A Familiar Story

1 Kings 20

            It feels like we’ve read this story before: a vastly inferior Israelite force defeats a much larger enemy force because the Lord is on their side, and then there’s a mistake. In this case, Ahab spares Ben-Hadad. While it’s not explicitly recorded, the prophet says that the Lord had commanded the death of Ben-Hadad, but Ahab spared him. This all reminds me of Saul’s disaster with Agog of the Amalekites. There, as here, the Lord wants obedience, not good intentions. And much like Saul, Ahab goes away sullen and angry. That’s no way for a king to behave, as Wednesday’s reading will show us.

Elijah’s Crisis of Faith

1 Kings 19

            What is odd is the timing: Elijah has just won a great victory on Mt. Carmel and the now he is fleeing into the wilderness in despair. On the one level, it makes sense because queen Jezebel has just threatened him with death.  That will rob any victory of its sweetness. On another level, we have to wonder, shouldn’t Elijah—whom the Lord had just delivered from the 850 prophets of Baal and Asherah—trust the Lord to deliver him from this threat, too? If only it were that easy!

            It has been my experience that we are often most spiritually vulnerable after a victory, or a blessing. Maybe we let our guard down, relax, and forget that Satan doesn’t stop, that his hatred is relentless. I don’t know exactly. I just know that for me at least a spiritual high is often followed by a spiritual crash.

            Maybe part of it is what we expect from the Lord. Elijah’s experience of the Lord on Mt. Horeb is important. The Lord is not in the powerful wind or the earthquake or the fire. We expect great and mighty wonders, so we don’t hear the gentle whisper. But the Lord’s greatest act is the cross, on which Jesus, who throughout the Gospels has taught at length, has only seven little things to say. The greatest thing that God has ever done was accomplished in relative quiet.

            As I reflect on lifetime of following the Lord, it seems to me that the most spiritually stable times have been those when I have attended to His word the closest. Not in a professional way, which is a constant temptation for a pastor—to assume that preparing to preach and teach and write is the same as devotionally listening for God’s voice. Maybe we should look for fewer Mt. Carmels and more Mt. Horebs, less flash and more still, small voice, less miracle and more of God’s Word…

Enter Elijah

1 Kings 17-18

            Elijah dominates 1 and 2 Kings like no other figure. His name means “My God is Yahweh,” and his life’s work is to call Israel back to that confession.

            The great moment of his life is the confrontation with the prophets of Baal and Asherah on Mt. Carmel. Elijah is outnumbered 850 to 1, telling us how prominent Baal worship was in Israel. (Elijah’s not the only prophet of the Lord left; earlier in chapter 18 we read how a man named Obadiah had hidden 100 prophets from Jezebel.) Elijah proposes a test: see which god/God answers a prayer and sends fire from heaven first. It’s a comic kind of thing. The prophets of Baal whoop and holler and dance and cut themselves until they’re exhausted, and nothing. Elijah mocks: maybe he’s deep in thought, maybe he’s on the can, maybe he’s asleep. Nothing. Then Elijah has his altar soaked with water and simply asks the Lord to demonstrate that He really is God. And He does: fire from heaven, perhaps a lightning strike, destroys offering, altar, and water.

            The people see and—for that moment, at least—believe. “Yahweh—He is God!” practically yelling Elijah’s name. It’s a sweet moment for Elijah, who had challenged the Israelites, “How long will you waver between two opinions? Choose Yahweh or Baal. Give your whole heart to one or the other.” Now, they chose Yahweh.

            It’s not that Israel had ever completely rejected Yahweh, their ancestral God. It’s that they had made Him one god among many. I think that’s something we should ponder, too. Our “other” gods are not as obvious as little carved statues of Baal in the living room. But we face a thousand competing priorities, each a sort of god. Weekends away, entertainments of all sorts that occupy our Sunday mornings, sometimes work, sometimes chores around the house—all these things would pull us away from the true worship of the Lord. Martin Luther, in his Large Catechism, famously says that an idol is anything that we look to for good more than we look to the true God, anything we trust, anything about which we might say, “This will truly make me happy.” Elijah’s question remains powerful, “How long will you waver between two opinion? If the Lord is God, follow Him!”

Living Up (or Down) to the Fathers

1 Kings 15-16

            In Judah, Abijah was a bad king and Asa was a good king, and the litmus test was their faithfulness or unfaithfulness to the Lord. Abijah walked in the ways of Rehoboam; Asa walked in the ways of David. In Israel Nadab, Baasha, Elah, Zimri, Omri, and Ahab were all bad kings: they all continued in the evil, that is, in the idolatry, of those who went before. Idolatry is the issue, but it is cast in terms of one’s fathers or predecessors. Of the seven men in today’s reading, only Asa is compared favorably to David, the gold standard of kings.

            It wasn’t that long ago that I was looking at a friend’s Facebook page, and he mentioned that his congregation had celebrated a saint day that weekend. I think it’s fair to say that most Lutheran churches don’t really celebrate the days commemorating the saints, but there is a long tradition of doing so. In the Lutheran Confessions, the practice is actually commended, and, I’m working from memory here, the reasons are to rejoice in the grace the Lord showed them and to be inspired by their example.

            I think that’s laudable, that we find examples of faithfulness and try to model our own practice of the faith after them. In my own life, I think about my father, who was very active in as a leader in our home church; my mother, who read her Bible every day; and my grandmother, who also dwelt on the Scriptures all the time. Whose example are you emulating in your spiritual life? How does their example inspire you?

A Trick?

1 Kings 13-14

            So, a man of God came from Judah to Bethel. So far, so good. The prophet Amos did the same thing. Apparently relations between the north and the south were still close enough that Judah’s prophets came to prophesy against the shrines of Israel.

            Anyway, this man of God was told by God not to eat or drink on the way to Bethel and he was to return home by another route. No dawdling among the idolaters! He rejects the king of Israel’s offer, and off he goes. But an old prophet along the way persuades the first to stay for dinner. This latter prophet says that an angel of the Lord told him to play the host. The kicker is that while they were eating, the old prophet had a revelation that the first man of God was in violation of the word of the Lord. And the first man of God was killed by a lion!

            I don’t get it. Ok, the obvious lesson is: do what the Lord says. But couldn’t the first guy have thought, “Well, this is a new word from the Lord; better do what this prophet says”? How was the first supposed to know the latter was lying? It almost seems like somebody tricked somebody.

