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.