Read: 1 Kings 2

Therefore do not hold him guiltless, for you are a wise man; you will know what you ought to do to him, and you must bring his gray head down with blood to Sheol (1 Kings 2:9, NRSV).

If the only stories you know about David involve harps, shepherds, or smooth stones, David’s deathbed scene is going to come as a bit of a shock.

It starts out like you might expect with pious words spoken to his son and successor, Solomon. David says, “I am about to go the way of all the earth. Be strong, be courageous, and keep the charge of the LORD your God….” But just when you expect David to breathe his last, he doesn’t. In fact, he has quite a lot more to say, and to be honest, some of it is pretty unsavory.

“Moreover…,” he says, and there follows what in any other context would be called a hit list. Joab is first on the list. “Act therefore according to your wisdom,” David tells Solomon with a wink, “but do not let his gray head go down to Sheol in peace.” After a few appreciative words for the loyal Barzillai (2 Sam. 17:27-29), David adds Shimei to the list. David had promised not to kill Shimei for cursing him and throwing stones when David was fleeing from Absalom. Solomon, however, has made no such promise. So, with another ominous reference to Solomon’s wisdom, David says, “you will know what you ought to do to him, and you must bring his gray head down with blood to Sheol” (v. 9).

It sort of makes one wonder what counts as “wisdom” in David’s mind. Clearly it connotes a certain amount of political savvy—and even ruthlessness. So, even as this story forces us to revise our opinion of David, it suggests that we may have to modify the traditional impression of Solomon as well. Wisdom, it seems, is more complicated than our Sunday school teachers may have suggested.

Part of David’s motivation seems to be about settling old scores. A more generous reading would acknowledge that he is trying to make sure Solomon does not inherit all of David’s “baggage” along with the throne. Nevertheless, one bit of baggage threatens to trip Solomon up almost right away.

Adonijah—Solomon’s older half-brother who made an aborted attempt to seize the throne before David’s death—now goes to Solomon’s mother, Bathsheba, to ask for Abishag the Shunammite’s hand in marriage. Abishag, remember, was the beautiful human hot water bottle assigned to keep David warm in his final days. Although the Bible explicitly says that David “did not know her sexually” (1 Kings 1:4), Adonijah runs afoul of the old rule about not sleeping with a king’s concubine unless you’re trying to claim the throne along with the woman. Solomon is not amused, and he has Adonijah put to death.

I’ve always wondered why Adonijah asked for Abishag. Surely, he knew how it would look. So, either this was a really stupid attempt at the throne (as Solomon assumes), or Adonijah was truly in love. I’m just enough of a romantic to think he must have been love; otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken the risk. But whether he dies for love or for politics, he’s dead.

Before the end of the chapter, Joab and Shimei bite the dust as well. One can’t help thinking that “Daddy” would be proud. In any case, the storyteller concludes these blood-soaked chapters with the observation that the kingdom is at last “established in the hand of Solomon.”

And so, the famous “Succession Narrative” comes to an end. The writing is genius, the characters complex, and the politics ruthless. If you were expecting stained glass saints, you were probably disappointed. But if you like reading about the flawed people through whom God sometimes works, you probably loved it. Either way, it’s in the Bible. Our job—with the help of the Holy Spirit—is to decide what on earth to do with it.

Ponder: How did reading the Succession Narrative (2 Samuel 9-20; 1 Kings 1-2) change your impression of David’s character? Of Solomon’s? Of  Bathsheba’s? How did their characters develop over the course of the story?

Pray: Guide us as we struggle to know how to interpret this masterful section of Scripture. Thank you for the person/people who wrote it—and the risks they took to bring us these stories.

Read: 1 Kings 1

[Bathsheba] said to [David], “My lord, you swore to your servant by the LORD your God, saying: Your son Solomon shall succeed me as king, and he shall sit on my throne. But now suddenly Adonijah has become king, though you, my lord the king, do not know it…the eyes of all Israel are on you to tell them who shall sit on the throne of my lord the king after him” (1 Kings 1:17-18, 20, NRSV).

The story of Adonijah gives new meaning to the phrase, “assuming the throne.” Usually it’s reserved for those who actually ascend to a throne. But in Adonijah’s case, it’s more along the lines of that old caution about “when you assume, you make an ass out of u and me.”

Thanks to the deaths of his older brothers, Adonijah finds himself the eldest of David’s sons. He assumes that this makes him the heir apparent, and he begins to act accordingly. Or perhaps he’s not sure of his status and decides to make it a fait accompli. Who could object, after all, if he’s got a general (Joab), a priest (Abiathar), and his own private army gathered around him shouting “Long live the king!”

