This morning, I’m fascinated by a brief passage from 2 Samuel 20 that I’ve never paid much attention to before. It’s verses 23-26, a section headed “David’s Officials” in my Bible, and here’s how it reads: 2 Samuel 20:23-26: “Joab was over Israel’s entire army; Benaiah son of Jehoiada was over the Kerethites and Pelethites; Adoniram was in charge of forced labor; Jehoshaphat son of Ahilud was recorder; Sheva was secretary; Zadok and Abiathar were priests; and Ira the Jairite was David’s priest.”
For starters, I was a little surprised at what wasn’t there. Who oversaw tax collection and revenue? Who handled relations with other nations? David, it appears, was his own State Department and Justice Department, among other things.
I was also struck that the two high priests and David’s personal priest were accorded the same respect as the head of his army, his recorder and his secretary – those three were the only ones that seemed relatively normal to me.
But the two who really surprised me were Benaiah, who led a group believed by many scholars to be elite mercenaries used as the palace guard and to protect the king in battle, and Adoniram, who was in charge of forced labor. Why was the king’s guard separate from his army, and overseen by a different official? Maybe David had learned the cynical truth that a mercenary’s love of money brought more loyalty that nationalism or political passion – after all, look how easily Absalom stole the hearts of his people. And why was this king after God’s own heart doing his civic building projects with slave labor? You’d think that would be one way that the David would be culturally different from other nations.
I guess, as only the second king God’s people had ever had, David was still inventing government. Probably these were the areas that demanded so much time that David just couldn’t see to them. Or maybe there was so much drudgery involved that he didn’t want to. All in all, though, it suggests some kind of dysfunctional things about society under David.
In the end, it makes me think of the shortcomings of my own government, and I’m reminded what a precious gift it is to have Jesus as my true king. He’s the only ruler who never abuses his people, who instead sacrifices himself for their good. No American president has done that completely, and even David couldn’t.
Tuesday, July 11, 2017
Monday, July 10, 2017
monument
I think all of us, to varying degrees, wants to be remembered after we’re gone. We want our lives to mean something to someone, enough that years later people still say, “Remember her? She . . . .”
David’s son Absalom wanted that. This what I read this morning, in a passage that described the death of Absalom: “During his lifetime Absalom had taken a pillar and erected it in the King’s Valley as a monument to himself, for he thought, “I have no son to carry on the memory of my name.” He named the pillar after himself, and it is called Absalom’s Monument to this day.” (2 Samuel 18:18)
It’s really kind of a sad way to try to preserve your legacy. The idea of a monument is to make people look and wonder, “What did this person do to deserve this?” For example, on a recent vacation to Kansas City there was a park dedicated to a woman; I googled her to find out that she had been a long-time civic leader, especially active in developing the parks system, so a grateful city named a park after her when she retired. The only accurate answer to those who asked about Absalom’s Monument would have been something like, “He didn’t have kids and was afraid no one would remember him, so he paid for his own monument.”
Absalom teaches me a different lesson, though: people remember you primarily for your actions. Absalom’s name has indeed been remembered, carried down through the centuries by God’s dictation so that anyone who reads the Bible knows who he was. But we all know the truth of Absalom’s self-absorbed ambition that led him to manipulate everyone around him and attempt to kill his father.
Around my town, there are people who know me as Pete’s son, or Dawn’s husband, or Amber or Brandon’s dad. Or now (even better) as someone’s grandpa. More, though, know me as that guy who put in 25 years with the Army Guard and is Operations Manager at Vogel’s. And a few remember what I did on a handful of occasions when the stuff hit the fan and things could have gotten really bad. But of all those things, what will people remember 50 years from now?
There are people who still remember my grandpas and grandmas, and Dawn’s too, as hardworking Godly people who made a difference at church and in community. There are local heroes who played pro football or started large businesses. What will I be remembered for?
It strikes me that the very best legacy of all would be some souls won for Jesus, or strengthened for service, people who because of me clung to the hope of the cross and changed their families and neighborhoods because of it. Have I done that? It’s hard to know, but I’ve tried, and am trying. If there’s ever a Greg’s Monument, I want it to be some Christ-following kid in a four-generation home of faith, whose great-grandma heard or saw something from me that helped her see Jesus.
