How Does David Look Now?

Now in the morning David wrote a letter to Joab and sent it by the hand of Uriah.  He had written in the letter, saying, " Place Uriah in the front line of the fiercest battle and withdraw from him, so that he may be struck down and die."  So it was as Joab kept watch on the city, that he put Uriah at the place where he knew there were valiant men.  The men of the city went out and fought against Joab, and some of the people among David's servants fell; and Uriah the Hittite also died. (2 Samuel 11:14-17 NASB)

 When I visited the Dominican Republic some years ago we drove by a modern monument that was clearly tragic.  When I asked about it, I was told it was for the the men who killed Trujillo, the dictator of the Dominican Republic.  The story went that Trujillo had a group of men who would go through the city and kidnap women for him, once he slept with them, he would release them.  At one point he captured the wives of some of his top police leaders, and they refused.  So he jailed their husbands.  They still refused, so he killed them all and their husbands and threw them off this cliff where the monument stood.  So, 5 men (related to the victims) very high in Trujillo's court arranged for and carried out his assassination.  They paid for his death with their lives, but were remembered years afterward as heroes.

Trujillo was a tyrant, the worst of the idea of dictator.  He was an amoral thug, an evil ruler.  But, that's what we expect when someone has absolute power; absolute corruption.  We don't expect it from David though. 

Even knowing this chapter is coming, having gone through Samuel up to this point, it still shocks.  What David did as he sinned with Bathsheba is still such a deviation from his character to this point that it's hard to imagine.  Having Uriah killed is one thing, but to send the command by his own hand was a stroke of unusual cruelty for David.  It means that David knew he could trust the character of Uriah to not read the note while in transit.  It means that David knew the character of Uriah was above his own.  In fact, reading of Uriah to this point is tragically ironic as he consistently demonstrates more moral character than the king he serves so faithfully.  One of the saddest ironies of Scripture is the response by Uriah when David asks him why he did not go down to his house and hide David's sin with his wife.  He swears on David's life and the life of David's soul he would not do this thing.  He refers to the Ark and his fellow soldiers in tents, the army in the field.  Why was David not there?  It's a tragic irony, where you see his moral character and faithfulness to his king become his undoing.

David kills one of his own 30 faithful long-serving valorous body guards, one who fought beside him while running from Saul, while living in Ziklag, against the Amalekites, and in Hebron.  Uriah stands as one of faithfulness and character, highlighting these qualities lacking in David; at least right here.

It's true David seems devoid of these qualities right here, and that they are replaced with the worst of human qualities.  With David, the worst is never the end of the story.  With David there is another quality that remains at the bedrock of all the others.  He is willing to repent.  Chapter 11 is about his moral failure of epic proportions.  Chapter 12 is about his repentance, also of epic proportions.  Chapter 11 is the worst of David, where chapter 12 is arguably the best.

What this chapter does is bring David's rock-solid faith into sharp relief.  It's not a faith so strong he never fails.  It's a faith so strong he always gets back up and recovers from failure.  It's not amazing that David has this moral failure, it is shocking, but not amazing.  What is amazing is what Nathan is able to do in the next chapter.  And so you don't go all 'fearless-man-of-God' on Nathan, read chapter 11 carefully, and consider how many people knew exactly what David did.  I wonder how many of his faithful soldiers moved a few more blocks away from the palace.  While it wasn't amazing that Nathan knew, it was amazing that he had the courage, knowing what he did, to confront the king.  I'm sure he was afraid, but we'll get into that in the next chapter.

The hinge pin on which the life of David turns is the last verse of chapter 11.  From there a failure becomes a lesson.  But until that verse, it seems very dark, David seems in danger of becoming another despot, another malevolent dictator, another example of human depravity and the utter corruption of absolute power.

I wonder how many people, without the absolute power, hide from God wearing fig leaves, rather than approach the hinge-pin of their own lives.  I have lived from childhood comfortable with shadows and shades of truth.  I have seen it in my family (haven't we all?), but I never saw a real emergence from the shadows.  They weren't bad enough to really require some dramatic repentance, I suppose.  Or, like so many of us, denial makes living among them seem lit.  The gray semi-gloom becomes normal and we treat it like light.  Yet reading Scripture creates an uncomfortable feeling that all is not as light as it should be.