            In Numbers 23, Moses ponders, “Is God a man that He should lie?” And the answer is clearly, “No.” On the other hand, the words we have from God are the Bible, and it’s easy enough to get the Bible wrong. So, what do we make of all of this? Is pretty simplistic, but we rely on the Word of God: we read it; we listen to sermons about it; we listen to scholars who have studied it. And we pray about it. We pray that we have heard God’s voice; we pray that we have applied God’s words appropriately; and we trust the our God, who loves us, will keep us on the right path.

Foolishness South and North

1 Kings 12

            In contrast to his dad’s wisdom, Rehoboam shows himself foolish, heeding the advice of young, inexperienced advisors instead of Solomon’s seasoned ones. The result is civil war. Well, the result is division anyway; a prophet of the Lord tells the men of Judah to go home and they do, so there’s no fighting. The whole incident shows that Israel’s national loyalty was never strong. The northern tribes had allegiance among themselves; Judah was loyal to itself; and even the people of Judah weren’t terribly loyal to their king.

            This is the kind of story that bothered me when I was younger. I came out of seminary full of knowledge and ideas and, frankly, full of myself. It took me a long time to learn the difference between knowledge and wisdom. I’m afraid to say that when I was fresh out of school I probably would have been more likely to listen to my peers than to older, more experienced pastors. These days, I’m the older, more experienced pastor, and I realize that experience is as an important a teacher as anything. We truly learn from our mistakes, and, God willing, grow into wisdom. I look at this story now, and I say, “Rehoboam should have listened to the elders of Israel.”

            For his part, Jeroboam should have listened to, well, anybody. His rationale for building two golden calves was to keep his people from making pilgrimages to Jerusalem and shifting their loyalties back to the south. So, he did what seemed right to him. In addition to the shrines at Bethel and Dan, he made worship convenient by establishing high places, local shrines. If he had paid any attention to Israel’s history, he would have remembered that a golden calf was the first of a series of poor choices that Israel made after coming out of Egypt, and he would have heard the prophets telling Israel to shun the high places. Yet, here he was with alternates—both major and minor—to the temple and even an alternate to one of the festivals of the Lord. (Given the timing it might have been an alternate to the festival of booths.)

            So, foolishness abounds in the south and in the north. In the south it’s a political foolishness, a king out of touch with his people. In the north, it’s religious foolishness, a king out of touch with the Lord. May the Lord save us from both!

The Other Shoe Drops

1 Kings 11

            The end of Solomon’s story narrates three sources of trouble: many, many foreign wives; foreign powers not completely subdued; and a threat from within Solomon’s own administration. Let’s take them in reverse order.

            Jeroboam is introduced as a talented young man, whom Solomon promoted rapidly. Unfortunately for Jeroboam, the Lord singled him out as the man who would tear a large part of the kingdom from David’s house. Solomon must have heard about the Lord’s promise and he tried to kill Jeroboam, who escaped to Egypt. In a small way, Solomon’s reaction is similar to Saul’s, when the Lord announced that the latter would no longer be king. I suppose it’s easy to be on the Lord’s side when things are going your way, but when the Lord’s word speaks against you, it’s tough to accept it humbly…

            Then, there are enemies that were never fully conquered. David defeated the Edomites in 2 Samuel 8, but we read here that an heir to the throne escaped and found refuge in Egypt. (Considering that Solomon had struck an alliance with Egypt by marrying Pharaoh’s daughter, an awful lot of Solomon’s enemies seem to have refuge there!) Likewise, Rezon of Damascus represents the remnant from David’s conquests in Aram, also narrated in 2 Samuel 8. If I could spin for a second, the enemies of the kingdom remind me of sin, they have long deep roots. It’s a lifetime’s work to root them out.

            Finally, there is the main source of Solomon’s troubles, at least as far as the author of Kings is concerned: Solomon’s many foreign wives who lead him into idolatry. That it’s the main source of trouble is seen in the fact that Solomon’s idolatry is mentioned at the end of the chapter as the reason that the Lord is removing a large portion of the kingdom from Solomon.

            I’ve pondered over the years a tension in our faith. On the one hand, separation from the world seems the best way to avoid being led astray into the world’s false beliefs. On the other hand, how can we spread the faith if we don’t engage with those who don’t know the good news? In one place, St. Paul writes that we shouldn’t be unevenly yoked to an unbeliever (2 Corinthians 6:14), a passage many take as a warning against mixed marriages (although marriage is not mentioned). Yet in another place he says that an unbelieving spouse may become a believer through a believing husband or wife (1 Corinthians 7:14). Solomon certainly should not have married so many pagan wives; that was a condition of the Sinai covenant. But, in my mind, it remains an open and difficult question to what extent New Testament believers should engage the world. We need to guard our faith, but we also need to be in mission… 

Solomon’s Splendor (and Some Cracks)

1 Kings 9-10

            In response to Solomon building the temple, the Lord reiterates His promises. However, unlike 2 Samuel 7, here the Lord’s promises are very much couched in the language of the Sinai covenant: remain faithful and you’ll be blessed; prove faithless and you’ll be cursed. So, the Davidic line seems to operate under both covenants. On the one hand, the ultimate fulfillment of David’s line is Jesus, who is the great blessing for humanity, who fulfills the promise made to Abraham, and who reigns at God’s right hand forever. On the other hand, the kingdom is an institution tied to Moses’ covenant, and after Jesus does His work, it’s no longer necessary. Which is good, because despite Solomon’s splendor, we have serious notices that all is not well.

            And Solomon does have splendor. These two chapters spend a lot of time describing Solomon’s wealth. Units of weight were not consistent across the ancient world, but a good guess for a talent is about 75 pounds. So Hiram and the queen of Sheba delivered about 9 tons of gold between them and Solomon brought in roughly 25 tons of gold annually. I remember reading my children’s Bible when I was a boy and being fascinated by Solomon’s throne with its lions and the statement about apes and baboons. It was truly a golden age for Israel!