David’s son Absalom wanted that. This what I read this morning, in a passage that described the death of Absalom: “During his lifetime Absalom had taken a pillar and erected it in the King’s Valley as a monument to himself, for he thought, “I have no son to carry on the memory of my name.” He named the pillar after himself, and it is called Absalom’s Monument to this day.” (2 Samuel 18:18)
It’s really kind of a sad way to try to preserve your legacy. The idea of a monument is to make people look and wonder, “What did this person do to deserve this?” For example, on a recent vacation to Kansas City there was a park dedicated to a woman; I googled her to find out that she had been a long-time civic leader, especially active in developing the parks system, so a grateful city named a park after her when she retired. The only accurate answer to those who asked about Absalom’s Monument would have been something like, “He didn’t have kids and was afraid no one would remember him, so he paid for his own monument.”
Absalom teaches me a different lesson, though: people remember you primarily for your actions. Absalom’s name has indeed been remembered, carried down through the centuries by God’s dictation so that anyone who reads the Bible knows who he was. But we all know the truth of Absalom’s self-absorbed ambition that led him to manipulate everyone around him and attempt to kill his father.
Around my town, there are people who know me as Pete’s son, or Dawn’s husband, or Amber or Brandon’s dad. Or now (even better) as someone’s grandpa. More, though, know me as that guy who put in 25 years with the Army Guard and is Operations Manager at Vogel’s. And a few remember what I did on a handful of occasions when the stuff hit the fan and things could have gotten really bad. But of all those things, what will people remember 50 years from now?
There are people who still remember my grandpas and grandmas, and Dawn’s too, as hardworking Godly people who made a difference at church and in community. There are local heroes who played pro football or started large businesses. What will I be remembered for?
It strikes me that the very best legacy of all would be some souls won for Jesus, or strengthened for service, people who because of me clung to the hope of the cross and changed their families and neighborhoods because of it. Have I done that? It’s hard to know, but I’ve tried, and am trying. If there’s ever a Greg’s Monument, I want it to be some Christ-following kid in a four-generation home of faith, whose great-grandma heard or saw something from me that helped her see Jesus.
Friday, July 7, 2017
charisma
I’ve often wondered how people are drawn in by cult leaders. These men and women somehow get dozens or even hundreds of followers to submit to their will, give up everything, and do almost anything.
I had an inkling of how that works this morning as I continued reading the saga of Absalom. I was struck by this passage, from 2 Samuel 15:1-6:
“In the course of time, Absalom provided himself with a chariot and horses and with fifty men to run ahead of him. He would get up early and stand by the side of the road leading to the city gate. Whenever anyone came with a complaint to be placed before the king for a decision, Absalom would call out to him, ‘What town are you from?’ He would answer, ‘Your servant is from one of the tribes of Israel.’ Then Absalom would say to him, ‘Look, your claims are valid and proper, but there is no representative of the king to hear you.’ And Absalom would add, ‘If only I were appointed judge in the land! Then everyone who has a complaint or case could come to me and I would see that they receive justice.’
Also, whenever anyone approached him to bow down before him, Absalom would reach out his hand, take hold of him and kiss him. Absalom behaved in this way toward all the Israelites who came to the king asking for justice, and so he stole the hearts of the people of Israel.”
Absalom didn’t care about the people, but in the way of those charismatic cult leaders he made them think he did. He played to their vanity and their personal desires and they gave him their loyalty. In the end it was enough to run King David out of the royal city.
Personality cults abound, and they are dangerous. We can become so devoted to our pastor or a blogger we like or someone famous like John Piper that we start using their words as our gospel. We can be beguiled by people who say things we wish to be true, enough so that we swallow what they say without examining it critically.
The Bible tells us to be discerning about who we believe and what we listen to. Ultimately, words from anyone other than God himself are tainted in some measure by misguided thinking and self-interest.
I had an inkling of how that works this morning as I continued reading the saga of Absalom. I was struck by this passage, from 2 Samuel 15:1-6:
“In the course of time, Absalom provided himself with a chariot and horses and with fifty men to run ahead of him. He would get up early and stand by the side of the road leading to the city gate. Whenever anyone came with a complaint to be placed before the king for a decision, Absalom would call out to him, ‘What town are you from?’ He would answer, ‘Your servant is from one of the tribes of Israel.’ Then Absalom would say to him, ‘Look, your claims are valid and proper, but there is no representative of the king to hear you.’ And Absalom would add, ‘If only I were appointed judge in the land! Then everyone who has a complaint or case could come to me and I would see that they receive justice.’
