Sermon: "Saul's Spear," Oct 13, 2024 Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost

Preacher: The Rev. Ryan Slifka

Scripture(s): 1 Samuel 26:2-23

We’re continuing our sermon series on 1st and 2nd Samuel. Which more or less tells the story of David, who eventually becomes Israel’s greatest king. And crucial ancestor of Jesus.

At this point in the story, though, David has yet to be crowned. Saul, the first king, is still king. And you’ll remember that Saul’s not a David fan. Basically, David’s become a champion and a war hero, hugely popular with the people. So Saul figures David’s out for his throne. Last week Saul burned with a murderous, jealous rage, trying to pin David up against the wall with a spear. This week David’s on the lamb. Hiding out in the desert wilderness to avoid Saul’s wrath.

Saul sends a search party of three thousand of his best, toughest soldiers combing every corner of the wilderness for his slippery foe.

Now, clearly, David is as crafty as they come. Because one night him and this other guy Abishai, his brother-in-law go together. They daringly duck the searchlights, throw guard dogs off their scent, and stealthily sneak into Saul’s camp. And not just into the camp, but right into the royal quarters. Standing over the man himself at Saul’s bedside, with Abner his royal bodyguard. Nodded off beside him.

Saul’s just snoozing away. And his spear—the same spear he used to try to skewer David on—is stuck in the sand by his head. Abishai’s like, “David, this is such a perfect opportunity. Lemme grab that spear and I’ll put him out with just one stab.”

One in a million, chance of a lifetime to get rid of this guy. But you know what? If you’ve ever seen The Dirty Dozen where this American soldier has Adolf Hitler in his rifle sight, but stands down. Perfect opportunity to lay the enemy down for good. But David doesn’t take the shot.

Instead, David and his brother-in-law steal the spear and Saul’s water bottle from his bed side. They tiptoe out of the camp. And from a safe distance David taunts Saul and his army. “If I wanted to kill you, I would.”

So to recap—David has the perfect opportunity to kill Saul, the man who is actively and aggressively kill him. Plus if he kills him, David himself becomes king—he’s the king in waiting. But he spares him. And he spares him, in the full knowledge that Saul probably won’t stop. Not until David is dead.

Gregory of Nyssa, one of the early church fathers, writing on this passage, says that David “judged it better to suffer ill patiently in his private low estate than to enter upon the kingship by satisfying his anger against the one who had caused him grief.”[i] In other words here David chooses to suffer evil, rather than inflict it. Even when that evil is—by all means—completely justifiable.

The question that arises from this passage for us is this: what are we supposed to do when others have been out to get us? Not only to kill us, but to inflict damage on us. Our personal safety, yes. But also damage to our livelihoods. To our reputations. What are we supposed to do, especially, when we have it within our means and ability, like David, to inflict the same kind of damage on them using the same spear they intended for us? Even when we’re justified? Even when they deserve it?

The answer is a willingness to suffer evil, rather than choosing to inflict it.

And not only is it Gregory’s verdict and the of this Old Testament passage, it’s also the teaching of Jesus. Remember our ongoing theme in this sermon series, that we always read the Old Testament with the New. I mean, here David only actually applies this to Saul, the King, but Jesus applies it to everybody.

In his famous sermon on the mount, Jesus says this: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbour, and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” The Apostle Peter echoes Jesus in his letter to the earliest church exhorting us to “not repay evil with evil, or insult with insult, but with blessing” (1 Peter 3), and the Apostle Paul, similarly says “do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:21).

According to scripture, and to the Lord himself, when it comes to those who wish to harm us—in whatever capacity—we are to take David’s lead. To be willing to patiently suffer evil, rather than inflict it, even when our case is a justifiable or righteous one. We are forbidden to strike down Saul using his own spear.

Now, as I say this to you, I realize just how impossible this sounds. How many situations we could search out, all the exceptions out there. It brings our political climate to mind—how can we be expected to turn the other cheek when our opponent is playing dirty? Gotta fight fire with fire. How can we be expected to perform such radical acts of self-denial?

Let’s go back to David. David gives two different reasons to Abishai, his brother-in-law for not taking his shot.

The first: “Do not destroy him,” David says. “Do not destroy him; for who can raise his hand against the Lord’s anointed, and be guiltless?” Saul’s chosen by God. You kill the one chosen by God, you’re condemned. It’s the usual reason we might give for why we shouldn’t do something. It’s a sin. It’s wrong. That’s reason number one.

But the second is perhaps more helpful to each of us, day by day. “As the Lord lives,” he continues. “As the Lord lives, the Lord will strike him down; or his day will come to die; or he will go down to battle and perish.” It’s not that David wouldn’t have been justified in knocking Saul off. It’s not that Saul didn’t deserve it, even. But it’s that David trusts that God is the true master of history. He trusts that there is a judge out there whose wisdom is beyond all human wisdom, a judge whose power is beyond all other powers. In the end David doesn’t kill Saul because he doesn’t have to kill Saul. Because he trusts that God will deal with Saul in God’s own good time. Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.

Which is to say we, you and I, we can refrain from vengeance. We can suffer evil, rather than inflict more of it. We don’t have to be the judge, because we believe that—in the end—our Sauls will have to stand before the divine throne, and it is God, the perfect judge, with perfect judgment, who will set things right. Saul’s spear has been taken from our hands.