As it happens, there are a few people who would object, but it would be both difficult and dangerous for them to try to undo the deed once it is done. First among these is King David himself, but he’s not at his best these days. The chapter opens with a description of him “old and advanced in years,” unable to keep warm without the help of a human heating pad. If Adonijah had really been confident about his own claim to the throne, it would have been simple enough to wait for David to die. The fact that Adonijah is not patient enough to wait for this eventuality suggests that he has doubts. Thus the decision to hurry things along.

The fact that David hasn’t gotten wind of the fact that Adonijah has “exalted himself, saying ‘I will be king’” (v. 5), bears witness to the fact that David is out of touch with political reality. He only hears about Adonijah’s ambitions thanks to the prophet Nathan and Bathsheba, who work together to get him the news. Nathan is particularly alert to the danger for Bathsheba and her son, Solomon, since Adonijah is unlikely to want any rivals left alive to challenge his claim to the throne. So, add Bathsheba and Solomon to the list of people who would object to Adonijah’s “assumption.” Better to head this whole thing off at the pass than to scramble for their lives after the fact.

Their strategy works. Roused by their words, David issues a swift series of commands. Before we know it, Solomon is surrounded by shouts of “Long live King Solomon!” When those shouts reach Adonijah and his friends, an understandable chill falls over their festivities. Now it’s Adonijah who fears for his life, and he hurries to seek “sanctuary” by grasping the horns of the altar. He’s not in a position to ask for favors, but he asks for one anyway. “Let King Solomon swear to me first that he will not kill his servant with the sword,” he begs. Solomon, giving us a glimpse of his famous “wisdom,” allows Adonijah to live, but refuses to make any promises.

It hasn’t been pretty, but Solomon has truly assumed the throne. Adonijah will have to lie awake wondering when he’ll pay for his own assumptions.

Ponder: Bathsheba—who can’t seem to catch a break from biblical commentators—is sometimes accused of being a “schemer” in this chapter. What do you think this passage reveals about her character? What would you have done in her position?

Pray: Save us, O God, from selfish assumptions—in ourselves and others.

Read: 2 Samuel 20

Now a scoundrel named Sheba son of Bichri, a Benjaminite, happened to be there. He sounded the trumpet and cried out, “We have no portion in David, no share in the son of Jesse! Everyone to your tents, O Israel!” So all the people of Israel withdrew from David and followed Sheba son of Bichri; but the people of Judah followed their king steadfastly from the Jordan to Jerusalem (2 Samuel 20:1-2, NRSV).

Just when everything was going so well. Absalom’s rebellion was finally in the rearview mirror, and the various constituencies were clamoring to get back into David’s good graces.

But then came Sheba son of Bichri—a “scoundrel”—who sounded the trumpet and managed to get “all the people of Israel” to abandon David and strike out on their own.

Was it really all the people of Israel? That would have been ten whole tribes—the lion’s share of the country. So, no—I suspect that tally is exaggerated. But isn’t that often the way when a coup-plotter tries to take over? The first thing they do is to hire a PR department to try to make people think everybody is on their side.

In any case, David finds himself in yet another dilemma. This “Sheba son of Bichri will do us more harm than Absalom,” he says to his general, Amasa. That’s remarkably clear-headed for a man who has recently been through hell and back, both politically and personally.

Speaking of Amasa—don’t get too attached to him. Amasa, remember, was Absalom’s former general—until Absalom was killed. You might have thought that would bring Amasa’s career trajectory to an abrupt end, but David shrewdly appointed him as his own general (19:13). I suppose you could explain this via the “keep your enemies closer” rule of thumb, but it was also a decision that allowed David to kill two birds with one stone. First, it made it much easier to win the loyalty of Amasa & Absalom’s troops. But as a bonus, it was a way to get back at David’s former general Joab for rebuking David over his excessive mourning (19:1-10). So, out with Joab and in with Amasa.

Did you really think Joab was going to take this demotion lying down? If you don’t like blood and gore, you might want to skip verses 4-13. That’s the part about Joab disemboweling Amasa and leaving him to die along the side of the road. If this whole episode reminds you of how Joab assassinated Abner in 3:26-39, you’re on to something. A spear through your rival’s stomach under the guise of an embrace seems to be Joab’s MO.