            Unfortunately, we have indications of cracks in the foundations. In chapter 3, we read that Solomon had made an alliance with Egypt and had married Pharaoh’s daughter to seal it. Also in chapter 3, when Solomon asked for wisdom, he was at the high place at Gibeon, not before the ark of the Lord. In today’s chapters, we read that Solomon had a huge force of conscripted, slave labor and that he had a huge force of chariots and horses. All of these show us that Solomon was falling into the ways of kingship common in the world around him, accumulating power, wealth, and security, just like all the non-Israelite kings. As Lord Action once famously noted, “Power tends to corrupt; absolute power corrupts absolutely.” More on this tomorrow!

The Dedication of the Temple

1 Kings 8

            Solomon’s prayer of dedication is a great piece for understanding how God works. Solomon completely understands the omnipresence of God, that He is everywhere, that a temple made with human hands cannot possibly contain Him. Yet, Solomon also knows that the Lord graciously condescends to dwell in the temple, and He does so so that Israel will always know where to find His gracious presence. Solomon’s line in verse 29 sums it up: “May your eyes be open toward this place.”

            God is indeed everywhere, but His gracious character is not revealed everywhere. Many people love the outdoors and say they feel closest to God there. But the outdoors is a brutal place. A few years ago I was hiking at Pike Lake and I came across a veritable explosion of feathers. It was clear what had happened. A predator, most likely a coyote, had attacked and killed a turkey. I have a biography of President James Garfield on my desk. He was born and raised in Ohio’s Western Reserve, a place that today is beautiful to visit but in those days was a dangerous and trackless wilderness. Martin Luther, walking home in a thunderstorm was so scared for his life that he promised God he would become a monk if he lived. The point is, nature is not place of safety, peace, and grace.

            So, yes, of course, we can feel the presence of God in nature. But He graciously descends and dwells with us in the place where He specifically says. Jesus says in Matthew 18 “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am with them.” Christians have always understood that to mean the New Testament equivalent of the Temple: the Church. At Divine Service, God speaks His words of forgiveness; At Divine Service, Jesus promises to be truly present with His body and blood. That is the place where ‘God’s eyes are always open toward us.’

            No wonder, then, that St. Paul calls the Church the Temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19)!

Building the Temple

1 Kings 5-7

            The Temple is described very similarly to the Tabernacle. It is bigger: 90 feet long compared to 45. But the relative dimensions are the same—3 times as long as it is wide. In chapter 7, Solomon has furnishings made, notably an altar for incense, a table for bread, and lampstands. Apparently the only part of the original Tabernacle that survived the full 480 years from the exodus was the ark of the covenant. It’s clear that the Temple is meant to be a permanent replacement for the tent in which the Lord had dwelt all those years. (More on the theology of the temple tomorrow.)

            Personally, I found Solomon’s introductory letter to Hiram king of Tyre most interesting. In it, Solomon notes that David couldn’t build the temple because he never had rest from his enemies. We heard that David wanted to build the temple in 2 Samuel 7, and we’ll read in 1 Chronicles 22 that David made many preparations for the temple’s eventual construction. But the Lord had said that Solomon would be the one to build it, and now he can because the kingdom has rest from its enemies (5:4). I find it interesting that the name Solomon in Hebrew (Shlomo) sounds a great deal like the Hebrew word for peace (shalom).

            So, flash forward a thousand years, and the book of John describes Jesus as a new tabernacle (1:14) and as a second temple (2:19-22). And tellingly, Jesus, who is in His very body the gracious presence of God, is also the source of true peace. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (14:27).

            When we talked so much about the tabernacle and the sacrifices in Leviticus, it was hard not to focus on the bloodiness of the whole thing. To be sure, there is bloodiness with Jesus; His passion and crucifixion are hardly tidy! But the focus should also include the peace that is created between God and humans, first in the sacrifices of Israel and finally in the sacrifice of Jesus.

            In find this sometimes, too, when I teach about the Lord’s Supper and the Real Presence of Jesus, that we eat and drink the body and blood of the Lord. People’s first reaction is often, “Gross!” (I explain that we eat and drink in a supernatural way, which is a topic for a different time.) But the larger point is to see the blessings that the Lord bestows through this holy supper, namely, forgiveness of sins, as Jesus says in the Words of Institution, and all that goes along with the forgiveness of sins.

            The temple is built by King Peace in a time of peace and its blessing is to establish and maintain peace between God and humans.

The Wisdom of Solomon

1 Kings 3-4

            Young Solomon famously asks for wisdom, “So give your servant a discerning heart to govern your people and to distinguish between right and wrong” (1 Kings 3:9). In chapter 4, we find out that Solomon was intelligent, too, cataloguing all sorts of plant and animal life. Wisdom and intelligence are two different things. Yes, they are both related to the life of the mind, but they are two different facilities. Intelligence is about logic, categories, synthesizing information. Wisdom has a more practical bent. It asks, “What is this knowledge for? How is it appropriately used?” There’s a great line in the movie Jurassic Park that illustrates the difference. A character named Malcolm observes about cloning dinosaurs, “You were so concerned with whether you could that you never asked if you should.” Wisdom is about discerning the right path forward.

            In the Scriptures, wisdom is related to the Lord. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Proverbs 1:7). If one is going to know how to apply knowledge, then one must have a spiritual and moral compass that understands the ways of the Lord.

            I’ve known plenty of intelligent people over the years, and some of them didn’t have any wisdom. I’ve known plenty of people over the years that the world would not describe as intelligent, but their wisdom was extraordinary. There was a man at the church I grew up in like that. He wasn’t well-educated; you could even dismiss him as simple. But he loved the Lord and he loved the Lord’s word and when he opened his mouth people listened—because he was wise.

            Young Solomon asks for wisdom. He asks to discern right and wrong and so to rule with justice. One could wish more of the world’s leaders made a similar prayer! Certainly to ask for a discerning heart, one rooted in the fear of the Lord, is still a good thing.

Introducing The Books of Kings and the Success of Solomon

1 Kings 1-2

            Taken together, 1 and 2 Kings will take us through about 400 years of history, from the accession of Solomon in 970 BC to the fall of Jerusalem in 586 BC. These books look at Israel’s history from a unique perspective, namely, the importance of the kings being faithful to the Lord and his covenant. Some of the kings that from a traditionally historical point of view would be very important barely register; other kings that history would usually overlook get a more extended treatment. For example, historically speaking, Omri, who reigned in the north for 12 years, established a dynasty, and extended Israel’s borders, is an important king who appears in non-biblical sources, and the author of kings couldn’t care less: Omri gets 6 verses in 1 Kings 16. Covenant faithfulness is what makes a king good.

