Hide and No Seek

David really is an interesting character, not just for the good things that he does or for his devout and faithful heart or for his honest and humble repentance; he's an interesting character because he is so much like so many of us. He is just so...human.

We can really see this in some of his instincts, in the habits that he's developed that keep him doing the same things over and over and over again. Like running away. 

Running away is not usually something that we associate with David. For us, one of the greatest - if not the actual greatest - stories about David is when he stared down the giant and defeated Goliath. A little boy with a slingshot and a few select stones standing before an enemy who had intimidated Israel's best forces for far too long doesn't really seem like the kind of guy who is prone to running away. And yet...

David comes into the service of Saul and also finds himself under the anointing of God as the next king of Israel. Saul knows this, and his jealousy builds until he begins to throw spears at David's head and plot against him. David, figuring all of this out, takes off into the fields and starts hiding in caves. When he gets the chance to kill Saul, he doesn't take it (for good reason), proves himself worthy, and returns...only to be targeted again and to run back into the hills. 

This happens a couple of times, and in fact, it's in the hills and the caves and Philistine territory where David actually builds his following. 

But fast-forward to after David has been king for awhile. He's firmly established on his throne, beloved by almost all, solid in his rule. Great things are happening in Israel, and Israel knows these things are in no small part due to David. Life is good. 

Until one of his sons goes rogue and tries to declare himself king, usurping the throne and gathering a following of his own. David hears about it, starts to tremble in his boots...and runs away. 

Yes, the mighty king of Israel finds himself hiding in yet another cave despite the fact that he's the most powerful man in all the nation. 

What gives? David is king, which means he has the power and authority to squash any rebellion of the people. He's father to this usurper, which means he could spank the kid if he had to or at least ground him, if you're not into the whole spanking thing. But David does neither - he doesn't take advantage of the authority that he has either relationally or politically. Instead, he runs off into the hills. 

Again.

When we read this, there's something in us that can't help but say, "Really? Really?" But yes, really. Because that's what David is hard-wired to do. It's a pattern for him. It's how he deals with these things. Even when he has other options available to him, it's his default; he doesn't consider any other course of action. He can't. 

Like I said, he's so very human. Because this is the way that all of us operate. It's our M-O. We get into these patterns that are set pretty early on in our lives, and that becomes just what we do. It's why it's so hard to change some of our behaviors, even when we really, really want to. It's why we keep doing the same things over and over again. It's why we kind of just are who we are, even when we know we aren't that person any more. It's just what we do. 

That doesn't mean it's the best way for us to be. Think about how David's story could be different if he'd recognized his authority as king and father and acted on it, rather than reacting from his auto-programming. Think about what it would mean to be different when your natural inclination is so strong. 

One of the greatest challenges of our lives is learning to live differently when we discover that we are, in fact, different today than we were yesterday. It's hard to do new things in new ways. It's hard to remember that we don't have to do the old things any more. They just come so easily to us. 

But easy doesn't mean good. 

How would your story change if you knew that you have already changed? If you knew today was different because you're different? By the grace of God, you're different.... 

Mirror, Mirror

For being a man after God's own heart, David seems to have at least one very significant blind spot - he doesn't seem to be able to see his own sin. 

Unless, of course, you tell him a story about another man who did what he did. 

And then he's outraged, vengeful, and motivated to action.

This happens more than once in the stories that we have of David. It happens in 2 Samuel 12, after David has had Uriah the Hittite killed in battle in order to secure for himself the beautiful Bathsheba, whom he has impregnated whilst her husband was off fighting. We don't see a twinge of guilt or remorse in David for his actions. Until, that is, Nathan the prophet comes and tells him a story about a rich man who has everything but kills a poor man's lamb to feed a visitor. 

David starts stomping about, ranting and raving, ready to rain down judgment upon the rich man. How could he do such a thing to the poor man? David's even ready to kill him - As surely as the Lord lives, the man who did this must die! (v. 5). Then, Nathan points a finger and says, YOU are the man! (v. 7). 

Oops. 

But then, just two chapters later in 2 Samuel 14, it happens again. This time, David has excommunicated one of his sons (who killed another son, which seems like a decent reason for excommunication, perhaps) and the commander of his army isn't keen on this. He sends a woman to tell David a story about two of her sons (a made-up story, of course) who got into a fight and one ended up dead and now, she's got nothing because everyone wants to exact revenge on the one who killed the other. Meaning that she will end up losing both of her sons. And a widow already, no less! 

Again, David is furious. He's ready to use his authority as king to issue a decree to protect the remaining son, even though he has killed his brother. And then, a thought dawns on him...

You're talking about me, aren't you, woman?

Yup.

It's easy for us to think, ah, David, you're such a fool. Of course they're talking about you - everyone in the world can see what you're doing except, apparently, you, so there had to be some way to get through to you! But the truth is that most of us are no better than David in this area. It's far easier for us to see - and to condemn - our own sins in someone else than it is to see - and condemn - them in the mirror. 