Joab throws Amasa’s body into a field and covers it with a cloak. Lest we assume that this is an act of belated respect, the storyteller takes pains to tell us that it is to stop the troops from rubbernecking. Good old Joab.

But now that he’s back in charge, he still has to take care of the rebellious Sheba son of Bichri. (It will be the best way to convince David to let bygones be bygones, after all.) Joab finally runs Sheba to ground in the far northern city of Abel. There, Joab wastes no time in getting out the battering ram. The message is clear: If I have to destroy this whole city and everybody in it, I’m perfectly willing to do so.

Enter a “wise woman” with other ideas. Coaxing Joab over for a conference, she proposes a better idea. She is a peace-loving person, she says, and her hometown is “a mother in Israel.”

Joab responds with what has to be one of the most disingenuous lines in the Bible. “Far be it from me, far be it, that I should swallow up or destroy!” (Oh, no, Joab—you’d never do that!) But the remark shows that the wise woman has Joab just where she wants him, and she makes her modest proposal: How about if the good citizens of Abel just toss Sheba’s head over the wall instead?

Evidently Joab likes the idea because soon Sheba’s head comes catapulting out over the wall. Joab and the army go home happy, and the inhabitants of Abel have a story to tell their grandchildren. The end.

But is it? I called this reflection “Déjà Coup” because it comes so quickly on the heals of Absalom’s failed attempt. And at the risk of a spoiler, it won’t be the last coup we’ll encounter in this story. There are more where these coups came from.

To be honest, however, this story also gives me déjà vu for a more contemporary coup. While I am in no way advocating a violent solution to our national dilemma, I do wonder if there might be some wisdom in it with regard to a certain disgraced ex-president currently holed up in the GOP. Just hand him over and get on with your lives, people. We’d all like to have a country we can pass down to our grandchildren.

Ponder: What about this story gives you déjà vu—the uncanny sensation that you’ve experienced something before? Is there any wisdom in it for the present?

Pray: Guide us, O God, as we seek wise and peaceful solutions for our nation.

Read: 2 Samuel 19:16-43

Mephibosheth grandson of Saul came down to meet the king; he had not taken care of his feet, or trimmed his beard, or washed his clothes, from the day the king left until the day he came back in safety. When he came from Jerusalem to meet the king, the king said to him, “Why did you not go with me, Mephibosheth?” He answered, “My lord, O king, my servant deceived me…he has slandered your servant to my lord the king” (2 Samuel 19:24-25, 26a & 27a. NRSV).

What a difference a day makes. Just yesterday King David was on the run from his rebellious son, Absalom. Now, Absalom is dead, and David and his entourage are making their way back to Jerusalem, victorious.

Three people rush to welcome him, but you couldn’t ask for a more diverse welcoming committee. See if you can sort out who is a friend and who is an enemy.

First out is Shimei son of Gera. You may remember him as the malcontent who scuttled along throwing stones and curses when David fled the city in 16:5-8. Back then he couldn’t wait to hurl his maledictions on David, calling him a “man of blood.” Now, Shimei realizes that he has backed the wrong horse in this rebellion. He runs to meet David, begging for forgiveness.

You’ve got to give Shimei credit. He’s guilty and he admits it. Instead of stones, he throws himself on David’s mercy. Maybe that’s why David decides to spare his life—that and the fact that it’s a king’s prerogative to grant pardons, and David is enjoying having that power back.

Barzillai the Gileadite is also part of the welcoming committee, but he is the exact opposite of Shimei. Barzillai had supported David when the chips were down, bringing him supplies as David fled before Absalom (see 17:27-28). Now he comes to welcome David back, wanting nothing as a reward for his loyalty. I’m in my 80’s, he tells David. There’s nothing I need. So, David settles for rewarding Barzillai’s son instead. Whatever, says Barzillai, and shuffles back home to his rocking chair.

So, let’s take stock. One member of David’s welcoming committee is guilty but begs for his life. Another member is loyal but asks for nothing in return. Sandwiched between these extremes is the third member of the committee: Mephibosheth. His loyalties will be significantly harder to sort out.

Mephibosheth, remember, is Saul’s grandson. Instead of executing him (as would have been the usual practice at that time), David had allowed him to live, and even provided him with a perpetual dinner invitation at the palace. When David fled Jerusalem, however, Mephibosheth’s servant, Ziba, had told David that Mephibosheth was celebrating David’s downfall (16:1-4). David had believed Ziba’s bad report and rewarded him with all of Mephibosheth’s worldly goods.

