04.04. Volume 2 contd
Saul Rejected as King
Saul began his reign with enthusiasm. He had a splendid coadjutor in his son Jonathan. Jonathan was brave and popular with the people. The Philistines made an effort to crush the Israelites. They gathered in vast numbers against them. The men of Israel were afraid, and followed Saul tremblingly. Samuel had appointed a time to come to Saul at Gilgal to offer sacrifices before the battle should begin. But Saul became impatient of Samuel’s delay and offered the sacrifices himself. Just as he had ended his offering Samuel came. Saul went out to greet him—but Samuel said to him: "What have you done?" Saul explained his action—but Samuel said: "You have done foolishly; you have not kept the commandment of the Lord your God." He said further to him that if he had obeyed—his kingdom would have been established forever. "But now your kingdom shall not continue: the Lord has sought a man after his own heart, and the Lord has appointed him to be prince over his people, because you have not kept that which the Lord commanded you."
Samuel continued to be prophet and guide to Saul, and brought him a Divine message, commanding him to smite the Amalekites. Very definite instructions were given to the king: "Now go, attack the Amalekites and totally destroy everything that belongs to them. Do not spare them; put to death men and women, children and infants, cattle and sheep, camels and donkeys." The battle was fought, and Saul’s victory was complete. But Agag, the king, was spared, also the best of the sheep and oxen, and all that was good. What was vile and worthless, was utterly destroyed—but what was choice and valuable, was spared.
After the battle was over came Samuel with sharp reproof. Saul met the old man graciously. He was greatly pleased with himself and with what he had done. He regarded his victory over the Amalekites as a splendid achievement. He had already set up a monument to himself, perhaps a stone, to commemorate his victory. He heard that Samuel was coming to see him, and went to meet him with patronizing words and manner: "The LORD bless you! I have carried out the LORD’s instructions."
He had indeed performed the Lord’s bidding in a way, in his own partial and imperfect way, doing just as much of what God commanded, as he had felt inclined to do, then leaving out such parts of the commandment as he felt disinclined to perform.
There are a good many people in every age who obey God in the same way. They render a general obedience—but pay no heed to the exact requirements of the Divine law. They tell the truth as a whole—but are not concerned about slight deviations from it. They are honest in a large, general way—but do not think that their little dishonesties count against them. Saul thought he had come near enough to what God had told him to claim to have been obedient and to merit strong commendation for his fidelity. What God thought, however, of Saul’s way of obeying—we learn a little farther on.
Just as Saul was telling Samuel how well he had done his errand for God, there came ominous sounds from some place near-by, and Samuel said: "What then is this bleating of sheep in my ears? What is this lowing of cattle that I hear?" According to the command, all the sheep and oxen of the Amalekites were to be killed. What then were these noises of sheep and cattle? We cannot hide our sins. We may think we have covered up our disobediences so deftly, that detection will be impossible. Suddenly something tears away the veil and they are exposed to the gaze of the world. A man carries on a series of dishonesties and conceals them by expert bookkeeping, thinking he is safe from detection. But some morning he is startled to find that the stolen sheep have been bleating, and all the world knows of his thefts and embezzlements. It is the nature of sheep to bleat and of oxen to low, and they have not sense enough to keep quiet when they are wanted to. Indeed, they are almost sure to make a noise just when they are expected to keep perfectly still. It is the same with sin. It is a poor friend. It professes well when it offers its solicitations—but when it has been committed, it is a most unsafe confidant. It cannot keep a secret. It is sure to betray the man, who depends upon it for discreet silence. In many people’s lives there are some bleating sheep and some lowing oxen, which tell the story of the imperfectness of our obedience.
It is a good rule, when something goes wrong, in matters in which we are interested, to take the blame upon ourselves. That is the manly way, at least. But that is not the common way—it was not Saul’s way. Saul said: "The soldiers brought them from the Amalekites; they spared the best of the sheep and cattle to sacrifice to the LORD your God." Saul could not deny the disobedience now, with the evidence sounding in the prophet’s ears—but he threw the blame on the people. "They spared the best of the sheep and cattle," he said. The king thus showed a spirit of baseness and cowardice and lack of fine manliness. Would the people have brought them if he, the king, had forbidden it? Had he not at least connived at their disobedience by his silence? A command had been given to him, and he was the responsible leader. Nothing is more contemptible than the attempt to throw the blame of our sins and mistakes on other people. Yet few things are more frequently done" Adam set the example at the beginning, and many of Adam’s children follow him! The true, manly way—is to take the blame of our own sins. In God’s sight—and that is the way always to look at our acts—everyone must bear his own burden of sin. If we have done wrong—let us be frank enough to confess it.
Saul went still farther and sought or invented a religious reason for what the people had done. "The people spared the best of the sheep and cattle—to sacrifice to the LORD your God." We do not know certainly whether this was a true statement of fact or not, or whether the reason given for the disobedience was only an invention of the king’s—to excuse himself. If the people had really planned the matter, they probably thought that if they used the spoil, although disobediently spared, to make a great triumphal offering to the Lord, He would overlook the disobedience. That is, they would propitiate the Lord after they had broken His command, by a generous sacrifice and by effusive devotion. What pitiful mockery!
Let us be careful that we never repeat the mockery. We never can satisfy God for one failure in duty—by extraordinary zeal in some other direction. We cannot appease Him when we have sinned—by bringing to His altar the fruits of our sin. For example, God will not overlook a man’s dishonesty—if the man lays part of what he has made by the dishonesty in the collection plate or gives it to some holy cause. Men can play all manner of tricks with their own consciences—but not with God.
"Now go, attack the Amalekites and totally destroy everything that belongs to them. Do not spare them; put to death men and women, children and infants, cattle and sheep, camels and donkeys!" 1Sa 15:3
"Saul and the troops spared Agag, and the best of the sheep, cattle, and fatlings, as well as the young rams and the best of everything else. But they did destroy all the worthless and unwanted things." 1Sa 15:9. They utterly destroyed all the common spoil—but spared whatever was especially good. They kept all the fat, plump sheep and oxen—and destroyed the poor, lean and worthless ones. That is the way with a good many people. They are quite ready to devote to God the things they do not care much for—but the things that are desirable for their own use, they keep. This spirit is shown in the way many give to the Lord’s service. The gold and silver and the banknotes they keep for themselves, while they put the nickels and the pennies in the collection plate. It is shown, too, in the way they treat their own vices and lusts. Those that they do not particularly love—they crush out with amazing zeal. But their favorite vices and fat, rich sins—they spare for their own indulgence!
Men may go on and do as they will—but that is not the end of the matter; the Lord has something to say about their acts. If they could leave Him out of their life altogether and get clear of meeting Him, if there were no final and eternal judgment, disobedience would not be such serious business. But they cannot eliminate God. He stands in their paths as they return from their sins and utters His Word and tells them what He thinks about them. We never can avoid meeting God after our sinful acts. We cannot go through life by any path so as to miss His final judgment. Indeed, the voice of conscience tells us at once, as God’s prophet here told Saul, just what God has to say. If we are wise we will ask beforehand what God will have to say—and will then shape all our acts so as to have His approval on whatever we do.
Samuel was growing old, and he was a gentle, kindly man—but he never grew lenient towards men’s sins. As he listened to the king’s excuses for disobedience, instead of frank and honest confession, Samuel’s indignation grew hot, and he spoke to him with sternness: "Stop! Let me tell you what the LORD said to me last night!" He compels Saul to stop and listen to the rehearsal of the story of his sin. "The Lord sent you on a mission and said: Go and completely destroy the sinful Amalekites. Fight against them until you have annihilated them!" 1Sa 15:18 The evil things in us—are our Amalekites, and we are to destroy them! Yet how many of us, like Saul, cut away at the little Amalekites and spare the big Agags? Do not some of us also see the story of our own disobediences and failures—in the way Saul treated God and His commandments?
He owed everything to God. He had been taken from a lowly place and exalted to high honor. He ought to have shown his gratitude in unwavering obedience. But his promotion, instead of making him humble, had turned his head. When Samuel asked him why he had not obeyed the Lord, but had seized the spoil that God had devoted to destruction, Saul still insisted that he had obeyed, repeating the assertion that the people had spared part of the spoil to sacrifice unto the Lord. The king showed anything but a submissive and docile spirit. He was willful, impenitent, haughty and insolent. To Saul’s words Samuel replied: "Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice." In its reference to Saul’s act the meaning of his words is plain. The king had not propitiated God, in proposing to offer the fruits of his disobedience in sacrifice. Nothing would satisfy God, but obedience. But there are other applications less obvious.
Many people set a great deal more importance upon religious ceremonials than upon practical obedience. They will be very faithful in attendance upon all church services and very devout and reverent in worship—and yet in their daily life they will disregard the plain commandments of God! They fill the week with selfishness, with pride, with bitterness, with evil speaking and all manner of little deceptions and falsehoods—and then come on Sunday, with great show of devotion, to engage in the worship of God! When God tells a mother to care for her child, He is not satisfied if she neglects that duty in order to write a book or to look after a sick woman, or to go out to a religious meeting. When God wants a man to help a poor family in some obscure street; He is not satisfied if instead of that lowly service—the man does some excellent thing which seems to bring ten times as much honor to the Lord. The supreme thing in Christian life—is to obey God, and without obedience nothing else counts at all.
There is a story of a father and his child which illustrates Samuel’s words, "To obey is better than sacrifice." They were living a little distance from a lake whose shores were lined with beautiful and brilliant shells. The father was absent the greater part of the day, and had bidden the child never to go near the water while he was away, fearing that some harm might come to her. One day the little girl broke her father’s commandment and wandered to the lake shore. She dreaded to meet her father in the evening, knowing that he would be very much grieved to learn of her disobedience. She thought, however, that she might appease him and make him feel less angry—if she would show him some special kindness. So she gathered a basketful of the loveliest shells she could find, and took them to give as a present to her father. When he came home she told him what she had done, and then producing the shells, she gave them to him as a present, asking him if they were not very beautiful. With great sadness on his face he flung the shells away, saying: "My child, to obey is better than sacrifice!" No gifts, however lovely, could please the father, since his child had disobeyed his command.
Saul understood now, that his sin was a most grave and serious matter, and he made confession. "I have sinned!" The same words have been spoken in such a way as to bring instant pardon. When David said to Nathan, "I have sinned!" he heard the answer at once: "The Lord has taken away your sin." But in Saul’s case there was no real confession in the words, no deep sense of sin. Saul was not sorry he had done wrong—but was sorry only for the consequences, the punishment which had been declared.
God is merciful and gracious—but Saul’s sin could not be forgiven. A second time he had disobeyed the Lord when he was sent with specific directions on a definite duty. The doom was final and irrevocable. "You have rejected the Word of the Lord, and the Lord has rejected you from being king!" No one is fit for God’s service who will not obey God’s commands. If we would be employed as His servants, to work for Him—we must do what He bids us to do. Saul was thrust from the throne of Israel, because he persisted in taking his own way—instead of God’s. May this not be a reason in many cases—why men with great abilities do not rise to high spiritual influence and power? God will entrust His servants with responsibility, only so far as they prove worthy to be trusted. When one fails in smaller trusts, the larger will not be given to him; and the smaller, too, will be taken away. If we want to be used in the work of the Lord—we must learn to obey implicitly and unquestioningly. No other kind of servant can stay in the Lord’s service!
Samuel Anoints David
Saul had failed because he would not accept God’s way for his life—but insisted upon having his own way. The result was that he wrecked everything. God set him aside. He continued to reign until his death—but he no more had God’s help and blessing.
It was a sad hour in Samuel’s life when the Lord sent him to anoint another in Saul’s place. We see here another glimpse of the nobleness of Samuel. It grieved him to have Saul rejected. Some men in Samuel’s place would have been quite satisfied at Saul’s failure. But Samuel had a generous heart. It should grieve us to see even the worst man do wrong and come under the Divine condemnation.
Samuel seems also to have been afraid. "If Saul hears it, he will kill me," he said. The Lord then reproved him for his hesitancy. "How long will you mourn for Saul, seeing I have rejected him from being king?" Our first duty even in sorrow—is submission to the Divine will. When God renders a decision, we should accept it as final, however it may cut into our hopes or plans. It ought to have been enough for Samuel—to know that the Lord had rejected Saul. When God acts, His servants should be silent. It ought to be enough for anyone in private or public sorrow—that the Lord has so ordered it. Grief is not unfitting, for Jesus wept; yet grieving may become sin. It is sin when it is unsubmissive. Even when no ray of light can be seen—God’s wisdom and love should be trusted. The best cure for grief and disappointment, is found in promptly taking up one’s duty.
"Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet us;
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us." The Lord smoothed the way for Samuel, as he went upon his errand. He sent him to Jesse, telling him He had provided a king among Jesse’s sons. God’s choice of the king was not to be made public. Indeed, no one but Samuel himself knew the meaning of his visit to the Bethlehem home, or of the anointing that took place. Samuel’s errand to Bethlehem was an act of worship, a sacrifice, and a feast. Samuel was not to worry about how the matter would come out. One step at a time, was enough for him to know. God usually does not show us all our way—at once. He gives us our work piece by piece.
"The elders of the city came to meet him trembling, and said, "Do you come in peace?" Samuel replied, "Yes, in peace; I have come to sacrifice to the LORD." The elders of the town were somewhat disturbed when the old prophet came to their town. They feared that his coming meant punishment to them for something they had done.
Like these Bethlehemites, we, too, are sometimes terrified by the coming to us of God’s messengers. They do not all wear gentle faces as they approach us; ofttimes they come in a garb of sternness or of pain. Yet they come always with a blessing for us. Sickness is one of those dark-visaged prophets. We cannot welcome it. Yet if we ask this messenger in our trembling: "Do you come in peace?" the answer is: "Yes, peaceably." Sickness always brings messages of peace, of blessing, of good—to those who will receive them, and God’s messenger should always be received with reverence and trust. The same is true of all the hard things in our lot. We do not like to have to struggle and deny ourselves. Boys and young men who are poor, ofttimes think they scarcely have a fair chance in life when they see the sons of rich men reveling in ease and luxury, with plenty of money and with no necessity to toil and save. Yet really, the stern prophet of poverty who comes to the sons of the poor—brings a holier message and a truer blessing—than the smiling-faced, silken-robed messenger brings to the youth of the fine mansion! The best things in life—can be drawn out only by work and discipline. Hence, whatever compels a boy or a young man to toil, to deny himself, to depend upon his own efforts—is a blessing to him. The prophet of necessity comes, therefore, to him peaceably. In all of life it is the same. We never should turn away from our doors, any prophets whom God sends, however stem they may appear. They all come to bring us some good, to give us more life, to make better men of us. "The beautifully grained wood that makes our finest furniture is not taken from the trees that grow in peaceful, sheltered situations—but from those that are in exposed places, beaten about by the storms. So it is that the noblest natures, are those that have had to contend with many trials."
Samuel began at once to look at Jesse’s sons, in order to discover the one who was to be the king. "Samuel took one look at Eliab and thought, Surely this is the LORD’s anointed!" 1Sa 16:6.
Eliab was a splendid specimen of a man—just the man for a king. He was tall and majestic in his bearing. If physical strength was still to be the requisite for kingliness, no better man could have been found. But there are many men with splendid bodies—who are far from regal in their souls! Intellectual capacity is also one of God’s noble gifts—but many a man with a superb mind—is most unkingly in his character. What could such men as Byron and Burns and Napoleon have been before God—if they had not so prostituted their magnificent power? Neither physical beauty like that of Apollo, nor intellectual greatness like that of a Bacon, makes a man great in God’s eyes.
God looks for moral and spiritual greatness, and many a poor cripple or hunchback is more kingly in His sight—than the man or the woman whom people turn to gaze after on the street, attracted by beauty of person and grace of movement.
"Man looks on the outward appearance—but the Lord looks on the heart." When soldiers are needed, those who offer themselves are measured and weighed and their health is tested. When God wants soldiers—He applies moral measurements. In these modern days a great deal of attention is paid to physical looks. Some of the boys would rather stand well in the games—than in their classroom. They think more of fine muscles—than of a fine mind or a beautiful soul. Physical health is good—God wants us to take care of our bodies and make the very most of their strength, keeping them in health and vigor.
It may be well, however, to inquire what really makes a man—muscle, or mind and heart. Eliab was a fine fellow in his body—but he was not the man the Lord chose when He wanted a king. Evidently his heart had not in it the kingly qualities. We do not know in what qualities Eliab was lacking. We know only that he was not a man after God’s heart. God knows who has the ability for any particular task—and whom He can trust with sacred responsibilities.
One by one Jesse’s sons were looked upon by Samuel—all but one. But the one the Lord was looking for, had not yet appeared, and Samuel asked Jesse: "Are these all your children? . . . There remains yet the youngest," said Jesse, "and, behold, he is keeping the sheep." The shepherd lad did not seem to his father, to be of any importance. He was only a boy, while his brothers were fine young men. He could look after sheep well enough, and thus he was not present for Samuel that day. It was not thought even worth while, to call him in for the feast or for the religious service. Apparently he came very near being overlooked. He would have been overlooked altogether, if it had not been for Samuel. It is often the case that those the Lord chooses for important places in His Kingdom, are the ones whom men have overlooked. The stones which the human builders have rejected, God has built at length into the very foundations of the walls of His great temple. He knows the men He wants, and He recognizes their worth, though clad in shepherds’ garb—or in fishermen’s plain dress.
There ought to be encouragement here for boys who are in lowly or obscure places. They may think they have no chance in life, that nobody will ever discover their talents and abilities—but God knows all about them. He knows, too, where He wants to use them, what place He made them for, what work is theirs in His infinite plan—and He will also find a way to bring them out and lead them to what He wants them to perform. This is our Father’s world, and there is no danger that we shall be lost in its vastness, however little we may be. The way to be sure of recognition and promotion to a higher place, is to be faithful and energetic in the lowly place in which one begins. God will find you there when He wants you. He found Elisha plowing in the field. Jesus found His disciples fishing. The Lord found David keeping sheep.
It is interesting to know that God has a place for every life. We are not born in this world—and then left to find our way through it into whatever place we may be able to scramble to. We are made by God, thought about before we are born, and given the qualities that will fit us for the place we are meant to fill, and the talents for doing the work that we are made to do. We ought not to have to scramble to get a place in which to live and make our career. If only we do God’s will day by day—we shall come at length to our place. David was born to be a king. Samuel found him caring for sheep. But he was led at length to the throne. We may trust God with guidance in the making of our career—if we simply obey and follow Him. When the one the Lord had chosen among Jesse’s sons appeared, he was anointed. "Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him . . . and the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David." Thus the boy was set apart for God. The oil was the symbol—the real anointing was the coming of the Divine Spirit upon him. That is what we all need to fit us for our duty. Natural gifts and capacities have their place—but they are of no avail—unless the anointing of God is upon us. Power must come down from above. The Divine Spirit alone, can take these poor earthly lives of ours—and make them ready for Divine service. This lesson is very important for the boys who are keeping sheep or working on farms and in shops and factories and stores, or plodding on in school, sighing for places of influence and power. Bow your heads to obey the Spirit of God, and His anointing will fit you for whatever place God made you to fill. Probably David did not then know to what God meant to call him. He knew only this: that he was now set apart for some service for the Lord. You do not know what God made you for. You may be sure, however, that it was for something very noble. Any place in God’s plan is glorious. Then even the lowliest place is noble, as the world rates places—if it is God’s assignment.
David and Goliath
1Sa 17:1-58 The story of David and Goliath is one with which every reader of the Bible is familiar. It is full of interest. It reveals much of David’s character, and throws light on the training of the boy in his shepherd life. It is suggestive also for all of us, for we all have giants to fight, and we may learn from David, how to meet them and conquer them.
David had been chosen to be king. Now he was to be trained for the great task. All the incidents and events in his life—were lessons set by the great Teacher. The Philistines had gathered for battle with the Israelites, and Saul and his men were facing them. One day there stalked out from the Philistine lines—a great giant, named Goliath, and proposed that one from Saul’s army should come out and fight him, and that the outcome of this duel should settle the conflict between the two armies. At first no one of Saul’s men responded to the champion’s defiance. The king and his men were dismayed and greatly humiliated.
Then David came to the camp. He did not belong to the army. He was only a boy, and his place was at home with the sheep. His older brothers were with Saul.
Jesse one day sent David to the camp with provisions for his brothers. For forty days, morning and evening, Goliath had been coming out and calling across the valley, demanding that someone from the Israelite army should accept his challenge. David had just found his brothers and was talking with them—when the giant made his appearance. The shepherd lad heard his haughty words. He learned also what had been promised by the king—to the man who would kill the evil champion. David became greatly interested in the matter—but the boy’s inquiries irritated Eliab, David’s oldest brother, who spoke scornfully to him. The king heard of the lad’s interest and sent for him. David proposed to the king—that he would fight the giant. Saul tried to dissuade him—but David persisted, and at length Saul consented. "Go, and the Lord shall be with you." "Then Saul put a coat of armor on him and a bronze helmet on his head." David’s simple shepherd’s garb did not appear to the warrior king to be suited for the battle with the great giant—who was outfitted in all the armor of a man of war. Saul thought David could not fight a soldier, without a soldier’s armor. He did not know that he was better armed as he was than if he had helmet and coat of armor and shoes of brass to protect his body. David was clad rather in the panoply of God. The best protection anyone can have in time of danger—is the garment of truth, sincerity and holiness. Paul tells us of the Christian’s armor, which, he says, every follower of Christ should wear, the breastplate of righteousness, the shoes of the gospel of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit. Life is a constant warfare—if it is life really worth living. Not to fight—is not to try to get forward and struggle upward. The king thought David should be armed before going out to meet Goliath, so he put on him his own helmet and coat of armor. But David told Saul he could not fight in armor. "I cannot go with these; because I am not used to them! So he took them off." He tried to move about in Saul’s heavy armor—but staggered under the weight. In a contest of pure arms—sword and spear and helmet and coat of armor—David would have been no match for Goliath; but armed with his sling—the giant was no match for him. This was the one weapon which David had been trained to use to perfection.
Just so, stick to your little sling when you are fighting giants, and do not attempt to throw anything but choice stones out of the gospel brook. Too many of our modern Davids persist in fighting Goliaths in Saul’s armor, and it is no wonder they are defeated. One who knows how to use the Word of God—is more than a match for any giant in the world. That was the weapon Jesus used when He met the great Goliath, Satan, and utterly vanquished him!
"Then he took his staff in his hand, chose five smooth stones from the stream, put them in the pouch of his shepherd’s bag and, with his sling in his hand, approached the Philistine." We should remember that David’s fine throwing that day was not accidental, nor was it by a miracle—that the stone went so straight to its mark. David had learned in his shepherd life—to do this thing easily and surely. He had practiced with his sling until he could strike a hair’s breadth and never miss. He had spent his leisure to some purpose while watching the sheep. He did not know then what splendid use his skill would one day be to him—but unconsciously, in his pleasant pastime, he was preparing for the great crisis of that day. Wellington used to say he learned on the Eton playground, how to fight the battle of Waterloo. This teaches young people the importance of improving every moment, and taking every opportunity to acquire knowledge and skill. Someone may say to them, that they will never find any use for this or that branch of study in the curriculum, and might as well omit it—but this is bad advice. Some day they will need all the knowledge and skill they can acquire. They will find need, too, for the particular bits of learning and knowledge they think they will never have occasion to use. David could not have met Goliath victoriously in that momentous hour—if he had not unconsciously prepared for such a conflict in the quiet hours of his shepherd life.
Many a man fails in important moments in the critical experiences of life—because he has failed to be diligent in his boyhood. If you would be ready for such occasions in your life—you must prepare for them in the quiet days of boyhood and youth. If David had not been an expert slinger before that morning—he could not then, in the hour before the giant came out, have prepared himself for the battle, nor could he have brought down the champion by any mere lucky stroke. Learn all you can in youth, omit no opportunity for acquiring skill in doing things, become skillful in whatever you do. You do not know what good service your experience, even in little, mundane things—may some day do you!
We should not neglect spiritual training. When Jesus met the tempter, He fell back on the preparation He had made in His silent years at Nazareth. To each assault He replied with a verse of Scripture. But He did not go to His Bible scroll to get His text. He had the Words of God in His heart, hidden away in the storehouse of memory.
