Taking Ownership
Sermon
Conversations Over Bread And Wine
Meditations For The Lord's Supper
There may be no more perplexing figure in all the Bible than David. You are aware without my telling you that he has a unique place in Jewish history and his status as one of the three leading figures of the Old Testament goes unchallenged. Abraham, Moses, and David unquestionably are the big three in their lasting impact on the Hebrew people.
As Israel's second king, David brought his nation to the apex of its power and influence, a force to be reckoned with by both Assyria and Egypt. Under his rule Israel's borders were expanded nearly to the limits they reached under his son Solomon. So great was his reign that it was looked back upon as the golden age of Israel and came to epitomize all that God wanted to do for his people in the future. It was believed that when the Messiah came, the one whom God would raise up to restore the fortunes of Israel, he would be of the line and lineage of David.
Nor was it only David's political influence that gained him fame and recognition. There was about him an amazing personal charm and charisma that produced in people an almost fanatical loyalty. Not only was he respected by his subjects, but also he was loved! And around him developed the kinds of timeless legends that Americans have come to associate with Washington and Lincoln - based, no doubt, on fact but likely somewhat enlarged with the passage of time: his fearless confrontation as a youth with the champion of the Philistines, Goliath; his musical skill and his capacity, through his playing and singing, to soothe the emotionally--ill king Saul; his unique friendship with Saul's son, Jonathan, that became legendary. Throughout history David has been revered as a sensitive, multi--talented, enormously personable man.
But none of that even approaches the full orb of his greatness. What finally gave him his unparalleled place of influence was his faith and devotion to God. David has always represented what it is to be a man of God, one who gave unswerving loyalty to God. It was as such that he comes down through history as the Psalm writer, with fully 73 of the 150 Old Testament Psalms being ascribed to him, if not as the author then at least as the inspirer. And the most famous of all descriptions of him is the one first coined by the prophet/priest Samuel: "A man after God's own heart."
But there are other things about David that must be said, and they comprise the reason why he is so perplexing a figure. Amazingly, the Bible makes no attempt to cover them up. David was sometimes deceitful. He was not above lying to cover his tracks. He had a violent temper that he sometimes made no attempt to control. He was capable of great violence and, on occasion, was downright ruthless. Sometimes he was just plain immoral.
The twelfth chapter of Second Samuel reflects the most notorious of David's moral failures - his relationship with Bathsheba, the wife of a loyal soldier in his army. David observed her bathing one day, her nude figure aroused his desire, and he was determined to have her. That he already had a wife meant nothing to him, and that Bathsheba had a husband meant even less. As king, David reasoned that he had a right to whatever he desired; so he sent for Bathsheba, they shared sexual intimacies, and the result was her unexpected pregnancy.
Obviously something had to be done, and David developed what he thought to be a foolproof plan: He would order Uriah, Bathsheba's soldier husband, to return home from the battlefront. It was safe to assume that they would have sex, and later, discovering that his wife had conceived, Uriah would assume that the child was his. And he would never be the wiser. Unfortunately for David, the plan failed, and the king's only alternative was to eliminate Uriah, which he did by arranging to have him killed in battle. His plan worked superbly, and David took Bathsheba as his own wife.
That's David, the "man after God's own heart." That's the person who allegedly wrote 73 of the Psalms. That's the man whom the Israelites revered and came to consider the ideal king, from whose line the Messiah would come. And we wonder how it can be. Is David the best example the Bible can produce of what devotion and commitment to God mean? How does he qualify for such a reputation? Is he not rather a tragic role model who provides the sort of rationalization that says, "Okay, do anything you want as long as you can get away with it"?
The logic of that reasoning is compelling, except that further reading of the Bible will not permit such a conclusion. The biblical record is clear - David didn't get away with anything! He paid dearly for his sins. So did his family. And so did the entire nation. In him is irrefutable proof of the truth the apostle Paul would later spell out: "Behold, your sins will find you out! Whatever a person sows, that will he also reap."
But in David is also evidence that no sin need forever destroy one's life. No matter what a person does, his wrongdoing does not have to be the final word about him. And, in the end, true love for God may be reflected not so much in the absence of any sin as in what one does when confronted with the reality of one's sin. That, you see, is what 2 Samuel 12 reveals so graphically. Confronted by the prophet Nathan, who cleverly cloaked David's sin in the form of a parable that, as a former shepherd, David could not miss, he cried: "I have sinned, Lord." That's all he said. "I have sinned."
But do you understand what an amazing response that was? And do you comprehend how sharp a contrast it offers to what normally happens when people are confronted with their wrongdoing? There was on David's part no rationalization, no excuse--making, and no pointing the finger of blame at another. He didn't say, "Bathsheba made me do it. She lured me into it. She wanted the relationship as badly as I." All of that may well have been true, but David didn't say it. There was no, "Hey, I'm just a human being and we all have our faults." No "Abigail and I haven't been getting along very well lately, so who can blame me for wanting something better?" All David said was, "Lord, I have sinned."