Now David has a dilemma. Mephibosheth says that Ziba is a liar—that in fact, Mephibosheth had wanted to leave town with David, but that Ziba had left his master behind and hurried out to take all the credit for bringing provisions to the king in his hour of need. Even now (19:17-18) Ziba is scurrying around, acting the loyal servant, assisting David as he returns to Jerusalem.

Who is telling the truth? David can’t seem to decide, so he splits their possessions down the middle, returning half to Mephibosheth and letting Ziba keep the rest.

What do you think? I think there are two very good reasons for taking Mephibosheth at his word. First, there is his reaction to the 50/50 split. “Let him take it all,” he says to David, “since my lord the king has arrived home safely” (v. 30). That’s either sincere, or a very clever attempt to look sincere.

But there’s another reason to believe Mephibosheth. Did you notice that the storyteller was careful to tell us that when Mephibosheth came down to meet the king, “he had not taken care of his feet, or trimmed his beard, or washed his clothes, from the day the king left until the day he came back in safety” (v. 24). Those are all signs of mourning, and the beard, especially, would have been hard to fake.

It’s a tough call, but I like to think Mephibosheth is telling the truth. In any case, it won’t be the last time David will have to make a decision like this. I know you’re supposed to keep your friends close and your enemies closer, but nobody ever tells you what to do with your frenemies.

Ponder: Do you think Mephibosheth was telling the truth? Why or why not? How do you tell if someone is a friend or an enemy?

Pray: Help us to be loyal and truthful friends, O God, and to judge well when we can’t decide whether others are returning the favor

Read: 2 Samuel 19:1-15

Then Joab came into the house to the king and said “Today you have covered with shame the faces of all your officers who have saved your life today, and the lives of your sons and your daughters, and the lives of your wives and your concubines, for love of those who hate you and for hatred of those who love you. You have made it clear today that commanders and officers are nothing to you; for I perceive that if Absalom were alive and all of us were dead today, then you would be pleased (2 Samuel 19:5-6, NRSV).

Imagine General Joab sitting in his tent, knocking back a hard-earned goblet of wine with his fellow commanders, Abishai and Ittai. They’re swapping stories of the recent victory over the up-start Absalom in the forest of Ephraim. Laughter fueled by relief, adrenaline, and alcohol ricochet around the tent. Just when Joab is getting to the good part about finding Absalom hanging by his hair from a tree, a tentative voice interrupts the tale. A young soldier hesitates by the open tent flap requesting a word with the general.

“Well, speak up if you’ve got something to say, soldier!” Joab barks, impatient to get back to the story of how he thrust three spears into Absalom’s heart.

“Begging the general’s pardon, sir,” the soldier stammers, “but I’ve been sent to tell you that the king is weeping and mourning for his son, Absalom.” The mood in the tent plummets. The soldier bravely continues, his voice barely suppressing a quaver. “You can hear him all over camp, crying, ‘O my son Absalom, O Absalom, my son, my son!’

The young man had meant to say something more about how the king’s loud lament was affecting morale, but one look at the general’s face makes him think better of it.

“That will be all, soldier,” Joab thunders, and nearly knocks the man down as he storms out of the tent on his way to confront the king.

I don’t usually feel much sympathy for General Joab, but it’s hard not to feel sorry for him in this situation. He recognizes that everything they’ve won is about to be lost. Nothing short of an intervention will suffice.

So, he confronts David with three points, thrust like spears into the grieving heart of the king. First, there is his ingratitude. These people have risked their lives for you, and all you can do is whine about your dead son. Your dead son who betrayed you. Second, there is his delusion. In spite of all we’ve risked, it’s obvious that you’d be happier if all of us were dead, and Absalom were alive. Third, there is imminent danger. If you don’t dry your eyes and get out there to thank your troops, you won’t HAVE any troops by morning.

It works. Joab’s words pierce David’s grief—at least enough for him to rise to the occasion. A swift series of messages manages to turn the tide of the political situation, and the end of this episode finds David’s position secure. It also finds Joab out of a job, but that’s often what happens to people who speak truth to power.

Ponder: Shakespeare once wrote, “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown” (Henry IV, Part 2). How does this story illustrate the truth of that quote?

Pray: Help all those in leadership to wear the weight of that leadership wisely—especially when personal feelings are at odds with professional responsibilities.

