A Grave Miscalculation

I invite you to turn with me to 2 Samuel and to chapter 1, and I’m going to read from verse 1. Two Samuel 1:1:

“After the death of Saul, when David had returned from striking down the Amalekites, David remained two days in Ziklag. And on the third day, behold, a man came from Saul’s camp, with his clothes torn and dirt on his head. And when he came to David, he fell to the ground and paid homage. David said to him, ‘Where do you come from?’ And he said to him, ‘I have escaped from the camp of Israel.’ And David said to him, ‘How did it go? Tell me.’ And he answered, ‘The people fled from the battle, and also many of the people have fallen and are dead, and Saul and his son Jonathan are also dead.’ Then David said to the young man who told him, ‘How do you know that Saul and his son Jonathan are dead?’ And the young man who told him said, ‘By chance I happened to be on Mount Gilboa, and there was Saul leaning on his spear, and behold, the chariots and the horsemen were close upon him. And when he looked behind him, he saw me, and called to me. And I answered, “Here I am.” And he said to me, “Who are you?” I answered … , “I am an Amalekite.” And he said to me, “Stand beside me and kill me, for anguish has seized me, and yet my life still lingers.” So I stood beside him and killed him, because I was sure that he could not live after he had fallen. And I took the crown that was on his head and the armlet that was on his arm, and I have brought them here to my lord.’

“Then David took hold of his clothes and tore them, and so did all the men who were with him. And they mourned and wept and fasted until evening for Saul and for Jonathan his son and for the people of the Lord and for the house of Israel, because they had fallen by the sword. And David said to the young man who told him, ‘Where do you come from?’ And he answered, ‘I[’m] the son of a sojourner, an Amalekite.’ David said to him, ‘How is it you were not afraid to put out your hand to destroy the Lord’s anointed?’ Then David called one of the young men and said, ‘Go, execute him.’ And he struck him down so that he died. And David said to him, ‘Your blood be on your head, for your own mouth has testified against you, saying, “I have killed the Lord’s anointed.”’”

Amen.

Let’s pause and ask for God’s help:

Father, what we know not, please teach us. What we have not, please give us. What we are not, please make us. For your Son’s sake. Amen.

Well, last time we paused purposefully at the threshold, as it were, of 2 Samuel to answer an essential question—namely, why would we spend time at this point in history considering the story of the ancient kings of Israel, and particularly, as we have seen, the kingship of Saul and now of David? And although we took some time answering it, the short answer was essentially this: because along with the rest of the Bible, it all points to the Lord Jesus Christ. It all points to his story, and his story is at the very heart of history. So, his story is the history. I’m reading a book at the moment by a contemporary historian from the UK. His name is Tom Holland. I think I can safely commend it to you. It’s a fat one, but it will reward you. It’s entitled Dominion, and the subtitle is How the Christian Revolution Remade the World. And essentially, what Holland is saying as a secular historian is what we were endeavoring to say last time.

So, from the long view we turn to the short view, the close-up view; we turn to the text itself. And here in our ESVs, at least, we have a heading, “David Hears of Saul’s Death.” And what we have is the record of the execution of the young man who claimed that he had killed Saul.

It’s important for us to realize that it is only here that David is picking up this story. We already know that Saul’s death was as a result of suicide. And therefore, as we come to this chapter, we realize that “the young man who told him,” who—you will notice that phrase comes three times in the text. It doesn’t come in the NIV in that way, because they use dynamic equivalence, but the literal translation is “the young man who told him,” in verse [6] and in verse 5 and in verse 13. So in other words, there is something about the way this young man told him that we are supposed to, as readers, pick up.

Now, what he thought was that he could turn Saul’s death to his own advantage, and do that by writing himself into the story, and, in doing that—assume that by doing so, David would be pleased when he told him. That was a grave miscalculation on his part. And in fact, our title for this study can safely be “A Grave Miscalculation.”

It’s important to recognize, too, that the Bible records the lies of God’s enemies as well as the truths of God’s servants. Some people go wrong on this. They say, “Well, you couldn’t have anything in the Bible that isn’t true.” There’s a whole chunk of this that isn’t true! You remember in Genesis, it is the lie of the serpent: “[And] the serpent said to the woman, ‘You will not surely die.’”[1] So don’t go wrong by missing that point.