How different is that from the way most people react when confronted with their sins: excuses, rationalizations, blaming others! Such responses are as old as the human race. We have become blue ribbon champions at declaring our own innocence while placing the blame on others. I think of the golfer who curses his driver after an errant shot, or the professional tennis player who yells at the linesman after a mishit ball, accuses a spectator of moving, or smashes his racket to the ground. Anything but admit that he made an error!
And that's the way a lot of people play the game of life. They say to a person, "You make me furious," implying that anger is the only possible response when the other person is around, which of course is a lie. Or worse, they lash out in some violent way and defend their action by claiming that they were just letting off steam, as everyone must do on occasion. Or still worse, acts of violence by individuals or groups are defended as legitimate expressions of pent--up anger, the result of inequities and injustices experienced in the past. The claim is made, "If you had been treated as we have, you would understand. You can't blame us for wanting to give back a measure of what we have received." Well, I do understand the desire to retaliate, but what I know is that it is part and parcel of a problem that in our time has become epidemic: namely, blaming others and the refusal to take responsibility for our actions. It is everywhere! From the ways we rationalize why we were given a speeding ticket to the reasons why the accident was not our fault, from the proliferation of lawsuits to the explanations we give for violence in our homes and in society, we give evidence of what may be the great sickness of American society.
Some years ago, the well--known psychiatrist Harry Stack Sullivan identified three aspects of the human personality. There is the "good me," the positive person we like and affirm. There is the "bad me," that part of the self we dislike and recognize as undesirable. And there is the "not me," that part of us that is so unacceptable that we refuse to acknowledge it at all. It is the "not me," said Sullivan, that is finally the arena of emotional illness in human life. Well, what is happening today all across society is that the area of "not me" has vastly expanded, those places in our lives where we put the blame on others and refuse to own our share of the problem. And insofar as we do that, we are fostering not only our own spiritual illness but society's sickness as well.
In David, there was none of that! He was no saint by any stretch of the imagination, but he was a man after God's own heart because, instead of making excuses for his sin and instead of blaming others, he was honest enough to admit what he had done. No one had made him do anything - neither Bathsheba, nor unhappy circumstances, nor a weakness of the flesh, nor the devil. None of the ways by which you and I so often say, "Don't blame me; I'm innocent," did he use. "Lord," he said, "I have sinned."
And because there was no lying, no excuse--making, no pretense, no rationalization, no playing games with God, but honesty, there could be a new beginning. "Lord, you know me through and through, and you know that I have sinned. I'm not worthy of your love. Any kindness on your part, any mercy, is more than I deserve." Oh, it may seem that to get to that place in life is to have plummeted to the very depths, but the truth is that it is finally to have ascended to holy ground. It is to have reached the place, indeed the only place, where we can hear God's response: "Your sins are forgiven. Go in peace; your faith has made you well." Precisely the words God longs to speak to each of us this day at the table of our Lord!
As Israel's second king, David brought his nation to the apex of its power and influence, a force to be reckoned with by both Assyria and Egypt. Under his rule Israel's borders were expanded nearly to the limits they reached under his son Solomon. So great was his reign that it was looked back upon as the golden age of Israel and came to epitomize all that God wanted to do for his people in the future. It was believed that when the Messiah came, the one whom God would raise up to restore the fortunes of Israel, he would be of the line and lineage of David.
Nor was it only David's political influence that gained him fame and recognition. There was about him an amazing personal charm and charisma that produced in people an almost fanatical loyalty. Not only was he respected by his subjects, but also he was loved! And around him developed the kinds of timeless legends that Americans have come to associate with Washington and Lincoln - based, no doubt, on fact but likely somewhat enlarged with the passage of time: his fearless confrontation as a youth with the champion of the Philistines, Goliath; his musical skill and his capacity, through his playing and singing, to soothe the emotionally--ill king Saul; his unique friendship with Saul's son, Jonathan, that became legendary. Throughout history David has been revered as a sensitive, multi--talented, enormously personable man.
But none of that even approaches the full orb of his greatness. What finally gave him his unparalleled place of influence was his faith and devotion to God. David has always represented what it is to be a man of God, one who gave unswerving loyalty to God. It was as such that he comes down through history as the Psalm writer, with fully 73 of the 150 Old Testament Psalms being ascribed to him, if not as the author then at least as the inspirer. And the most famous of all descriptions of him is the one first coined by the prophet/priest Samuel: "A man after God's own heart."
But there are other things about David that must be said, and they comprise the reason why he is so perplexing a figure. Amazingly, the Bible makes no attempt to cover them up. David was sometimes deceitful. He was not above lying to cover his tracks. He had a violent temper that he sometimes made no attempt to control. He was capable of great violence and, on occasion, was downright ruthless. Sometimes he was just plain immoral.
The twelfth chapter of Second Samuel reflects the most notorious of David's moral failures - his relationship with Bathsheba, the wife of a loyal soldier in his army. David observed her bathing one day, her nude figure aroused his desire, and he was determined to have her. That he already had a wife meant nothing to him, and that Bathsheba had a husband meant even less. As king, David reasoned that he had a right to whatever he desired; so he sent for Bathsheba, they shared sexual intimacies, and the result was her unexpected pregnancy.