David passes out of darkness and into light.  He pays the consequences and accepts from his Master what comes from his own sin.  The pathway to light is often paved with consequences.  And it is usually these consequences that keep me in gloom, and my fear of them keeps me from a light I can barely imagine.  I suppose in times like this, what I need is the courage to follow the path of consequences into the light.  But I have found that I also need patience, peace, and joy never hurts either.  These things are only found growing on the branches of a life filled with the Spirit of my Master.  So, really, what I have always needed was the presence of my Master in me; just like David.

A Man of War At Peace In War

When David and his men came to the city, behold, it was burned with fire, and their wives and their sons and their daughters had been taken captive.  Then David and the people who were with him lifted their voices and wept until there was no strength in them to weep.  Now David's two wives had been taken captive, Ahinoam the Jezreelitess and Abigail the widow of Nabal the Carmelite.  Moreover David was greatly distressed because the people spoke of stoning him, for all the people were embittered, each one because of his sons and his daughters. But David strengthened himself in the LORD his God. (1 Samuel 30:3-6 NASB)

 So, the Philistines don't like David.  They send him home rather than permit him to go into battle with them.  The king of Gath even had him set to be his body guard.  It was going to be glorious!  David and his six hundred were set to turn the tide against the Philistines, perhaps destroying all the leaders of the Philistine cities.  Or whatever David had in mind, we'll never know.  Instead he was sent home.  God had something else for him to take care of.

Upon reaching his city, given to him by the king of Gath, it has been raided and burned with fire.  I think, from clues within the chapter, that the Amalekites knew that their troubles had come from Ziklag, David's city, and had come to take revenge.  Since it was unguarded, they simply captured everyone, and burned it.  No one died.  That's what David came home to; burnt houses and missing families.

The six hundred and David wept.  They responded in frustration, but weeping until they had no strength.  These are tough guys, but emotional.  They feel sadness and they cry.  But this isn't 'skinned-knee' crying.  This is 'loss-of-life' crying; deep emotional grief.  They grieve, a lost art among modern men.

Once done grieving (or as part of it, if you think of grief as a process), they speak of stoning David to death.  Life is bad, let's kill the leader.  It's not that unusual with men who are described from the beginning as "bitter of soul" that when their circumstances are no longer in their favor, they blame others.  On the other hand, they may have realized that those who raided them were the ones whom they had plundered, leaving no witnesses (1 Samuel 27:8-9).  This is what they had done to others, and David had led them to do it.

But David had lost as well.  He wept as they did.  His house was in ashes as was theirs.  Yet when they spoke of stoning him, he 'strengthened himself in the LORD his God.'  In his circumstances, very similar to theirs, he found strength in the One who led him rather than blaming the One who led him. 

Consider that David led men who were of low character, but remained of good character.  That is not easy.  Among such warriors as history records following David; he leads them, they follow, they may think of killing him, but instead follow him once again into battle.  What sort of bearing and fiber makes up someone like that?

When I think of my circumstances, and how often I have caved to feelings of self-pity, I'm ashamed.  I don't demonstrate that sort of bearing and character that other men would follow into battle.  They'd be too afraid I'd fail and run and hide.  That's a valid fear if all I show them is that I'm interested in only my own wants and desires.  What I need to demonstrate is that I'm sold out faithful to my Master.  I need the courage that comes from character that comes from being faithfully in the presence of the King of Kings.

My circumstances are great.  My house isn't burned with fire, my enemies haven't heaped on me the ignominy I heaped on them, and my family is present and accounted for.  Here I am before dawn typing away on a blog about my Master without fear of being hauled off and jailed.  I'm blessed really.  So, why in the good circumstances do I find it so difficult to be selfless; to think of my wife and daughter before myself, to consider my fellow believers before my self, to think of those who work with me in ministry before myself?

I have neighbors around me hell-bound on a super highway at top speed.  Am I doing anything to wave them off?  Am I trying to get their attention?  This isn't watching a train-wreck, this is simply coming along side someone.  Am I willing to strengthen myself in the LORD my God and get back into the fight?  There are doors of hell waiting for my foot to kick them in all around me.  Behind them are captives ignorant to their danger, and without hope in the darkness.  I hold a light.  Why do I hide it?

