A Memorial Day reflection on 1 Samuel 24

Memorial Day was established to remember those who served and died in the armed forces. For many people, it’s a time for picnics and cookouts or just a nice day off from work. But for some, Memorial Day is anything but a nice day. If you have a loved one who died in war because of their military service, it may be a time of sadness and grief.

It’s not just a day to honor veterans of long-ago wars. People today are mourning loved ones who died in the more recent wars of Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan.

Some of us are mourning everyone who has died in war, not only those who were in the military. It’s a time to reflect once again on the cost of violent conflict. It’s a time to be reminded of the higher, better way God would have us resolve our conflicts.

Will there always be battles to fight? Is war inevitable? Are hatred and revenge built into our very being? Will we always have enemies?

When faced with these basic questions and dilemmas, we turn to the Word of God. When I think of the paradox of human nature—how we can feel and exhibit both such great love and such base brutality—I think of one of my favorite people in the Bible: David.

The one known as the shepherd boy and healing harpist—who wrote the beautiful Psalms we so often turn to in prayer and worship—was also the one who slew Goliath, had victory over the insidious Philistines and as the second king of Israel was able to unite its long-bickering tribes. He did not achieve all this without fighting many bloody battles. Many died at his hands.

Some may be uncomfortable looking to David as an example of how to behave. But even as much as the Bible spins his story to glorify and establish his kingdom, it also doesn’t shy away from showing his flaws and weaknesses.

We only have to read his Psalms to learn the depth of his despair over his darkness and sinfulness and betrayal of God. Or the stories of how he handles some of the temptations and conflicts he faced. He didn’t always pass the morality test.

But in 1 Samuel 24, we see the David we aspire to be—perhaps the David in whom God saw king potential when no one else could, seeing not the outward appearance as people do, but looking instead upon the heart (1 Samuel 16:7).

Let’s review chapter 24, a vignette from David’s long saga of battles, both physical and spiritual. It begins with Saul, the first king of Israel, returning from yet another battle with the Philistines.

Who are these Philistines? They seem to pop up everywhere in the Hebrew Bible. That’s because they are everywhere, a constant threat to the Israelites.

They first appeared around the end of the 13th century B.C. and came to Canaan by land and ship, destroying many nations along the way. Their great success and power may have had something to do with their mastery of the technology of iron. In the book of Judges, we read about the constant clashes between them and Israel and their dominance over the Israelite tribes and the entire Canaanite region.

Earlier in 1 Samuel is the story of the battle at Ebenezer, when the Philistines captured the ark of the covenant and destroyed the holy shrine at Shiloh, where Samuel himself first heard the voice of God calling him as a child and where he was raised by the high priest Eli.

In short, the Philistines were relentless. They are perhaps the main reason the Israelites demanded a king to lead them in war and finally rid themselves of this plague. The result of this was the anointing of Saul as the first king of Israel. And from day one of his reign until his last day, Saul fought the Philistines.

So as our story begins, it’s just “another day, another battle with the Philistines.”

Except for one other thing—Saul’s relentless pursuit of David. Who knows, maybe Saul would have had quicker success against the Philistines if he focused more on defeating them and less on defeating David. The shepherd boy who soothed him with harp music when he was sick and ill-tempered, the beloved best friend of his son Jonathan, was enemy #1 to him.

Even worse than the Philistines was David’s ability to have success over them.

Whenever David fought them—from that first encounter with Goliath through various other battles—he had so many victories that Saul became jealous. All he could see in David was someone who made him look weak and ineffective and unworthy to be king. It seemed his life’s mission was more to defeat David than the Philistines.

Now he’s back from another battle with the Philistines, and his men inform him that David is in the wilderness of Engedi. David is hiding out, because he knows Saul is after him, and he lives as a fugitive even though he hasn’t done anything wrong. Saul, as if he were about to go back to war with the Philistines, gathers 300 of his best men and goes hunting for David.