Read: 2 Samuel 18

Then the Cushite came; and the Cushite said, “Good tidings for my lord the king! For the LORD has vindicated you this day, delivering you from the power of all who rise up against you.” The king said to the Cushite, “Is it well with the young man Absalom?” The Cushite answered, “May the enemies of my lord the king, and all who rise up to do you harm, be like that young man.” The king was deeply moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept; and as he went, he said, “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!” (2 Samuel 18:31-33, NRSV).

If you’ve ever used a stepladder, you’ll be familiar with the caution: “NOT A STEP.” In spite of the fact that these words are printed on what is clearly the top step, the warning serves as a reminder that ascending to that forbidden height is a very bad idea.

All three of the major characters in 2 Samuel 18 disregard this caution.

Absalom, of course, has been dancing a jig on the top step for a while now. Ever since he decided to “steal the hearts of the people of Israel” from his father back in chapter 15, he’s been climbing to forbidden heights. Now those metaphorical heights have become literal, as this chapter finds him caught by his famous hair in the branches of a great oak.

Enter General Joab who oversteps a direct order from King David to “Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom.” From a military standpoint, this is a ridiculous directive, so he ignores it. When he gets word from a more cautious underling that Absalom is hanging defenseless from a tree, Joab takes three spears and thrusts them into Absalom’s heart. In what is surely overkill, ten of Joab’s armor-bearers then surround Absalom and strike him. This may be the only bit of caution Joab shows, since he can later argue that no one can know for sure which (or whose) blow finally killed Absalom.

Now there remains the problem of telling David the news. The good news is that Absalom is dead along with his dangerous insurrection. The bad news is that Absalom, the king’s favorite son, is dead and buried with a burial reserved for the accursed (see Josh. 7:25-26). Joab is not so naïve as to bring this news to the king himself. Perhaps he remembers David’s tendency to blame the messenger (see 2 Sam. 4). He even discourages the eager young man, Ahimaaz, from running to David with the news. Instead, he sends an expendable (!) Cushite to run and tell David the news. But Ahimaaz presses his case, and finally receives Joab’s unenthusiastic permission. So, off he goes, and in his enthusiasm, he actually outruns the Cushite.

When Ahimaaz arrives, he breathlessly announces that, “All is well!” Perhaps there is something in David’s tone or facial expression—or the fact that his first question has to do with the welfare of Absalom—but Ahimaaz seems to sense that all is NOT well with King David. So Ahimaaz suddenly steps down from his perch on the “NOT A STEP” step. Now he claims to know nothing of Absalom’s fate and leaves that news for the poor unsuspecting Cushite to deliver.

As it turns out, David is so stricken by the news of his son’s death, he can’t even be bothered to kill the messenger. In fact, he can’t even be bothered to acknowledge the fact that his loyal soldiers have risked their lives to put down a rebellion. His focus is not on the kingdom’s win, but on his personal loss. He makes his way weeping to the closest private space and sobs for his son.

It’s impossible not to sympathize with the sorrow of this grieving father. But as the next chapter will reveal, David’s failure to acknowledge the good news as well as the bad news is—well—a step too far.

Ponder: Why do you think people so often disregard cautionary warnings intended for their own safety? Have you ever done this? How did it work out for you?

Pray: Preserve us—individually and collectively—from the exceptionalism that says, “This warning does not apply to me.”

Read: 2 Samuel 17

Moreover Ahithophel said to Absalom, “Let me choose twelve thousand men, and I will set out and pursue David tonight. I will come upon him while he is weary and discouraged, and throw him into a panic; and all the people who are with him will flee. I will strike down only the king, and I will bring all the people back to you as a bride comes home to her husband. You seek the life of only one man, and all the people will be at peace.” The advice pleased Absalom and all the elders of Israel (2 Samuel 17:1-4, NRSV).

If Ahithophel were a car, he’d be a Ferrari. You get the sense that the young rebel, Absalom, can’t wait to take his new advisor out for a run. So when Ahithophel suggests that Absalom sleep  with David’s concubines (16:20-22), Absalom does so with a flourish. Pitching a tent on the roof of the palace is the young man’s way of flaunting the break with his father—and taking his new Ferrari from 0 to 120 in 6.5 seconds. (Really—they can do that. I checked!)

If Hushai (David’s inside man) were a car, he’d be a Subaru. So, when Ahithophel blazes by with his next bit of advice, Hushai doesn’t even try to catch up. Instead, he tries to impress Absalom with steadiness and reliability. Hushai’s approach is akin to, “Sure, he’s fast, but I’ll get you there safely.”