Time to take down some strongholds, starting with those I've let the enemy build in my own life.  The lives of those living around me depend on it; and so does my family.  Time to suit up, let me grab this sword sitting over here; and a sledge hammer, a good 5-pounder should do it!  Pay no attention to the sound of crushing concrete, it's just those wicked strongholds coming down.  Be just a second...

Who Am I To my God?

Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand
or marked off the heavens with the span of his hand?
Who has gathered the dust of the earth in a measure
or weighed the mountains in a balance
and the hills in the scales?
Who has directed the Spirit of the Lord,
or who gave Him His counsel?
Who did He consult with?
Who gave Him understanding
and taught Him the paths of justice?
Who taught Him knowledge
and showed Him the way of understanding?
(Isaiah 40:12-14 HCSB)

One of the frustrating things about Job is that God never answers Job's challenge as to why Job was suffering.  It is a difficult book in which to find a 'comfortable' answer to the problem of evil and suffering in the world.  God's answer to Job is essentially to ask, 'Who are you to ask me anything?' which is not what we want to hear.  It works for Job though, and he is restored.

Here, in Isaiah's word of encouragement to the Jewish Exiles in Babylon, it sounds somewhat similar to God's response to Job, 'who are you to question God?'  The questions sound silly compared to who God truly is and what He's done.  They are supposed to sound silly.  They bring into sharp relief the faith of the people; the lackluster, thin, weary faith of a people tired of their circumstances.

So, God has measured all the waters in the hollow of His hand.  In the day of Isaiah, the world was thought of as table on legs (pillars) and covered by a dome.  But it was surrounded by water.  Think about it, water came from the sky, so there was water up there.  Water could be found by digging deep enough, so there was water below.  There were streams, rivers, and a sea.  Water was everywhere.  So when God holds the 'waters' in His hands, that's more water than we might first imagine.  It rivals the water we know is on the earth today.  The idea is that the hands of God are big hands.

God has marked off the heavens with the span of His hand.  So that dome over the earth He hammered out in creation, He measures it with the space between His pinky and thumb spread out, a span.   But we know the 'heavens' to be much larger than a dome over the earth.  We've renamed it 'the universe' and it is immeasurably huge.  I don't think the imagery needs adjusting though.  I suspect that using the imagery of the universe being God's 'desk decoration' would fit nicely into the point the writer is trying to make here.

He has measured the mountains, the dust, and hills in scales.  Again, God is unbelievably HUGE!

But who has guided Him?  Who has given His Spirit direction or counsel, increased His understanding, taught Him the ways of justice or knowledge, or understanding?  Obviously, no one.  It's a rhetorical question to draw out the silliness of the people's lack of faith; their irreverent questioning of the unknowable One.  Later on, the poet states that God's understanding cannot be measured for depth. 

But the poet is writing to encourage, to lift up, and lead people out of their focus on their circumstances.  He is leading them to turn their focus on their God, their Maker, the One having created all things, including their enemies.  He is posing these questions much in the same way God posed them to Job, to lead him back into faith.  It's as if to say, "I've got you covered, why would you doubt Me?"

So, I read these questions.  I too look at my circumstances.  My biggest issue is that I don't like one particular aspect of my job.  But it's my wilfulness and not the job that is the problem.  My focus has been on me and what I want.  I'm being selfish.  I have excuses for being selfish.  I have plenty of them.  But then I have to ask these questions.  Suddenly, my selfishness stands in stark contrast to my Master's character.  Had He been selfish, He would have left me lost.  But He redeemed me.

So, having been redeemed by the One whose understanding cannot be measured for depth, why would I then be frustrated by an aspect of the job He provided?  Am I smarter than Him?  Should I have counseled Him, or taught Him the way of understanding, or the paths of justice, or anything?  Duh, of course not!  Even asking the question is silly, but my lack of acceptance of what my Master has provided does exactly that.

What I mean is that when I refuse to accept willingly the circumstances provided by my Master, then I ask those very ridiculous questions.  He led me to this place, provided this job as I went, and has kept me in it as I have worked.  But this past year, I have fought it.  I have railed against one particular aspect of this job and convinced myself that is is not in my character to do it.  What am I thinking?! Seriously?