            1 Kings starts with the death of Israel’s great king, David, the one who, despite his missteps and failures, is still a man after God’s own heart, and the accession of Solomon, who is faithful until the end of his life. Of course, there is intrigue around the succession. David is portrayed as old and infirm; perhaps he is out of the public eye; perhaps people think he’s gone dotty. Whatever the case, Adonijah, the oldest of David’s remaining sons, assumes he will be king and arranges his own coronation. David’s loyalists get wind of it, report it to David, and spur David to action, appointing Solomon as the next king.

            For the moment, Solomon spares Adonijah, but a purge is coming. David’s final instructions call for the punishment of Joab, who had so often intrigued against David. This may strike us as strange that David would call for the elimination of a general who had served him for so long, but David worries that the army will prove itself loyal to its commander, not its king. (It happens very often in human history. During the 1200-year history of the Roman Empire, many, many emperors were first generals.) David also calls for punishment on Shimei, who had cursed him during Absalom’s rebellion. In this way, David keeps his promise of clemency but also ensures that those who disrespect the throne are punished.

            Adonijah is the first to die, but really only because he continued to intrigue against Solomon. He asks for Abishag the Shunammite, who had tended David in his old age. 1 Kings 1:4 specifically says that there were no sexual relations between Abishag and David, but nobody else in the kingdom is going to know that; everyone else will assume that Abishag was David’s concubine. Adonijah’s request, then, is tantamount to placing a claim on the throne. (Remember that Absalom slept with David’s concubines to establish his claim.)

            It’s violent. It’s political. It’s tainted with human ambition and human vengeance. But by the end of chapter 2, Solomon’s reign is secure.

David and the Census

2 Samuel 24

            The end of 2 Samuel and another sentence that gives us pause: “The Lord incited David against Israel.”

            The chapter starts with the Lord’s anger burning against Israel. We don’t know why. They certainly have a history of idolatry. The center of this book has related how they rebelled against David, the Lord’s anointed. We just don’t know. I think it’s important that the Lord used David as the instrument of His wrath, so He wasn’t just riling David up for no reason.

            But still, it says the Lord incited David. James 1:13-14 is very clear that God does not tempt people to sin. And, in the parallel account in 1 Chronicles 21, the Chronicler writes, “Satan rose up against Israel and incited David…” So, what we have is a complicated picture. There’s an underlying sin in Israel, which the Lord needs to eradicate. Satan is involved somehow both against Israel and against David. And the Lord is in the mess accomplishing His purposes. Maybe that’s the thing we need to think about. Maybe we should spend less time worrying about the righteousness of God; maybe we should just take for granted that the Lord is and acts righteously, that He’s the very definition of righteousness. And maybe we should ponder that somehow in the mess of human sin and powers that oppose His plans and purposes, the Lord somehow manages to accomplish what He wants—in this case calling Israel to repentance.

            Let me highlight two other quick things. First, the problem with the census is that it shows a reliance on military power as humans measure it rather than on relying on the Lord. Remember how the Lord reduced Gideon’s army from 32,000 to 300 exactly for this reason, so that Israel couldn’t boast in her own power (Judges 7:1-3). Remember, too, Deuteronomy’s prohibition on the king owning horses (17:16), which again was a matter of military strength. Second, the plague stops at the threshing floor of Araunah, and that becomes the site for the temple. From 2 Samuel 7 to this last section of 2 Samuel, the future construction of the temple has been in the background. So, Solomon’s great work, which we’ll read about later this week, has had its roots laid down for a long time.

Inspiration and the Promises of God

2 Samuel 23

            On Saturday, I commented that the last four chapters of 2 Samuel have a parallel structure. Today we have a parallel to the long psalm in chapter 22 and a parallel to the story about the exploits of David’s military men in chapter 21:15-22.

            I don’t know that there’s much to say about 23:8-39. It is interesting to me how many of David’s mighty men were not Israelites. Like many kings before and after him, David seemed to have a force of mercenaries who formed the core of his army. I also notice that the list is historically inclusive. For example, Asahel is listed as one of the Thirty, but he was killed by Abner early in David’s reign, when he was still fighting the war of succession.

            David’s “last words” are more interesting. The first thing that stands out to me is that David is aware that he writing more than his personal thoughts. In verse 2, he comments that the Spirit of the Lord spoke through him. David has some kind of awareness that his literary talents are a gift from God and are directed by God for His holy purposes. Paul has a similar sense in 2 Timothy 3:16, when he notes that “all Scripture is God-breathed.” Peter also comments in 2 Peter 1:21 that prophets spoke, “carried along by the Holy Spirit.” I wonder if Peter and Paul shared David’s sense that they, too, were inspired by the Holy Spirit? Whether they knew the Spirit was guiding them or not, we take great confidence in the fact that these words are God’s own words!

            The second thing that struck me was verse 5, “If my house were not right with God, surely he would not have made with me an everlasting covenant.” I like how David has gotten through the difficulties of the Absalom years, that he has set them aside, and that his confidence in the Lord’s promises stands. I must confess that I’m not sure I would have been able to do that. I think those years would have haunted me for a long time, that I would have looked back at the Lord’s promises through the lens of my own failures, that I would have always wondered, “Did my misdeeds make the Lord reconsider His promises?” I don’t think I’m alone in that, either. I think a lot of Christians harbor doubts about God’s promises, not because we think Him unfaithful, but because we know ourselves unfaithful. I say this often, but it’s the reason that regular church attendance is so important, especially in a Lutheran church, because a Lutheran preacher will always direct us back to the promises of God in Christ Jesus. We need to hear constantly that the Lord keeps His promises, even when we don’t keep ours. There is no tit-for-tat with the Lord.

Wrapping Things Up

2 Samuel 21-22

            My study Bible calls the last four chapters of 2 Samuel an appendix on David’s reign. The first and last incidents recall David dealing with God’s wrath over some misbehavior. The second and fifth recount military deeds. The center two sections focus on David as a psalmist.

