The paths of history are strewn with the litter of heroes who forgot to walk carefully along the narrow ledges of the heights. –CHARLES SWINDOLL
David, it seemed, had it all. As a boy, his
talent with voice and harp was so amazing even King Saul requested a private
concert. Coupled with this artistic genius was the rough courage of a warrior,
evidenced in childhood by his brave joust with the Philistine, Goliath. Good
looks he had aplenty, and beneath the surface was something equally beautiful:
a kind, warm, and sensitive personality. In short, David had that intangible
called charisma. He was the whole package—glamour, guts, giftedness, and
goodness.
As king, David used these gifts to the uttermost,
elevating Israel to heights theretofore unseen. First, he ended once and for
all the threat of the Philistines to the west. Then he built in the central
hill country of Palestine the city of Jerusalem, centralizing his government
there. Before he died, he initiated plans for a temple on Mount Zion, thus
cementing his place in history. His reign would be proclaimed for years to come
as Israel's golden age, and David himself would become the standard by which
every subsequent king would be measured. What he accomplished during his
thirty-three years on the throne was never forgotten or equaled. David, the
"man after God's own heart," secured for himself and his country the
power, prestige, privilege, and possession typically reserved for Israel's
enemies.
With such immense power and popularity, David
constantly lived on the edge of a spiritual slippery slope. His desires were
always given highest priority. What he wanted, he got—a formula for disaster
that eventually led to his moral downfall. It was difficult for him to realize
his need of God when every need of his own was granted. Slowly, gradually, his
spiritual foundation crumbled. His mantra changed from "The Lord is my
shepherd; I shall not want" to "I am the King; I'll get what I want!"
His position became his poison.
It isn't necessary here to recall the sordid
details of David's affair with Bathsheba, except to reemphasize the hideous
nature of his sins. Unfortunately, familiarity
with his subsequent repentance has dulled many of us to the horror of his
crime. Lust begat coveting, coveting begat adultery, adultery begat
illegitimacy, illegitimacy begat plot and deception, plot and deception begat
murder. David, the king of Israel, arranged the death of Uriah— one of his
soldiers and the husband of Bathsheba—to cover-up their affair and her
pregnancy. In the process, David directly or indirectly disobeyed all Ten
Commandments. No later remorse should ever dilute the wretched vileness of the
king's actions. Anyone who would minimize or marginalize David's sins should
consider his victim's immediate family. If you want the truth about David and
Bathsheba, ask Uriah's mother.
The prophet Nathan took up Uriah's (and God's)
cause. He complained to David of a very rich man in Israel, an owner of
"exceeding many" flocks and herds, who had stolen a poor man's one
and only lamb and used it as meat for his dinner guest. "This rich man
shall surely die!" David decreed in righteous indignation. "You are
that man!" Nathan replied, revealing only then the parabolic nature of his
story. In the briefest trial on record, David had considered the evidence and
found himself guilty of a capital offense. God, through Nathan, then laid out
explicitly the nature of his crime:
I anointed you king over Israel, and I delivered
you from the hand of Saul... I gave you the house of Israel and Judah. And if
all this had been too little, I would have given you even more. Why did you
despise the word of the Lord by doing what is evil in His eyes? You struck down
Uriah the Hittite with the sword and took his wife to be your own. –2 Samuel 12:7-9
What followed was true repentance, the depth of
which David recorded in Psalm 51, a prayer of brokenness. His sin was very
public; likewise, his confession. There was no hint of modern-day
rationalization, blaming his parents or Bathsheba or the stress of his rule. He
placed the onus entirely on his own shoulders, referring to "my transgressions"
and "mine iniquity". He prayed for unmerited mercy (v. 1), inner
cleansing (vv. 2,7,10), and divine communion (v. 11) and longed for God to
“restore the joy” of his youth.
On his knees that day, David rediscovered that
his relationship to God was what really mattered. He exhibited for the first
time in years a childlike walk of faith reminiscent of days gone by:
He
makes me lie down in green pastures. He
leads me beside quiet waters. He
restores my soul. He
guides me in paths of righteousness, for His name’s sake. Even
though I walk through the valley of the shadow
of death, I will
fear no evil, for You are with me. Your
rod and Your staff, they comfort me...You
anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely
goodness and love will follow me all the days
of my life, and I
will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. –Psalm 23:2-5
Can you remember a time in your life when you
were in closer communion with God than now? Has power, prosperity, or pride
separated you from Him? Has sin broken your spirit? Do you need restoration of
soul? If so, consider King David. Your life's purpose, like his, can be
resurrected and given new life. The only prerequisite is a contrite heart,
truly repentant, longing to be clean again. No shortcut or detour is possible.
The road back to the twenty-third psalm runs straight through the fifty-first.
1
Find Psalm 51 and read David’s prayer of confession. Take a minute to reflect on your own shortcomings and transgressions. Then read the psalm again as a personal prayer of confession and cleansing.
Find Psalm 51 and read David’s prayer of confession. Take a minute to reflect on your own shortcomings and transgressions. Then read the psalm again as a personal prayer of confession and cleansing.
2
Read Psalm 23 as if you are
standing before a group giving a testimony about God’s guidance in your life.
Then offer a prayer of thanksgiving for His loving care.
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