The eerie sound of grief stricken men openly weeping ricocheted off the fortress walls as Ziklag was plunged into dark mourning. At the announcement of the young Amalekite, daily business screeched to a halt. Clothes were torn. Meals were foregone. Waves of bereavement rolled over David as he absorbed the pain of personal loss. King Saul had met a gruesome end. His son, Jonathan, had died in battle. The sharp lance of grief seemed to pierce his very soul.
His people understood the intensity of his mourning. The impenetrable bond between David and Jonathan was legendary. A friendship never affected by distance, never stunted by interlopers. Friendship that never failed. Not once. Not when jealous Saul commanded his son to kill David. Not when angry Saul demanded Jonathan deliver David to him for execution. Not even when the spear previously thrown at David was hurled at Jonathan instead. Their friendship never faltered, never faded. Adversity knit their souls in brotherhood. The deep love between them made the loss more incredible. It was as if David had lost a part of himself, so deep was his mourning. His people understood. They grieved with him. For Jonathan. (I Samuel 19:1; I Samuel 20:30-34)
Less understandable was the obvious grief David felt over the loss of Saul. The history between them was no secret. A history littered with valiant wins and violent jealousy. David had been an unknown shepherd boy before he walked onto the battlefield in the valley of Elah. No one of importance knew his name. No one even cared whose son he was. No one thought for even a second he was a warrior. David probably didn’t think he was either, but he also hadn’t expected such cowardice and lack of faith from their own men. Quickly assessing the situation, David realized it was no different than the lion and bear he’d dispatched to save his flock. When your faith lies with God and your strength comes from the Lord, anyone can be a warrior. Even a shepherd boy.
Gaining permission from Saul to approach the giant, David boldly walked to the front of the battlefield with five little stones, a leather slingshot, and enormous faith in his God. With the spin of his arm and the flick of his wrist, the gargantuan everyone feared fell to the ground, forever silenced. He didn’t need all five stones. He didn’t need a sword or spear. He didn’t even need to be fitted out in armor. God was fighting his battles. God was bringing victory. God was working out His purpose to save His people. And He was using a shepherd boy to do it. The people were ecstatic. At least most of them were. (I Samuel 17:40-54)
Riding back into town after this most phenomenal victory, the women lined the streets to welcome their warriors home. Their celebration was loud and exuberant, filled with singing and dancing, tambourines, songs of joy, and an ensemble of musical instruments. The resounding strains of their joyous chorus rang out the truths, “Saul has struck down thousands, and David has struck down ten thousands.” But the perfectly blended harmony of their beautiful voices struck a sour note in Saul’s soul. The words lodged in his mind. Ugly jealousy rose up within him, twisting his heart. He would not, should not be placed below some previously nameless shepherd boy! He would not relinquish an ounce of glory to some barefaced kid! He wouldn’t give up his kingdom without a fight! Fueled by fierce anger and burning hate, from that day forward, Saul would make it his life’s mission to take David’s life. (I Samuel 18:6-9)
Over and again the traps would be set, the command would go out, the attempts would be made. More than once David found himself the target of spear practice as he sat playing his harp to soothe the king who hated him. Purposely he was sent to battle the Philistines in hopes one of them would do Saul’s dirty work and end David’s life. In desperation, Saul would even go so far as to command his servants to simply take any opportunity to kill David. Lie in wait outside his house to capture him and bring him to Saul to be executed. No reason required. No offense necessary. Eventually, Jonathan delivered the devastating news. Saul would never relent until he saw David dead. There would be no returning home. David must run for his life. (I Samuel 18:9-11, 17-25, 19:1-2, 9, 18-20, 20:1-42)
Several years passed that way. Running from cave to cave, city to city. Constantly seeking God to know if those in his current hiding place would surrender him up to his death. It must have been exhausting. The constant looking over his shoulder. The endless covering of his tracks. The incessant moving from place to place. It seems if someone had a reason to hold a grudge, feel resentment, harbor bitterness, surely it would have been David. But he didn’t. Not once is there any indication that David held an ounce of ill-will toward Saul or sought revenge. He never laid a hand on him even when he could have.