            The first incident is a famine because the Lord is unhappy over the treatment of the Gibeonites. (There is no chronological statement here but probably the famine happened before Absalom’s rebellion. Strict chronology is not as important in the ancient near East as it is for us.) The Gibeonites were the people who had tricked Joshua out of conquering them. They had been a non-Israelite people living in Israel for centuries. Saul, in his zeal, tried to destroy them. It’s interesting to me that sometimes the most purely religious motivations, in this case, completing the conquest, have the least God-pleasing results. After all, the Israelites had made a covenant with the Gibeonites. In this case, Saul should have kept his promise rather than choosing his own route to show the Lord how faithful he was. There may be a lesson there for us for those times when our zeal for the Lord leads us to act without mercy or grace.

            The second incident focuses on David’s fighting men and their continued exploits against the Philistines, probably early in David’s reign.

            The third scene is a long psalm that David composes, again presumably early in his reign, focusing on the Lord’s deliverance of David from his enemies, David’s own faithfulness, and the kind of help the Lord gave. The psalm is essentially Psalm 18. Maybe we’ll have a chance to look at it when we read the book of Psalms in a few weeks.

David’s Wisdom—and Joab’s

2 Samuel 19-20

            Joab’s wisdom is on display first as he calls David to account for his unkingly behavior. He chides him for weeping so loudly for Absalom that David’s men are ashamed of the victory they have just won. Joab finds the right lever, and David begns to act the king again.

            In his wisdom, David first greets and celebrates his troops. He rallies the tribes back to his cause. (Note the ongoing tension between the northern tribes and Judah.) He forgives Shimei and Ziba; he restores Mephibosheth; he rewards Barzillai. As at the beginning of his reign, once again he hits all the right notes of wisdom, magnaminity, and generosity, and the people are pleased again to have David as their king.

            One thing David does seems dangerous: he puts Amasa, Absalom’s general, in charge of the army. Joab, of course, is less than pleased and assassinates him. It’s tough to call Joab wise, but he’s definitely shrewd. He recognizes the danger of having a general with uncertain loyalties, so he ensures that the army is under his unquestioned command. (Leaving the dying body of Amasa on the ground in the middle of the road sends a certain message….) That the death of Amasa also advances Joab’s career is a nice side benefit for Joab. As in the case of Abner, Joab’s personal ambitions coincide with David’s political needs, and Joab does what he thinks is necessary.

            As I read 2 Samuel, though, Joab receives no praise for his behavior. We’re left to wonder what would have happened if the mercy of David had been allowed to blossom. How would things have worked out for David, for his descendants, the kingdom? We’ll never know, but I think we’re supposed wonder “What if David’s best kingly instincts had trumped Joab’s very pragmatic and violent ones?” It bears consideration, because Jesus’ kingly instincts are all for mercy and because the consistent testimony of the New Testament is that we are to follow Jesus’ (and David’s) example of mercy and gentleness…

The Death of Absalom

2 Samuel 17-18

            I have been hard on David in this blog, especially the last few days on his parenting, or lack thereof. We could read today as more of the same. He sends his troops into battle with the plea, “Be gentle to the young man Absalom.” Be gentle to the traitor? If the king’s heart isn’t in this war defending his throne, why should the army’s? At the end, too, David weeps over his lost son in the hearing of his troops. (Joab is going to have something to say about this in tomorrow’s reading.)

            I think that as we read 2 Samuel we are supposed to see David having wrong priorities: he is less concerned for his kingdom than he is for his rebellious son. We live in an era in which we are expected to value family over work. It doesn’t always come out that way, but I think it’s fair to say that’s what our culture expects. Not so in the Old Testament, and not so with David. He was supposed to prioritize the kingdom. He was, after all, in some way, the father of the whole nation.

            Still, I can’t help but read chapter 18 and gain an insight into the heart of God Himself. In the great drama of salvation, we play the role of Absalom: we humans are beloved of God, his greatest creation, and our privilege goes right to our heads. Sin makes us headstrong, arrogant, rebellious. Genesis 3: we think that we can do a better job of being God than God can. No wonder Romans 5 names us first sinners, then enemies of God!

            And God plays the role of David, mourning over His poor, misguided, lost children. He can’t bear the thought of our eternal death. Now this is at the heart of the mystery of our faith: the Father mourns over His fallen children, but He choses an equally painful path for our salvation, namely, the death of His Son. A perfectly obedient Son, a Son from eternity, in exchange for unruly sons and daughters, whose very life was only a gift from the Father in the first place. What a choice! A Son for a son. Something of far greater worth for something of much less worth. Great is the mystery of godliness (1 Timothy 3:16)!

            From one point of view, these chapters are just one more example of David refusing to discipline his sons. From another, it’s a beautiful reminder of how much our Lord God has loved us, saving us from our own rebellious misdeeds!

Absalom’s Rebellion

2 Samuel 14-16

            Absalom had spent his life never hearing, “No.” Yes, Amnon’s crime against his sister was horrific, and, yes, David’s blind eye was a slap in the face. But Absalom had murdered his brother, who was, not unimportantly, the crown prince. Fratricide and treason—and David hadn’t pursued justice against Absalom either.

            Now, after some chicanery, this handsome and headstrong young man was back in Israel and demanding full restoration—and David gave it to him. 14:33 says that David summoned Absalom and kissed him, in the words of my study Bible, “signifying his forgiveness and Absalom’s reconciliation with the royal family.” David didn’t scold him for his chariot and his fifty men. David didn’t intervene when Absalom was denigrating the king’s justice and campaigning for himself.

            I’m sitting here thinking about all these failures of David, and I’m thinking about his behavior as he fled Jerusalem, and I’m wondering maybe David, previously always the man of action, wasn’t just being a passive, indulgent father. I’m sitting here thinking, “Maybe David through he deserved this.” Sure, the seeds of this rebellion must have been planted years earlier in David’s youth, but these events all happen after the incident with Bathsheba, after the prophet Nathan pronounced the Lord’s judgment of trouble from within his own household. I’m just wondering if, even though David had heard the Lord’s pronouncement of forgiveness, his shame and guilt were such that he just accepted what Absalom was doing.