Some people have to take their concordance and look up the Scripture text they want, when any need demands it, either for their own use or in helping others. A concordance is a good thing to have—but it is better if we become so familiar with our Bible and have it so in memory, that we can quote its words. It may seem to us that we do not need the Divine promises now—but some time we shall, and if we fail to learn them—we shall not have them ready in the day of distress. When the Philistine "looked David over and saw that he was only a boy, ruddy and handsome, and he despised him." He saw only a boy, unarmed, and scorned to fight with him. So the world disdains the Christian. It asks with contempt: "What can he do? What strength has he in his feeble hands? Where are the weapons he is going to fight with?" The giant saw only a shepherd’s staff in David’s hands; what was that—against his own enormous spear? The world sees only a Bible in the Christian’s hand; what is that—against all its philosophy and science and reason? Yet the Christian is not so defenseless and powerless as he seems. His weapons are not of the earthly kind and do not appear formidable—but are really powerful, and, like David, he is able with them to subdue giants!
David said to the Philistine, "You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the LORD Almighty!" The giant blustered, boasting of his own power and disdaining David’s littleness. He was angry that he had to fight with a mere boy. "Am I a dog, that you come to me with sticks?" Yet David was not scared by Goliath’s pitiful scorn of him. It was the Lord’s battle he was about to fight, and he knew the Lord would give victory. The law of the heavenly kingdom is, "Not by might, nor by power—but by My Spirit, says the Lord." There are a great many things that human power can do—but when we turn to the really essential things in life—it is strengthless, and can do none of them. With all its boasted philosophy, science and wisdom—it cannot convert souls nor change hearts; it cannot lift up the fallen; it cannot overcome sin and Satan; it cannot comfort sorrow nor give peace to the dying. Not one of the really great things of life, can it do. The Christian comes in the name of the Lord, and that name has in it—the strength of omnipotence! Jesus said: "I have overcome the world." He is Master of all things, and therefore is able to subdue all things unto Himself.
David talked very confidently to the Philistine—but not boastfully. He gave God all the honor of the victory he was about to win. "I come to you in the name of the Lord Almighty!" "This day will the Lord deliver you into my hand." "That all the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the LORD saves; for the battle is the LORD’s, and he will give all of you into our hands." We can conquer—only as we fight in the name of Christ.
"As Goliath moved closer to attack, David quickly ran out to meet him. Reaching into his shepherd’s bag and taking out a stone, he hurled it from his sling and hit the Philistine in the forehead. The stone sank in, and Goliath stumbled and fell face downward to the ground!" Just so, the believer in God may prevail over every Philistine that stalks out to meet him—if he goes against him as David went that day against Goliath. The battle that wins the victory is the Lord’s. If we go in His name—we shall conquer. Paul said: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."
There are giants in our own hearts, even after the most thorough conversion. Like the Philistines in Canaan, the Philistines of sin also are terribly hard to subjugate. Your besetting sin, whatever it is, is a Goliath. It may seem to you that it never can be vanquished, and it never can until David comes—our David—Jesus. Call for Him to come and slay the giant for you!
There are giants in the world outside. Intemperance is one. Unbelief is another. Worldliness is another. These giants stalk out and hurl their defiance at the army of God’s people—and there seems to be no one who can overcome them. Now is the time for faith in God. We must go out against these giants in the name of the Lord, not with philosophy, science and education—but with the Cross, and then we shall prevail.
"And since he had no sword, he ran over and pulled Goliath’s sword from its sheath. David used it to kill the giant and cut off his head!" We should not fail to get a lesson on the importance of thoroughness in the conquest of evil, from David’s manner of dealing with Goliath. David was not satisfied with seeing the giant fall to the earth when the smooth stone struck him—but ran and drew Goliath’s own sword from its scabbard—and with it cut off his head. If he had not done this—the old champion would probably have gotten up by-and-by, and walked away, for he was only stunned—not killed, by the stone. David made sure that his work was completed. A great many of our attacks upon sin in our own hearts, and in the world—only stun and temporarily disable—but do not kill the evil. We walk away, thinking we have done a fine thing, won a splendid victory; and presently we meet the old giant again, stalking abroad as before! He soon recovers from our blow, and we have to fight the battle over again, and perhaps we fight it again in the same half way, and thus on and on—to the end of life.
Most of us have had just such experiences as these with our own lusts and passions. We overcome them often, and each time we think that we have entirely subdued them and that we shall have no further trouble with them; but they are soon active as ever again! We need to learn from David—to finish our victories by cutting off the head of every giant we strike down! There is no other way of destroying our sins. The life is in the head—and the head must come off—or the enemy will be facing us again in a day or two with only a scar on his forehead! The only way to get a real victory over vices—is to decapitate them! Bruises and wounds are not enough. There must be thorough work done, in the name of the Lord. Half-way measures will not avail.
"Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry." Col 3:5 David and Jonathan
1Sa 18:1-30 The story of the friendship of Jonathan and David is a Bible classic. As such, it takes rank with the finest friendship stories in any literature. Without detracting in the least from the character of David, or from his part in all the delightful story, there is no doubt that it is to Jonathan, that the chief honor belongs. He was the prince of Saul’s house, and therefore of rank far above the shepherd lad whom he loved. It was in Jonathan’s heart, too, that the friendship first began. He recognized in David noble qualities which won first his admiration and then his affection. If there was a man in the whole nation who had reason to be envious of David—it certainly was Jonathan. He was a brave and popular soldier, the son of the king—yet here was another man whose one achievement made him the hero of the people. In ordinary men the feeling of envy would have risen in the heart when David sprang suddenly into such popularity. Jonathan was the man, too, who had everything to lose by David’s promotion, and yet he was ready to lose all, even to let David become king, because of the love he bore to his friend.
Jonathan here sets a lesson for us, in the overmastering fullness and richness of his love. Such generous friendship, it must be confessed, is rare in even the best men and women. Not many of us can experience such overshadowing in others, such winning by others of honor and affection which naturally belong to us—and keep our hearts sweet and our love for the one who is so honored, as strong and loyal as ever. Such triumph of love is Christlike. It is an attainment we should strive to reach. SELF must die in us—and love must reign, and then we shall have learned our lesson.
Thus the first honor in this matchless friendship, belongs to Jonathan. He loved David with a pure and unselfish affection, which stood the severest test and never failed. As time went on and David became still more the nation’s hero, casting Jonathan himself in the shadows, there was no envy or jealousy in Jonathan’s heart. When at last he knew that David was to be king instead of himself, his friendship faltered not. When his own father turned against David and sought to kill him, Jonathan risked all—in order to save his friend’s life. The beginning of this friendship was very interesting. The young shepherd was brought into the king’s presence after his victory over the giant. As Jonathan looked on him, heard him speak and saw his beauty, his modest, simple bearing—his heart went out to him in a burst of affection, and from that hour "the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul."
Jonathan’s friendship was based on the true and simple worth of David. It was not the fascination of a moment—but an enduring attachment, having its roots in the heart, a love that would stand the sorest tests and not fail. It was unselfish affection, ready for any service or sacrifice, telling of a princely spirit in the king’s son.
True friendship has always its reserves. The best is not revealed at the beginning. We touch but the edge of its ocean fullness, when we first taste its sweetness. We have to know our friend better—to find the best of love that is in him. Jonathan’s affection for David was wonderful in its first revealing—but the more it was put to the test—the purer and holier it proved. Some friendships are only emotional and soon burn out, leaving only cold ashes—but Jonathan’s only increased in intensity as the days went on. So it should always be. When the love of Jonathan for David is described, it is said that he loved him as his own soul. There could be no higher measure of love than this. It was utterly unselfish. The whole story of Jonathan’s friendship for David, showed the most complete self-forgetfulness and self-abnegation. David in his eulogy on his friend after his death, said that his love surpassed the love of women. Woman’s love is wonderful in its tenderness, in its strength, in its devotion—but Jonathan’s love for David surpassed anything in the love of women that David had ever known. The more carefully we read the story as it is told in fragments in the chapters in the Book of Samuel, the more noble does the friendship appear. At the very beginning of their friendship Jonathan and David made a covenant. It was Jonathan who proposed this covenant, and it was because he loved David so intensely—as his own soul —that he did it. In this covenant, "Jonathan took off the robe he was wearing and gave it to David, along with his tunic, and even his sword, his bow and his belt." These tokens of his friendship Jonathan gave as pledges of his loyalty and faithfulness. When David saw them they would keep him in mind of his friend and all that he had promised. When Jonathan was out of his sight—these gifts would assure him that he was true, whether present or absent, as true in absence as in presence.
David sometimes grew discouraged when Saul pursued him so persistently and sought so bitterly to destroy him. Once David spoke to Jonathan of this. "What have I done?" he asked. "What is my iniquity? and what is my sin before your father, that he seeks my life?" Jonathan assured David that no harm would be done to him by his father. "Never! You are not going to die! Look, my father doesn’t do anything, great or small, without confiding in me. Why would he hide this from me?" David was still fearful. "Your father knows very well that I have found favor in your eyes, and he has said to himself, ’Jonathan must not know this or he will be grieved.’ Yet as surely as the LORD lives and as you live, there is only a step between me and death." Then Jonathan, to reassure David, agreed to find out his father’s feeling and let David know.
Jonathan’s position was most delicate and difficult. He was loyal to his father, and yet while his father was determined to kill David, he was loyal also to his friend. To maintain these two loyalties in such circumstances, required the greatest care. Yet Jonathan never failed in either.
"But if my father is inclined to harm you, may the LORD deal with me, be it ever so severely, if I do not let you know and send you away safely." Saul tried in every way to turn Jonathan against David—but Jonathan’s affection for David wavered not. At last Saul discovered, or at least came to believe, that David was the one whom God had marked out as "the neighbor more worthy than you," to be king in his stead. Surely now, he could break up Jonathan’s friendship for the young shepherd. So he told him that as long as David lived, he, Jonathan, could not become king. It must have required a terrible struggle for Jonathan, to give up all the hopes of royalty, and to know that his friend, not he, would wear the crown. But his friendship stood even this test, too. Instead of combining with his father to prevent David’s accession, he went out and tried to save David’s life from Saul’s rage. There could have been no severer test of friendship than this.
Jonathan showed his confidence in David’s friendship for him, at this point. "But show me unfailing kindness like that of the LORD as long as I live, so that I may not be killed, and do not ever cut off your kindness from my family—not even when the LORD has cut off every one of David’s enemies from the face of the earth." Jonathan foresaw something at least of what was coming upon his family, and sought to provide for them so that they would not suffer. He committed them to his friend, who was to be in the place of power—knowing that David would be kind to them.
We see here two noble things—first, a father’s love for his children, seeking shelter for them in a great coming calamity; second, Jonathan’s confidence in David’s friendship. And David was equal to his friend’s confidence. One of the most interesting incidents of his reign, is his gentle care of the lame son of Jonathan, whom he took into his own household and cared for as tenderly as if he were his own brother. The friendship that has a pious basis, where both the friends love God and serve Him, is doubly sacred and sure. Both Jonathan and David believed in God. Once Jonathan refers to an oath he and David had taken thus: "We have sworn both of us in the name of the Lord." Thus the friendship was sealed before God. They both loved God and trusted in Him, and it was as God’s children that they had made their covenant of friendship. There is no sure and lasting friendship which has not a Christian basis. In choosing friends, we should choose only those who will be one in Christ with us, and whose companionship we can have in all the close and holy relations of life and also when this world is no more. The hope that cheered Jonathan here, was that a friendship cemented in God could not be destroyed; that whatever might come—they would still be friends and would meet again.
"I will shoot three arrows ... as though I shot at a mark." There were no telegraphs in those days, no telephones, and that he might let David know at once Saul’s attitude towards him, Jonathan arranged a way of signaling, which would not be apt to arouse suspicion. What seemed to onlookers as only a bit of archery practice, had a secret meaning which only the two friends understood. Jonathan was signaling to his friend in his hiding-place, the result of his interview with his father. In this way he was warning David of his danger and bidding him flee for his life.
It should always be the part of faithful friendship—to give a friend warning of danger. There are many kinds of danger of which we should let our friends know. Most of us would give notice if we knew of a plot to assassinate our friend; but there are other dangers—from evil companionships, false friends, temptations, bad habits—and faithful friendships ought in some way to give quick and honest warning of these also.
