued, he and four hundred men. Two hundred stayed behind, who were too exhausted to cross the brook Besor.

You and I don’t share this direct connection with God.  But we have something David didn’t.  Jesus promised that His followers would be given the provisionary guidance of the Holy Spirit.  Together with God’s word, God’s people have the tools necessary to navigate hostile terrain,

DAVID’S KINDNESS

In contrast to his men, David was able to show kindness to a stranger:

 ¹¹ They found an Egyptian in the open country and brought him to David. And they gave him bread and he ate. They gave him water to drink, ¹² and they gave him a piece of a cake of figs and two clusters of raisins. And when he had eaten, his spirit revived, for he had not eaten bread or drunk water for three days and three nights. ¹³ And David said to him, “To whom do you belong? And where are you from?” He said, “I am a young man of Egypt, servant to an Amalekite, and my master left me behind because I fell sick three days ago. ¹⁴ We had made a raid against the Negeb of the Cherethites and against that which belongs to Judah and against the Negeb of Caleb, and we burned Ziklag with fire.”¹⁵ And David said to him, “Will you take me down to this band?” And he said, “Swear to me by God that you will not kill me or deliver me into the hands of my master, and I will take you down to this band.”

The kindness paid off—now this man would be instrumental in David’s victory.

DAVID’S VICTORY

David was now granted the ability to attain victory:

 ¹⁶ And when he had taken him down, behold, they were spread abroad over all the land, eating and drinking and dancing, because of all the great spoil they had taken from the land of the Philistines and from the land of Judah. ¹⁷ And David struck them down from twilight until the evening of the next day, and not a man of them escaped, except four hundred young men, who mounted camels and fled. ¹⁸ David recovered all that the Amalekites had taken, and David rescued his two wives. ¹⁹ Nothing was missing, whether small or great, sons or daughters, spoil or anything that had been taken. David brought back all. ²⁰ David also captured all the flocks and herds, and the people drove the livestock before him, and said, “This is David’s spoil.”

²¹ Then David came to the two hundred men who had been too exhausted to follow David, and who had been left at the brook Besor. And they went out to meet David and to meet the people who were with him. And when David came near to the people he greeted them. ²² Then all the wicked and worthless fellows among the men who had gone with David said, “Because they did not go with us, we will not give them any of the spoil that we have recovered, except that each man may lead away his wife and children, and depart.” ²³ But David said, “You shall not do so, my brothers, with what the Lord has given us. He has preserved us and given into our hand the band that came against us.²⁴ Who would listen to you in this matter? For as his share is who goes down into the battle, so shall his share be who stays by the baggage. They shall share alike.” ²⁵ And he made it a statute and a rule for Israel from that day forward to this day.

And notice that David was able to use this victory to bless others:

 ²⁶ When David came to Ziklag, he sent part of the spoil to his friends, the elders of Judah, saying, “Here is a present for you from the spoil of the enemies of the Lord.” ²⁷ It was for those in Bethel, in Ramoth of the Negeb, in Jattir, ²⁸ in Aroer, in Siphmoth, in Eshtemoa,²⁹ in Racal, in the cities of the Jerahmeelites, in the cities of the Kenites, ³⁰ in Hormah, in Bor-ashan, in Athach, ³¹ in Hebron, for all the places where David and his men had roamed.

When we experience deliverance from a time in the wilderness, how can we use this victory for the benefit of others?  Chances are you have a story of how God delivered you from circumstances that seemed overwhelming.  That story—when shared with a neighbor or a coworker—can be powerful in God’s hands at revealing His character.

I experienced such a wilderness in the years after college.  My undergraduate training was in science and chemistry, but a brief stint in cancer research stretched my abilities past the point of breaking.  I was devastated—and jobless.  What was I to do?  It’s a terrible thing to witness your dreams dissolve in a veil of tears.  But it’s a wonderful thing to watch God work His will with your life.  The end of the story, of course, is that I would later become a pastor.  Life will always bring its share of time in the wilderness.  But we can remain confident that Jesus’ victory over sin and death—and the righteousness that he grants to our ledger before God—will see us through.

“All the world’s a stage,” Shakespeare once wrote.  Yet as we step onto its floorboards, there will be times when we wonder what sort of play we enact.  Tragedy?  Comedy?  And the greatest prophets of our day insist that there is nothing in our script not inscribed there by nurture or nature—the dispassionate playwrights of an empty human drama.   “There is not one big cosmic meaning for all,” writes international novelist Anaias Nin.  “There is only the meaning we give to our life, an individual meaning, an individual plot, like an individual novel, a book for each person.”  Yet suffering, times spent in the wilderness—these things give us pause as we consider how to make sense of the story God seems to be writing in our lives.

DEJU VU ALL OVER AGAIN

Once again David has the chance to solve his problems on his own terms.

Then the Ziphites came to Saul at Gibeah, saying, “Is not David hiding himself on the hill of Hachilah, which is on the east of Jeshimon?” 2 So Saul arose and went down to the wilderness of Ziph with three thousand chosen men of Israel to seek David in the wilderness of Ziph. 3 And Saul encamped on the hill of Hachilah, which is beside the road on the east of Jeshimon. But David remained in the wilderness. When he saw that Saul came after him into the wilderness, 4 David sent out spies and learned that Saul had indeed come. 5 Then David rose and came to the place where Saul had encamped. And David saw the place where Saul lay, with Abner the son of Ner, the commander of his army. Saul was lying within the encampment, while the army was encamped around him.

