A Tale of Three Kings (6 page)

“But why, David? Why not fight?”

“I will give you the answer. And you will recall—for you were there—that I once gave this same answer to Joab in a cave long ago!

“It is better that I be defeated, even killed, than to learn the ways of . . . of a Saul or the ways of an Absalom. The kingdom is not that valuable. Let him have it, if that be the Lord’s will. I repeat: I
shall not
learn the ways of either Saul or Absalom.

“And now, being an old man, I will add a word I might not have known then. Abishai, no man knows his own heart. I certainly do not know mine. Only God does. Shall I defend my little realm in the name of God? Shall I throw spears, and plot and divide . . . and kill men’s spirits if not their bodies . . . to protect
my
empire? I did not lift a finger to be
made
king. Nor shall I do so to preserve a kingdom. Even the kingdom of God! God put me here. It is not my responsibility to take, or
keep
, authority. Do you not realize, it may be
his
will for these things to take place? If he chooses, God can protect and keep the kingdom even now. After all, it is
his
kingdom.

“As I said, no man knows his own heart. I do not know mine. Who knows what is really in my heart? Perhaps in God’s eyes I am no longer worthy to rule. Perhaps he
is
through with me. Perhaps it is his will for Absalom to rule. I honestly don’t know. And if this is his will, I want it. God may be finished with me!

“Any young rebel who raises his hand against a Saul, or any old king who raises his hand against an Absalom, may—in truth—be raising his hand against the will of God.

“In either case, I shall raise no hand! Wouldn’t I look a little strange trying to stay in control if God desires that I fall?”

“But you know that Absalom should not be king!” replied Abishai in frustration.

“Do I? No man knows. Only God knows, and he has not spoken. I did not fight to be king, and I will not fight to remain king. May God come tonight and take the throne, the kingship, and . . .” David’s voice faltered. “And his
anointing
from me. I seek his will, not his power. I repeat, I desire his will more than I desire a position of leadership. He may be through with me.”

“King David?” A voice came from behind the two men.

“Yes? Oh, a messenger. What is it?”

“Absalom. He wishes to see you a moment. He wants to ask permission to go to Hebron to make a sacrifice.”

“David,” said Abishai hoarsely, “you know what that really means, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

David turned to the messenger. “Tell Absalom I will be there in a moment.”

David looked one last time at the quiet city below, then turned and walked toward the door.

“
Will
you let him go to Hebron?” Abishai demanded.

“I will,” said the great king. “Yes, I will.”

Then he turned to the messenger. “This is a dark hour for me. When I have finished speaking to Absalom, I shall retire. Tomorrow have one of the prophets come to me for consultation. Or a scribe. On second thought, send me Zadok, the high priest. Ask him to join me here after the evening sacrifice.”

Abishai called out once more, softly this time. Admiration flashed across his face. “Good King, thank you.”

“For what?” the puzzled king asked as he turned back in the doorway.

“Not for what you have done, but for what you have
not
done. Thank you for not throwing spears, for not rebelling against kings, for not exposing a man in authority when he was so very vulnerable, for not dividing a kingdom, for not attacking young Absaloms who look like young Davids but are not.”

He paused. “And thank you for suffering, for being willing to lose everything. Thank you for giving God a free hand to end, and even destroy, your kingdom— if it pleases him. Thank you for being an example to us all.

“And most of all,” he chuckled, “thank you for not consulting witches.”

Chapter 24

“Nathan!”

“Yes? Oh, it’s you, Zadok.”

“You will pardon my intrusion, Nathan, but I have been observing you for several moments now. You were about to enter the throne room, I believe, to see King David?”

“Yes, Zadok. That was my intent, but I have thought better of it. The king has no need of me.”

“I am disappointed, Nathan. In my judgment the king has great need of you. He is facing the gravest test of his life. I am not sure he can pass a test as demanding as this one.”

“He has
already
passed this test, Zadok,” countered Nathan with a sureness in his voice that showed him to be a prophet of God.