Along the way, he needs a break and goes into a cave. He doesn’t know that David and his men are hiding inside that very cave. While Saul is there, David’s men are getting all excited and tell David: “This is the day God is saying to you, I’ve delivered your enemy into your hand and you’ll do to him what seems good to you.”

In the darkness of the cave, David slithers over to Saul, snips off a corner of his robe and slithers back to his men. And you can imagine his men. You have to figure they’re dumbfounded. What just happened here? You could have been rid of this guy. You could have been free of this constant threat against your life. You could stop hiding in caves and hills and valleys and start living your life.

But no. In the stricken silence, David is already brooding. Yes, this is the character we know from the Psalms he writes later, the one who feels everything and overthinks everything.

The Bible tells us that after he cut off the piece of Saul’s robe—didn’t kill him, just snipped some robe—”his heart smote him.”

Some translations have it—”he was stricken to the heart” (NRSV) or, “he was conscience-stricken” (NIV). One translation (CEV) says, “David was sorry” for what he’d done.

That doesn’t cut it. The original Hebrew has it much stronger, much more deeply-felt. David’s “heart smote him.” He didn’t kill Saul, but it was killing him inside that he would even ever-so-slightly disrespect “the Lord’s anointed.”

Keep in mind that in biblical Hebrew, the word “heart” (“lev”) means not only the physical organ or even just one’s emotions but also one’s mind and personality and courage. All these are rising up to slay him because he would even come close to slaying God’s anointed one. And yes, the word for anointed one here, meaning the one chosen by God to be anointed king, is the same word used for the “messiah” (“mashiach”).

After Saul leaves the cave, David goes out after him. After all his hiding, he’s suddenly so brave, running out into broad daylight and revealing himself to anyone who might be out there—including Saul’s troops.

But all we see is the encounter between these two men. We can almost imagine there’s no one else around. David calls Saul—not by name but with great respect—lord and king. And when Saul turns and sees him, David prostrates before him on the ground.

This is a humble, vulnerable position to be in at any time, let alone now.

Then he says, “Why do you listen when people say I want to harm you? Today your eyes have seen how God gave you into my hand. Others urged me to kill you, and I could have—but I spared you. And I said, I won’t raise my hand against him, because he is Yahweh’s anointed one.”
And we can feel the depth of his feelings even more as he continues: “See, my father. See, the corner of your robe in my hands. This is proof that I would never betray you. I’ve never sinned against you, even though you’re hunting me, even though you’ll stop at nothing to take my life.”

Then he makes his case: “May Yahweh avenge me. May Yahweh plead my case and be the judge and give the sentence and vindicate me. But my hand won’t be against you.”
For me, this is one of the most brutally honest and heart-wrenching scenes in the Bible.

I can see David and Saul standing there, facing each other, or maybe David is still on the ground and crying out to this man he loves like a father. And with tears streaming down his face he’s asking, “Why do you listen to these lies? How can you believe that I’d ever think of killing you?”

And Saul, moved to tears and reaching out to this man he loves like a son, cries, “Is that your voice, my son David? You are more righteous than I, doing good to me when I’ve done evil to you. When a man finds his enemy, does he let him go away unharmed? Who does that?”

And Saul asks God to reward David for this act of incredible mercy.

Then Saul affirms David’s calling to become king and only asks that David not cut off his descendants or wipe out his name, and David promises him.

And they live happily ever after.

Unfortunately not. I wish I could say that, but the fact is, just two chapters later (1 Samuel 26), the same thing happens. Saul is back at it again—hunting him down—and David nearby with yet another opportunity to sneak into his camp while Saul’s asleep and kill him. And again he refuses to do it because he’s the Lord’s anointed. And again he turns it over to God, saying, “God himself will strike Saul. But God forbid that I should lay a hand on him.”

Saul finds out again and is again filled with remorse and asks God to bless his son David. But really, the search for David never ends, and he continues relentlessly to seek David’s life until his own life ends fighting … the Philistines.

This brings us back to Memorial Day and the act of remembering—year after year—those who have fallen in battle and the fact that, despite all the misery and anguish and grief and loss and destruction of war, no war was ever miserable or agonizing or cruel or destructive enough to end all wars.