Also, whenever anyone approached him to bow down before him, Absalom would reach out his hand, take hold of him and kiss him. Absalom behaved in this way toward all the Israelites who came to the king asking for justice, and so he stole the hearts of the people of Israel.”
Absalom didn’t care about the people, but in the way of those charismatic cult leaders he made them think he did. He played to their vanity and their personal desires and they gave him their loyalty. In the end it was enough to run King David out of the royal city.
Personality cults abound, and they are dangerous. We can become so devoted to our pastor or a blogger we like or someone famous like John Piper that we start using their words as our gospel. We can be beguiled by people who say things we wish to be true, enough so that we swallow what they say without examining it critically.
The Bible tells us to be discerning about who we believe and what we listen to. Ultimately, words from anyone other than God himself are tainted in some measure by misguided thinking and self-interest.
Thursday, July 6, 2017
prodigal
Every family is normal, until you get to know them. I often think of this saying when I read of King David’s family. This is the family Jesus would come from, the royal family, but it’s full of plotting, dastardly deeds, and weird people.
This morning I read of the rape and murder and the exile and then return of Absalom. Even though he was allowed back home, Absalom was kept away from the palace and the king until he burned Joab’s field to get his attention, and then pled his case. And then this, from 2 Samuel 14:33: “So Joab went to the king and told him this. Then the king summoned Absalom, and he came in and bowed down with his face to the ground before the king. And the king kissed Absalom.”
There are echoes here for me of the parable of the prodigal son, except this maybe is a dark, twisted version. In the parable, the greedy son repents, the loving father welcomes him home, and the faithful older brother struggles with this act of grace. In the real-life story of Absalom, the son never really repents and its the father struggles with the tension between grace and justice.
Even more key, in Absalom’s story no one turns to the only one who can truly show grace, which is God. David could forgive an offense against him, but he couldn’t forgive the sins committed by Absalom. And Absalom, unforgiven in this sense and, even worse, not seeing a need for forgiveness, will go on to contest for David’s throne.
That’s the warning here for me – the way men and women strive and compete and do each other wrong and never see it as wrong. It’s easy to miss my own need to be forgiven. We’re all prodigals, but we see the homecoming welcome as our right, because we can explain. We had good reasons! Like Absalom, we can mask our own ambition behind an act of serving others, and excuse ourselves a lot of corner-cutting as we do so.
My prayer this morning is to see my need for forgiveness and grace, to see my misbehavior as the sin it is.
This morning I read of the rape and murder and the exile and then return of Absalom. Even though he was allowed back home, Absalom was kept away from the palace and the king until he burned Joab’s field to get his attention, and then pled his case. And then this, from 2 Samuel 14:33: “So Joab went to the king and told him this. Then the king summoned Absalom, and he came in and bowed down with his face to the ground before the king. And the king kissed Absalom.”
There are echoes here for me of the parable of the prodigal son, except this maybe is a dark, twisted version. In the parable, the greedy son repents, the loving father welcomes him home, and the faithful older brother struggles with this act of grace. In the real-life story of Absalom, the son never really repents and its the father struggles with the tension between grace and justice.
Even more key, in Absalom’s story no one turns to the only one who can truly show grace, which is God. David could forgive an offense against him, but he couldn’t forgive the sins committed by Absalom. And Absalom, unforgiven in this sense and, even worse, not seeing a need for forgiveness, will go on to contest for David’s throne.
That’s the warning here for me – the way men and women strive and compete and do each other wrong and never see it as wrong. It’s easy to miss my own need to be forgiven. We’re all prodigals, but we see the homecoming welcome as our right, because we can explain. We had good reasons! Like Absalom, we can mask our own ambition behind an act of serving others, and excuse ourselves a lot of corner-cutting as we do so.
My prayer this morning is to see my need for forgiveness and grace, to see my misbehavior as the sin it is.
