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.