We look at ourselves and justify what we've done, having a good reason for everything we've undertaken because if we didn't, we wouldn't have done it in the first place. But then, put in front of us someone who has done the very same thing and the mercy that we have for ourselves is surprisingly absent for them. They don't deserve it.

Spoiler alert: neither do we. 

And it's not just about sin, not just about the things that we do "wrong" or the things that we do against one another. This is true of our insecurities, too. There are persons in this world that it's just plain hard for us to get along with, and if we dig deep into a lot of those dynamics, what we find is that they live our own insecurities in such a way that to be in relationship with them would require us to face them. And we can't. And they annoy us. We don't know why they annoy us, but they just get on our very last nerve. And it is because they are so much like us that we can't stand it. 

It's something we have to think about when we are troubled by something in a relationship, when something about someone else strikes us as completely and totally unbearable. Is it really them? Or could it be that they are showing us something of ourselves that we haven't seen yet? 

More often than not, it's the latter. In which case we, like David, must humble ourselves. 

You're talking about me, aren't you?

Yup. 

And me, too. 

Move

David is often called "a man after God's own heart," but that doesn't mean he was perfect; we know that, too. One of his greatest sins involves a woman named Bathsheba, the wife of another man. David saw her, desired her, pursued her, and impregnated her, then he had her husband killed in battle so that he could have her. And when his child was born, God spoke and told David in no uncertain terms that he couldn't keep the boy; the child would die. 

David tore his clothes and fasted and prayed, hoping to change the mind of the Lord. Repentant of his sin, he didn't want the child to die on account of his sin, so he did all he could to show how contrite his heart was. He paced the floor and threw himself prostrate and cried and prayed and begged. His servants were starting to get worried about him. 

And then, the child died. Just as the Lord had said that he would. 

The servants didn't know what to do. Here was David, hopelessly forlorn and severely distraught while his son was alive; how could they tell him that his son had died? They start to whisper among themselves, trying to figure out what to say. Trying to figure out who should say it. Remember, this is the same David who has killed men for bringing what they thought was good news; his servants know this is bad news, and he's already in a bad place. 

But he's a smart guy and he figures it out when he hears all the whispering. "My child has died, hasn't he?" David asks, and his servants confirm it. Probably standing with one hand on the doorknob in case they need to make a quick exit. Probably standing with one foot already turned toward the door. Probably holding their breath. 

Then David does something unexpected. He gets up, cleans himself up, and sits down to eat a meal. Everyone is confused and asks him how he changed his attitude so wholly so quickly, and his answer is quite simple: until it came to pass, there was room to pray. But God had acted according to His promised word on the matter, and now, it was time to move on. Time to live a new reality. Time to get going. 

We're faced with these kinds of David moments all the time, even as persons of deep faith. God speaks, and we know what He intends to do. Or we have at least an inkling. But we spend our time in deep mourning, praying for something different. Praying for something else to happen. 

When God acts, however, we become less David-like. We often continue our grief. We often intensify our prayers. When our child dies (metaphorically), we fall on our knees and refuse to get up until our child lives. God resurrects the dead, right? Well, let's go, God. Get on that already. We double-down on our sackcloth, double up on our ashes, stomp our feet, and become more insistent, absolutely convinced that if we just throw a big enough tantrum (although we wouldn't call it that), God will listen and do exactly what we wanted him to do in the first place. 

But that's not faith. I say that knowing that that's a hard truth for a lot of us, who are taught so strongly to believe in the power of God to do anything. We're taught that if we just keep believing, just keep hoping, just keep praying, then Lazarus walks out of the grave and rainbows and unicorns and all that. We're told that's what faith looks like - it never gives up. And in some sense, that's true. 

Faith never gives up, but it does give over. It gives God the authority to act as God has determined to act, and it adjusts itself accordingly. It learns to live in new spaces all the time, based on what God has done and is doing. It accepts that God can change who we are, how we live, what we do, what's going on, anything at any time and it embraces when He has. 

Faith is persistent, raw, and real, but it doesn't stomp its feet and raise its voice and throw a tantrum until it gets what it wants. It accepts what it has, knowing that it comes from a good and gracious Father, and it learns to live accordingly. Faith prays and mourns and grieves, but then it gets up, dusts itself off, and sits down for a meal. 

Faith holds on, but it doesn't hold out. It moves on. What do you need to move on from?

A Crazy Man

Whilst David was on the run from Saul, he took his band of men into Philistine territory to settle. There, the locals picked him up and took him to one of their authorities, concerned that this "Israelite" was actually a spy - someone who was going to infiltrate them from the inside. Being not a spy and desperately needing a place to hide out from Israel, David begins acting like a madman in the official's presence (think: drooling on himself and speaking nonsense) and the authority is convinced that he's nothing at all. In fact, he dismisses both David and the locals and says, "What? Do I have any shortage of madmen on my own?" There are enough crazy persons in the world; why did you bring me another one?

