Well, if you didn’t like the
question
found in the last chapter, you won’t like the
answer
found in this one.
The answer is “You get stabbed to death.”
“But what is the good in being speared?”
You have your eyes on the wrong King Saul. As long as you look at your king, you will blame him, and him alone, for your present hell. But be careful, for God has
his
eyes fastened sharply on another King Saul. Not the visible one standing up there throwing spears at you. No, God is looking at
another
King Saul. One just as bad—or worse.
God is looking at the King Saul in
you
.
“In
me
?!”
Saul is in your bloodstream, in the marrow of your bones. He makes up the very flesh and muscle of your heart. He is mixed into your soul. He inhabits the nuclei of your atoms.
King Saul is one with you.
You are King Saul!
He breathes in the lungs and beats in the breast of all of us. There is only one way to get rid of him. He must be annihilated.
You may not find this to be a compliment, but at least now you know why God put you under someone who just might be King Saul.
David the sheepherder would have grown up to become King Saul II, except that God cut away the Saul inside David’s heart. That operation, by the way, took years and was a brutalizing experience that almost killed the patient.
And what were the scalpel and tongs God used to remove this inner Saul? God used the outer Saul.
King Saul sought to destroy David, but his only success was that he became the instrument of God to put to death the Saul who roamed about in the caverns of David’s own soul. Yes, David was virtually destroyed in the process, but this had to be. Otherwise the Saul in him would have survived.
David accepted this fate. He embraced the cruel circumstances. He lifted no hand nor offered resistance. Nor did he grandstand his piety. Silently, privately, he bore the crucible of humiliation. Because of this he was deeply wounded. His whole inner being was mutilated. His personality was altered. When the gore was over, David was barely recognizable.
You weren’t satisfied with the question in the last chapter? Then you probably didn’t like the answer in this one.
None of us do.
Except God.
Chapter 10
How does a person know when it is finally time to leave the Lord’s anointed—especially if the Lord’s anointed is after the order of King Saul?
David never made that decision. The Lord’s anointed made it for him. The king’s own decree settled the matter!
“Hunt him down; kill him like a dog.”
Only then did David leave. No, he fled. Even then, he never spoke a word or lifted a hand against Saul. And please note this: David did not split the kingdom when he made his departure. He did not take part of the population with him. He left
alone
.
Alone.
All
alone. King Saul II never does that. He always takes those who “insist on coming along.”
Yes, people do insist on going with you, don’t they? They are willing to help you found the kingdom of King Saul II.
Such men
never
dare leave alone.
But David left alone. You see, the Lord’s true anointed can leave alone.
There’s only
one
way to leave a kingdom:
Alone.
All alone.
Chapter 11
Caves are not the ideal place for morale building. There is a certain sameness to them all, no matter how many you have lived in. Dark. Wet. Cold. Stale. A cave becomes even worse when you are its sole inhabitant . . . and in the distance you can hear the dogs baying.
But sometimes, when the dogs and hunters were not near, the hunted sang. He started low, then lifted his voice and sang the song the little lamb had taught him. The cavern walls echoed each note just as the mountains had once done. The music rolled down into deep cavern darkness that soon became an echoing choir singing back to him.
He had less now than when he was a shepherd, for now he had no lyre, no sun, not even the company of sheep. The memories of the court had faded. David’s greatest ambition now reached no higher than a shepherd’s staff.
Everything
was being crushed out of him.
He sang a great deal.
And matched each note with a tear.
How strange, is it not, what suffering begets?
There in those caves, drowned in the sorrow of his song and in the song of his sorrow, David became the greatest hymn writer and the greatest comforter of broken hearts this world shall ever know.
Chapter 12
He ran—through soggy fields and down slimy riverbeds. Sometimes the dogs came close; sometimes they even
found
him. But swift feet, rivers, and watery pits hid him. He took his food from the fields, dug roots from the roadside, slept in trees, hid in ditches, crawled through briars and mud. For days he ran—not daring to stop or eat. He drank the rain. Half naked, all filthy, on he walked, stumbled, crawled, and clawed.
Caves were castles now. Pits were home.
In times past, mothers had always told their children that if they did not behave they would end up like the town drunk. No longer. They had a better, more frightening story. “Be good, or you’ll end up like the giant killer.”
In Jerusalem, when teachers taught students to be submissive to the king and to honor the Lord’s anointed, David was the parable. “See, this is what God does to rebellious men.” The young listeners shuddered at the thought and somberly resolved never to have anything to do with rebellion.
So it was then, so it is now, and so it shall ever be.
Much later, David would reach a foreign land and a small—very small—measure of safety. Here, too, he was feared, hated, lied about, and plotted against. He shook hands with murder on several occasions.
These were David’s darkest hours. We know them as his pre-king days, but he didn’t. He may have assumed this was his lot forever.
Suffering was giving birth. Humility was being born.
By earthly measures he was a shattered man; by heaven’s measure, a broken one.
Chapter 13
Others had to flee as the king’s madness grew. First one, then three, then ten, and eventually hundreds. After long searching, some of these fugitives made contact with David. They had not seen him for a long time.
The truth was that when they did see him, they didn’t recognize him. He had changed. His personality, his disposition, his total being had been altered. He talked less. He loved God more. He sang differently. They had never heard these songs before. Some were lovely beyond words, but some could freeze the blood in your veins.
Those who found him and decided to be his fellow fugitives were a sorry, worthless lot: thieves, liars, complainers, fault-finders, rebellious men with rebellious hearts. They were blind with hate for the king and, therefore, for all authority figures. They would have been troublemakers in paradise, if ever they could have gotten in.
David did not lead them. He did not share their attitudes. Yet, unsolicited, they began to follow him.