Ahithophel wants to take 12,000 hand-picked men and pursue David immediately. The strategy is to overtake David before he has a chance to catch his breath and find a defensible position. Ahithophel predicts that David’s followers will be so over-awed by their adversaries that they will flee the field. The defenseless David will be easy prey.

Actually, it’s great advice. It accomplishes the objective quickly and with a minimum number of casualties. Absalom is right to be impressed. But just to be sure, he asks Hushai for his advice.

Not so fast, sonny-boy sort of summarizes Hushai’s strategy. It’s full of safety features and rules of the road. Here’s the gist of it: David is a fierce and experienced warrior, after all, and he’s famous for his ability to evade his enemies. Better to wait to attack him until you’ve consolidated your support. Then, even if David digs into an easily defensible position, you’ll be able to overwhelm him with your superior force.

I suspect you could have heard a pin drop after Hushai’s speech. But finally, the verdict drops, and it’s in Hushai’s favor.

The irony here is that Hushai’s advice is lousy. But then, he means for it to be. He’s secretly loyal to his friend, David, and he’s been sent into Absalom’s camp expressly so he can “defeat the counsel of Ahithophel” (15:34). He’s done a great job, though the narrator makes sure we give credit where credit is due. In an aside to the readers, the storyteller explains that “the LORD had ordained to defeat the good counsel of Ahithophel, so that the LORD might bring ruin on Absalom” (17:14).

Even though Hushai has prevailed, he deploys one last safety feature. Using the sons of the loyal priests Zadok and Abiathar as a kind of pony express, he sends a message to David telling him to get the heck across the Jordan. After a brief but suspenseful delay, the young men deliver the message. Sunrise finds David and his whole company safely out of Absalom’s reach.

Meanwhile, back at the palace, Ahithophel is not amused. The Bible is brutally blunt about it: “When Ahithophel saw that his counsel was not followed, he saddled his donkey and went off home to his own city. He set his house in order, and hanged himself; he died and was buried in the tomb of his father” (v. 23).

At first glance this seems like an extreme fit of pique. But I suspect his decision was one last act of strategy. He must have known his advice was better than Hushai’s. But if Absalom acted on Hushai’s advice, then Absalom would almost certainly lose. Did Ahithophel really want to risk facing David again after betraying him? I doubt it. It wasn’t a choice between good and bad, but between bad and worse. He chose to put his affairs in order and be buried in the family plot.

One wonders what he chose for his epitaph. Making allowances for the anachronism, I think this Ferrari slogan might have been a good fit: “Only those who dare truly live.”

Ponder: Subaru’s ads claim that “Subaru is love.” How did Hushai show his love for David? How can you show love to those who have put their trust in you?

Pray: Help us to love in ways that are both loyal and wise.

Read: 2 Samuel 16:15-23

Now Absalom and all the Israelites came to Jerusalem; Ahithophel was with him. When Hushai the Archite, David’s friend, came to Absalom, Hushai said to Absalom, “Long live the king! Long live the king!” Absalom said to Hushai, “Is this your loyalty to your friend? Why did you not go with your friend?” (2 Samuel 16: 15-17, NRSV).

Everyone knows the legend about young George Washington, caught hatchet-in-hand next to his father’s fallen cherry tree. When confronted with the evidence, Washington is said to have responded, “I cannot tell a lie.”

Hushai the Archite can’t seem to tell one either. He does, however, have a gift for irony, and that’s what gives him the advantage over David’s rebellious son, Absalom. As readers, we know what Absalom doesn’t—namely, that Hushai is a “plant,” sent by David expressly to “defeat the counsel of Ahithophel” (see 2 Samuel 15:32-37). Nothing Hushai says to Absalom is technically a lie, but if your irony detector is up and running, Hushai’s words are off the charts in terms of deception.

Look carefully at everything Hushai says in this passage. From the moment he arrives, he proclaims, “Long live the king!” Which king would that be? Even Absalom is skeptical at first and raises questions about Hushai’s loyalty. Hushai must have come prepared for this, because his next statement is a masterpiece of misdirection: “No; but the one whom the LORD and this people and all the Israelites have chosen, his I will be, and with him I will remain.”

Absalom is just vain enough to fall for this. Clueless to the possibility that Hushai might be referring to David, Absalom begins to warm to the possibility that Hushai truly is a turncoat. Hushai’s next statement is designed to overcome all doubt: “Moreover, whom should I serve? Should it not be his son?” (Well, maybe it shouldn’t be….) “Just as I have served your father, so I will serve you.” (I’ll serve you, all right, and you’ll never suspect that I’m really serving David!) Absalom must be buying it, since Hushai is allowed to stick around.

