_DAVID AT NOB AND AT GATH._
1 SAMUEL xxi.
We enter here on a somewhat painful part of David's history. He is not
living so near to God as before, and in consequence his course becomes
more carnal and more crooked. We saw in our last chapter the element of
distrust rising up somewhat ominously in that solemn adjuration to
Jonathan, "Truly as the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, there is
but a step between me and death." These words, it is true, gave
expression to an undoubted and in a sense universal truth, a truth which
all of us should at all times ponder, but which David had special cause
to feel, under the circumstances in which he was placed. It was not the
fact of his giving solemn expression to this truth that indicated
distrust on the part of David, but the fact that he did not set over
against it another truth which was just as real,--that God had chosen
him for His service, and would not allow him to perish at the hand of
Saul. When a good man sees himself exposed to a terrible danger which he
has no means of averting, it is no wonder if the contemplation of that
danger gives rise for the moment to fear. But it is his privilege to
enjoy promises of protection and blessing at the hand of the unseen God,
and if his faith in these promises be active, it will not only
neutralize the fear, but raise him high above it. Now, the defect in
David's state of mind was, that while he fully realized the danger, he
did not by faith lay hold of that which was fitted to neutralize it. It
was Jonathan rather than David who by faith realized at this time
David's grounds of security. All through Jonathan's remarks in chapter
xx. you see him thinking of God as David's Protector,--thinking of the
great purposes which God meant to accomplish by him, and which were a
pledge that He would preserve him now,--thinking of David as a coming
man of unprecedented power and influence, whose word would determine
other men's destinies, and dispose of their fortunes. David seems to
have been greatly indebted to Jonathan for sustaining his faith while he
was with him; for after he parted from Jonathan, his faith fell very
low. Time after time, he follows that policy of deceit which he had
instructed Jonathan to pursue in explaining his absence from the feast
in Saul's house. It is painful in the last degree to see one whose faith
towered to such a lofty height in the encounter with Goliath, coming
down from that noble elevation, to find him resorting for
self-protection to the lies and artifices of an impostor.
We cannot excuse it, but we may account for it. David was wearied out by
Saul's restless and incessant persecution. We read in Daniel of a
certain persecutor that he should "wear out the saints of the Most
High," and it was the same sad experience from which David was now
suffering. It does not appear that he was gifted naturally with great
patience, or power of enduring. Rather we should suppose that one of
such nimble and lively temperament would soon tire of a strained and
uneasy attitude. It appears that Saul's persistency in injustice and
cruelty made David at last restless and impatient. All the more would he
have needed in such circumstances to resort to God, and seek from Him
the oil of grace to feed his patience, and bear him above the
infirmities of his nature. But this was just what he seems not to have
done. Carnal fear therefore grew apace, and faith fell into a state of
slumber. The eye of sense was active, looking out on the perils around
him; the eye of faith was dull, hardly able to decipher a single
promise. The eye of sense saw the vindictive scowl of Saul, the javelin
in his hand, and bands of soldiers sent out on every side to seize David
or slay him; the eye of faith did not see--what it might have seen--the
angel of the Lord encamping around him and delivering him. It was God's
purpose now to allow David to feel his own weakness; he was to pass
through that terrible ordeal when, tossed on a sea of trials, one feels
like Noah's dove, unable to find rest for the sole of one's foot, and
seems on the very eve of dropping helpless into the billows, till the
ark presents itself, and a gracious hand is put forth to the rescue.
Left to himself, tempted to make use of carnal expedients, and taught
the wretchedness of such expedients; learning also, through this
discipline, to anchor his soul more firmly on the promise of the living
God, David was now undergoing a most essential part of his early
training, gaining the experience that was to qualify him to say with
such earnestness to others, "O taste and see that the Lord is good:
blessed is the man that trusteth in Him."
On leaving Gibeah, David, accompanied with a few followers, bent his
steps to Nob, a city of the priests. The site of this city has not been
discovered; some think it stood on the north-eastern ridge of Mount
Olivet; this is uncertain, but it is evident that it was very close to
Jerusalem (see Isa. x. 32). Its distance from Gibeah would therefore be
but five or six miles, much too short for David to have had there any
great sense of safety. It appears to have become the seat of the sacred
services of the nation, some time after the destruction of Shiloh.