How are we going to navigate through this text? This is what I’ve decided: we’ll use as a navigational aid the five questions that David addresses to this young man.

“Where Do You Come From?”

First of all, “Where do you come from?” “Where do you come from?” You’ll see it there in verse 3, isn’t it: “[And] David said to him, ‘Where do you come from?’”

Now, we’ve already observed the young man’s dramatic entry, because it’s recorded in verse 2: “On the third day, … a man came from Saul’s camp.” And what did he look like? Well, his clothes were torn and he had “dirt on his head.” Well, that’s not a very nice way to show up in the morning, is it? Well, of course, what he was doing was displaying the conventional response of mourning, so that in that time and in that day, you would know that death had come to a household not simply by the declaration of the lip but also by the garb in which the people were walking around.

Growing up in Scotland, for example, these things were very clear to me as a boy. If someone died in our road, all of the blinds were closed in all of the houses on the day that the funeral cortege left from the home. The men stopped at the side of the street and removed their hats whenever a funeral passed by. And so, although it may be very different for us in our day, and not necessarily in a promising way, that is the case. It’s one thing, as we’re going to see, to wear the garb of being a mourner and actually to be overcome with grief.

Not only does he show up as a mourner, but he falls to the ground, if you like, as a worshipper. What a strange thing to do: “And when he came to David, he fell to the ground.” Now, you’ve gone to a lot of places; I’m sure you have never fallen to the ground purposefully just because you were in somebody’s house. You might have tripped on the way in, but that wasn’t the same thing at all. Once again, this posture is an expression of his recognition of the place of David—and also, I think, in pointing forward to the approval that he anticipates.

And so it is in that context that David asks him, “Where do you come from?” or “How do you come to be here?” Now, keep in mind, again, that at this point, David does not know the outcome of the battle—the battle from which he had escaped by the skin of his teeth, because, remember, he was at the back of the troops in the service of Achish, and were it not for the fact that the servants of Achish said, “We don’t want him coming with us,”[2] who knows what might have happened? But now he finds himself in Ziklag, unaware of the outcome of the battle or of Saul’s death.

Now, we know that the young man has escaped from, has come from, Saul’s camp, because it says that in verse 2, doesn’t it? “A man came from Saul’s camp.” So we already know that as the reader. It’s interesting that he says not simply that he came but that he “escaped”: “I have escaped from the camp of Israel.” I think there might be something in that. Certainly David could identify with that notion. You remember he said at the beginning of 27, “There is nothing better that I could do than escape,”[3] and he fled into the camp of the Philistines.

Well, that’s the first question: “Where do you come from?” “I come from the camp. I’ve escaped.”

“How Did It Go?”

“Well, let me ask you,” says David, following up on that, “how did it go?” “How did it go?” This is verse 4: “How did it go? Tell me.” You get the sense of inquiry, don’t you? Not simply “Well, how was that?” No, “How did it go? Tell me! Tell me! After all,” he might have said, “the past couple of days, I’ve been sitting here at Ziklag, anxious to get news of the battle.”

Now, this is for the honors students just for a moment, okay? And for those of you who actually do homework. When you read this here—“How did it go?”—if you really button your ears back and think, you may say to yourself, “I’m having a flashback here. Haven’t we had one of these questions just similar to this before?” And the answer is yes, in [1 Samuel] 4:12, when that led, remember, to the death of Eli and to the end of his leadership. And in the masterful ability of the storyteller, for those who really, really read—and I’m not one of them. My wife really, really reads. I usually can only remember the big story. I forget the details. But for those who get the details, here again, using very similar language, he announces the end of Saul’s leadership. And he tells David, “The people fled. Many are dead. Saul and Jonathan are also dead.” And when you go back to that passage in 1 Samuel 4, when you do your homework, you’ll realize that the way in which that unfolded was similar in its dramatic impact: “And your sons today are dead.”[4] That was the big news. “It’s over, Eli.” Saul’s dead, Jonathan’s dead.