Now Absalom turns to the true turncoat, Ahithophel, for advice. Formerly David’s counselor, Ahithophel is famous for his ability to give wise counsel in a crisis. In fact, “in those days the counsel that Ahithophel gave was as if one consulted the oracle of God” (v. 23). So, when Ahithophel tells Absalom to sleep with his father’s concubines as a sign that he’s burned all his bridges, Absalom pitches a tent on the roof of the palace and does so “in the sight of all Israel.”

Wait. What concubines?

Remember when David fled from Absalom back in chapter 15? David took his entire household with him—except for “ten concubines whom he left behind to look after the house.” (I guess it wouldn’t “do” to have the palace get dusty on the off chance of a triumphant return.) Now these unlucky women have become pawns in an unholy rivalry. Just how unholy may come as a surprise even to Ahithophel.

Back in the day, one sure way to claim a rival’s throne was to sleep with said rival’s wives. In this case, however, said wives are also Absalom’s step-mothers. I rather suspect that when David left them at the palace, he never dreamed Absalom would go that far. Be that as it may, Absalom has gone that far—and now there’s no going back. His—and Ahithophel’s—intention may have been to make Absalom “odious” to his father (16:21), but there’s a very real chance that he’s made himself odious to everyone else as well.

The biblical storyteller doesn’t tell us what Hushai’s reaction was to Ahithophel’s questionable advice, but it’s easy to imagine. Perhaps the wine he was drinking came spewing out of his nose. Perhaps Ahithophel slapped him on the back and asked, “Are you all right, old man?” And perhaps Hushai sputtered, “Yes, yes—I’m fine. Really—just fine! I cannot tell a lie….”

Ponder: The irony of Hushai’s words is lost on Absalom in this chapter. The irony of Absalom’s name should not be lost on us, however. Literally, “Absalom” means “father of peace.”

Pray: God grant me the serenity to think clearly in a crisis, the courage to be a true friend, and the wisdom to know the difference between good advice and bad.

Read: 2 Samuel 16:1-14

When King David came to Bahurim, a man of the family of the house of Saul came out whose name was Shimei son of Gera; he came out cursing. He threw stones at David and at all the servants of King David; now all the people and all the warriors were on his right and on his left. Shimei shouted while he cursed, “Out! Out! Murderer! Scoundrel! The LORD has avenged on all of you the blood of the house of Saul in whose place you have reigned; and the LORD has given the kingdom into the hand of your son Absalom. See, disaster has overtaken you; for you are a man of blood” (2 Samuel 16: 5-8, NRSV).

Have you ever been in a situation where you weren’t sure whom you could trust? It’s a bit like trying to find your way through a marsh or a bog. You look for solid ground or for stepping stones, knowing that one false step could be your last.

David isn’t in a bog, but he may as well be. He and his entourage are fleeing for their lives, and everything depends on the decisions he makes about whom to trust.

Appearances can be deceiving. One of the first people he encounters comes bearing gifts of food and wine—generous enough in proportion to feed the whole company. In many ways, it was an answer to prayer. But perhaps David has heard a version of the proverb, “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.” In this case, he’s wary of Ziba, the servant he’s assigned as Mephibosheth’s household manager (see 2 Sam. 9). “Why have you brought these?” he asks Ziba bluntly.

Ziba has a ready answer, which either means it’s the truth or something he has carefully rehearsed. When David asks the obvious follow-up question as to why Ziba’s master, Mephibosheth is not with him, Ziba offers what appears to be a direct quote: “He remains in Jerusalem; for he said, ‘Today the house of Israel will give me back my grandfather’s kingdom.’” Mephibosheth, remember, is the grandson of David’s former rival, King Saul. If Mephibosheth is indeed harboring hopes of reclaiming this grandfather’s throne, this would be just the kind of thing he might say. But did he really say it? David makes a quick decision. Trusting that Ziba is telling the truth, David gives all of Mephibosheth’s property to Ziba.

Moving east from the Mount of Olives, David’s next encounter is with one Shimei son of Gera, another relative of Saul’s. At least there is no ambiguity about Shimei’s intentions. Scuttling along beside the procession, he hurls both curses and stones at David. Interpreting David’s circumstances as a sign of God’s displeasure, he voices in public what some must have been saying in private: “Out! Out! Murderer! Scoundrel.”