Of course, there’s a little more to it than that. I mean, I guess we could rub our hands expectantly, waiting God to skewer our enemies since we don’t have to. That also means, though, that we, too, stand before the same judgment. For the wrongs we have inflicted. And our inability to refrain from hatred and vengeance. I don’t know about you but that doesn’t sound so appealing to me.

Thank God, for that New Testament, that Jesus thing again. The idea is that not only is there a judge who we can give judgment over to. Not only can we trust that God will set things right. But the idea is that it’s all been taken care of already on the cross. All of it.

That on the cross, Jesus took all our sin and violence and hatred into himself. And there’s a spear there, in the story, too. The soldier who pierced his side. In the same way David refrained from launching the spear of judgment Saul deserved at him, God refrained from tossing the spear of judgment we deserve at us. Rather, he took that spear into his own side in his beloved Son, for all. Vengeance is mine, says the Lord, and I have taken it into myself.

Which means, dear friends, that we can not only patiently suffer evil in trust that judgment is in God’s hands. On account of the cross, we can trust that the judge is merciful beyond our wildest dreams. Knowing our own forgiveness, we can hope and pray for the forgiveness of those who have harmed us. Trusting in God’s great power to save. Even the worst of us.

Maybe you’ve heard of Malcolm Gladwell, the famous Canadian author of the huge bestsellers like Tipping Point and Outliers: The Story of Success. He also wrote a book on the story of David and Goliath. About how underdogs often succeed.

A few years ago Relevant—which is kind of a hipster Christian culture magazine—published the story of Gladwell’s conversion, or his rediscovery of the faith he was raised with. He was raised in rural Ontario in a Christian family. But he’d drifted away in adulthood.

He drifted back in to faith while writing his David and Goliath book. It happened while visiting a woman in Winnipeg named Wilma Derksen. Thirty years prior, Derksen’s daughter went missing on her way home from school. After the largest search and rescue operation in the city’s history, Candace’s body was found, tied up in a hut just a quarter mile from the family’s home.

They were asked by reporters how they felt about whoever did this. “We would like to know,” said her husband, Cliff. “We would like to know who the person or persons are so we could share, hopefully, a love that seems to be missing in these people’s lives.”

“Our main concern was to find Candace,” Wilma added. “We’ve found her. I can’t say at this point I forgive the person,” but the stress was on the phrase at this point. “We have all done something dreadful in our lives, or have felt the urge to.”

When Gladwell asked Wilma why her and her husband responded like this, she chalked it up to her Mennonite Christian faith. Her family, like many Mennonites had suffered terrible persecution before fleeing to Canada. And the Mennonite response to persecution was to take Jesus’ instructions on forgiveness seriously. Admittedly, she struggled greatly with anger and desire for retribution, but “the whole Mennonite philosophy,” she said, “is that we forgive and we move on.”

"I have always believed in God,” Gladwell wrote. “I have always believed in God. I have grasped the logic of Christian faith. What I have had a hard time seeing is God’s power. [God’s power].

I put that sentence in the past tense because something happened to me when I sat in Wilma Derksen’s garden. It was one thing to read in a history book about people empowered by their faith. But it is quite another to meet an otherwise very ordinary person, in the backyard of a very ordinary house, who has managed to do something utterly extraordinary.

Their daughter was murdered. And the first thing the Derksens did was to stand up at the press conference and talk about the path to forgiveness. “We would like to know who the person or persons are so we could share, hopefully, a love that seems to be missing in these people’s lives.”

Maybe we have difficulty seeing the weapons of the spirit because we don’t know where to look, or because we are distracted by the louder claims of material advantage. But I’ve seen them now, and I will never be the same."[ii]

Like David, Derksen put down Saul’s spear. She refused to use the enemy’s weapon against him. She left the spear in the ground, and exchanged it for the sword of the Spirit. She was able, like David, to patiently suffer through evil, rather than return it. Not a supernatural saint, but an ordinary person like you and me. All on account of her trust in God’s power to set things right.

We live in a broken, fallen world. The truth is that one of the many challenges you and I can expect to face—if we haven’t faced them yet—is a Saul-like enemy that seeks to destroy us. You know yours, I know mine. While it might not be as literal, or as destructive as the experience of the Derksens, in each case the Lord of heaven and earth commands us to a different way, over the way of sin and death. To return evil not with more evil. But to return evil with good.

This seems like an impossible task, I know. But, as the scriptures, all things are possible with God. The One who suffered the spear at our hands is the same One who suffered it for our sake. The One who patiently endured the agony of the cross with total trust of the Father’s power to save is the One who promises us this same power by the Spirit.

By this same power may you and I—like David—leave Saul’s spear in the ground, and take hold of the weapons of the Spirit instead. May you be given the grace to suffer patiently—and lovingly—in the way of our Lord.

Amen.

[i] Gregory of Nyssa, quoted in The Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture: Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1-2 Samuel (Downers Grove: IVP, 2005), 314.

[ii] https://relevantmagazine.com/life5/malcolm-gladwell-how-i-rediscovered-faith/