            It makes me wonder how often we sabotage ourselves because we don’t really believe that God forgives sins. We think, “I don’t deserve joy. I don’t deserve blessing.” David knew shame. In Psalm 51, which he wrote in the aftermath of the Bathsheba incident, he says, “I know my transgression, and my sin is always before me (ps. 51:3). And I think the shame of our sins clings to us like that. We might say, “God has forgiven me,” but we still struggle with the shame. Sometimes people talk about not being able to forgive themselves, and I understand where they’re coming from. However, I tend to think of it in more theological terms, and I think it’s that we struggle to believe that forgiveness is really forgiveness, that the Lord has truly, by the suffering and death of His Son, removed our sin as far as the east is from the west (Ps 103), that sins as scarlet can be made white as snow (Is 1). The solution, as far as I can see, is to keep on putting yourself in the presence of the God who forgives. Keep on attending Divine Service, hearing absolution, receiving the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus for the forgiveness of sins. Only by this constant reminder and refreshment will we become convinced that God does indeed forgive sins, fully and completely.

Consequences Continue

2 Samuel 13-14

            For all of David’s admirable qualities, these central chapters of 2 Samuel remind he was just a human. Yesterday we saw how power went to his head and led him to adultery and murder. Today we see that he wasn’t a great father—doting, yes, but great, no. He wasn’t great because he didn’t instill any discipline in his sons.

            Amnon, the oldest, raped his sister, Tamar. It’s a disturbing and heartbreaking story. It’s disturbing first because it was no crime of passion; it was carefully calculated. It’s disturbing because it reminds us that obsession and lust are so easily confused with love and there’s no love involved. As soon as he had had his way with her, he loathed her. It’s disturbing for the nonchalance with which he sends her away, a ruined woman. It’s heartbreaking for the portrayal of Tamar’s despair, her utter brokenness.

            And David does nothing. For two years. As a father he should have disciplined his son. I mean, Jacob removed Simeon and Levi from the succession, and Jacob never comes across as a particularly great father!

            Absalom, Tamar’s full brother, takes his revenge two years later, killing Amnon at a sheep shearing feast. He flees, and, you guessed it, David does nothing. David leads the strongest nation in the region. He has subdued all of his neighbors. Surely he could have extradited Absalom. But nothing. For three more years. And in that time, “David was consoled to Amnon’s death.” Really? David’s statute of limitations on murder and treason is three years?

            I know David has to worry about the succession and who will take the throne after him. But don’t you think that as father and king maybe there should have been consequences?

            What’s the grand lesson here? Sin, left unaddressed, just grows. David didn’t have the heart to discipline his sons and the results were horrifying. So, we should police our own hearts, ask what petty sins are lurking there, confess them humbly before the Lord, and rejoice in His forgiveness.

David and Bathsheba

2 Samuel 11-12

            The sordid tale of David and Bathsheba is familiar and doesn’t need much commentary. David falls into adultery, and then compounds the sin by trying to cover it up. Uriah the Hittite shows himself a better Israelite than David in this instance and refuses to provide David cover. So, David arranges for him to die. Adultery, lying, and murder—not a great look for the one who is ‘a man after God’s own heart’!

            But it’s the aftermath that really makes us take notice. First, we have Nathan’s parable, which really defines what a parable is for. A parable is a story told in order to get someone to convict themselves. It’s a story told to subtly criticize another and to lead to a sort of “Aha” moment. And Nathan’s hits the mark perfectly, luring David right into his trap “Thou art the man!” David has nowhere to go except to repentance: “I have sinned against the Lord.”

            Now things get troubling. Nathan declares David’s sin forgiven (verse 13), but he has already pronounced the Lord’s judgment—calamity from within David’s own household, and, even after forgiving David’s sin, adds another judgment, namely, that the child will die.

            Ok, so why does the child have to die? Surely the Lord doesn’t punish people for the sins of others, does he? In this case we have to see the consequences for the kingdom. The kingdom needs David’s heir to be an unimpeachably legitimate son. The death of the child, while tragic on many levels, will ensure the continued good of the kingdom. That may be thin comfort, but I think it’s the best we’ll have.

            We might also want to ask, “If David’s sin is forgiven, why aren’t the punishments taken away?” Here I think a statement in our usual confession of sins—that we deserve “present and eternal punishments”—is helpful. God’s forgiveness absolutely removes eternal punishments. Paul says, “The wages of sin is death but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Because we are forgiven, our sins do not exclude us from everlasting life; we will live with Christ forever. However, there remain “present” punishments; I find it helpful to think of these as consequences. Our sins have consequences. Murder someone and you will go to jail, maybe even death row. Commit adultery and the trust that underlies your marriage is going to be damaged, perhaps beyond repair. Sometimes, when Christians forgive one another, we can alleviate the interpersonal damages of those consequences. If forgiveness is real between us and God, it has the possibility of working real change and healing among humans. But sometimes the damage is really deep and we fallen humans cannot fully bring ourselves to healing. So, we learn from David, sadly, that we sometimes must bear the burden of our sins, at least in this fallen world. Hopefully that doesn’t blind us to the absolute assurance of God’s forgiveness.

A Kingdom of Strength and Mercy

2 Samuel 8-10

            If we placed David’s conquests on a map, we would find out that he extended the borders of Israel beyond anything anyone had imagined. Aram is modern day Syria, and Moab and Ammon are modern day Jordan. Just glancing at a modern map suggests David extended Israel’s reach by about 600%!

            Reading other historical sources helps explain how this is possible. Roughly in David’s lifetime both Egypt and the Hittites (modern day Turkey) had fallen on to hard times. And Babylon wasn’t a great power then, either. North, south, and east, there was a power vacuum, and David stepped into this vacuum, taking advantage of the relative weakness of his neighbors.

            In terms of power and influence, the combined reigns of David and Solomon were a golden age for Israel. And, yes, that show of power included a great deal of brutality, too.

            Yet, David is also a man of mercy. He had promised Jonathan that he would take care of the latter’s family, and in chapter 9, he does. Understand that in most of human history, one would have gotten rid of a former king’s family altogether through execution or exile, otherwise they would have been a constant threat around which the opposition might coalesce. (Earlier this year, I read a history of the Byzantine Empire, and the number of times a former ruler came back to cause problems was mind-boggling!) But David takes that risk and welcomes Mephibosheth to his table and, in effect, to his household.

            It’s a bit of a whiplash effect: David is brutal towards some enemies, but towards another he is gracious as the Lord Himself. I think if we’re looking for an example for our lives, we want to head for the latter reaction. After all, that’s what Jesus did, praying for those who crucified Him, and it’s what Jesus commanded (Matthew 5:44). In Christ, even those whom we might regard as enemies are forgiven by His blood and we do well to see them as the objects of God’s mercy.