Though outnumbered, David has the upper hand.  With the element of surprise once again on his side, David could turn this battle in his favor by taking out Saul—or send another in his stead.

6 Then David said to Ahimelech the Hittite, and to Joab’s brother Abishai the son of Zeruiah, “Who will go down with me into the camp to Saul?” And Abishai said, “I will go down with you.” 7 So David and Abishai went to the army by night. And there lay Saul sleeping within the encampment, with his spear stuck in the ground at his head, and Abner and the army lay around him. 8 Then Abishai said to David, “God has given your enemy into your hand this day. Now please let me pin him to the earth with one stroke of the spear, and I will not strike him twice.” 9 But David said to Abishai, “Do not destroy him, for who can put out his hand against the Lord’s anointed and be guiltless?” 10 And David said, “As the Lord lives, the Lord will strike him, or his day will come to die, or he will go down into battle and perish. 11 The Lord forbid that I should put out my hand against the Lord’s anointed. But take now the spear that is at his head and the jar of water, and let us go.” 12 So David took the spear and the jar of water from Saul’s head, and they went away. No man saw it or knew it, nor did any awake, for they were all asleep, because a deep sleep from the Lord had fallen upon them.

Abishai could have easily done David’s dirty work for him.  David’s commitment remains steadfast.  Surely by this time David must have wondered whether the game would ever end.  Would he be trapped on the run forever?

DAVID AND ABNER

Abner was Saul’s bodyguard.  Yet ironically Saul’s life was spared not by Saul’s bodyguard, but by Saul’s would-be assassin.

13 Then David went over to the other side and stood far off on the top of the hill, with a great space between them. 14 And David called to the army, and to Abner the son of Ner, saying, “Will you not answer, Abner?” Then Abner answered, “Who are you who calls to the king?” 15 And David said to Abner, “Are you not a man? Who is like you in Israel? Why then have you not kept watch over your lord the king? For one of the people came in to destroy the king your lord. 16 This thing that you have done is not good. As the Lord lives, you deserve to die, because you have not kept watch over your lord, the Lord’s anointed. And now see where the king’s spear is and the jar of water that was at his head.”

DAVID AND SAUL

David now confronts Saul.

17 Saul recognized David’s voice and said, “Is this your voice, my son David?” And David said, “It is my voice, my lord, O king.” 18 And he said, “Why does my lord pursue after his servant? For what have I done? What evil is on my hands? 19 Now therefore let my lord the king hear the words of his servant. If it is the Lord who has stirred you up against me, may he accept an offering, but if it is men, may they be cursed before the Lord, for they have driven me out this day that I should have no share in the heritage of the Lord, saying, ‘Go, serve other gods.’ 20 Now therefore, let not my blood fall to the earth away from the presence of the Lord, for the king of Israel has come out to seek a single flea like one who hunts a partridge in the mountains.”

Notice that though Saul addresses David as “son,” any affection David might have had is gone.  As before, David’s loyalty rests with God—not with the character of Saul.  David insists that searching out a lowly “flea” or “partridge” was beneath the king’s dignity.

Saul repents, though once again his words ring hollow:

21 Then Saul said, “I have sinned. Return, my son David, for I will no more do you harm, because my life was precious in your eyes this day. Behold, I have acted foolishly, and have made a great mistake.” 22 And David answered and said, “Here is the spear, O king! Let one of the young men come over and take it. 23 The Lord rewards every man for his righteousness and his faithfulness, for the Lord gave you into my hand today, and I would not put out my hand against the Lord’s anointed. 24 Behold, as your life was precious this day in my sight, so may my life be precious in the sight of the Lord, and may he deliver me out of all tribulation.” 25 Then Saul said to David, “Blessed be you, my son David! You will do many things and will succeed in them.” So David went his way, and Saul returned to his place.

David responds with trust in God.  He even returns Saul’s spear—the same one he’d tried to use to kill both David and Jonathan.  David sees his trust in God as part of a larger story—a story in which God would make good on his promise to protect and provide for David.

In J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Two Towers—the second part of his beloved Lord of the Rings Series—things look grim for Frodo and Sam, the characters charged with the burdensome task of carrying the ring of power to Mordor.  Frodo is at the verge of giving up, when Sam reminds him of why they used to love the stories and tales from their youth:

“The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually – their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t. And if they had, we shouldn’t know, because they’d have been forgotten. … I wonder what sort of a tale we’ve fallen into?”

“I wonder,” said Frodo. “But I don’t know. And that’s the way of a real tale. Take any one that you’re fond of. You may know, or guess, what kind of a tale it is, happy-ending or sad-ending, but the people in it don’t know. And you don’t want them to.”

Are you facing difficulty?  Would you rather your life be dull, uninteresting?  When you get to the end of your life, do you really want to look back at your years and consider them ordinary?  The wisest of teachers can’t always tell you what your future holds in store.  Your journey might be through a path of suffering—and there may be no light at the end of your tunnel.   And this is why Christianity insists that nothing makes sense when divorced from the larger story of eternity.  If we understand that God has a greater story to tell, if we see ourselves as bit actors in a far more expansive drama, then that changes everything.  Christianity may not dry our tears, but the pain may press us closer to Jesus, and to the reminder that something larger is going on and there is a plan for a happily ever after.  Struggles along the way are inevitable—but so is our future joy.  Don’t get so lost in present pain that you fail to see future promise.