These are but a few of the suggestions that come from this noble friendship of Jonathan’s and David’s. Such friendships are very rare. Yet every young man is better—for having a strong, true and noble friendship. Young men have many temptations, and there is a wonderful restraining and constraining power in the life of one we love. We dare not do wrong in the sacred presence of a trusted friend. We all know how unworthy we feel when we come with the recollection of some sin or some baseness, into the presence of one we honor.
Saul Tries to Kill David
1Sa 18:1-30 At first Saul was strongly attracted to David. David’s valor that day in the conflict with Goliath, which won the friendship of Jonathan, also won the king’s admiration. The noble service he had rendered in his victory over the champion, aroused Saul’s gratitude. But soon the evil nature in the man asserted itself.
It seems to have been soon after David’s anointing, that Saul fell under the influence of melancholy and became subject to fits of insanity. It was thought that music might be beneficial, and when one who could play well on a harp was sought for, the boy David was found, and he was brought to the king’s court. When Saul saw David, he loved him and made him his armor-bearer. When Saul’s distress came on, David would take his harp and play before him, and the music soothed the king and drove away the evil spirit.
David did not remain continuously with Saul, for he was at home at the time of the war with the Philistines and had come up from his father’s house on a visit to his brothers, when the incident of his duel with the giant occurred. After this David was again with Saul. "Saul took him that day, and would let him go no more home to his father’s house."
David had had no military training or experience—he had been a shepherd lad in the quiet fields about Bethlehem from his boyhood. His heroic deed in meeting the champion brought him from his obscurity into the public eye. It is interesting to follow the story of David’s training from the time we first meet him. All his experiences were part of his preparation for the kingship. He was taken into Saul’s household, then into the army and sent out over the country in military excursions. For years he was the object of the king’s hatred and was hunted from place to place. All the while he was in God’s school, however, and God was making of him the man who was to rule His people. God is always making men. He has a plan for everyone’s life, and the events, circumstances and experiences of life make the school in which the man is trained.
There was something in David which won hearts for him wherever he went. He was popular everywhere. Whatever he did "it was good in the sight of all the people." He was a favorite from the first. He had a winning personality. His victory over Goliath made his name known throughout the whole country. The people were pleased, therefore, when he was honored by the king.
It is a great thing to have the power of making friends. It is the secret of many men’s success. No doubt people naturally differ in the possession of this power. Winningness is in a measure, a natural gift. But it can also be acquired and cultivated. It is told of a well-known English writer of books that in her early youth she was the homeliest girl in the town where she lived. She was aware of this and resolved that lacking physical attractions, she would cultivate the qualities which give beauty to disposition and character. She became known at length as a very angel of kindness. She went everywhere on errands of love. She was the friend of the sick, the sorrowing, the poor, the troubled. Love grew to such sweetness in her disposition and spirit that people forgot her homeliness and saw only the beauty of her character. The only way to make friends—is to be friendly. David loved people—and the people loved him.
Great honor was shown to David when he returned from his victory over the Philistine. It would have been in any country. Heroes are always applauded. "Saul has slain his thousands—and David his ten thousands." David had proved himself a true hero. Heroes are lauded everywhere. But the battlefield is not the only place where brave deeds are done. There are other heroes, and nobler ones, than those of war. Every man who loves truth and stands up manfully for right against wrong, is a hero. Everyone who follows Christ through opposition and persecution, standing firm and unmoved in his loyalty, is a hero. The missionaries who died in the Boxer rebellion were heroes, and no less heroes were they who went out to take the places of those who had fallen at their posts.
There are many heroes in common life, too, whose brave deeds pass unrecognised and unpraised. It is always pleasant to have the approval of one’s neighbors and friends. It cheers us and makes us braver and stronger, inspiring us to other worthy deeds, to hear the commendation of men. We wrong others when we withhold the words of appreciation which it is in our heart to speak—but which we do not speak. We ought to cheer each other on the way, for ofttimes the way is hard and the burdens are heavy.
Popularity has its disadvantages. David would have been happier in the end if the people had not gone wild over his triumph. It always costs to be successful. "Saul was very angry" when he heard the women sing the praises of the boy David. While the people sang his own praises, Saul was well pleased. But as he listened he heard another name, the name of David. And as he listened still more closely he found that the refrain ran: "Saul has slain his thousands—and David his ten thousands." The first line was sweet to the king—but the second was bitter as wormwood to him. The people had ten times as much honor for David as for their king, and this made him very angry. All his former love for David changed to bitter hate.
It takes a good deal of grace—to hear others receive praise which we have been accustomed to receive. Some people cannot bear to hear others commended at all, even when it takes no honor from themselves. But it is harder still to see another coming into the place in people’s plaudits which they have held before. "The bright day brings out the adder." There are many people who feel just as Saul did—when others receive honor and appreciation, though they may hide their feelings better than he did. In contrast, however, recall how Samuel bore himself when he was set aside as ruler and Saul was made king, displacing him. He accepted the humiliation meekly and helped to find the king and to put him on his throne. Recall how sweetly John the Baptist decreased as Jesus increased. All of us some time in our life will have occasion to try, in a smaller or greater way, whether we can behave any better than Saul.
"Base envy withers at another’s joy—
And hates the excellence it cannot reach." The Bible tells us that man was made but a little lower than God. Yet man is capable also of descending until he is but little higher than demons! Whatever Godlikeness there was originally in Saul, seems now to have been changed into flendishness. The record says: "Saul eyed David from that day and forward." That is, he set his heart on destroying David. Saul had a splendid chance to show a noble spirit when he heard David’s heroism praised above his own. If he had joined in the honoring of the young man who had saved the day for the army and the country, if he had rejoiced in David’s success—he would have proved himself a truly manly man. But he lost his chance. The only secret of keeping bitterness out of one’s heart in such a case as this—is to keep love in the heart. If we love on, no matter what comes, our hearts will never grow bitter. But Saul did what so many other men do—he let the evil spirit of jealousy and envy into his heart, and that drove out love. Evil spirits and bad passions are always watching, ready to enter into a man when they see a chance to make mischief. There is no other time when one is so open to these malignant messengers as when some bad temper or passion has possession of us. When envy or jealousy is cherished in a heart and allowed to abide—no one can tell what the result will be. The worst crimes start in just such dark passions. We know how it was with Cain. Abel had never done him any harm. The only thing Cain could ever say against Abel—was that he was good and that his life pleased God. Yet that was enough to change love into hate in Cain—and lead him to the dark crime of murder. Saul saw David honored and heard him praised. David had done nothing against him. Yet Saul let the envy get into his heart and possess it—and drive him into deeds worthy of a madman.
It is a pitiful story, this of Saul’s bitter envy, as we follow it in its various phases. "Saul made him his captain over a thousand." This promotion was not made to honor David—but almost certainly was prompted by the hope that David would fall in battle and thus be taken out of Saul’s way. Nothing would have pleased Saul better, than to have David killed! This shows the depth of wickedness in his heart. If he suspected at all that David was the "neighbor" who the Lord said should be king in his place, then Saul’s effort to destroy David was not merely to get a rival out of the way—but was also an attempt to defeat the Divine purpose.
Usually bitterness kindles bitterness—but Saul’s cruel persecution did not stir the least measure of vindictiveness or resentment in David’s heart, "David behaved himself wisely in all ways; and the Lord was with him." The true thing to do when one has enemies and persecutors, is to move right on in the path of duty, day by day, leaving to God the ordering of His steps, His protection from harm and the outcome of the whole matter. That is what David did. He did not meet plot with counterplot. He did not try to match stratagem with stratagem. He simply attended to his own business with courage and fidelity, and gave himself no concern whatever about the king’s wicked charges. The result was that Saul became afraid of David, and the people loved him.
David’s self-control in all this matter was wonderful. He never lost his self-mastery. He had learned how to rule his own spirit, and this meant more to him than any of the achievements of his courage of which the people praised. He who has learned to be master of himself, is the truest hero and the princeliest man. Everything in David that was beautiful, made Saul’s jealousy the more bitter. The secret of this feeling was his overweening self-love. He saw things only in their relation to himself. If he could have used David to advance his interests and to bring new laurels to his brow, he would have been quite content. But when he saw that David’s advancement was drawing away the people’s eyes and hurrahs from himself, he determined to get him out of the way. We all need to be on our guard against this pitiful perversion of life. We must learn to overcome evil with good. Thus did Christ Himself meet the hate of enemies. His heart kept its sweetness amid all the wrong and cruelty that He met.
Set side by side with Saul’s spirit—was that of Jonathan, magnanimous, self-forgetful and large-hearted.
We never can know what evil may come to self-adoration. It may be noticed here also that nothing came out of all Saul’s scheming and plotting. He did not pull David down. He did not defeat the Lord’s purpose for the kingdom. He only made himself wretched and brought shame and ruin upon his own soul. It is always so. Wrong done to others—rebounds and hurts him who does it.
David Spares Saul
Twice at least David had Saul in his power and might have killed him—but each time he magnanimously spared him. On the former occasion Saul was seeking David in the wilderness of Engedi, and entered a cave, not knowing that David and his men were that very hour hiding in the inner recesses of the same cave. When it was discovered that the king was in the cave, David’s men tried to induce their master to take advantage of the opportunity and kill him. But David refused, only stealing up to the king and cutting off the skirt of his robe, that he might have evidence to prove to Saul that he had no hostile purpose towards him. When Saul had passed out of the cave, David also went out and called after him, telling him that he must no longer believe that he was his enemy. He then held up the part of the king’s garment in his hand to let him know how easily he could have killed him if it had been in his heart to do so. Saul was deeply affected, and the two men then made a covenant of friendship. But Saul’s kindly feeling, like all the good things in him, was transient only, and before long he was again hunting David among the mountains. In this second sparing of Saul’s life by David, the king and his men were pressing their relentless pursuit and lodged one night close to where David and his men were hiding. If Saul had known that David was near he would have sought to capture him. He had allowed his envy to drive all the love out of his heart. The lesson our Master teaches us—is to bear wrong patiently, to forgive injury, to return kindness for unkindness, good for evil, love for hate. It is a fatal injury to his life when one allows himself to grow bitter, to cherish resentment, to let envy or any hurt feeling rankle in his heart. At last love is utterly driven out, and dark and malign passions take full possession. It was thus with Saul. Envy is one of the most perilous passions, and one which if cherished, may come to a fearful growth. When Abishai, who accompanied David on the visit to Saul’s camp, saw the king sleeping within the camp, and all his men asleep, it seemed to him that it was now time for David to put an end to his enemy’s efforts to kill him. Abishai put his own interpretation on what seemed to him a clear Providence. He inferred that God would not thus have brought Saul into David’s hands, if He had not meant that he should kill him.
Many of us are too apt to interpret Providences in accordance with our own wishes. When we are desiring guidance in a certain matter, and there is one way we very much want to take, we frequently find what seem to us to be Providences which favor our preference. This incident shows us that we need to be careful in interpreting the meaning of events. We are not to enter every door that stands open. Opportunity does not always indicate duty. When you find in some trouble, a person who has done you a grievous wrong, there is an opportunity to repay his wrong by refusing to help him. But does the opportunity justify the retaliation? The "Providence" in this case affords a test of character rather than a Divine commission to do wrong. In interpreting Providences we must remember that no opportunity to do anything in itself wrong, must ever be regarded as a Divine leading. Abishai’s inference was not justifiable. It was a misreading of the thought of God. An opportunity for revenge is never a voice of God commanding revenge. Our duty always is to be kind, to bear wrong patiently, to return love for hate.
David’s temptation to give heed to the words of Abishai was great. Saul had been pursuing him with cruel hatred, with no reason whatever. His life was continually in peril. It would be easy to listen to Abishai and end it all. The suddenness of the opportunity also made it harder to resist the impulse. Nothing is more critical than a sudden opportunity of indulging an ardent passion. With scarcely a moment for deliberation, one is apt to be hurried blindly along, and at once to commit the deed. But David refused to listen for a moment to the voice that counseled the destruction of the king. The plausible suggestion that God had put Saul into his power, in order that he might smite him, had no influence upon David. He buttressed himself in his refusal upon the sacredness of the person of the king, the Lord’s anointed. "Destroy him not; for who can put forth his hand against the Lord’s anointed, and be guiltless?" In this heroic rejection of the temptation, David showed admirable self-control. He restrained himself, and he restrained his hot-headed men. He would not put forth his own hand to touch the king, and he would not allow any of his followers to do it. In the first instance David may have hoped to soften Saul’s heart, by sparing him—but this second time he could cherish no such hope. He acted here purely on principle, from regard for the sacredness of the king.