The Covenant with David

2 Samuel 7

            Here is the third great covenant of the Old Testament. The first one the Lord made with Abraham: it was an unconditional promise of God’s blessing. Hundreds of years later, the Lord made a covenant with all of Israel at Sinai. That covenant was of a different sort; it was conditional and many of its blessings depended on Israel’s obedience to the Lord. This third covenant, the promise that David’s throne will endure, is not explicitly called a covenant (at least as far as I can tell), but it is similar to the one made with Abraham, namely, it is unconditional. The Lord recognizes that David’s descendants may not be faithful, that they may need to be punished (v. 14), but He promises that the throne will endure anyway.

            A quick word of ‘forever’ in the Old Testament. The usual phrase for ‘forever’ is more literally ‘for the age,’ or ‘a very long time.’ It’s hard to know when the phrase should be translated ‘forever’ or ‘for a very long time’ or even if the intention is ‘for the whole of this fallen age…’

            I bring the translational bit up because, of course, from a certain point of view, David’s throne does not endure forever. By 586 BC, the nation was carried off into exile in Babylon. When they return some 70 years later they are led by Zerubbabel, son of Shealtiel. Zerubbabel is almost always called the governor Judah. I can’t find a place where he is referred to as a king or even a descendant of David. 1 Chronicles 3 identifies Shealtiel as a son of Jehoiachin and therefore of the line of David, but the whole idea of Zerubbabel as a Davidic king is really downplayed.

            For a Christian, the forever aspect of this promise is found in Jesus. Shealtiel and Zerubbabel are there in both of Jesus’ genealogies (Luke 3 and Matthew 1), giving Jesus credentials as the son of David, a theme that runs through the Gospels. Paul declares Jesus a descendant of David according to the flesh. And now Jesus is the one who sits at the right hand of the Father, a phrase denoting kingly rule. So, in Jesus, the Lord fulfilled both the covenant to Abraham (that Abraham’s descendant would bring blessing to all peoples) and to David (because He is the heir of David who will never die; cf. Acts 2).

            God keeps His promises. Sometimes not in the ways that we would expect, to be sure. (I don’t imagine David thinking about the promise in the way that God fulfilled it!) Certainly on His own timeline. But God keeps His promises, and we are saved by His faithfulness.

David Brings the Ark to Jerusalem

2 Samuel 6

            David’s enthusiasm stands out. He is determined to bring the ark of the covenant to Jerusalem. And his joy overflows; there is a band and David dances so vigorously that Michal suggests he was in danger of exposing himself! David offers sacrifices every six steps of the final leg, and that’s a lot of sacrifices! (I read estimates of everything from 3 to 12 miles for the last leg!) So, point one: oh, to have that kind of joy in the presence of the Lord! The ark of the covenant represented the saving presence of the Lord among His people, and we experience the same thing every week when we hear His Word and receive Jesus’ body and blood at church. Here is the saving presence of God in our day! “Come into His presence with thanksgiving” (Psalm 100:4)!

            On closer examination, there’s some irregularities going on with the ark. It’s transported on a cart, not carried by its poles on the shoulders of the Levites. It may or not be covered. There’s no mention of the tabernacle; David pitches a tent, but where are the rest of the implements, where is the altar, where is the process for sacrifice? Finally, why is David making sacrifices? That’s exactly the kind of thing that got Saul in trouble with the Lord! I don’t have great answers. We can speculate that the rest of the tabernacle and its furniture were destroyed when the Philistine captured Shiloh in 1 Samuel 4. We know that Saul killed dozens of priests at Nod (1 Samuel 22). It’s just possible that the true religion of Israel had been almost completely snuffed out in the last 40-60 years of the story. So, second point: we should recognize how fragile the faith can be—both personally and congregationally. It’s important to nurture it—both personally and congregationally—through attendance on Word and Sacrament.

            Finally, a political note. David had demanded the return of his first wife, Michal, Saul’s daughter, but it seems to have been a blatantly political move. He couldn’t have Saul’s daughter out there potentially having babies, potentially raising little claimants on his throne. He needed her connection to Saul’s family, but he couldn’t risk her offspring. The personal toll comes clear when Michal derides David for his ‘unkingly’ behavior, and we have the note, “She had no children to the day of her death.” It seems David simply banished her to the harem and never had contact with her again. (She’s never mentioned by name in the Bible again.) I have no third point: I just find the palace intrigues interesting.

Jerusalem

2 Samuel 5

            The conquest of Jerusalem was a godsend for David. In Judges we read that both Benjamin and Judah had warred against it, but the city was never under either of their control. It was situated on a hill, and its walls made it a formidable defensive position. (That’s why David had to conquer it via its water supply.) So, here was a stronghold, located right between Judah and Benjamin, a neutral site—a perfect place for the capital, a place from which David could defend and unite the kingdom.

            Additionally, Jerusalem seems to have had ancient spiritual connections, too. Abraham met Melchizedek there and made offerings to the Lord with him (Genesis 14), so there was some connection to the worship of God. Later (Genesis 21), Abraham went to Mt. Moriah to sacrifice is his son, Isaac. There is a tradition that Mt. Moriah was one of the hills which Jerusalem encompassed (1 Chronicles 3:1).

            Altogether, then, politically, strategically, and spiritually, Jerusalem was the ideal place from which a king could rule.

Securing the Kingdom

2 Samuel 3-4

            Abner had clearly been the power behind the throne among Saul’s forces. To read 2 Samuel 3:6, he may have been planning a coup. At some point, Ish-Bosheth must have wondered, “Am I king or not?” Hence, the question about the king’s concubine. (Sleeping with a wife or concubine was widely understood to be part of claiming kingship.) Ish-Bosheth was trying to create a case against Abner. So, Abner defected and began negotiating an end of hostilities.

            Things are complicated by David’s general, Joab. Abner had killed Joab’s brother, Asahel, in battle, and now Joab plotted his revenge. The facts that Abner had tried to dissuade Asahel from his pursuit and that Abner had killed him in self-defense make Joab’s motivations all the more unseemly. In fact, Joab seems to be acting as much to preserve his own place as commander of David’s army than any truly personal reason. Joab murders Abner under the cover of peace. David, for his part, is livid. He mourns Abner with a full state funeral and disavows the actions of his general.