It seems relentless. The Philistines are relentless. The Sauls are relentless. Jealousy is relentless. Greed is relentless. Pride is relentless. Lies are relentless. Misunderstanding is relentless. Miscommunication is relentless. Desire for revenge is relentless. Desire for power is relentless.

One is tempted to throw up one’s hands and say it’s hopeless. But our enemies within are much fiercer than our enemies without. Much more powerful than any nation or despot or terrorist or criminal are the enemies in our hearts and minds. And how we respond to the enemies within will likely reflect and determine how we respond to the enemies without.

When I say we, I mean each of us individually facing our personal demons and those we regard as our enemies in life as well as all of us collectively as this nation we call the United States.

Whether speaking of ourselves as individuals or as a nation, I want to ask, What if we were to take some cues from David? The first cue we might take is to fight God’s battles. It is said on several occasions in Scripture that David fights God’s battles, not his own (1 Samuel 17:47, 25:28).

What if, like David, we turned the whole battle-fighting thing over to God? When faced with the temptation and the opportunity to kill—even for a righteous cause—David leaves it to God to decide if, when and how to take action.

Can you imagine what would happen if we—and our government—always first asked, “Whose battle are we fighting? Is this God’s battle or mine?”

A second cue we might take from David is to pay attention to the state of our hearts. What if we—and the decision-makers of our society—felt slain by our hearts whenever we treated another disrespectfully? Jesus said, “Anyone who is angry with a sister or brother will be subject to judgment. Anyone who insults a sister or brother will be taken to court. And anyone who says ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fires of hell” (Matthew 5:22).

Can you imagine what would happen if we—and our government—always first felt violated and victimized and stricken when we so much as treated others unkindly, let alone harmed or killed them?

A third cue we might take from David, as Saul himself so eloquently stated, is to do good to those who do evil to us. Paul wrote: “Do not repay anyone evil for evil. … Do not take revenge. … Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:17, 19, 21). Instead we are to feed our enemies if they’re hungry, give them a drink if thirsty.

Can you imagine living in the upside-down kingdom where, instead of an eye for an eye, we were always to first love our enemies?

A fourth cue we might take from David is to see “that of God in every person.” What if, like David, we were always to first ask, “Is he or she the anointed of the Lord?” We know that each person is a beloved child of God, chosen and cherished by his or her Creator. Before we—or our armed representatives—lift a hand or aim a weapon at anyone, we might first say, like David, “I can’t do this. This is the Lord’s anointed.”

Can you imagine lifting a hand against the “mashiach”—against Christ—himself?
Yes, the Philistines are relentless. The enemy will always be with us. But as Paul wrote to the Ephesians, “Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against … the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil” (Ephesians 5:11-12).

Saul was bitterly jealous of David because David had greater success and victory than he over a seemingly insurmountable enemy. Instead of rejoicing in the vanquishing of their common foe, all he could think about was that it was David and not he who was responsible for their defeat.

What he didn’t understand was that neither he nor David was responsible for victory over the Philistines. Or that it wasn’t even David who was responsible for his dominance over Saul.

According to the story, David yields his life, his actions, his decisions—even his thoughts and feelings, his mind and heart—to God. This is the only way he is able to see the anointed one of God instead of seeing his archenemy.

And this is the only way things will ever change. This is the only way we will ever stop the insidious, relentless onslaught of the Philistines of this world.

We’ve got to fight God’s battles, not ours. We’ve got to attend to the state of our hearts and minds. We’ve got to render good for evil. We’ve got to see Christ in every child of God.

We’ve got to yield our lives, our actions, our decisions—even our thoughts and feelings, minds and hearts—to God, putting our trust and faith in Jesus Christ, who alone has the victory over relentless evil and who alone can save us by the power and grace and relentless love of God.

Maybe then Memorial Day will be a time to remember only faraway and long-ago losses. And we can truly rejoice and relax and enjoy our picnics and celebrate with glad hearts the reign of God among us.