Now, we know this, of course, from chapter 31. And the fact that the young man does not mention the other brothers is probably because he realizes that David’s focus would be supremely on Saul and Jonathan. He could never have understood in delivering this news the impact that it was going to have. ’Cause it wasn’t the impact that he hoped it would have.

So, there you go. The first question: “Where do you come from?” “I escaped from the camp of Israel.” “How did it go?” “Not good. The thing was a shambles. They were decimated. Saul and Jonathan are dead.”

“How Do You Know?”

Now, David doesn’t just say, “Oh, well, thanks for the information.” No, he comes back to him. And interestingly, you’ll notice what he says. And now we’re in verse 5: “How do you know?” “How do you know that Saul and … Jonathan are dead?”

Now, think about this, because this is the most important news that David can get. Because he knows that the death of Saul clears the way for him to be enthroned as king. He has been careful throughout all of the story to make sure that he has not taken matters into his own hands. One of the things that the storyteller is doing here is making it perfectly clear that there is no way that David is complicit with the death of Saul. He does nothing himself. In fact, he’s not even on this battlefield, as a result of the things that have preceded it. He hasn’t taken matters into his own hands. But the report that is coming from “the young man who told him” is according to the young man’s story. And the young man has got a story, and he’s sticking to it.

Now, I’m no expert in this at all—in fact, I know very little about it—but there is something about body language, isn’t there? I mean, body language is impinged upon by these masks, for one thing. I mean, it changes things. I couldn’t tell if you were singing or not apart from my ears, which are big enough to have heard, but it’s not the same. And you have to read, now, the eyes of the people, because the smile can only come through the eyes. And so, when you are in a business meeting, you are not simply paying attention to what is being said; you’re paying attention to the posture of the individual and to how it’s being said. And the same is true for every schoolteacher and for every school child—hence the importance of “Look at me while you’re talking to me,” “Look at me if you’re listening to me,” and so on.

Now, we don’t want to make more of this, but I think we need to acknowledge this. I wonder if David doesn’t get a sixth sense of this fellow. After all, here he comes as a mourner. But the question is, does his tone, if you like—does the sort of subliminal message that he sends—match with his outfit?

Now, here’s something that’s very, very important when we’re reading our Bibles. When we read a passage of the Bible, remember how we interpret Scripture: we interpret a verse within the surrounding verses, we interpret surrounding verses within the chapter and so on, and within the genre. So we’re able to read this and make deductions on the basis of this because of all that we’ve learned before and because of all that comes behind.

Let me give you just one to help you in this regard. By the time we get to chapter 4 of 2 Samuel, David is recounting this to a listener. And this is what he says, 2 Samuel 4:10: “When one told me…” “When one told me”; he’s referring to “the young man who told him.” David says, “When one told me, ‘Behold, Saul is dead,’ [he] thought he was bringing good news.” “[He] thought he was bringing good news.” So there’s an incongruity that is in this. There is an incongruity. You don’t say, “Good news: Saul’s dead!” “Saul’s dead” is not good news. And so, when this fellow comes in this way, he is in the midst of trying to put together his story in the hope that he is rewarded.

Well, he got a reward for his so-called good news, but it wasn’t the reward he expected. If this young man had simply said, “Well”—in answer to the question “How do you know?”—if he had simply said, “Well, I know because I was there,” he could have avoided all that followed. But you will notice he doesn’t do that. I imagine this young man—and I know you can forgive me for this after a time—but I said to myself, “Oh, I can see this fellow towards the end of the day, and now he’s singing R.E.M. He’s saying to himself, ‘Oh no. That’s me. That’s me up there in the spotlight. Oh no, I’ve said too much. Oh no, I’ve said too much.’”[5] If he had simply said, “I was there,” fine. No, no. He now paints his own picture.

And so he says, “Well, the fact of the matter is,” verse 6, “by chance I happened to be on Mount Gilboa.” That doesn’t ring well with me. Does it fit with you? “By chance.” What does he mean? “Well, I was out for a walk, and I accidentally found myself in the middle of a major battle.” That’s hard to swallow. But be that as it may—be that as it may—there’s no reason to doubt that the man was there. You see, all good lies have a solid amount of truth in them. Every child knows how to combine it, you know: “I was at Tommy’s house—for a nanosecond—and I was at this for three and a half hours.” So a little bit of this with a big… So, you’ve got the same thing here.