Wednesday, July 5, 2017
expectations
I remember some of the best advice for life I ever got. It came from my recruiter, who summarized the way to get by and even get ahead in the military this way: “Just be where you’re supposed to be, doing what you’re supposed to be doing.”
Seems simple, but I’ve repeated those words to myself often. It’s amazing how many times the I’ve gotten into trouble and then realized I’d violated one or both halves of what my recruiter told me.
David proves my point. 2 Samuel 11 starts this way: “In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war, David sent Joab out with the king’s men and the whole Israelite army. They destroyed the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah. But David remained in Jerusalem.”
David remained in Israel, and because he wasn’t where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to be doing, he was instead in a position to notice Bathsheba and to do something about it. That led, of course, to him plotting murder, and eventually to the death of the son he and Bathsheba would have.
Fact is, the expectations God and society have of us tell us what good citizenship and good discipleship look like. We may think of those expectations as restrictive and rebel against them – we tend to admire rule-breakers and those who walk that fine line – but the fact is, if we’re where we’re supposed to be, doing what we should be doing, life usually goes pretty well.
I think God makes it pretty easy to know what the right thing is. Satan gives us all kinds of reasons not to want to do it. That conflict can define my life, if I let it. Or I can choose to follow my recruiter’s advice, which strangely enough seems to coincide with God’s will. I haven’t gotten in trouble doing that yet.
Seems simple, but I’ve repeated those words to myself often. It’s amazing how many times the I’ve gotten into trouble and then realized I’d violated one or both halves of what my recruiter told me.
David proves my point. 2 Samuel 11 starts this way: “In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war, David sent Joab out with the king’s men and the whole Israelite army. They destroyed the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah. But David remained in Jerusalem.”
David remained in Israel, and because he wasn’t where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to be doing, he was instead in a position to notice Bathsheba and to do something about it. That led, of course, to him plotting murder, and eventually to the death of the son he and Bathsheba would have.
Fact is, the expectations God and society have of us tell us what good citizenship and good discipleship look like. We may think of those expectations as restrictive and rebel against them – we tend to admire rule-breakers and those who walk that fine line – but the fact is, if we’re where we’re supposed to be, doing what we should be doing, life usually goes pretty well.
I think God makes it pretty easy to know what the right thing is. Satan gives us all kinds of reasons not to want to do it. That conflict can define my life, if I let it. Or I can choose to follow my recruiter’s advice, which strangely enough seems to coincide with God’s will. I haven’t gotten in trouble doing that yet.
Tuesday, July 4, 2017
kindess
Today is the day we celebrate our most patriotic holiday.Yesterday was last day of our family vacation. After leaving the beautiful house we stayed in, we spent some time at the WWI museum before heading home. It was a fitting way to prepare for the July Fourth holiday, reminding myself of the cost of nationhood.
When I’m at museums like that, I always look for those instances of compassion and kindness, because to me they are a glimpse of God’s image pushing through all that is negative about war. In WWI, I know of the case where both sides joined together to sing Silent Night at Christmas. I know of a time when both sides came out of their trenches to play soccer. In both cases they offered treats and cigarettes, and show pictures of their families. Kindness, completely out of context.
I’m thinking about kindness this morning because I read the story of David befriending Mephibosheth. That story starts this way, in 2 Samuel 9:1: “David asked, ‘Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness for Jonathan’s sake?’”
Kindness for Jonathan’s sake. Kindness to an unloveable man because of his gratitude to his best friend. It made me wonder who I might be that thankful to, who I might care about that much. Who has been that good to me?
The answer, obviously, is Jesus. So I find myself challenged this morning to show kindness to those unpleasant people who deserve it only because they are image-bearers of God, creations of the one I owe so much. Which, I guess, is the only reason I deserve kindness either.
German and British and American young men found it in their hearts to share smokes and candy bars with people they should have hated. David gave generously to one of the family who had would continue to plot against him. Surely, then, I can find a way to show God’s love to anyone I encounter.
When I’m at museums like that, I always look for those instances of compassion and kindness, because to me they are a glimpse of God’s image pushing through all that is negative about war. In WWI, I know of the case where both sides joined together to sing Silent Night at Christmas. I know of a time when both sides came out of their trenches to play soccer. In both cases they offered treats and cigarettes, and show pictures of their families. Kindness, completely out of context.