Obviously something had to be done, and David developed what he thought to be a foolproof plan: He would order Uriah, Bathsheba's soldier husband, to return home from the battlefront. It was safe to assume that they would have sex, and later, discovering that his wife had conceived, Uriah would assume that the child was his. And he would never be the wiser. Unfortunately for David, the plan failed, and the king's only alternative was to eliminate Uriah, which he did by arranging to have him killed in battle. His plan worked superbly, and David took Bathsheba as his own wife.
That's David, the "man after God's own heart." That's the person who allegedly wrote 73 of the Psalms. That's the man whom the Israelites revered and came to consider the ideal king, from whose line the Messiah would come. And we wonder how it can be. Is David the best example the Bible can produce of what devotion and commitment to God mean? How does he qualify for such a reputation? Is he not rather a tragic role model who provides the sort of rationalization that says, "Okay, do anything you want as long as you can get away with it"?
The logic of that reasoning is compelling, except that further reading of the Bible will not permit such a conclusion. The biblical record is clear - David didn't get away with anything! He paid dearly for his sins. So did his family. And so did the entire nation. In him is irrefutable proof of the truth the apostle Paul would later spell out: "Behold, your sins will find you out! Whatever a person sows, that will he also reap."
But in David is also evidence that no sin need forever destroy one's life. No matter what a person does, his wrongdoing does not have to be the final word about him. And, in the end, true love for God may be reflected not so much in the absence of any sin as in what one does when confronted with the reality of one's sin. That, you see, is what 2 Samuel 12 reveals so graphically. Confronted by the prophet Nathan, who cleverly cloaked David's sin in the form of a parable that, as a former shepherd, David could not miss, he cried: "I have sinned, Lord." That's all he said. "I have sinned."
But do you understand what an amazing response that was? And do you comprehend how sharp a contrast it offers to what normally happens when people are confronted with their wrongdoing? There was on David's part no rationalization, no excuse--making, and no pointing the finger of blame at another. He didn't say, "Bathsheba made me do it. She lured me into it. She wanted the relationship as badly as I." All of that may well have been true, but David didn't say it. There was no, "Hey, I'm just a human being and we all have our faults." No "Abigail and I haven't been getting along very well lately, so who can blame me for wanting something better?" All David said was, "Lord, I have sinned."
How different is that from the way most people react when confronted with their sins: excuses, rationalizations, blaming others! Such responses are as old as the human race. We have become blue ribbon champions at declaring our own innocence while placing the blame on others. I think of the golfer who curses his driver after an errant shot, or the professional tennis player who yells at the linesman after a mishit ball, accuses a spectator of moving, or smashes his racket to the ground. Anything but admit that he made an error!
And that's the way a lot of people play the game of life. They say to a person, "You make me furious," implying that anger is the only possible response when the other person is around, which of course is a lie. Or worse, they lash out in some violent way and defend their action by claiming that they were just letting off steam, as everyone must do on occasion. Or still worse, acts of violence by individuals or groups are defended as legitimate expressions of pent--up anger, the result of inequities and injustices experienced in the past. The claim is made, "If you had been treated as we have, you would understand. You can't blame us for wanting to give back a measure of what we have received." Well, I do understand the desire to retaliate, but what I know is that it is part and parcel of a problem that in our time has become epidemic: namely, blaming others and the refusal to take responsibility for our actions. It is everywhere! From the ways we rationalize why we were given a speeding ticket to the reasons why the accident was not our fault, from the proliferation of lawsuits to the explanations we give for violence in our homes and in society, we give evidence of what may be the great sickness of American society.
Some years ago, the well--known psychiatrist Harry Stack Sullivan identified three aspects of the human personality. There is the "good me," the positive person we like and affirm. There is the "bad me," that part of the self we dislike and recognize as undesirable. And there is the "not me," that part of us that is so unacceptable that we refuse to acknowledge it at all. It is the "not me," said Sullivan, that is finally the arena of emotional illness in human life. Well, what is happening today all across society is that the area of "not me" has vastly expanded, those places in our lives where we put the blame on others and refuse to own our share of the problem. And insofar as we do that, we are fostering not only our own spiritual illness but society's sickness as well.
In David, there was none of that! He was no saint by any stretch of the imagination, but he was a man after God's own heart because, instead of making excuses for his sin and instead of blaming others, he was honest enough to admit what he had done. No one had made him do anything - neither Bathsheba, nor unhappy circumstances, nor a weakness of the flesh, nor the devil. None of the ways by which you and I so often say, "Don't blame me; I'm innocent," did he use. "Lord," he said, "I have sinned."
And because there was no lying, no excuse--making, no pretense, no rationalization, no playing games with God, but honesty, there could be a new beginning. "Lord, you know me through and through, and you know that I have sinned. I'm not worthy of your love. Any kindness on your part, any mercy, is more than I deserve." Oh, it may seem that to get to that place in life is to have plummeted to the very depths, but the truth is that it is finally to have ascended to holy ground. It is to have reached the place, indeed the only place, where we can hear God's response: "Your sins are forgiven. Go in peace; your faith has made you well." Precisely the words God longs to speak to each of us this day at the table of our Lord!