No reason to doubt that he was present. No reason to doubt that he saw what he said he saw. No reason to doubt that when he said he noted Saul and his spear—that famous spear. It was about the end of that spear, right here. And we can assume, I think, safely that the man was close enough to have heard the dialogue—that he was close enough to have heard the interaction between Saul and his armor-bearer; that he actually knew how things transpired. But now he writes himself into the narrative. Notice what he says. And the young man says, “I was up there by chance,” and so on. “I saw him leaning on the spear. The chariots and the horsemen were close upon him.” We’ve already noted that the chariots couldn’t get up the hillside, so what he’s doing with that we can only imagine. Maybe they’re shooting the arrows from the chariots. Whatever. It’s not germane to the issue.

But here we go, verse 7: “And when he looked behind him”—that’s Saul; he’s saying, “I noticed he looked behind him”—“and he saw me, and he called to me. And I answered, and I said, ‘Here I am.’ He asked me to kill him, and I obliged.” Now, we already know that the death of Saul… Incidentally, when you’re reading your Bible, you trust the narrator. For the narrator is recounting the story as directed by the Spirit of God. He is writing down what actually happened. So you’re not gonna take the word of an Amalekite against the word of the narrator. So here we have it. Saul has taken his own life. But the young man here claims that he provided him death with dignity. What he’s really saying is “I performed euthanasia. I mercifully intervened.” I’m not gonna delay on that.

But in the midst of that little conversation, there’s another question. And I want to digress maybe for two minutes. I want to digress, because there will be people listening to me who are saying to themselves, “I don’t care about any of these questions, actually. I don’t see how they fit in with anything at all. I’ve gotta go back to work tomorrow. I’m going to school,” whatever else it is. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”

Well, here’s a question. Here’s a question for the ages. And it’s the question that is asked in this supposed dialogue between Saul and this man: “And he said to me, ‘Who are you?’” “Who are you?” I say to you, that really is the question, isn’t it? Who was this fellow?

Unless we know that we are made by God and for God for a relationship with God, we are inevitably going to have to invent our own identity.

And that’s the question of our time, is it not? Men and women, boys and girls, trying to figure out who they are, what they are, where they fit, if they fit, how it matters, if it matters. And fundamental to that is what the Bible tells us, so much so that unless we know that we are made by God and for God for a relationship with God, we are inevitably going to have to invent our own identity. Who are you? Ask somebody when you meet them, “Who are you?” Well, they give you their name. But you say, “No, no, no, no. Who are you? Are you a collection of molecules held in suspension? Do you exist by chance? Are you making your journey through the universe with no origin of significance and no destiny in view? Who are you?”

It’s actually… I apologize, once again; this is the last of them. But 1979, Supertramp, “The Logical Song.” And “they send me away to teach me how to be sensible, logical,” and so on. Remember it? And then the refrain: “There are times when all the world’s asleep”—nighttime. “The questions run too deep for such a simple man. Won’t you please, please tell me what we’ve learned? I know it sounds absurd; [but] tell me who I am.”[6] And “I am an Amalekite” just won’t do.

Now, the fact of the matter is that David had just returned from striking down the Amalekites. He had come from doing what Saul had failed to do. And now, of all people coming to Ziklag, the first person to give any indication of the fact that David is now going to fill the vacuum left by Saul is gonna be an Amalekite himself. There’s an amazing irony in that. This man, says Calvin, was “an insincere flatterer.”[7] And so he has managed, obviously, to pick up the bits and pieces, and he has managed to secure the emblems of Saul’s kingdom, and he now brings them to David, anticipating an enthusiastic response. And he could not have been more wrong.

Now, verses 11 and 12 are a real display of mourning, aren’t they? And it may well be that the writer has moved them into this place. Because if you look at your text, it makes perfect sense to go from “And I have brought them here to my lord” to verse 13: “And David said to the young man who told him…” Well, remember, the person that is giving us this material is giving it in such a way that it may come across with dramatic impact. He’s writing the story. So in other words, he may have moved it up in order that we might be completely aware of the fact that this was devastating news to David. He doesn’t leave it to the very end, to after verse 16. No, he moves it right up into here. What happened then?

