Then David said in his heart, “Now I shall perish one day by the hand of Saul.” (1 Samuel 27:1)
What? I wrote in the margin. If doubt is ever reasonable, I assumed it would come following some great loss. But here, David concludes the certainty of his own demise after the Lord placed Saul into his hands.
David spared Saul’s life — again. Saul heard David was in the wilderness; David heard Saul was in the wilderness. So David dared to sneak into Saul’s camp with just one of his mighty men, Abishai. A suicide mission, unless the Lord was with him — and indeed, the Lord was with him.
A deep sleep from the Lord fell upon the camp. The two men step over bodyguards and come to stand over the sleeping king. “God has given your enemy into your hand this day,” Abishai whispers. “Now please let me pin him to the earth with one stroke of the spear, and I will not strike him twice” (1 Samuel 26:8).
Saul’s death would mean the death of David’s long harassment. Wouldn’t you be tempted by the request? David was tired of being the bird hunted from mountain to mountain, the single flea against which the mad king sent armies to squash. And what of his men? Their families? Should they huddle in caves and hide in forests all their lives? David deserved Saul’s greatest love but received Saul’s deepest wrath. Why not end it now?
David too was the Lord’s anointed. One stroke, and a better life could begin.
But David refuses — again. He will not strike the Lord’s anointed. He insists the Lord will devise Saul’s end. So, he simply takes Saul’s spear and water jug and leaves, trusting the Lord.
“Blessed be you, my son David!” Saul cries when he again awakens to discover David’s mercy. “You will do many things and will succeed in them” (1 Samuel 26:25). They part ways again.
And then here — after this triumph (not least over himself), after God again proved his presence, after Saul prophesied David’s success — David concludes in his heart, “Now I shall perish one day by the hand of Saul.”
Why? He knew Saul had not changed. David was running out of places to hide. The walls were closing in. “I will perish one day by Saul’s hand.”
Inward Inconstancy
How many times have I spoken like this to my heart — after a victory, no less? How many times have you?
The adrenaline wears off. The ache of despondency sets in. The hardship has a bitter aftertaste. You exerted all your strength in the battle; now you’re vulnerable. You faced down hundreds of prophets, just now, but turn and flee from the threats of Jezebel. Just moments ago you swung a sword in the garden; now you melt before the servant girl by the fire.
At times, even the best saint is reduced to little more than a contradiction. Hadn’t David just heard of his prosperous future from both Saul and Abigail (1 Samuel 25:28–31)? Was he not the Lord’s anointed, the future king? Had he not just said the Lord would end Saul’s reign?
“The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine” — where is this youth? (1 Samuel 17:37). The one risking a public execution to prove that God doesn’t save with sword or spear and that the battle belongs to the Lord? Is this the man who wrote, “You [place] a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows” (Psalm 23:5)? Now I shall perish one day by the hand of Saul.
If this is David, what of us?
Let us not be harder on the man after God’s own heart than we are on our own doubts. If our heart-speech were recorded as plainly as David’s, what would we read? How many trials has he brought us through, how often has he caused us to tiptoe, as it were, into enemy territory only for us to depart thinking, Now I shall perish one day by the hand of Saul?
After a thousand mercies, it takes only one delay, one “no,” one trial or tribulation or dart from the enemy for our hearts to throw up their hands and declare themselves forsaken.
Don’t Coddle Doubt
I hate my unbelief.
I hate my unbelief and long for the day it’s purged from me. This kind of confession needs to be clear in our days.
Is it just me, or does it seem almost trendy to distrust the Lord? Doubt is natural — as inevitable as catching the cold in a house full of children. Everyone does it. “Enough,” some say, “with these holier-than-thous who pretend like they have never doubted.”
Some even say they distrust anyone who says he doesn’t regularly doubt. And instead of confessing doubt, hating doubt, being ashamed and turning from doubt, we hear professors, preachers, and writers casually describe their doubts, as if they were a badge of authenticity.
That believers don’t believe perfectly isn’t the question. The question is, How do we respond? When we discover ourselves doubting God’s goodness or power, do we resist it? Do we pet unbelief in self-pity? Is it safe for us to doubt the Lord, his promises, and his cross?
Doesn’t God command, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5)?
Doesn’t Scripture display men and women whose faith we are to imitate (Hebrews 11:1–39)?
Doesn’t Jesus marvel at great faith and rebuke little faith (Matthew 8:10; 14:31)?
Is God not to be believed — though every man be a liar (Romans 3:4)?
To rub the belly of unbelief is to scratch the stomach of a sleeping grizzly bear. And yet many don’t seem to struggle much against it. They think others dishonest if they do not question God’s truthfulness and love. They say the first part with uncertainty and the second part even more so: “I believe; help my unbelief.”
Condemn Not the Lord
How about you?
Maybe like David, you’ve traveled from one trial to the next and feel your strength failing. The shield begins to droop. The sword is too heavy. You’re exhausted.
If left to your strength and your wisdom, you might, in fact, fall. But is there not a God in heaven? Has his Son not won the victory on earth? You walk through wastelands and pass through shadows — yet is he still with you? You may not know where you are going — but do you need to, if he does?
Take your doubts, your fears, your fatalist conclusions — let them offer evidence for why now is the time the Lord cannot be trusted. He has helped countless saints through deeper waters, stood with them in fiercer fires, sustained them through the saddest moments and cruelest tortures — and they live now in heaven to bless his holy name. What giant has arisen, what darkness has descended, what hardship now hunts you for you to question his holy name? Why will you not reach the other side, clenching a blessed testimony of his grace? Many are your tears, heavy is your lot, but greater is his faithfulness.
Our doubts, like Pilate, condemn the Lord despite his innocence. Excuse them no more. Trust in your God. He shall not finally give you over to your enemy. He has delivered — and he will deliver. Remember David. Did he perish one day by the hand of Saul? Was this not, in fact, the last time David would see the king alive? Did David not end up being crowned, just as the Lord had promised?
And remember David’s greater Son. Has Christ failed you yet? Has he broken any one of his promises? Will your Good Shepherd now forsake you? What shall separate us from the love of Christ? With Paul, be “sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38–39).