“David has already passed this test? Forgive me, Nathan, but I have no idea what you mean. This crisis, as you well know, has just begun.”

“Zadok, your king passed
this
test long ago, when he was a young man.”

“You speak of Saul? But that, my friend, was a wholly different matter.”

“Not at all. It is
exactly
the same. There is really no difference at all. As David related to his God and to the man over him at that time long ago . . . so now David will also relate to his God and to the man under him. There can be no difference. Not ever.

“True, circumstances may be altered . . . slightly. Ever so slightly, I might add. But the heart! Ah, the heart is always the same.

“Zadok, I have always been grateful Saul was our
first
king. I shudder to think of the trouble he might have caused if, as a young man, he had found himself under some other king. There is no real difference between the man who discovers a Saul in his life and the man who finds an Absalom in his life. In either situation, the corrupt heart will find its ‘justification.’ The Sauls of this world can never see a David; they see only Absalom. The Absaloms of this world can never see a David; they see only Saul.”

“And the pure heart?” asked Zadok.

“Ah, now there is a rare thing indeed. How does a man with a broken heart handle an Absalom? The way he handled a Saul? We will soon know, Zadok!”

“You and I were not privileged to be there when David came to his hour with Saul. But we are privileged to be present in his hour with Absalom. I for one intend to watch this unfolding drama very closely. And in so doing, I have the good expectation of learning a lesson or two. Mark my words, David will work his way through this thing—and he will pass this test with the same grace he displayed in his youth.”

“And Absalom?”

“What of Absalom?”

“In a few hours he may be our king. Is that not your point?”

“There is that possibility,” replied Zadok, almost with humor.

Nathan laughed. “If Absalom gains the throne, may heaven have mercy on all the Sauls, Davids,
and
Absaloms of the realm!

“In my judgment our young Absalom will make a splendid Saul,” continued Nathan as he turned and strolled down the long corridor.

“Yes. A splendid Saul. For in every way but age and position, Absalom is already a Saul.”

Chapter 25

“I thank you for coming,Zadok.”

“My king.”

“You are a priest of God. Could you tell me a story of long ago?”

“What story, my king?”

“Do you know the story of Moses?”

“I do.”

“Tell it to me.”

“It is long; shall I tell it all?”

“No, not all.”

“Then what part?”

“Tell me about Korah’s rebellion.”

The high priest stared at David with eyes burning. David stared back, his also ablaze. The two men understood.

“I shall tell you the story of Korah’s rebellion and of Moses’ behavior in the midst of that rebellion.

“Many have heard the story of Moses. He is the supreme example of the Lord’s anointed. God’s true government rests upon a man—no, upon the contrite heart of a man. There is no form or order to God’s government; there is only a man or woman with a contrite heart. Moses was such a man.

“Korah was not such a man, although he was the first cousin of Moses. Korah wanted the authority Moses had. One peaceful morning, Korah awoke. There was no discord among God’s people that morning, but before the day was over he had found 252 men to agree with his charges against Moses.”

“Then there were problems in the nation when Moses ruled?” asked David.

“There are always problems in any kingdom,” replied Zadok. “Always. Furthermore, the ability to be able to see those problems is a cheap gift, indeed.”

David smiled and asked, “But, Zadok, you know there have been unjust kingdoms and unjust rulers and pretenders and liars who have ruled and governed. How can a simple people know which is a kingdom with faults but led by men of God, and which is a kingdom unworthy of men’s submission? How can a people know?”

David stopped; he realized that he had hit upon what he wished most of all to know. Heavily, he spoke again. “And the king—how can he know? Can he know if he is just? Can he know if the charges are of great worth? Are there signs?” David’s final words were anxious.

“Are you looking for some list let down from heaven, David? Even if there were such a list, even if there were a way to know, wicked men would arrange their kingdoms to fit the list! And if such a list existed and a good man filled it to perfection, there would be rebels claiming he had not fulfilled one qualification listed therein. You underestimate the human heart, David.”