            In chapter 4, then, two of Ish-Bosheth’s men assassinate their king and bring his severed head to David, probably expecting a reward for destroying this usurper to the throne. David, as we might expect, sees things differently.

            Now, as we’ve seen already in David’s complicated relationship with Saul, we can explain these things in two ways. First, we could see that David really benefits from these two deaths. The leader of the rebel army and the rebels’ titular leader are both dead. There will be no more challenges from that quarter. This will make David’s assuming the throne of all Israel much easier. Under this scenario, it’s easy to see David feigning outrage and grief, but secretly smiling that things are finally breaking his way. The alternative is that David truly sought peace with Abner and truly considered Ish-Bosheth a mere shill of Abner’s designs.

            As I’ve said before, I think we’re supposed to think the latter of David, that he truly is a man after the Lord’s heart, truly loving his enemies as God in Christ loves His. But let’s be honest: life in a fallen world is complicated. Sometimes another person’s bad behavior brings us benefits. We don’t rejoice in the bad behavior; but we don’t reject the benefits either. Again, sometimes someone else’s loss is to our advantage. I hope we wouldn’t rejoice in their loss (I feel like the 9^th and 10^th Commandments come into play there), but would we reject the gain? In the case of David, perhaps this is also the hand of God, co-opting the wickedness of humans to bring about His plans and purposes, working through these sinful men to make David the undisputed king of Israel. It’s hard to see the Lord soiled with the deeds of sinful men, but very often that’s exactly the quiet, behind-the-scenes, bringing-good-out-of-evil way that He works.

The Death of Saul and Its Consequences

2 Samuel 1-2

            Last week’s readings ended with Saul taking his own life on Mount Gilboa. Today, we read how David received that news. An Amalekite, that disreputable people we have been bumping into since Exodus, appears at Ziklag and tells David, “Saul asked me to finish him off and I did.” That conflicts with 1 Samuel 31. It is possible, I suppose, that Saul had mortally wounded himself and that this Amalekite administered the coup de grace. But more likely, he’s just a corpse-raider who had the good fortune to stumble upon the body of the dead king. Now he's thinking David will provide him a big reward. But David’s response is to have the man executed and to compose a lament to Saul and Jonathan.

            The lament is beautiful. David coins the phrase, “How the mighty have fallen!” He mourns that “the glory of Israel lies slain” (in the older translations; in the NIV it’s ‘a gazelle lies slain,’ not as poetic to me…). He eulogizes that they were loved and admired, that Jonathan was to him like a brother.

            Some commentators want to make this look like only so much PR, that David is not really sorry to see Saul go, because, honestly, this is good news for David. But I think that misunderstands things. First, you can recognize that someone else’s misfortune is good for you and still feel bad for the misfortune (for example, someone with seniority on you at work quits for health reasons—you’re next in line, but you still don’t wish debilitating sickness on anyone). Second, this is part of the portrayal of David as patiently waiting for the Lord to deliver the kingdom to him, genuinely loving Jonathan, and genuinely respecting Saul, or at least his position. I think in some ways we have David acting here in a genuinely Christ-like way: he is loving his enemy like himself, just as Jesus prayed for the forgiveness of those who crucified Him. This seems a particularly effective instance of loving one’s enemies. I mean Saul has now spent years chasing David around the countryside, trying really hard to kill him. If Saul isn’t David’s enemy, no one is! Yet, here he is genuinely moved at Saul’s death.

            After this moving scene, David is anointed king over Judah, which had always been the largest and the strongest of the tribes. There appears to some rivalry between Judah and the other tribes, because they unit behind Saul’s heir, Ish-bosheth., and civil war breaks out. This war will last some 7 years. (There’s a chronology question here, because 2 Samuel 2:10 says that Ish-bosheth reigned two years. Probably that means that Ish-bosheth took several years to establish himself as the legitimate successor to Saul and that his two-year reign coincides with the end of David’s reign in Hebron. The name Ish-Bosheth means, “man of shame,” so it’s just possible that he wasn’t a legitimate son, adding depth to the explanation.)

            A civil war is bad enough, but a personal vendetta between the commanders of the opposing armies always adds drama! Stay tuned for the rest of that story tomorrow!

Thoughts on the End of 1 Samuel

1 Samuel 30-31

            A number of points in these two chapters. First, a historical note: I thought that Saul had exterminated the Amalekites? Where did these Amalekites come from then? Here I think we have to think of the Amalekites as a tribal people, scattered and wandering. Tribal peoples don’t always live altogether. So, we have to assume that Saul destroyed the largest of the tribes and that this is a smaller tribe that has now joined itself with other tribes.

            Second, a royal note: I love how David insists that all of his men will have a share in the plunder. Jesus tells a parable of a man who hires workers in the morning, noon, and even late afternoon, and pays them all the same way. Some think they deserve more, but the master reminds them he paid them what he promised. It’s a kingly, even divine thing; it’s certainly a matter of grace, to share the blessings. There’s something significant there that this is what God does for us: blesses us all the same.

            Third, a personal note: I admit, I read yesterday’s readings today, and 1 Samuel 30:4-6 really struck me. They wept aloud until they had no strength left to weep. I was like that many years ago when my father died. I have ministered to people who have suffered like that. I have felt that way myself—just plain hopeless. Then there’s the statement, “But David found strength in the Lord his God.” That sounds like a magic pill, and I wish it was as simple as that. It’s not. When I’ve gone through those times, it has been a struggle to pray, it has been a struggle to submit to the Word. But one has to keep on “inquiring of the Lord,” seeking His Word, casting one’s struggles on Him. For David, the resolution was pretty quick; for us, the resolution may not be. But finding strength in the Lord and in His Word remains the same.

            Finally: at the end of his life, Saul is still trying to control everything, even the manner of his death. First, he asks his armorbearer to kill him; then, he commits suicide. Saul’s tragedy is complete. The only glimmer of good news is that the men of Jabesh Gilead remember that Saul’s first act as king was to save them in their trouble, and they rescue his body from the desecrations of the Philistines. It’s a reminder that ultimately many things are out of our control, and it draws us back to my previous paragraph, that casting ourselves on God’s mercy is our only course.