One feeling which must have been strong in favor of David’s destroying Saul, was that he would thus open his own way to his place as king. He knew that he was to be Saul’s successor. He seemed now to have a short, quick way to the throne—it was necessary only to take advantage of his opportunity and kill Saul. But David would not dare take the throne—until God gave it to him. This is a very important lesson.
There often are things that God intends to give us—but which we must wait to receive in God’s way. Short-cuts in traveling often bring us into trouble. Short-cuts in life’s paths are always hindrances in the end. Jacob’s mother knew that Jacob was to have the blessing of the first-born—but if she had waited it would have come without being stained as it was, by her own and Jacob’s deception. Young men are ambitious, and their ambition may be pure and right—but sometimes they are in such feverish haste to reach what they wish—that they take the short-cut of dishonesty or selfishness to get sooner to the coveted place. But it never pays. It was far better that David should wander on in exile for a time longer, and then reach the throne by a clean path. It is pleasant to see young men get on in life—but we must always ask how they get on—before we can know whether their elevation is really an honor or not.
David practiced here also, long before Christ came the teaching of returning love for hate, kindness for unkindness. "Would it not be manly to resent it?" said one who had received an insult. "Yes," was the reply, "but it would be Godlike to forgive it." David did the Godlike thing. He had a chance to avenge himself. He had his cruel and relentless enemy in his power. The opportunity was most favorable. One stroke, and Saul never would have troubled him any more. His life would then have been safe. He would have become king at once. His men were urging it. Yet he overcame the temptation and allowed Saul to pass out of his hand unharmed. He listened to the voice of God speaking to him in his own conscience, and restrained the impulse to avenge himself. No lesson is harder to learn, than that which David’s example teaches us. The first impulse, even of a child when wronged or hurt by another, is to seek revenge. Sometimes older people encourage this spirit in children, by telling them to whip the chair or rocking-horse by which they have chanced to be hurt. In older people, too, the desire for revenge is natural, and can be repressed only by the higher law of love which Christ teaches. The lesson to learn is that the punishment of injustice or wrong done to us—does not belong to ourselves—but must be left in God’s hands. "Vengeance belongs unto Me; I will recompense, says the Lord."
"The Lord will render to every man according to his deeds." There are apt to be wrong views about bearing injuries. People ask: "Is there to be no justice in cases like David’s? Must we quietly bear wrongs, and must the person who does the wrongs never receive any punishment?" Our sense of right is sometimes so outraged, that our souls cry out in remonstrance when we are told that we never should resist—but should turn the other cheek when one cheek has been smitten.
We are not the judges of other men and their actions. There is but one judge, that is God, and we must leave in his hands all the right and the wrong in our lives. Our clumsy hands are not skillful enough to adjust such delicate matters as these. We are not required to say that a certain person’s treatment of us was beautiful when it was outrageous; that no wrong was done to us when we know there was infamous wrong; that the person deserves no punishment when it is clear that he deserves severe punishment. But we are to recognize the truth that that is God’s responsibility, not ours; that we are to be patient, meek, and non-resisting, leaving the whole matter in God’s hands. We have the example of our Master. When He was reviled, He reviled not again; when He suffered, He threatened not—but committed Himself to Him that judges righteously. We may commit into God’s hand, as David did here, all the matter of the wrongs or injuries others have done to us, and leave it there with perfect confidence. "Shall not the judge of all the earth do right?"
Death of Saul and Jonathan
1Sa 31:1-13 The story of the last days of Saul’s life is very sad. God had departed from him, and he had no heavenly guidance. He was drifting like a crippled vessel on the ocean. In the great crisis, when he must fight his decisive battle with the Philistines, he turned in his despair to superstition and imposture. He had cried to heaven—but no answer had come.
Saul had been most fierce and zealous in driving from the land all those who claimed to know the secrets of the future and of the invisible world. He did not dream that the time would ever come when he would search the country for a sorcerer for himself. The account of the king’s visit to the witch of Endor is most pathetic. The Philistines had gathered their forces together for battle against Israel. When Saul saw the great army that he must meet, consternation seized him. In numbers they were far beyond his own army. In his fear he went to God—but only in formal ways. His heart was not penitent—but in a mechanical way he tried the means that were in common use to get guidance and help from God. "But the Lord answered him not, neither by dreams, nor by Urim, nor by prophets." This may seem strange to some readers, when it is remembered how gracious God is—and how He loves to answer prayer. The trouble was with Saul himself. God had not failed—but Saul’s heart was so hardened, that there really was no true prayer made by him to God. When Saul had gone under cover of the night to Endor, he found the witch and implored her to bring Samuel to him from the dead. She had no power to call anybody from the dead—but, to her amazement, Samuel appeared before her. God seems to have sent him in a supernatural way—to tell Saul of his awful doom. Saul heard the hopeless words from Samuel’s lips, and then, with despairing heart, went back through the darkness to his tent. When the battle was on next morning, Saul led his army to defeat and disaster, because he had sinned and lost the Divine favor. It is idle and useless to fight against God. Then it is just as idle and useless to try to live without the Divine help. The battle went against Saul from the very beginning. "The men of Israel fled before the Philistines, and fell down slain in mount Gilboa." The hottest fight was against the king and his sons.
"The Philistines slew Jonathan." We cannot but grieve at this sad record. We have learned to love Jonathan, as we have seen in him so much that was noble and beautiful. It adds to the pathos of Jonathan’s death, too, to remember that he was dragged down by his father’s sin. Had Saul proved himself a true and worthy king, Jonathan would have been his successor on the throne. But on account of his father’s failure, he lost the crown, and not only this—but died in the disaster in which his father fell. The sins of parents may cut off and destroy the hopes of their children and rob them of their birthright honors and blessings. There are thousands of children whose lives are blighted, sometimes for both worlds—by the evil ways of their parents. In this case, the brave, noble, manly Jonathan perishes in the calamity brought on by his father’s persistent disobedience. The guilty father drags down with him—his pure, noble and blameless son. No man can go on in a sinful life, without involving his family as well as himself in sorrow.
Saul’s sons appear to have fallen early in the battle. Saul became the center of the assault. "The fighting grew fierce around Saul, and when the archers overtook him, they wounded him critically." There are few sadder pictures in all history than this of Saul on Mount Gilboa rushing on to his doom with the madness of despair. Judgment will surely come to those who persist in sin. Saul wrecked his own destiny. God’s plan for him was that he should be a worthy king. He was the goodliest man in all the nation. His mission was to lead his people to victory over all their enemies. Instead of this noble record, however, the story of his life is one of defeat and disaster. The reason is not far to seek.
God made no mistake in naming Saul as king. He might have been all that was in God’s plan for him. The failure was his own. He would not accept God’s guidance, and thus he failed to fulfill the Divine purpose for himself. Many years before this time, the doom of Saul had been pronounced upon him by the prophet. Judgment lingered—but did not fail in the end. Men may live in sin—and no disaster come to them. God may seem to be taking no account of their evil deeds. The sun may shine brightly over them, the rain may fall gently upon them, prosperity may continue to follow them. But let them not think that God has forgotten to be just. "He who being often reproved hardens his neck—shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy!" When Saul saw that there was no hope of retrieving the battle, he knew that he must soon fall into the hands of the Philistines, and he knew also that they would inflict upon him all the insults and indignities they could possibly devise. Terrible as war always is, its horrors have now been greatly mitigated by the advance of civilization. Prisoners are now treated with as great a measure of kindness as is possible in the circumstances.
Prisoners taken in war in ancient times suffered untold tortures and humiliations. On Assyrian monuments, for instance, are found representations of kings compelled to carry the heads of their own sons, or pinned to the ground by stakes driven through their hands and feet, or being flayed alive. If the Philistines treated captive kings as the Assyrians did, it is no wonder that Saul had a horror of being taken alive by the enemy. It is no wonder, perhaps, either, that he resorted to suicide to save himself from the hands of the Philistines. First, he besought his armor-bearer to thrust him through, and when the armor-bearer refused, he took his own sword and fell upon it.
Suicide is a violation of the sixth commandment. Human life is sacred in God’s sight, and to touch it is a crime. Life is the gift of God entrusted by Him to each one of us, and it is to be cherished and preserved, until He Himself calls back His gift. Suicide is unfaithfulness to this trust. We are required to use our life in the work assigned to us, and cannot without gravest sin—lay it down until the time God has appointed.
Suicide is also an act of moral cowardice. It is committed usually, as in Saul’s case, to escape meeting some other trouble or danger. Saul killed himself, rather than fall into the hands of the Philistines to be tortured and humiliated. A man commits a crime, and, rather than face his deed before men—he takes his own life. He forgets that in doing this—he is rushing into another Presence far more terrible than the presence of man! Saul escaped the cruelty of the Philistines that day—but went, stained with this last crime of self-murder, to meet his God!
It has been said, "Saul had really prepared for himself this wretched death. He had disregarded the prophet, and so was without consolation. He had killed the priests, and so was without sacrifice or intercession. He had driven away David, and so was without the help of the best soldier in the nation. He had lived, in his later years, at least, like a madman; and like a madman he threw himself on his sword and died. As a man sows—so shall he reap. As a life is shaped by its own deeds, so is the death determined. One lives a selfish life, hardening his heart against appeal and reproach—and his doom is to lose all experience of sympathy. He passes through the world winning no love—and he passes out of the world leaving after him no regret." The defeat of the Israelites was complete and overwhelming. In the humiliating treatment of the bodies of the king and his sons, we have a hint of the cruelty the Philistines would have practiced upon Saul, if they had taken him alive. Saul’s head was cut off and put in the temple of Dagon, his armor was hung up in the house of Ashtaroth, and his body was fastened to the wall of Beth-shan. The bodies of his sons were treated in the same barbarous way.
There is only one incident in all this terrible story of the death of Saul, which has any brightness in it. This is what is told of the men of Jabesh-gilead: "And when the inhabitants of Jabesh-gilead heard concerning him that which the Philistines had done to Saul, 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 burnt them there. And they took their bones, and buried them under the tamarisk-tree in Jabesh, and fasted seven days." It was a brave and noble thing which these men did. It is especially beautiful because of the motive which inspired it. Once, when Saul was just beginning his reign, he did a great kindness to the people of Jabesh-gilead. Now, when Saul was dead, forsaken, without friends, his body mutilated and dishonored, the memory of this kind act revived, and under the spur of gratitude these valiant men, at the risk of their own lives, did this heroic deed. The worst men always have someone to mourn them. Never was there a tyrant who did more crimes and cruelties than Nero. One would say that he was incapable of kindness to anyone, and that no one mourned his death. Yet it is recorded that on the morning after he was buried amid universal execration, some unknown hand strewed flowers upon his grave. There was one person, at least, who remembered Nero gratefully. When we read of the kindness of the men of Jabesh-gilead to their dead king, we cannot but recall another instance of a King who hung dead on a cross, when two friends, long secret and silent, came forward to do honor to the torn and dishonored form. It was a brave and noble deed, and it saved that sacred body from being cast away with the bodies of common malefactors, giving to it, instead of such dishonor, most honorable and loving burial.
Saul owed all the honor he received in his burial, to one kind deed which he had done many years before. Had his reign continued as it began—he would have had the gratitude of a whole nation when he came to die. One of the most pitiable things in history—is the terrible failure which Saul made of his life. We should try to live so that we shall be remembered with gratitude, and leave behind us a memory of good deeds. This is one lesson.
Another is that we never should fail to show gratitude to anyone who has conferred a favor upon us. Then, let us be sure that we so live as to obtain honor from God when we come to the end of our life. If we miss that, earth’s most brilliant honor will be failure and mockery. The way to get the crown from God’s hand at last—is to do God’s will always here.
Amid all the sad things in the story of Saul, the incident of his kindness in his early years to the people of Jabesh-gilead lives like a rose in a field of thorns. It is told of a noted criminal, that once in his young manhood days, he had caught a runaway horse in the street and saved the lives of a woman and her child in the carriage the wild animal was dragging after him. His life was a long list of evil things, with nothing in all its years that could be commended. But when waiting in his prison for the death penalty, his mind would revert continually to the memory of the one heroic kindness done in his youth, finding in this a gleam of hope. So does Saul’s one brave kindness shine in the dark story of his life. We should seek to fill our whole life with deeds of love, and then we shall have glad memories to give us comfort in looking back over our life. One of the sayings of Lincoln suggests a noble aim for life. "Die when I may," he said, "I want it said of me, by those who know me best—that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower—where I thought a flower would grow."