I’m thinking about kindness this morning because I read the story of David befriending Mephibosheth. That story starts this way, in 2 Samuel 9:1: “David asked, ‘Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness for Jonathan’s sake?’”
Kindness for Jonathan’s sake. Kindness to an unloveable man because of his gratitude to his best friend. It made me wonder who I might be that thankful to, who I might care about that much. Who has been that good to me?
The answer, obviously, is Jesus. So I find myself challenged this morning to show kindness to those unpleasant people who deserve it only because they are image-bearers of God, creations of the one I owe so much. Which, I guess, is the only reason I deserve kindness either.
German and British and American young men found it in their hearts to share smokes and candy bars with people they should have hated. David gave generously to one of the family who had would continue to plot against him. Surely, then, I can find a way to show God’s love to anyone I encounter.
Monday, July 3, 2017
grateful
Sometimes, when my heart and head are both in the right place, I can really feel David’s prayer in 2 Samuel 7.
This was a time when David wanted to build a temple for God, but Nathan the prophet returns with word from the Lord that this task was not for David. However, David’s family, intended for a key role in God’s redemptive plan, would see the job done. And David prayed.
2 Samuel 7:18-19: “Then King David went in and sat before the Lord, and he said:
‘Who am I, Sovereign Lord, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far? And as if this were not enough in your sight, Sovereign Lord, you have also spoken about the future of the house of your servant—and this decree, Sovereign Lord, is for a mere human!’”
I often feel that way. Who am I, that God would covenant with me? Who am I to be one of the elect? What do I have that God can possibly need or want? What do I offer that thousands of others couldn’t do better?
There’s nothing that makes me preferable to God over the drug dealers and despots and other depraved people that he leaves to his judgment. There’s nothing that makes me a better choice than the dads and moms and mechanics and doctors and all the other normal people who live their lives without God. But he draws me to himself, so that I can know what love truly is. He rains his providence on me, so that I can feel the amazing security of an existence controlled and directed by him. He opens my eyes to the hurting and needy and helps me feel his great compassion for them, so that I can live an exciting, purposeful life serving his kingdom. All my good emotions of gratitude and safety and joy and wonder come from this incomprehensible relationship that he initiated, that he desires to have with me.
Who am I indeed? And, like David, he has a promise and a plan for the future of me and my God-fearing family, rooms in a mansion and eternity spent with him. The greatest reason for gratitude of them all! All, in David’s words, for a mere human.
God is so good to me, for reasons I don’t understand. I also don’t understand, in the light of this great truth, why I live so many days in the gloom of my own doubts and misdirected longings? Great is his faithfulness to me!
This was a time when David wanted to build a temple for God, but Nathan the prophet returns with word from the Lord that this task was not for David. However, David’s family, intended for a key role in God’s redemptive plan, would see the job done. And David prayed.
2 Samuel 7:18-19: “Then King David went in and sat before the Lord, and he said:
‘Who am I, Sovereign Lord, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far? And as if this were not enough in your sight, Sovereign Lord, you have also spoken about the future of the house of your servant—and this decree, Sovereign Lord, is for a mere human!’”
I often feel that way. Who am I, that God would covenant with me? Who am I to be one of the elect? What do I have that God can possibly need or want? What do I offer that thousands of others couldn’t do better?
There’s nothing that makes me preferable to God over the drug dealers and despots and other depraved people that he leaves to his judgment. There’s nothing that makes me a better choice than the dads and moms and mechanics and doctors and all the other normal people who live their lives without God. But he draws me to himself, so that I can know what love truly is. He rains his providence on me, so that I can feel the amazing security of an existence controlled and directed by him. He opens my eyes to the hurting and needy and helps me feel his great compassion for them, so that I can live an exciting, purposeful life serving his kingdom. All my good emotions of gratitude and safety and joy and wonder come from this incomprehensible relationship that he initiated, that he desires to have with me.
Who am I indeed? And, like David, he has a promise and a plan for the future of me and my God-fearing family, rooms in a mansion and eternity spent with him. The greatest reason for gratitude of them all! All, in David’s words, for a mere human.
God is so good to me, for reasons I don’t understand. I also don’t understand, in the light of this great truth, why I live so many days in the gloom of my own doubts and misdirected longings? Great is his faithfulness to me!
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