How can I charge that an aspect of the job given to me by the One having created me and shaped my character, the One constantly changing me, metamorphing me more into the image of His Son, gave me a job that is inconsistent with my character?  Really?  I know more about that than He does?  I know enough about the purpose and direction He is taking me that I know this is the wrong job?  And I know this because there is only one aspect I don't like.  You see how amazingly ridiculous I'm being about my job? 

I will accept my job.  I will take on the spiritual discipline of my job, all it requires, and I will learn to love it, and through it, my Master more deeply.  I will start today, hour by hour, and do the thing I'd rather not do.  I will do it in the afternoon's when I'm tired, the mornings when I'm sharp, the mid-day when I'm ready for something else, and the end of the day when I'm having trouble seeing the point.  I will do it.  I will do it for my Master Who gave it to me; Who blessed me with it, and sees a purpose in it.  I will do it.  To me, that is faith; small and somewhat petty, but faith.

Rejection and Ejection as a Pathway to Righteousness

Now Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, mocking.  Therefore she said to Abraham, "Drive out this maid and her son, for the son of this maid shall not be an heir with my son Isaac."  The matter distressed Abraham greatly because of his son.  But God said to Abraham, "Do not be distressed because of the lad and your maid; whatever Sarah tells you, listen to her, for through Isaac your descendants shall be named.  "And of the son of the maid I will make a nation also, because he is your descendant."  So Abraham rose early in the morning and took bread and a skin of water and gave them to Hagar, putting them on her shoulder, and gave her the boy, and sent her away. And she departed and wandered about in the wilderness of Beersheba. (Genesis 21:9-14 NASB)

This is an account where what's really going on is implied rather than explicit.  First off, for whatever reason, Ishmael is never named but referred to obliquely throughout the chapter.  Second, he wasn't mocking, he was laughing with the boy named for such behavior.  I see clues that there are two other reasons for sending Hagar and Ishmael away.

The first is from what Sarah says to Abraham, "...the son of this maid shall not be an heir with my son Isaac."  It's not that they "play" together, it's that Ishmael threatens Isaac's inheritance, or blessing, from Abraham.  It is more jealousy than physical or emotional protection of Isaac.  But why be jealous?  Hasn't God made it clear that Isaac will be the one through whom the promise and covenant will pass?  Time for the second clue.

The second clue I find in what God says to Abraham.  Abraham doesn't want to send Ishmael away.  He wasn't distressed for Hagar, the word was evil in his eyes because of Ishmael.  It sounds like a natural attachment of a father to a son, but God says something interesting, "...through Isaac your descendants will be named."  That hadn't been brought up, but wouldn't it be strongly inferred from the promise?  God will make Abraham a great nation, and the promise is to pass through the promised son.  Yet, God has to tell Abraham again, more specifically.  It's as if Abraham still holds on to the possibility that Ishmael can carry the blessing of God; or at least his family blessing.

I see two possibilities that could be true at the same time.  I think Sarah is jealous and I think Abraham has given her reason to be.  He seems to still hold on to a primary position for Ishmael in his heart.  It shows up when he is asked by Sarah to send Hagar and Ishmael away.  God finally points it out.  But God appreciates that this view isn't evil in a character sense, but it is evil in a "faith" sense.  It is contrary to the direction laid out by God.  Abraham still hopes for Ishmael.  And God honors the character of Abraham.  He again promises to make Ishmael into a great nation. 

The point I take from this is that my Master knows me better than I know myself.  He sees the places where I'm in denial.  He sees the places I'm completely blind to my weaknesses.  But He also is diligent to correct those faith flaws that aren't necessarily character flaws.  In other words He corrects character that distracts from faith.  It may not have been Abraham's problem, but when my Master reveals character that is contrary to His call, I also discover that the character quality is often about me rather than my Master. 

An example of this is discernment.  Through the study of Scriptures, I can often discern when people and situations deviate from my Master's design.  This isn't all that unique, in fact it's really common.  But when I decide to step in where I'm not invited either by my Master or the person(s) involved, that discernment becomes about me rather than about my relationship with my Master.  Sometimes my Master does invite me, and then it's a faith issue to become involved.  But if I'm not prompted by His Spirit, and the person hasn't asked, then I need to draw from my discernment and pray specifically for the person(s) in that situation.  That's just one example, but it demonstrates the difference between the unrighteous good and the righteous good.  One is about me, that is self-righteousness.  The other is about my Master, and that's true righteousness.