David Becomes King
Saul was dead. David was out of the country when the fatal battle on Mount Gilboa was fought. Indeed, he was with the Philistines when they were preparing for the battle. He had been dwelling in their country as a place of refuge from Saul, and when the Philistines were gathering at Aphek, David seems to have intended to go with them to fight against his own people. But some of the princes of the Philistines objected to the presence of David and of his men in their army, mistrusting them, lest they might prove adversaries in the day of battle. The king apologized to David for not allowing him to remain to join in the battle, and then sent him away.
We can scarcely understand how David could in any case have gone with the Philistines to war against his own people. It certainly was well that he did not go, when we consider the results of the battle. There seemed also a Providence in his return to Ziklag, for he was just in time to go to the rescue of his family, who had been carried away in his absence.
David learned of the death of Saul from an Amalekite stranger, who came to him with his clothes torn. The story the Amalekite told concerning his own part in the tragedy of Saul’s death, seems to have been fabricated for the purpose of winning favor with David. In wandering over the field of battle, he had found the corpse of Saul and stripped it of its ornaments. With these he hastened to David, and invented his fictitious story in the hope of securing an additional reward for having with his own hand, rid David of his bitterest enemy and removed the obstacle which stood between him and the throne. But he had made a grievous mistake in his estimate of David. David may or may not have believed the man’s story—but he took him at his word and visited upon him instantly the penalty of his impious crime.
David’s lamentation for Saul and Jonathan, is full of tender words. Not a breath of bitterness against Saul is found in it, and David’s love for Jonathan is beautifully expressed. Dean Stanley says of this elegy: "It is needless to dwell on the poetic beauty, the chivalrous loyalty, the tender love—which characterizes this most pathetic of funeral odes. Saul had fallen with all his sins upon his head, fallen in the bitterness of despair, and, as it might have seemed to mortal eye, under the shadow of the curse of God. But not only is there in David’s lament, no revengeful feeling at the death of his persecutor, . .. but he dwells with unmixed love on the brighter recollections of the departed. He speaks only of the Saul of earlier times, the mighty conqueror, the delight of his people, the father of his beloved and faithful friend; like him in life, united with him in death. Such expressions . . . may fairly be taken as justifying the irrepressible instinct of humanity which compels us to dwell on the best qualities of those who have just departed." For many years David had been waiting to become king. He had waited very patiently and had made no effort to hasten the Providence of God. Now Saul was dead, and David knew that the kingdom was to be his. Still he shows the most obedient and patient spirit, not taking even a single step until he had inquired of God concerning his duty. We get a good lesson here. We should always wait for God, never hurrying His Providences. We should ask for guidance continually, not entering upon any course until we have sought the Divine direction. There is a Bible word which counsels us to acknowledge the Lord in all our ways, promising that if we do this—that He will direct our paths. We should move reverently through this world, praying continually, "Show me the way." In even the smallest matters, we ought to seek to learn God’s will, and then we shall be sure of blessing. The Lord commanded David to go up to Judah—and with his family, he went to Hebron. "And the men of Judah came, and there they anointed David king over the house of Judah." It takes a long while to make a good man. It is interesting to think of the training of men for important positions. The making of Peter or John or Paul occupied a long while, and the process was by no means easy. It is especially interesting in this connection to think of the making of David. God was a long time in preparing him to be king. He was anointed by Samuel, and thus set apart for his office when only a shepherd lad. He was not then fit to be a king. He knew something about taking care of sheep—but nothing about governing men. It was necessary that he should be trained. Soon came the challenge of Goliath, when David showed his skill and courage. Then he was taken into Saul’s court, where he learned much about men and the ways of kings. The friendship of Jonathan brought a new experience into David’s life, an experience which proved most enriching. The envy of Saul seemed a bitter and cruel thing to break into such a happy career as David’s. It seemed to set him back in his preparation and to block his way to success. But no doubt this, too, had its place in his training. It taught him many lessons. He learned from it patience in enduring wrong and injustice. He learned self-control, one of the most important lessons anyone can learn, for if one cannot control his own spirit—he cannot be a leader of men, nor can he ever make the most of his own life. Saul’s bitter enmity drove David away from luxury and refinement, where his experiences were rough and hard. He hid in caves and on the mountains. He learned how the common people lived, and was taught sympathy with men in their hardships and trials. No doubt, David was a better king afterwards, because of his long years of persecution and exile. He learned also the art of war through his experiences during this troublous period. Living constantly in danger, he was trained to watchfulness and alertness. He became wise and tactful also in dealing with men, and was thus fitted for the place he afterwards filled as king of a great nation. In all this and in other ways—was David trained and prepared for his duties as king. Then, at last, God called him to the throne.
We must not think it strange if we are called to endure trials, disappointments, hardships, temptations and sufferings in our earlier years—for it is in this way that God would train us for noble character and for large usefulness. The life that is all ease and luxury, with no hardness, no strain or struggle, no trial of endurance, no wrong or injustice, may be the most pleasant—but it is not being most effectively trained for beneficent service. A deed of heroism and loyalty stirs the people to patriotic admiration wherever it is wrought. Evidently the people were proud of what the men of Jabesh-gilead had done. David was not long in hearing of it. "They told David, saying, The men of Jabesh-gilead buried Saul." We have already learned that when the Philistines found the bodies of Saul and his sons on the battlefield of Mount Gilboa they carried them away and hung them on the wall of the town of Beth-shan, exposing them to public gaze. This was their way of exulting over their victory.
Jabesh-gilead was a town east of the Jordan, which Saul had once helped in time of trouble, delivering them from cruel enemies. The people remembered this old-time kindness, and now, when they heard that the bodies of the king and his sons were exposed in such an inhuman way, they determined to rescue them from this dishonor. Accordingly, they entered the enemy’s lines, and removing the bodies from the wall, took them away and burnt them to save them from further indignity and dishonor, and buried the ashes under a tree. We should keep ever warm in our hearts the memory of kindnesses, and never should fail of gratitude to those who have done deeds of love for us. It would make this a sweeter, happier world—if all men were ever mindful of the kindnesses they have received from others. When David learned of the kindness that the people of Jabesh-gilead had shown to the bodies of Saul and Jonathan, he was very glad. So he sent messengers to say to them, "May the LORD bless you for being so loyal to your king and giving him a decent burial." This praise of the people of Jabesh-gilead showed a noble spirit in David. We must remember how Saul had treated him, trying to kill him, hunting him among the hills as if he had been a wild beast, driving him from the country, and compelling him for seven years to live as an exile. Yet through all these years, David had never shown any resentment towards Saul. He had never once retaliated nor sought in any way to do harm to Saul. Twice, at least, he had spared the king’s life, refusing to injure him when Saul was in his power. Through all his bitter experience, David’s heart remained gentle, free from resentment or bitterness. Now, when he learned of the honor which had been shown by the people of Jabesh-gilead to Saul’s dead body, his heart was glad, and he was deeply grateful, as if the kindness had been shown to his own father.
All this is evidence of a noble and magnanimous spirit in David. It is the very spirit which Jesus a thousand years later commended as that which belongs to the kingdom of heaven. The problem of true living—is to keep the heart always sweet, whatever the circumstances and experiences of life may be. We all need to cultivate generosity and large-heartedness. Nothing reveals finer nobleness of character than such a spirit shown to one who in his life had been a bitter and relentless enemy. Yet it is not natural to endure wrong without resentment, to return love for hate, kindness for unkindness. Only those whose hearts are under the influence of Divine grace are capable of such love.
"And now that Saul is dead, I ask you to be my strong and valiant subjects like the people of Judah, who have anointed me as their new king." Thus David took the opportunity to say a word of cheer to the men who had proved themselves so loyal to their king, exhorting them also to continue to be brave and strong for their country. That was good counsel to give to the people of Jabesh-gilead. It is good counsel to give to the young men today, for courage is one of the finest qualities in true manhood. Thomas Hughes puts it down as the first element of a manly character. Neither do we need to wait for war to give us opportunities to be valiant and courageous. There is a higher courage than that which shows itself in brave deeds on the battlefield. It takes courage to be true—amid the world’s many temptations to be false. It requires courage to do what is right—when all the people about us are doing things that are wrong.
It requires courage to confess Christ before the world. It is not hard to rise up in a company of Christian people and be received into their number as a church member. All about the young confessor, then, are those who are in full sympathy with him—his friends, and other Christians who love him and are ready to help him, to cheer and encourage him and stand by him in all his life. The hardest test, however, in confessing Christ is out in the world, where sympathy is lacking, when upon every side are those who have no care for spiritual things, and often are openly hostile to the religion which they represent.
We all need to have our hands strengthened continually, even for common life and service—but much more for duty and faithfulness in the face of opposition and enmity. When human encouragement is lacking, we are sure that God will stand by us and make our hands strong by His own strength. We are set to fight the battles of the Lord. We have victories to win against evil, against wrong. It takes courage to be a true man, a true woman, in this world. But God will help us if we trust Him and lean upon Him in all our weakness and need.
David did not find an unobstructed way to the throne. Saul was dead—but there were those who were not willing that his dynasty should perish with him. Abner was the captain of Saul’s army, and, besides, was a relative of the king’s. After the fatal battle on Mount Gilboa, Abner took Ishbosheth, and under military power made him Saul’s successor. "Meanwhile, Abner son of Ner, the commander of Saul’s army, had taken Ish-Bosheth son of Saul and brought him over to Mahanaim. He made him king over Gilead, Ashuri and Jezreel, and also over Ephraim, Benjamin and all Israel." In a sense the crown belonged to Ish-Bosheth. He was the natural heir to the throne. If Saul had been a good king, the throne would have continued in the family. Thus we see how Saul wronged his own children by his unfaithfulness to God.
Every parent has a large responsibility for the good, the success and the honor of his children. He should pass down to them the privileges and blessings which he himself has enjoyed. If he fails to do this—he has sinned against them. It was not God’s plan that Ish-Bosheth should be king, since, on account of Saul’s disobedience, the kingdom was taken from him and given to David. It was the ambition of Abner, the general of Saul’s army, that sought the promotion of Ish-Bosheth against the Divine will. He was fighting against God in trying to continue the house of Saul. The true King in this world, the only one who rules by Divine right, is Jesus Christ. All who reject His sway are in rebellion against God. All who try to advance any other one over Christ are resisting the Divine government and sway. We must bow to the Messiah and own Him as our Master and our Lord!
David Brings up the Ark 2Sa 6:1-23; 1Ch 13:1-14 The continuance of Ish-Bosheth’s reign was brief. It had no moral strength from the beginning, and was kept in existence only by the ambition of Abner. The story of the short years is one of battles, quarrels and assassinations. At length Ish-Bosheth was murdered, and then the tribes over which he had reigned came to David and desired him to be their king. So the kingdom was again consolidated. David had reigned over Judah only seven and a half years; now he became king of all Israel. Jerusalem then was made David’s capital. Until now this stronghold had remained in the hands of the Jebusites, although it had been attacked and partly captured before. At length David gained full possession of the noted citadel and made his home in it.
David prospered greatly. Hiram, King of Tyre, was friendly with him, and the two kings exchanged courtesies and favors. David won a great victory over the ancient enemies of his people, the Philistines. Thus he was established in his kingdom. His fame went out into all the lands, and the Lord brought the fear of him upon all nations. When David came to the throne, he found the religious life of the kingdom in a discouraging condition. For a long time the sacred ark, the symbol of the Divine Presence, had been lying in obscurity in a private house. Those were dark and calamitous days for the nation. Disaster followed disaster. The neglect of true religion always brings trouble. We may see it in a smaller way in a home where there was once a family altar—but where the altar is broken down, where the family gathers no more to worship God, where the voice of prayer is no longer heard. The members of the household scatter away in the morning without kneeling to commit themselves to God’s keeping for the day, and in the evening they gather home to rest again, seeking not the Divine blessing for the night. There is many a home of which this is a picture. The world has come in—and Christ has been driven out!