“Then how shall the people know?”

“They cannot know.”

“You mean that in the midst of a hundred voices making a thousand claims, the simple people of God have no assurance of who is truly anointed to bear God’s authority and who is not?”

“They can never be certain.”

“Who, then, can know?”

“God always knows—but he does not tell.”

“Is there no hope, then, for those who must follow unworthy men?”

“Their grandchildren will be able to see the matter clearly.
They
will know. But those caught up in the drama? They can never be certain. Nonetheless, a good thing will come from it all.”

“What is that?”

“As surely as the sun rises, people’s hearts will be tested. Despite the many claims—and counterclaims—the hidden motives within the hearts of all who are involved will be revealed. This might not seem important in the eyes of men, but in the eyes of God such things are central. The motives of the heart will eventually be revealed. God will see to it.”

“I despise such tests,” replied David wearily. “I hate such nights as this one. Yet God seems to send many, many things into my life to test this heart of mine. Once more, this night, I find my heart on trial.

“Zadok, there is something that bothers me above all else. Perhaps God
is
finished with me. Is there not some way for me to know?”

“I know of no other ruler in all history who would even ask the question, Good King. Most other men would have ripped their opponent—or even their imagined opponent—to shreds by now. But to answer your questions, I know of no way for you to be certain that God is—or is not—finished with you.”

David sighed and choked back a sob. “Then continue with the story. Korah had 252 followers, did he? What happened next?”

“Korah approached Moses and Aaron with his followers. He informed Moses that he had no right to all the authority he exercised.”

“Well, we Hebrews are consistent, aren’t we?” laughed David.

“No, the heart of man is consistent, David,” replied Zadok.

“Tell me, what was Moses’ response to Korah?”

“At the age of forty, Moses had been an arrogant, self-willed man, not unlike Korah. What he might have done at forty, I cannot say. At eighty, he was a broken man. He was . . .”

“The meekest man who ever lived,” interrupted David.

“The man who carries the rod of God’s authority should be. Otherwise God’s people will live in terror. Yes, a broken man faced Korah. And I believe you already know what Moses did, David. He did . . . nothing.”

“Nothing. Ah, what a man.”

“He fell on his face before God. That is all he did.”

“Why did he do that, Zadok?”

“David, you of all men must know. Moses knew that God alone had put him in charge of Israel. There was nothing that needed to be done. Korah and his 252 followers would seize the kingdom—or God would vindicate Moses. Moses knew that.”

“Men would find it hard to imitate such a life, would they not? An imposter surely could not fake such surrender, could he? But tell me, how did God vindicate Moses?”

“Moses told the men to return the next day with censers and incense . . . and God would decide the issue.”

“So!” cried David. “So!” he exclaimed again even louder. “Sometimes God
does
tell,” he said excitedly. “Please continue.”

“Korah and two of his friends were swallowed by the earth. The other 250 died by . . .”

“Never mind,” said David. “Suffice it to say that Moses was proven to be in authority . . . by God! God
did
tell! The people knew who really had authority from God, and at last Moses had rest.”

“No, David. He did not find rest, and the people were not satisfied with God’s answer! The very next day the whole congregation murmured against Moses, and they would all have died except for the prayers of Moses.”

“And men fight to become kings!” David shook his head in perplexity.

Zadok paused, then continued: “David, I perceive that you are torn by the question of what is true authority and what is not. You want to know what to do with a rebellion, if indeed it is a rebellion and not the hand of God. I trust you will find the only pure thing to do—and do it. And thereby you will teach us all.”

The door opened, and Abishai rushed in. “Good King! Your son, your own flesh and blood, has proclaimed himself
king
in Hebron. At first impression, it seems all Israel has gone over to him. He plans to take the throne. He marches toward Jerusalem. Some of the men closest to you have gone over to him.”

David walked away. He spoke quietly to himself. “Israel’s third king? Do true leaders of the kingdom of God gain authority in this way?”