Genesis 20: Why Here, Why Now?

Now Abraham journeyed from there toward the land of the Negev, and settled between Kadesh and Shur; then he sojourned in Gerar.  Abraham said of Sarah his wife, "She is my sister." So Abimelech king of Gerar sent and took Sarah. (Genesis 20:1-2 NASB)

Abraham said, "Because I thought, surely there is no fear of God in this place, and they will kill me because of my wife.  Besides, she actually is my sister, the daughter of my father, but not the daughter of my mother, and she became my wife; 13 and it came about, when God caused me to wander from my father's house, that I said to her, 'This is the kindness which you will show to me: everywhere we go, say of me, "He is my brother."'" (Genesis 20:11-13 NASB)

This chapter in Genesis seems odd for a lot of reasons, only one of which is that Sarah is now 90.  It may be difficult to imagine a 90-year-old winning a beauty contest in our day, but perhaps, longer lifespans of that age would make it plausible.  She lives long enough after this to raise a son, so perhaps at this point she can win one.  But that's just one oddity.

Another odd piece is the placement.  Either this happens a lot or Sarah really can't win a beauty pageant.  Abraham and Sarah have used this ploy ever since they have been in Canaan.  It makes it seem as if everywhere they go, this is how they introduce themselves, as brother and sister.  This is one of the reasons it's difficult for me to believe that this is a response to fear or lack of faith.  If it is, it one that God seems to permit.

The position of this account is sandwiched between Sarah being revealed as the mother of Isaac and the birth of Isaac.  So, I have wondered whether or not this account really ocurred at some other time in the lives of Abraham and Sarah.  It's placement here creates some tension in the story of Abraham because there is suddenly the danger that Isaac would not be Abraham's son, or at least that it wouldn't look that way.  That Abraham would continue this ploy after the assurance that Sarah would bear Isaac also seems strange.

So, as I examine this passage, I am left with two possibilities that fit the character of both Abraham and God.  Either the passage is in the wrong place but placed here for narrative tension, or Abraham really isn't "scared" at all, rather he is shrewd.  In this account, as in Genesis 12, he is handsomely rewarded.  He comes out on the other end of it with more than he started with.  And God backs him up in this.  It seems oddly out of character for both Abraham and God, regardless of placement.

The character of both God and Abraham are where I find my application.  Abraham is not a "perfect" prophet, or at least not perfect in his assurance that God will protect him without his deception.  God is perfectly willing to protect his weak chosen one.  He has a specific plan and will even support the deception of his prophet to make it happen.  And God is perfectly willing to raise up a chosen people from one with such character.  I see in this relationship room for me to have this sort of walk with my Master.

In Abraham, I see someone who I can measure up to.  I see that God is willing to work with my strange lapses into weakness.  I see that I can't really mess up God's plan, at least not in specifics.  I see that God will choose to work with me regardless of gaps in my character.

So if the key is not "perfectly complete" faith, what is it?  What is the key to such a relationship with the Master of the universe, Creator of all matter?  From this passage the key seems to be the Master.  Even with the king, Abimelech, the key is the Master.  It's not me, my character, or my ability to meet a standard that continues the relationship with my Master, it is my Master who continues the relationship with me. 

The grace of my Master, once having initiated my relationship with Him, now is the mechanism sustaining that relationship.  The love of the One forming stars fashions a link with me that I cannot really control or break.  Perhaps it's the irresistable grace of Calvinists, but I think of it more in terms of an irresistable desire of an irresistable God.  It's not that I want Him or that I have "gotten His attention."  It is that He has regarded me for His own reasons. 

I believe that I responded and that this response of mine is crucial; like the obedience of Abraham in leaving Haran.  But that He has regard for me is not because of something I have done.  Whatever potential He sees in me, He put there in the first place.  It was never a potential "created" or "imagined" by me.  Again, and again, my prayers have to begin with, "You love me, You have my back, and I am at Your service."  For me in my walk with my Master, that is what it is about.