He never spoke to them of authority. He never spoke of submission. But every one of them submitted. He laid down no rules.
Legalism
is not a word found in the vocabulary of fugitives. Nonetheless, they cleaned up their outward lives. Gradually, their inward lives began to change, too.
They didn’t fear submission or authority. They didn’t even think about the topic, much less discuss it. Then why did they follow him? They didn’t, exactly. It was just that he was . . . well . . . David. That didn’t need explanation.
And so, for the first time, true kingship had its nativity.
Chapter 14
“Why, David, why?”
The place was another nameless cave.
The men stirred about restlessly. Gradually, and very uneasily, they began to settle in. All were as confused as Joab, who had finally voiced their questions.
Joab wanted some answers. Now!
David should have seemed embarrassed or at least defensive. He was neither. He was looking past Joab like a man viewing another realm that only he could see.
Joab walked directly in front of David, looked down on him, and began roaring his frustrations.
“Many times he almost speared you to death in his palace. I saw that with my own eyes. Finally, you ran away. Now for years you have been nothing but a rabbit for him to chase. Furthermore, the whole world believes the lies he tells about you. He has come—the king himself—hunting every cave, pit, and hole on earth to find you and kill you like a dog. But tonight
you
had
him
at the end of his own spear and you did nothing!
“Look at us. We’re animals again. Less than an hour ago you could have freed us all. Yes, we could all be free, right now! Free! And Israel, too. She would be free. Why, David? Why did you not end these years of misery?”
There was a long silence. Men shifted again, uneasily. They were not accustomed to seeing David rebuked.
“Because,” said David very slowly (and with a gentleness that seemed to say, I heard what you asked, but not the way you asked it), “because once, long ago, he was not mad. He was young. He was great. Great in the eyes of God and men. And it was God who made him king—God—not men.”
Joab blazed back, “But now he is
mad
! And God is no longer with him. And David, he will yet kill you!”
This time it was David’s answer that blazed with fire.
“Better he kill me than I learn his ways. Better he kill me than I become as he is. I shall not practice the ways that cause kings to go mad. I will not throw spears, nor will I allow hatred to grow in my heart. I will not avenge. I will not destroy the Lord’s anointed. Not now. Not ever!”
Joab could not handle such a senseless answer. He stormed out into the dark.
That night men went to bed on cold, wet stone and muttered about their leader’s distorted, masochistic views of relationships to kings—especially mad ones.
Angels went to bed that night, too, and dreamed, in the afterglow of that rare, rare day, that God might yet be able to give his authority to a trustworthy vessel.
Chapter 15
What kind of man was Saul? Who was this one who made himself David’s enemy? Anointed of God. Deliverer of Israel. And yet remembered mostly for his madness.
Forget the bad press. Forget the stinging reviews. Forget his reputation. Look at the facts. Saul was one of the greatest figures of human history. He was a farm boy, a country kid who made good. He was tall, good-looking, and well-liked.
He was baptized into the Spirit of God.
He also came from a good family. In his lineage were some of the greatest historical figures of all humanity. Abraham, Jacob, Moses—these were his ancestors.
Do you remember the background? Abraham had founded a nation. Moses had set that nation free from slavery. Joshua gave those people a toehold in the land that God had promised them. The judges kept the whole thing from disintegrating into total chaos. That’s when Saul came along. It was Saul who took these people and welded them into a united kingdom.
Saul united a people and founded a kingdom. Few men have ever done that. He created an army out of thin air. He won battles in the power of God, defeated the enemy again and again, as few men have ever done. Remember that, and remember that this man was immersed in the Spirit. Furthermore, he was a prophet. The Spirit came on him in power and authority. He did and said unprecedented things, and it was all by the power of the Spirit resting on him.
He was everything people today are seeking to be . . . empowered with the Holy Spirit . . . able to do the impossible . . . for God. A leader, chosen by God with power from God.
Saul was given authority that is God’s alone. He was God’s anointed, and God treated him that way.
He was also eaten with jealousy, filled with self-importance, and willing to live in spiritual darkness.
Is there a moral in these contradictions? Yes, and it will splinter a lot of your concepts about power, about great men and women under God’s anointing, and about God himself.
Many pray for the power of God. More every year. Those prayers sound powerful, sincere, godly, and without ulterior motive. Hidden under such prayer and fervor, however, are ambition, a craving for fame, the desire to be considered a spiritual giant. The person who prays such a prayer may not even know it, but dark motives and desires are in his heart . . . in
your
heart.
Even as people pray these prayers, they are hollow inside. There is little internal spiritual growth. Prayer for power is the quick and the short way, circumnavigating internal growth.
There is a vast difference between the outward clothing of the Spirit’s power and the inward filling of the Spirit’s life. In the first, despite the power, the hidden man of the heart may remain unchanged. In the latter, that monster is dealt with.
Interesting about God. He hears all those requests for power, which fervent young men and women pray (in every generation), and he answers them! Very often he grants these requests for power, for authority. Sometimes, in answering them, he says yes to some very unworthy vessels.
He gives unworthy people his power? Even though they are a pile of dead men’s bones inside?
Why does God do such a thing? The answer is both simple and shocking. He sometimes gives unworthy vessels a greater portion of power so that others will eventually see the
true
state of internal nakedness within that individual.
So think again when you hear the power merchant. Remember, God sometimes gives power to people for unseen reasons. A person can be living in the grossest of sin, and the outer gift will still be working perfectly. The gifts of God, once given, cannot be recalled. Even in the presence of sin. Furthermore, some people, living just such lives,
are
the Lord’s anointed . . . in the Lord’s eyes. Saul was living proof of this fact.