After David had become king of the whole nation and had fixed his capital in Jerusalem, he called the chief men of the tribes and went to bring up the ark. He had already done many things to elevate the character and the standing of the nation. He had built a capital city and a palace of cedar for himself, and had instituted many reforms. Prosperity was coming, and all was hopeful. But something was yet lacking. Something is always lacking when God is left out. An artist had invited a few friends to his studio for the first look at a new painting. The picture was beautiful—but all who saw it felt that something was lacking. There seemed to be a vagueness, an indefiniteness, a mistiness, something lacking. The artist himself saw the defect, and taking his brush, he put a touch of red upon the canvas. This changed everything. So it is when God is left out of anything in life. With the largest prosperity and the best material comforts, there is still a lack. What is needed is a line of red in the picture, the bringing of Christ with His Cross into the life of the individual, of the home, of the church, of the nation. The best blessing anyone can give to a land or to a community, is to set up God’s altar in its midst. Nothing else that David wrought for Israel in those days did so much for his people—as his re-establishing of God’s worship among them.
There is nothing else we can do for a place which is suffering from the waste and ruin of sin, which will mean so much for it—as to set up there the worship of the true God. Here is a community sunk in degradation. The people are idle and thriftless, without lofty ideals, without interest in each other, steeped in sensuality. One way of trying to lift them up would be to build them better houses and to put into their lives the refinements of civilization. Something may thus be done for their improvement in temporal things. But the best way to help them, would be to bring the gospel of Christ into their midst, to start a Sunday-school, a preaching service, to send the Christian missionary into their homes. The ark had been at Kiriath-jearim for a long time, ever since its return from the land of the Philistines. David desired now to establish true religion in his kingdom, and planned to bring the ark to his capital. He prepared for this event with great enthusiasm. All the chosen men of Israel were gathered together. He consulted with his leading men. "Let us send abroad everywhere unto our brethren, . . . and let us bring again the ark of our God to us—for we sought not unto it in the days of Saul." The king had prepared for a very joyful time in bringing up the ark. He meant it to be a great occasion. He led the procession in person. Thirty thousand men of rank were present to take part in the ceremony. There were great choirs of singers, with musical instruments accompanying them. It was a grand day. It opened in splendor—but it closed in sorrow and bitter disappointment. The reason was, that God can be honored only by obedience, and this was lacking in the moving of the ark. The Lord cared nothing for David’s brilliant pageant—so long as the Divine commandments were not regarded. The whole business that day seems to have been done in a negligent way. The law required that the ark should be carried by Levites—but instead of this it was put upon a cart that was drawn by animals. The religious ceremonials prescribed had so fallen into disuse, that the Divine instructions seem to have been entirely overlooked. The carrying of the ark on a cart may have been regarded as a very small deviation from the prescribed way—but it was a deviation, nevertheless, and in God’s sight marred all the great ceremony. We must worship and serve God—only in the way He has marked out for us, otherwise our costliest services and our most imposing ceremonies will be only an idle show in His eyes. We may do our right things in such a wrong way—as to mar all the beauty of our acts by not doing them as God commands us to do them.
Uzzah was probably a Levite, and ought to have known the instructions concerning the care of the sacred ark and the manner of carrying it. The Levites were to bear it on their shoulders—but they might not come near it until it had been covered by the priests, nor touch it—except with the staves provided for carrying it. The ark had been under Uzzah’s care—perhaps he had come to treat it familiarly. "But when they arrived at the threshing floor of Nacon, the oxen stumbled, and Uzzah put out his hand to steady the Ark of God. Then the LORD’s anger blazed out against Uzzah for doing this, and God struck him dead beside the Ark of God!"
It was a natural thing for Uzzah to do. The road was rough, and it seemed as if the ark would fall off the cart. Uzzah instinctively and impulsively put out his hand to steady it. If the Levites had been carrying the ark—the only proper way—Uzzah could not have committed this sin. One irreverence prepares the way for another—almost makes another necessary. The breaking of one commandment, leads to the breaking of others. The first sin is like the little leak in the dam, which grows until it becomes a flood. If we would be safe from the final ruin, we must guard, against the smallest beginning of evil.
David was greatly affected by the occurrence. At first he was angry because of the interruption of the ceremonies. The record says that "David was angry because the LORD’s anger had blazed out against Uzzah." His second thought seems to have been one of awe and fear—that if the ark was such a holy thing, it was too terrible to have it near him. He does not appear to have thought of the sin which had been committed. Instead of penitence and sorrow, he showed wounded pride. He abandoned at once the taking of the ark to Jerusalem. He left it where it was and hurried away home.
We never should blame God—when we have been punished for our sins. We should not question His justice or love—in any of His dealings with us. We should accept punishment at His hand with humility and contrition, seeking to learn wherein we have sinned—that we may no more displease Him. Then, we need never be afraid of God’s holiness, nor reject any ordinance He has appointed, because of the evil it may bring upon us to use it irreverently. Sometimes good people stay away from the communion, dreading that it may bring condemnation and not blessing upon them. But no ordinance of God will ever bring hurt to those who receive it in humility and reverence. Instead of declining to take the Holy Supper lest we may not receive it worthily, we should come to it with penitence, repentance, faith and love—for then we will find in it only blessing and joy.
"The Ark of the LORD remained there with the family of Obed-edom for three months, and the LORD blessed him and his entire household." David would not take the ark to Jerusalem, as he had set out to do, and it was left in the house of Obed-edom. For the three months it remained there, special Divine favor came upon the man who sheltered it. It was the same ark which had wrought such disaster when irreverently touched—that now brought blessing to a home in which it was received in meekness and love. Obed-edom was not afraid to have the ark taken inside his door, and the result was good and not evil upon his household. This incident suggests to us, the blessings of true religion in a home. Some people think religion is a hindrance to happiness. It stops some pleasures. It drives out some amusements. It interferes with some ambitions. But those who open their doors to Christ, the rejected and despised One, will always be rewarded. True religion in a home, blesses it. It sweetens the home life, enriches the home affections, deepens the home joys, lightens and comforts the home sorrows. It brings true prosperity, for the blessing of the Lord makes rich. It brings protection, for the angel of the Lord encamps round about those who fear Him. It brings comfort when sorrow has entered the home.
Heathen religions have no hope, no solace, no consolation, in time of bereavement—but Christianity lights the lamps of heaven in the gloom. When the home is broken up, true religion gives assurance of a meeting beyond the grave, and reunion where there will be no separation forever. We should have the ark of God in our homes, whatever else we may not have in them.
Word came to David in due time, that no calamity had come to the home in which the ark had been left—but that, instead, the Divine favor had been visited upon it. The king was surprised to hear this. He probably expected to hear of trouble brought to the family, like that which had stricken down Uzzah on the way. But, on the other hand, it soon became evident that Obed-edom was being greatly blessed.
Then David began to see that the trouble that day had not been with the ark—but with himself and the people. So his heart turned again to his former purpose. He would bring the ark to the capital. Then the procession which began one day and ended in calamity—was finished another day, not many months later, in the midst of great rejoicing. So blessing came to the whole people—as the ark of God was brought into the Holy City.
God’s Covenant with David
2Sa 7:1-16 The ark was in its place, and the worship of the Lord had begun. David had prospered greatly. He was living now in a palace of cedar. One day the king was sitting in his beautiful home, enjoying its comforts and luxuries, when suddenly he thought of God’s House on the hill. David was startled when he thought of the contrast between his own fine palace—and the weather-beaten tent which was the home of the ark.
Nathan, the prophet, came in, and David told him that he was going to build a palace for God. Nathan himself approved the king’s thought. "Go, do all that is in your heart; for the Lord is with you." But that night Nathan was bidden to tell David that he should not build a house for God. There are several things to be noticed in this incident.
One is that the Lord does not reprove David for his desire to build a temple for Him. It was an honorable desire. We should not make our own houses beautiful and luxurious—and then let our churches be cheap and dilapidated. Five hundred years later the Lord rebuked the people through the prophet Haggai—for living in fine houses and letting His House lie waste.
Elsewhere we learn that God said distinctly to David concerning his desire: "Whereas it was in your heart to build a house for My name, you did well that it was in your heart." God approves of good intentions, even when He does not permit us to carry them out. This ought to be a cheering and encouraging thought to those whose plans God interrupts and sets aside. He is satisfied sometimes with the intention. If we are desirous of doing for God some service which, however good, it is not His will that we should do—He is pleased with our wish to honor and serve Him, though He declines the offer. We are better, too, for the desire. Every lofty wish lifts us nearer to heaven for the time.
There are other important suggestions in the refusal of the Lord to have David build the temple. One is that everyone has his own particular and definite part to do in the Lord’s work. David was not to build the temple—that was Solomon’s mission; but David had other things to do which were equally important. He had to fight the battles of the nation and subdue the strongholds. Then, he had another work to do far greater than the building of the temple. Part of his mission was to be a hymn-writer for the Old Testament Church. The influence of his songs in all ages, has been most wonderful, and is going on yet, extending and deepening wherever the Bible goes. His mission was great enough, though he was not permitted to erect the temple. Solomon built the temple—but he never could have written David’s Psalms. To every man his work.
There are things you cannot do. You have no skill for them. You see some other one do these things brilliantly, and you are grieved because you cannot do them. But they are not part of your work. There are certain things which you can do better than any other person in the world could do them. We need not vex ourselves because we cannot do everything. It never was God’s intention that we should be able to carry the whole range of tasks and duties. David could write the Twenty-third Psalm—and Solomon could build a splendid temple.
Another thought here, is that it is the part of some to plan and prepare, while others carry out the plans and complete the work. The temple was born in David’s heart; it was one of his thoughts. Then he made costly preparations for it. He bought the site for the great building. He gathered gold and silver in vast abundance and stored them away for the work. Solomon, when he came, had little to do—but to build the house; the materials were ready to his hand. Thus David’s part in the temple was, after all, very large.
We are apt to undervalue preparatory work. It is like the foundation of a house. It is buried away, and no one sees it nor admires it. Yet we know that there can be no house for men to admire and praise—unless there is first a foundation strong and secure, laid deep in the earth and covered up. It is the part of many people, to do only preparatory work. Others complete the building and get the glory, while the foundation builders are forgotten. The same thing goes on continually. One sows—and another reaps. One man gathers a church, another organises and builds it up. To each one his work. We should learn to be content with our own particular work, that which has been allotted to us, and not vex ourselves because we cannot have given to us the work of some other.
It is interesting to think of the kind of temples God really wants us to prepare for Him. He has never blamed us for not building houses of cedar for Him to live in. He does not care for houses of wood, even the finest. He dwells in heaven’s glory, and no earthly building can ever be worthy of Him. It is right to erect churches in which we may assemble for God’s worship—but God does not really dwell in these. He meets with His people there, when they gather to call upon His name—but He does not live in any earthly structure—whether the plain meeting-house, or splendid cathedral. "This is what the LORD says: Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool. Where is the house you will build for me?"
God tells us that He has two homes—one in heaven and the other in certain people’s hearts. "For this is what the high and lofty One says— he who lives forever, whose name is holy: I live in a high and holy place, but also with him who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite." We need not trouble ourselves to build houses of cedar for God—but we ought to make our hearts such places as He will choose for His abode.
"This is what the LORD Almighty says: I took you from the pasture and from following the flock to be ruler over my people Israel." God reminds David of His thought and care for him through all his days. Our lives are plans of God. It will be interesting to the boys—to remember that God thought about David when he was only a boy, that He chose him to be king of Israel when he was only a shepherd lad. God is always watching the boys in their work and in their play, looking among them for men to fill important places in life. If a boy would be called to one of God’s high stations and entrusted with a great mission when he is older, he must begin well and be diligent when he is young.
God saw in David, out there in the fields, abilities and habits which he knew would make him a good king when the throne was ready for him. If David had been indolent, negligent, self-indulgent, unfaithful or unkind as a shepherd, he would never have been chosen to be the king of God’s people. A boy who was not a good shepherd—would not make a good king. The boy who is a good cash boy or office boy or messenger, or who shows promptness, good sense and fidelity on a farm, in a store, or in lowly duties anywhere else—God will put down for something greater by-and-by. God’s eye is ever upon us—to discover whether He may entrust some great task to us.