Can you imagine the man, if it actually unfolded in this way, if this is the timing? And he says, “And I met him, and he called me to me, and I did this, and I did that, and look what I brought you: I brought you these trinkets for the kingship.” And David starts ripping his clothes and absolutely losing it. And the man realizes then, as “they mourned and wept and fasted until [the] evening,” that he had miscalculated what he was doing.

Now, we’ll return to the expressions of grief in the lament which follows in the second half of the chapter. But let me just say one thing in passing.

Look at this expression of grief. Now, this is fast becoming a hobby horse for me now as I approach my own death. But look at this expression of grief, and look at the average American funeral—including Christian funerals! Sadness is sadness. Death is death. Grief is grief. A funeral is not an erstwhile twenty-first birthday party or a celebration of retirement. Because think about it: David understood the will of God. So did Jesus understand the will of God when he mourned over Jerusalem. That wasn’t a fake display. That was an expression of grief. So knowing that it was in the will of God to take my mother at the age of forty-six as a result of a massive heart attack—knowing that that is the will of God—does not transmute grief into joy. It is still grief! And Christians in this alien, God-forsaken culture may testify to the reality of what death means by taking death seriously, the way in which David and his friends do here.

“Where Do You Come From?” (Again)

Well, the fourth question looks like a repeat, but it isn’t: “And [so] David,” verse 13, “said to the young man who told him”—there’s the phrase again, “the young man who told him”—“‘Where do you come from?’”

You say, “Well, we had that question.” Well, we did and we didn’t. The first time he’s asking the question, he’s asking about place: “Where did you show up from? Where have you come from?”—location. This time, he’s asking about his person: “Where do you come from?”—that the young man obviously gets this, and he says, “Well, I’m the son of a sojourner, an Amalekite.”

Now, this’ll help us to understand why it is that he may have found himself in that position in the battle. This may help us to understand why he has a sense of the place of David in this story. Because after all, as you read the Bible, as you read in the provision of God for his people, sojourners were always protected. Exodus 22, God says, “You shall not wrong a sojourner or oppress him, for you were [once] sojourners in the land of Egypt.”[8] So in other words, this man is a resident alien. He’s the son of a resident alien, and therefore, he enjoys privileges as a result of that, and also he will face penalties along with that. And so, what he’s saying is this: “I am an Amalekite, but I’m not just an Amalekite. I am a sojourner; I’m the son of a sojourner. I’m a resident alien.”

“How Is It You Were Not Afraid?”

And then we come to the fifth and final question, which is probably the most important question of all. Surely it is. “[And] David said to him, ‘How is it [that] you were not afraid to put out your hand to destroy the Lord’s anointed?’” Or in the NIV, “Why were you not afraid?”[9] “Can you tell me why you weren’t afraid?”

Now, the expectation of this young man was absolutely neutralized in a nanosecond by that question, for sure. Because we know that David was constantly afraid of putting out his hand against the Lord’s anointed.

You see, here’s the issue. In fact—and let me just read it, because it comes across with absolute clarity. [1 Samuel] 24:10: “I will not put out my hand against my lord, for he is the Lord’s anointed.”

Now, Saul’s armor-bearer understood this as well, didn’t he? Saul said, “Go ahead and kill me,” but he was very much afraid.[10] He realized you don’t do that. Only the Lord may appoint and remove his anointed.

The Amalekite had seen in the death of Saul an opportunity for reward. And so he lies, assuming that David will be pleased. He imagined—as Woodhouse puts it—he “imagined that he could profit from his lie in the new kingdom of David”:[11] “When you come into your kingdom, you’re gonna be grateful for me.” That was a grave miscalculation. Because instead of enjoying commendation, he faced execution. David actually says to him, “You asked for it,” verse 16. “You sealed your death sentence when you said you killed God’s anointed king.”

This young man failed to recognize and reckon with the character of David as king. Again, rereading the story will be helpful in this. Remember that strange encounter in [1 Samuel] 26:23, where David says, “The Lord rewards every man for his righteousness and his faithfulness, for the Lord gave you into my hand today, and I would not put out my hand against the Lord’s anointed.” This young man didn’t get that. He didn’t see that at all. He failed to reckon with the character of the king. Let me just let that, and we’ll draw this to a close. He failed to reckon with the character of the king.