Except...David might have actually been crazy.

The Philistine town to which he ran, with at least 600 men, was Gath. That may sound familiar to you from the name of a semi-famous character from the Bible - Goliath of Gath. If you're playing along at home, this is the giant that David killed just a few chapters ago, sealing a victory for all of Israel. So David-the-Giant-Killer runs to the hometown of the giant he killed while trying to escape the friend-turned-enemy for whom he secured the victory. 

Who's crazy now?

And don't think, oh, the people of Gath probably don't know anything about that. It's not like there was social media or even a legitimate newspaper back then. They probably thought nothing of little David except that he was an Israelite (which was enough). They probably didn't even know how Goliath died. 

Except...when the Philistines later kill Israel's King Saul, they behead him in exactly the same way that David beheaded Goliath. They knew. And they didn't forget. And every man on that battlefield that day, many of whom likely came from Gath with Goliath, knew what this little runt of a man, David, looked like. 

It's a strange place, then, to hide out with a massive army of followers. By yourself, you slew the champion of the town and now, you stroll in with 600 men and asked for a place to stay so that your former boss doesn't kill you. And now, drooling on yourself and speaking nonsense makes perfect sense.

David was insane.

It's not that the leader of Gath was wrong - there are enough crazy persons in the world. More than enough, really. But David wasn't just crazy; he was a brilliant, faithful kind of crazy. And that...that's rare. We could use more of that in our world. 

Because somehow, by his special kind of crazy, David was able to hide in the last place that Saul would ever think to look for him - among his enemies, among the family of the man he just killed - and he was able to convince his enemies that he wasn't worth bothering about. Somehow, David found safety in the most dangerous place in all the world for him. It's crazy, but that's how God works. That's exactly how God works.

Could you use a little more crazy in your life? I could. Not drooling-on-yourself, speaking-nonsense kind of crazy, but a brilliant, faithful kind of crazy that ends up safe amid danger, loving amid hate, living amid death. It's the kind of crazy God uses, and it's the kind of crazy we need. 

Brothers

Just after David defeats Goliath, he receives the praise of King Saul. But someone else is watching, and that someone is Jonathan - Saul's son who ought to become king, if only Saul had remained faithful and retained the Lord's anointing. And in 1 Samuel 19, just after David comes before Saul with the head of the Philistine giant, we are told this:

After David had finished talking with Saul, Jonathan became one in spirit with David, and he loved him as himself. 

Now, it's easy in the way that we read stories to think that Jonathan loved David because he was just as impressed with the young man's victory over the giant as everyone else. Because he had just seen what David did on behalf of Israel and well, that was pretty cool. Being perhaps roughly the same in age, they're like any boys - Jonathan is drawn to David because he thinks they could be friends. 

But that's not what this Scripture says. This Scripture says that Jonathan fell in love with David as a brother (other translations specifically say it this way) after he saw how the young man talked to his father.

And the same should be the standard for us. 

Most of us, as Christians, think that our brothers (and sisters) are those who talk to us in a certain way. In a way we can understand. They agree with us on certain things, things we've deemed non-negotiable. They worship the way we do. They pray the way we do. They preach the way we do. They break bread the way we do. They believe the way we do. They live the way we do. We are brothers with those who agree with us, as though the greatest judge of friendship - or better yet, kinship - is how we talk to one another. 

But that's not what this Scripture says. In fact, that's not what any Scripture says. Scripture says that we are brothers and sisters of one Lord, that we are bound together by our Christ and our faith, not our actions. Scripture says that it is a heart turned toward God that makes someone our brother or sister. 

In other words, we can tell who our brothers and sisters are by the way they talk to our Father. 

That's it. All of it. Right there. It's not how they worship or how they dress or what they eat or whether they cuss or how many tattoos they have (or don't have) or whether they dance, drink, or play cards or what version of the Bible they read or what denomination they belong to or whether they take the Lord's Supper every day, every week, every month, or not at all or whether they were dipped or dunked or sprinkled or how many WWJD bracelets and cross necklaces they own...it's how they talk to God, how their hearts connect with Him, how they love and long for Him. That's it. 

We ought to spend more time looking at that. We ought to invest ourselves in seeing how faithful our brothers and sisters are, and if we did, well, maybe we'd find that we have a lot more of them to walk with in this world. Because that guy you're busy judging for his unorthodoxy? He's got a straight-as-an-arrow heart toward God, and that makes him your brother. That woman with a past she can't seem to shake? She loves Him and speaks boldly and vulnerably with Him all the time, and that makes her your sister. The one speaking in tongues, the one pouring the wine, the one sneaking in the back, the one sleeping in on Sunday, the one you just cast out and dismissed because they don't speak your language...they're speaking His, if you'll listen. And that makes them your brothers and sisters. 

Just like Jonathan with a young David, we ought to become one in spirit with them on this basis alone. 

It would change a lot of things. Including, but not merely...us.