Hiding in the shadows of a cave in Engedi, David had the perfect opportunity to seek revenge when Saul entered the cave to relieve himself. He wouldn’t have come in with his entire army. He didn’t need help. He didn’t suspect the man he sought was hiding within. David’s men encouraged him to act. Surely this was silver spoon service from God Himself. Surely this was an indication to end the chase. It wasn’t. David had no intention of killing Saul. Not then. Not ever. In fact, he stepped out of the cave and called out to Saul to prove that exact point. He wasn’t looking for vengeance or revenge. He wasn’t trying to mete out his own style of justice. He was leaving judgment up to the Just Judge. (I Samuel 24:1-15)
Hunkered down in the wilderness of Ziph, still on the run for his life, David would once again face the opportunity to strike down his enemy. Creeping into Saul’s camp with Abishai, he stood over the sleeping king and weighed his options. Abishai strongly encouraged him to strike. In fact, David didn’t even have to do it himself. Abishai would be happy to act on his behalf. Without even a second to consider, David declined. Saul’s life and times were in God’s hands. His demise would come by natural causes or in the heat of battle. It wasn’t David’s job to enact retribution, it was his job to forgive and move on. Even if he had to work at it every single day. (I Samuel 26)
Apparently, he did. Forgive Saul. Truly. Completely. Profoundly. If the intense mourning and kind words of lament are any indication, David still deeply cared for Saul. He didn’t allow the undue hatred and jealousy, the constant harassment and danger to turn his heart to retaliation, bitterness, and ill-will. In words he wanted the people of Judah to learn and remember, he sang the praise of Saul, extolled his military prowess. He called the daughters of Israel to weep over Saul, giving him credit for all the prosperity they knew. Their luxurious clothes and golden jewels were results of a king who had done well for his people. At a moment when David had the platform, the whole attention of the people around him and could say anything he chose, sway people to whichever side he desired, David withheld any disparaging remarks and lauded praise on the man who spent the last few years seeking his death. Without ever hearing Jesus utter the words, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,” David understood the concept. Forgive and be forgiven. (I Samuel 1:11-12, 17-27; Matthew 6:12)
Rarely do we put the two together. We see our own forgiveness independently from our ability and willingness to forgive others. Jesus says it isn’t. It’s all wrapped up together. Jesus commands us to forgive. It’s not a suggestion. Not a hope. Not a flight of fancy. It’s not even up for discussion. It’s an absolute command. Why? Because harboring ill-will, bitterness, anger, hurt or hate in your heart will edge out Jesus. He won’t be your King. You’ll be your own emperor. God’s kingdom can not, will not be a place where evil intent and ugly desires are entertained. That’s what unforgiveness is. Refusing to forgive allows seeds of bitterness to take root in your heart. They grow and expand, taking over the space until there’s room for nothing else. Consumed by resentment, you find yourself unable to think of anything but revenge. You waste valuable time dreaming up all manner of vile and harmful things to wish upon your enemy. Through the haze of your anger, Jesus is calling. He’s calling you to lay it all down. Give it to Him. Return the reign of your kingdom to Him so you can find rest for your soul, peace for your heart, and forgiveness for yourself and your sworn enemy, too. You just have to choose. Will you be His kingdom, on earth? (Hebrews 12:15; Ephesians 4:31-32; Mark 11:25; Matthew 6:14-15)
It will not be easy. We all have someone who has taken advantage of us, abused us, harassed us, belittled us, bullied us. So evil have they been toward us that we find it nearly unbelievable that even God could love them. Or require us to do the same. Yet He does. Before Jesus taught us to properly pray for our own forgiveness, He gave strict instructions to His listeners concerning the treatment of their enemies. In words that must have shocked them into tomb-like silence, Jesus commanded, “Love your enemies. Pray for your persecutors.” He didn’t instruct them to jump right back into relationship with people who had hurt and mistreated them. He isn’t telling you to do so, either. Jesus is telling you this isn’t even about them. It’s about you. It’s about letting go. It’s about healing. It’s about going to God in prayer about the things that hurt and humiliate you, the people who abuse and abandon you, those who use words like swords and your heart like a punching bag. It’s about bringing it to Him and allowing His great love for you to heal your heart. It’s about coming to a place of security in Christ where you harbor no feeling of resentment or bitterness against anyone. It’s about freedom. It’s about allowing the reverberations of forgiveness to heal your heart, free your soul, and change your life. It’s about relationship–yours and God’s. It’s about God’s kingdom. On earth. In you. (Matthew 5:11, 43-48; Matthew 6:10; Colossians 3:13; Proverbs 28:13; James 5:16; Mark 11:22-25; Luke 6:37; Luke 17:3-4)
Forgiving and being forgiven cannot be separated.