It is a grave miscalculation to assume that we may live as members of the Lord’s kingdom while playing fast and loose with personal righteousness.

Now, to the person who says, “Well, wait a minute. We’re so long and so far away on this. How do you get from here to here?” Well, it will be helpful for us to realize a little linguistics. Mashiach, in Hebrew, is Hebrew for “the anointed one.” Mashiach is translated as “Messiah” in English. In the Greek it is Christos, which in the English is “Christ.” Jesus is the Lord’s Christ. Jesus is the Lord’s anointed. Therefore, it is a grave miscalculation to think that we can ignore the Lord’s Christ—kill him by our mockery, slight him by our cynicism, seek to kill him by our lies. It is equally a grave miscalculation to assume that we may live as members of the Lord’s kingdom while playing fast and loose with personal righteousness. “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness.”[12]

This fellow thought he could lie his way in and live on the strength of his lies. It’s a grave miscalculation to believe, as this man believed, that wrongdoing will pay. People believe that wrongdoing will pay. Otherwise, why would people steal stuff? Why would they rob things? And if we’re honest, in our minds, we say, “Well, maybe I could do this, or I could say that. It would get me out of a problem. I would be able to avoid this.” It’s a grave miscalculation. Because the righteous King has established a day when the Father will judge the world by righteousness according to the King that he has sent.[13]

So here, for the children who have stayed with me all the way to the end, let’s get to Aslan and to C. S. Lewis and we’ll stop here. You remember the encounter. The King—the King—is to be feared. The King is to be loved. The King is to be obeyed. Do you remember?

“If there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or … just silly.”

“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.

“Safe?” said [Mrs.] Beaver. … “Who said anything about safe? [Of] ’course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”[14]

You see, the opposite of love is not wrath. The opposite of love is indifference. Indifference! You don’t want a God who’s indifferent. You don’t want a King who doesn’t care. The Browns can play this afternoon without a crowd, but they can’t play this afternoon without goalposts. And that is the great mistake of our culture, embroiled in relativism, facing the lack of identity, wondering who they are, where they’ve come from, where they’re going, and so on. And we come to ’em and say, “Have you ever considered that Jesus is the King, and that he has a kingdom?” “Well, is he safe?” “Who said anything about safe? But he’s good.”

“See, your King comes to you, riding on a donkey, on the foal of a donkey.”[15] See, your King hangs upon a cross with two arms outstretched in welcome, bearing in himself all of the unrighteousness that is me and crediting to my account, by grace through faith, all that I could never earn and could never ever deserve.

Well, I say to myself and to you, beware of the grave miscalculation that is at the very heart of this chapter.

Father, thank you that your Word is able to accomplish what my words never can—that even as we think of children who are present, some of us in the same way may only be holding on to one thought or one phrase, wrestling with it. Lord, accomplish your purposes, we pray. And thank you that we do not worship you, a God who is removed and remote and far from us, but a God who has come to us in the person of Jesus, a God who keeps all of his appointments at the same place, at the cross of Christ. So, accomplish your will in us and through us, we pray. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.

[1] Genesis 3:4 (ESV).

[2] See 1 Samuel 29:2–6.

[3] 1 Samuel 27:1 (paraphrased).

[4] 1 Samuel 4:17 (paraphrased).

[5] Michael Stipe, “Losing My Religion” (1991). Paraphrased.

[6] Roger Hodgson, “The Logical Song” (1979).

[7] John Calvin, “On Facing Affliction and Divine Judgement,” in Sermons on 2 Samuel: Chapters 1–13, trans. Douglas Kelly (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1992), 12.

[8] Exodus 22:21 (ESV).

[9] 2 Samuel 1:14 (NIV 1984).

[10] See 1 Samuel 31:4.

[11] John Woodhouse, 2 Samuel: Your Kingdom Come, Preaching the Word, ed. R. Kent Hughes (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2015), 50.

[12] Matthew 6:33 (ESV).

[13] See Acts 17:31.

[14] C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (1950), chap. 8.

[15] Zechariah 9:9 (paraphrased).