God is always an encourager. He speaks to David now as if He knows his disappointment in not being permitted to build a temple, and He gives him cheer. David would not build a house for God—but God would build a house for him. This would be a greater honor than the building of a temple would have been. He would be the founder of a line of kings which would have no end. His throne would be established forever. David did not understand it—it was too glorious to be understood then—but the Divine promise included the Messiah and all the glorious blessings which have come from the Messiah— Christianity and all its wonderful triumphs.
We ask for some common earthly thing. God does not give it to us—but he says: "You shall have this in place of it." Then He gives us a spiritual favor, which includes all heaven’s glories! We may safely leave in God’s hands—the form of the answer to our prayers. He will always do for us what is best. Many times when we ask only for bits of tinsel, He gives us heaven’s gold and jewels instead!
God’s plans go on beyond the measure of any little life. David would soon pass away from earth, and he would see no temple built for God. But a son would be born to him who would build a house for the honor of God. Men pass away—but God’s work goes on. One falls with his plans unfulfilled and his hands full of work; but another is raised up to perform the unaccomplished tasks. The succession never is broken in God’s ministry. He has one great plan, which embraces all His servants from the beginning to the end. Our plans may be set aside—but it is because God has a work which is better. Nothing will fail if we each do but our own little part; another will be ready to begin where we leave off.
We live on in our children. If they are faithful to their responsibility, they carry on the work their fathers have begun. In Solomon, David’s house and kingdom should be continued and then made sure forever. As men read history, this promise was not fulfilled. David’s personal throne was not established forever. No one can find it now. Antiquarians are searching amid the ruins of centuries for the landmarks of David’s and Solomon’s reigns—but no throne is in Jerusalem today, nor has there been a throne there for ages. But Bible lovers know well that the promise has in reality been gloriously fulfilled. It did not refer alone to an earthly succession. Christ was the "seed" promised in its full and final meaning. His was the "kingdom," and His the "throne" that should be "established forever." So the line fulfillment passed from earth up to heaven. Christ came of the seed of David, and the throne which we would search for in vain in the city of David stands amid the glories of heaven, and all the redeemed worship and bow down before it.
David and Absalom 2Sa 15:1-12; 2Sa 18:24-33 The narrative of the rebellion of Absalom is one of the saddest stories in the Bible. The flight of David from his home, driven away by the rebellion of an ungrateful son, is most pathetic. The sin of Absalom stands in blackness, almost next to the treason of Judas Iscariot.
"In the course of time, Absalom provided himself with a chariot and horses and with fifty men to run ahead of him," and thus sought to make an impression upon the people and attract attention. The display he made was also intended to reflect upon his father’s plainness. David was too old-fashioned; Absalom would show the people what real royalty was like. He was a dashing young prince. There are many young men, not princes of the blood, walking in the same way. They look upon their father’s plain, quiet ways—as entirely behind the age. The old man is too slow, and does not know much about the world.
Most people who study this lesson will think of someone who fills out the picture of Absalom. Possibly it is yourself. If so, you must not fail to read the story to the end. These splendid horses and chariots generally drive to about the same place.
Absalom rose early those days. Early rising is a good thing when one rises to begin a day of beautiful living and good to others. But when one rises early to do mischief and make trouble, to sow the seeds of sorrow—one would better stay in bed all day. Absalom rose early to do harm, to ply his art of treason, to poison the people’s minds towards his father. Early rising for such purposes is not to be commended.
"Your claims are valid and proper," said the false-hearted prince, "but there is no representative of the king to hear you." Sympathy is a good thing—when it is sincere. One can do no sweeter Christian work, than to go among those who are overburdened and those who are suffering, speaking cheering and strengthening words to them. To take by the hand someone who is down, one who has fallen in some misfortune, and be a brother to him, helping him to rise—is a splendid thing to do. But such sympathizing as we see in Absalom is anything but Christlike. He only pretended to be the people’s friend—that he might get their confidence, and then use them in his wicked plot to seize his father’s throne! It was the flatterer’s base art, not the friend’s, that he used.
"Oh that I were made judge," he said, "that every man who has any suit or cause might come unto me, and I would do him justice!" He poisoned the minds of the people towards David, by making them think that their king was neglectful, and that they were suffering wrong and injustice through his neglect. Then he suggested how different matters would be if he were judge in his father’s place. Absalom cared nothing for the people’s real or imaginary wrongs. He had no true sympathy with them. He was the worst kind of a demagogue. He thought only of destroying the people’s confidence in David, and winning them to himself.
There always are people, alas! who think of no way of getting up—but by pulling others down! It is easy for any of us, by careless words, even unintentionally, to disparage others by indirectly suggesting how much better we would perform these duties—if they were ours. It requires a noble heart and most watchful care, to be always loyal to others.
"So Absalom stole the hearts of the men of Israel." When we see a young man rising in the world, we have a right to know by what means he is rising—before we can admire his success and approve it. Is he getting up honestly—or dishonestly? Is his prosperity fairly and legitimately won—or is it won by treachery, by deceit and falsehood? For such advancement as Absalom’s, is as a palace built on sand. Before any man follows Absalom’s example, he would better ask what became of Absalom’s fine palace in the end. On this matter of stealing hearts—we should linger also a little. To steal is to take something which is another’s, to which we have no right. We have a right to make friends—but not to steal hearts. We steal a heart when we get a person to be our friend—by influencing him against another person, and making him think we will be a better friend to him than the other. We have no right to interfere with the friendships of others—to get people to love us. We need to guard against doing anything dishonorable, to win friends.
"Absalom said unto the king, I pray you, let me go and pay my vow." He stole the people’s hearts and induced them to care for him more than his father. Then he stole the garb of heaven to hide his vile treachery! He must get away from Jerusalem to sound the signal of revolt, and the best way to get off would be on a religious errand. He easily fabricated such an errand. He said he had made a vow when he was in exile—would his father permit him now to go and pay that vow? He knew this would please his father. David would think that Absalom was growing penitent, and that soon he would be a better man. There is nothing baser possible in this world—than such a use of the name of religion.
"With Absalom went two hundred men ... in their simplicity." Absalom had attached these men to himself, no doubt, by flatteries and favors. Now he invites them to go "with him to Hebron, and to be present at the princely feast he would there give. It was a high honor. The men were complimented by the invitation. All Jerusalem would envy them. They had no thought of Absalom’s real design, and yet, without intending it, they seemed to enter with him into the rebellion. This is an illustration of the way in which men still try to lead others into evil. They cover up their real object, and under the profession of friendship, draw the innocent and unsuspecting into their schemes. When the true nature of their design is disclosed, it is too late to withdraw. Compliments from bad men or women should be accepted charily, for ofttimes they have some evil design behind them. We ought never to allow ourselves to be led blindfolded into any wicked scheme. We need to be ever on our guard against designing people—plausible flatterers, professing friendship—but insincere in their profession. The story of Absalom’s plot is told in much detail. David seems to have been utterly unmanned when he was told of his son’s treachery. He lost his courage. He arose at once and fled. There is none of the old-time heroism in his conduct. Each incident in the flight is described. "All the country wept with a loud voice." The route of the fleeing king was over the Kedron, the same path over which a thousand years later, David’s greater Son passed on the night of his betrayal. The priests and the Levites came with the ark—but David bade them to return to Jerusalem. "David walked up the road that led to the Mount of Olives, weeping as he went. His head was covered and his feet were bare as a sign of mourning. And the people who were with him covered their heads and wept as they climbed the mountain." The story of those terrible days is most pathetic. At length David reached Mahanaim, over the Jordan, and preparation was made for resistance. The army was organized and the day of battle came. David would have gone to the field—but his officers did not allow him to imperil his life. "David was sitting between the two gates." Never did a ruler watch more anxiously for news from a battlefield, than David watched that day. It was not only his kingdom that was imperiled—the fact that the rebel leader was his own son, terribly complicated the issue. Either defeat or victory—would bring anguish to his heart.
Children who go away in sin, never know with what bitterness loving parents at home think of their evil courses. There are parents who pace the floor many long nights, and look out at their windows into the streets, watching for the return of those who are dearer to them than their own life. If children knew how they crush the hearts of devoted fathers and mothers by going into sin—they would never choose such a life!
All David could do that day, was to sit between the gates and wait and watch. He could put forth no hand to save his son. He could only sit there in utter powerlessness and wait for the tragedy which would end the sad story. Years ago he might have prevented this terrible catastrophe—but now it was too late. At length a messenger came. The king said: "Is it well with the young man Absalom?" The king was lost in the father. David’s interest in the safety of the country—was swallowed up in his anxiety for the fate of his rebel son. He heard of the victory of his army—but that availed him nothing, unless he knew that Absalom was safe.
There is a story of a mother, hearing of the coming of a messenger from the battlefield. The woman hastened out into the street to ask him what news he bore. With gentle words, so as not to add to her sorrow, the messenger said: "Your five sons are dead." With a look of withering scorn, she replied, crushing down in her heart her own personal grief: "I did not ask you of the welfare of my sons. I asked if the country is safe." Patriotic feeling was stronger in her—than parental love. In David it was the reverse. Yet there were reasons in David’s case for this difference. His son’s name was dishonored, and, besides, David knew that Absalom’s ruin was, in part at least, his work. This added to his bitterness. The one question that persisted that day on the king’s lips was: "Is it well with the young man?" We may put other names in the place of Absalom’s, and ask the question concerning young men we know: "Is it well with the young man?" It is never well with the young man—if he is living sinfully, if he is not following Christ. This is a world of danger. Every young man must meet countless perils!
Storms sweep the sea and the wrecks go down, bearing noble lives beneath the waves, and there is sorrow in the homes when the missing ones come not. The battle rages and many a brave soldier falls to rise no more, and there is grief in the homes where the cruel blow strikes. But there are fiercer storms raging than those upon the sea! Our noblest young men are exposed to these. There are more terrific battles than those history records.
"Is it well with the young man?" We mourn for those whom death claims; should we not mourn for our living, when we remember to what perils they are exposed?
They tried to have the news broken gently to the king. The first messenger, Ahimaaz, told the story so timidly that the king seems not to have grasped the worst. Then came the blunt Cushite and told all with terrible plainness. "My lord the king, hear the good news! The LORD has delivered you today from all who rose up against you." The king asked the Cushite, "Is the young man Absalom safe?" The Cushite replied, "May the enemies of my lord the king and all who rise up to harm you be like that young man." The king was shaken. He went up to the room over the gateway and wept. As he went, he said: "O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you—O Absalom, my son, my son!" 2Sa 18:31-33
We see in this picture of the weeping king a glimpse of the father’s heart. Some might say that long before this, David would have ceased to love such a son as Absalom had been, and would not have been so affected by his death. But no one who knows a parent’s heart will say this. This intense love which had loved on through such a history of crime as had darkened Absalom’s name—is the same kind of love that all true fathers and mothers have for their children. It never unclasps its arms. It loves unto the uttermost.
David’s love also gives us a glimpse of God’s love for His children. Even their worst sins—do not change His love. In David’s grief over his lost child, we see how our Heavenly Father feels when His children go astray. Christ weeping over Jerusalem shows this phase of Divine experience. He wept because the people He loved and had come to save—had rejected Him and His love and refused His mercy.
"O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you—O Absalom, my son, my son!" No doubt David would gladly have died for Absalom, as he said. In a burning mine, when there was room for no more in the car that was starting up on its last trip, one brave lad stepped off and gave his place to another lad, saying: "He is not ready to die—and I am." David would have taken Absalom’s place for the same reason—but it was impossible. If David had lived for Absalom more faithfully, when his son was younger—he might never have had this terrible sorrow to bear. The time for parents to show their love for their children most effectively, is when they have them in their hands in tender youth, and not when they are dead! No doubt the bitterest element of David’s grief, was the thought that if he had lived differently himself—this might never have happened.
There is a story of an old ship-wrecker whose son had long been a wanderer on the sea. One night the father set his false lights on the coast, and a ship came ashore on the rocks. As the old man went along the beach, gathering up the booty, he came upon the body of a sailor washed up by the waves. One glance told him it was his own long-lost son. It was his son’s ship coming home—that the wrecker had lured upon the rocks! His anguish was indescribable. Some such feeling must have been David’s in his pathetic grief that day. In our sympathy with David in his grief, we must not lose the lessons from Absalom himself. He had splendid gifts and opportunities—but he threw them all away! He gave loose rein to his passions, and was carried headlong into ruin. He was a type of what are called "fast young men." We need only to study Absalom’s story through to the end—to see the outcome of all such lives!