David's purpose in going there seems to have been simply to get a
shelter, perhaps for the Sabbath day, and to obtain supplies. Doeg,
indeed, charged Ahimelech, before Saul, with having inquired of the Lord
for David, but Ahimelech with some warmth denied the charge.[4] The
privilege of consulting the Urim and Thummim seems to have been confined
to the chief ruler of the nation; if with the sanction of the priest
David had done so now, he might have justly been charged with treason;
probably it was because he believed Doeg rather than Ahimelech, and
concluded that this royal privilege had been conceded by the priests to
David, that Saul was so enraged, and inflicted such dreadful retribution
on them. Afterwards, when Abiathar fled to David with the high priest's
ephod, through which the judgment of Urim and Thummim seems to have been
announced, David regarded that circumstance as an indication of the
Divine permission to him to make use of the sacred oracle.
But what shall we say of the untruth which David told Ahimelech, to
account for his coming there without armed attendants? "The king hath
commanded me a business, and hath said unto me, Let no man know
anything of the business whereabout I send thee, and what I have
commanded thee; and I have commanded my servants to such and such a
place." Here was a statement not only not true, but the very opposite of
the truth; spoken too to God's anointed high priest, and in the very
place consecrated to God's most solemn service; everything about the
speaker fitted to bring God to his mind, and to recall God's protection
of him in time past; yet the first thing he did on entering the sacred
place was to utter a falsehood, prompted by distrust, prompted by the
feeling that the pledged protection of the God of truth, before whose
shrine he now stood, was not sufficient. How plain the connection
between a deficient sense of God's truthfulness, and a deficient regard
to truth itself! What could have tempted David to act thus? According to
some, it was altogether an amiable and generous desire to keep Ahimelech
out of trouble, to screen him from the responsibility of helping a known
outlaw. But considering the gathering distrust of David's spirit at the
time, it seems more likely that he was startled at the fear which
Ahimelech expressed when he saw David coming alone, as if all were not
right between him and Saul, as if the truce that had been agreed on
after the affair of Naioth had now come to an end. Probably David felt
that if Ahimelech knew all, he would be still more afraid, and do
nothing to help him; moreover, the presence of Doeg the Edomite was
another cause of embarrassment, for Saul had once ordered all his
servants to kill David, and if the fierce Edomite were told that David
was now simply a fugitive, he might be willing enough to do the deed.
Anyhow, David now lent himself to the devices of the father of lies. And
so the brave spirit that had not quailed before Goliath, and that had
met the Philistines in so many terrific encounters, now quailed before a
phantom of its own devising, and shrank from what, at the moment, was
only an imaginary danger.
David succeeded in getting from Ahimelech what he wanted, but not
without difficulty. For when David asked for five loaves of bread, the
priest replied that he had no common bread, but only shewbread; he had
only the bread that had been taken that day from off the table on which
it stood before the Lord, and replaced by fresh bread, according to the
law. The priest was willing to give that bread to David, if he could
assure him that his attendants were not under defilement. It will be
remembered that our Lord adverted to this fact, as a justification of
His own disciples for plucking the ears of corn and eating them on the
Sabbath. The principle underlying both was, that when a ceremonial
obligation comes into collision with a moral duty, the lesser obligation
is to give place to the heavier. The keeping of the Sabbath free from
all work, and the appropriation of the shewbread to the use of the
priests alone, were but ceremonial obligations; the preservation of life
was a moral duty. It is sometimes a very difficult thing to determine
duty, when moral obligations appear to clash with each other, but there
was no difficulty in the collision of the moral and the ceremonial. Our
Lord would certainly not have sided with that body of zealots, in the
days of conflict between the Maccabees and the Syrians, who allowed
themselves to be cut in pieces by the enemy, rather than break the
Sabbath by fighting on that day.
David had another request to make of Ahimelech. "Is there not here under
thy hand spear or sword? for I have neither brought my sword nor my
weapons with me, because the king's business required haste." It was a
strange place to ask for military weapons. Surely the priests would not
need to defend themselves with these. Yet it happened that there was a
sword there which David knew well, and which he might reasonably
claim,--the sword of Goliath. "Give it me," said David; "there is none
like that." We read before, that David carried Goliath's head to
Jerusalem. Nob was evidently in the Jerusalem district, and as the sword
was there, there can be little doubt that it was at Nob the trophies had
been deposited.