Abishai (one of David’s loyal soldiers and the brother of the volatile General Joab), offers a ready remedy for the situation. “Why should this dead dog curse my lord the king?” he asks. “Let me go over and take off his head.”

Well, that’s decisive! Under the circumstances, one might expect David to let Abishai off his leash. But this time David hesitates. Abishai’s advice may seem like the sure place to “step,” but David opts instead for a detour that says a lot about his own state of mind. Maybe Shimei has “come out cursing” because God has told him to, David suggests. “Let him alone,” he tells Abishai. “It may be that the LORD will look on my distress, and the LORD will repay me with good for this cursing of me today.” In other words, David isn’t sure what God’s will is in this situation. The only thing to do is wait and see.

It’s a strange place to be for a man who was so recently sitting on a throne.

Ponder the words of Psalm 40, a psalm ascribed to David: “I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the desolate pit, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.”

Pray: “On Christ the solid Rock I stand; all other ground is sinking sand, all other ground is sinking sand.”

(From the hymn, “My Hope Is Built on Nothing Less,” by Edward Mote)

Read: 2 Samuel 15:13-37

A messenger came to David, saying, “The hearts of the Israelites have gone after Absalom.” Then David said to all his officials who were with him at Jerusalem, “Get up! Let us flee, or there will be no escape for us from Absalom. Hurry, or he will soon overtake us, and bring disaster down upon us, and attack the city with the edge of the sword” (2 Samuel 15:13-14, NRSV).

Why is it that when you do a photo search for “loyal friend,” you mostly end up with pictures of dogs? You can draw your own conclusions from that, but I think it may not speak well for human beings.

J. R. R. Tolkien once said, “Faithless is [the one] that says farewell when the road darkens.” In this section of our story the road is indeed dark, and some of David’s closest friends and family are saying farewell. That description is probably too kind, however, since the traitors do not wish for David to “fare well” at all. David’s son, Absalom, is about to send out the signal for a full-scale revolt. David’s reaction to the news that “the hearts of the Israelites have gone after Absalom” illustrates that the threat is real and dangerous. “Get up!” he says. “Let us flee, or there will be no escape for us from Absalom.” In other words: there will be blood.

Although David does not know it yet, one of his closest advisors has also defected. Ahithophel, who hails from a town close to where Absalom is planning to launch the insurrection, has thrown his support behind Absalom. It’s the ancient equivalent of a president being betrayed by their own chief of staff. If David doesn’t know it yet, he soon will, since Ahithophel would likely be the first person he’d call in a crisis.

The priests Abiathar and Zadok (and their sons) remain loyal to David. In fact, they grab the ark of the covenant and high tail it out of town, catching up with the king as he flees from Jerusalem. It’s a telling moment. The presence of the ark would have been perceived as a powerful weapon. But instead of accepting it as such, David tells them to carry the ark back into the city. “If I find favor in the eyes of the LORD,” he says, “he will bring me back and let me see both it and the place where it stays. But if he says, ‘I take no pleasure in you,’ here I am, let him do to me what seems good to him” (vv. 25-26). David is not sure how this will end, and more importantly, he’s not sure how God wants this to end.

Also loyal to David is Ittai the Gittite, who has only “yesterday” come into David’s camp. In fact, he is a Philistine—one of David’s former enemies. Yet, even though he is “a foreigner and an exile,” he sticks to David like glue. His loyalty says a lot, especially in contrast with the way David has been abandoned by other friends and family.

Then, just after David gets the news that Ahithophel is among the conspirators, David encounters the man who will become a key ally: Hushai the Archite. Hushai’s loyalty is displayed for all to see—first by the fact that he has joined the king’s weeping retreat, but also because he himself is in open mourning, coming to meet David with “his coat torn and earth on his head.” This time, however, David sends Hushai back to Jerusalem as a spy. The chapter closes with him arriving back at the city just as Absalom does. It’s a small but significant glimmer of hope for David’s cause.

One of the questions that runs like a subterranean river beneath this chapter is: “Why didn’t David see this coming?” Absalom had been up to no good ever since David allowed him to return from exile for murdering his brother, Amnon. Surely, David must have suspected something….

Maybe the answer to that question is that he didn’t want to see it coming. Absalom may have “stolen the hearts of the people,” but David’s heart had always been his. Now, that heart is still his, even though it’s breaking.

Ponder this quote from Eric Felten: “The only true test of loyalty is fidelity in the face of ruin and despair.”

Pray: May we prove loyal to You even in the face of ruin and despair, O God.