So far, things had gone fairly well with David at Nob. But there was a
man there "detained before the Lord,"--prevented probably from
proceeding on his journey because it was the Sabbath day,--whose
presence gave no comfort to David, and was, indeed, an omen of evil.
Doeg, the Edomite, was the chief of the herdmen of Saul. Why Saul had
entrusted that office to a member of a nation that was notorious for its
bitter feelings towards Israel, we do not know; but the herdman seems to
have been like his master in his feelings towards David; he would
appear, indeed, to have joined the hereditary dislike of his nation to
the personal dislike of his master. Instinctively, as we learn
afterwards, David understood the feelings of Doeg. It would have been
well for him, when a shudder passed over him as he caught the scowling
countenance of the Edomite, had his own conscience been easier than it
was. It would have been well for him had he been ruled by that spirit of
trust which triumphed so gloriously the day he first got possession of
that sword. It would have been well for him had he been free from the
disturbing consciousness of having offended God by borrowing the devices
of the father of lies and bringing them into the sanctuary, to pollute
the air of the house of God. No wonder, though, David was restless
again! "And David arose, and fled that day for fear of Saul, and went to
Achish the king of Gath."
How different his state and prospects now from what they had been a
little time before! Then the world smiled on him; fame and honour,
wealth and glory, flowed in on him; God was his Father; conscience was
calm; he hardly knew the taste of misery. But how has his sky become
overcast! A homeless and helpless wanderer, with scarcely an attendant
or companion; in momentary fear of death; fain to beg a morsel of bread
where he could get it; a creature so banned and cursed that kindness to
him involved the risk of death; his heart bleeding for the loss of
Jonathan; his soul clouded by distrust of God; his conscience troubled
by the vague sense of unacknowledged sin! And yet he is destined to be
king of Israel, the very ideal of a good and prosperous monarch, and the
earthly type of the Son of God! Like a lost sheep, he has gone astray
for a time, but the Good Shepherd will leave the ninety-and-nine and go
among the mountains till He find him; and his experience will give a
wondrous depth to that favourite song of young and old of every age and
country, "_He restoreth my soul_: He leadeth me in the paths of
righteousness, for His name's sake."
And now we must follow him to Gath, the city of Goliath. Down the slope
of Mount Olivet, across the brook Kedron, and past the stronghold of
Zion, and probably through the very valley of Elah where he had fought
with the giant, David makes his way to Gath. It was surely a strange
place to fly to, a sign of the despair in which David found himself!
What reception could the conqueror of Goliath expect in his city? What
retribution was due to him for the hundred foreskins, and for the deeds
of victory which had inspired the Hebrew singers when they sang of the
tens of thousands whom David had slain?
It will hardly do to say that he reckoned on not being recognised. It is
more likely that he relied on a spirit not unknown among barbarous
princes towards warriors dishonoured at home, as when Themistocles took
refuge among the Persians, or Coriolanus among the Volscians. That he
took this step without much reflection on its ulterior bearings is well
nigh certain. For, granting that he should be favourably received, this
would be on the understanding that his services would be at the command
of his protector, or at the very least it would place him under an
obligation of gratitude that would prove highly embarrassing at some
future time. Happily, the scheme did not succeed. The jealousy of the
Philistine nobles was excited. "The servants of Achish said unto him, Is
not this David, the king of the land? Did they not sing one to another
of him in dances, saying, Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his
ten thousands?" David began to feel himself in a false position. He laid
up these words in his heart, and was sore afraid of Achish. The misery
of his situation and the poverty of his resources may both be inferred
from the unworthy device to which he resorted to extricate himself from
his difficulty. He feigned himself mad, and conducted himself as madmen
commonly do. "He scrabbled on the door of the gate, and let his spittle
fall down upon his beard." But the device failed. "Have I need of
madmen," asked the king, "that ye have brought this fellow to play the
madman in my presence? shall this fellow come into my house?" A Jewish
tradition alleges that both the wife and daughter of Achish were mad; he
had plenty of that sort of people already: no need of more! The title of
the thirty-fourth Psalm tells us, "he drove him away, and he departed."
Have any of you ever been tempted to resort to a series of devices and
deceits either to avoid a danger or to attain an object? Have you been
tempted to forsake the path of straightforward honesty and truth, and to
pretend that things were different with you from what they really were?
I do not accuse you of that wickedness which they commit who
deliberately imprison conscience, and fearlessly set up their own will
and their own interests as their king. What you have done under the
peculiar circumstances in which you found yourselves is not what you
would ordinarily have done. In this one connection, you felt pressed to
get along in one way or another, and the only available way was that of
deceit and device. You were very unhappy at the beginning, and your
misery increased as you went on. Everything about you was in a
constrained, unnatural condition,--conscience, temper, feelings, all out
of order. At one time it seemed as if you were going to succeed; you
were on the crest of a wave that promised to bear you to land, but the
wave broke, and you were sent floundering in the broken water. You were
obliged to go from device to device, with a growing sense of misery. At
last the chain snapped, and both you and your friends were confronted
with the miserable reality. But know this: that it would have been
infinitely, worse for you if your device had succeeded than that it
failed. If it had succeeded, you would have been permanently entangled
in evil principles and evil ways, that would have ruined your soul.
Because you failed, God showed that He had not forsaken you. David
prospering at Gath would have been a miserable spectacle; David driven
away by Achish is on the way to brighter and better days.
For, if we can accept the titles of some of the Psalms, it would seem
that the carnal spell, under which David had been for some time, burst
when Achish drove him away, and that he returned to his early faith and
trust. It was to the cave of Adullam that he fled, and the hundred and
forty-second Psalm claims to have been written there. So also the
thirty-fourth Psalm, as we have seen, bears to have been written "when
he changed his behaviour" (feigned madness) "before Abimelech"
(Achish?), "who drove him away, and he departed." So much uncertainty
has been thrown of late years on these superscriptions, that we dare not
trust to them explicitly; yet recognising in them at least the value of
old traditions, we may regard them as more or less probable, especially
when they seem to agree with the substance of the Psalms themselves.
With reference to the thirty-fourth, we miss something in the shape of
confession of sin, such as we should have expected of one whose lips had
_not_ been kept from speaking guile. In other respects the psalm fits
the situation. The image of the young lions roaring for their prey might
very naturally be suggested by the wilderness. But the chief feature of
the psalm is the delightful evidence it affords of the blessing that
comes from trustful fellowship with God. And there is an expression that
seems to imply that that blessing had not been _always_ enjoyed by the
Psalmist; he had lost it once; but there came a time when (ver. 4) "I
sought the Lord, and He answered me, and delivered me from all my
fears." And the experience of that new time was so delightful that the
Psalmist had resolved that he would always be on that tack: "I will
bless the Lord _at all times_; His praise shall _continually_ be in my
mouth." How changed the state of his spirit from the time when he
feigned madness at Gath! When he asks, "What man is he that desireth
life and loveth many days that he may see good?" (ver. 12)--what man
would fain preserve his life from harassing anxiety and bewildering
dangers?--the prompt reply is, "Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips
from speaking guile." Have nothing to do with shifts and pretences and
false devices; be candid and open, and commit all to God. "O taste and
see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in Him. O
fear the Lord, _ye His saints_" (for you too are liable to forsake the
true confidence), "for there is no want to them that fear Him. The young
lions do lack and suffer hunger, but they that seek the Lord shall not
lack any good thing. The righteous cry, and the Lord heareth, and
delivereth them out of all their troubles.... Many are the afflictions
of the righteous; but the Lord delivereth them out of them all."
"The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell gat hold upon
me; I found trouble and sorrow. Then called I upon the name of the Lord:
O Lord, I beseech Thee, deliver my soul. Gracious is the Lord, and
righteous; yea, our God is merciful. The Lord preserveth the simple; I
was brought low, and He helped me. Return unto thy rest, O my soul, for
the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee" (Psalm cxvi. 3-7).
FOOTNOTES:
[4] See 1 Sam. xxii. 15:--"Have I to-day begun to inquire of God for
him? be it far from me: let not the king impute anything unto his
servant, nor to all the house of my father; for thy servant knoweth
nothing of all this, less or more" (R.V.) To deny beginning to do a
thing is much the same as to deny doing it.