Paupers
(Saul’s son Jonathan
had a son named Mephibosheth, who was crippled in both feet. He was five years
old when the news came from Jezreel that Saul and Jonathan were dead. Mephibosheth’s
nurse had picked him up and ran away. But as she hurried to leave, she dropped
him, and now he was lame ….) (2 Sam. 4:4)
Family therapist, Paul
Faulkner, tells the story of a man who took steps to adopt a troubled teenager.
But you’d have to question his logic – the girl was destructive, disobedient
and dishonest. One day, she came home from school and thrashed the house
looking for money. By the time the father arrived home from work, she was gone
and the house was a disaster. Friends urged him to terminate the adoption. “Let
her go,” they said. “After all, she’s not really your daughter.” His response
was simply, “Yes, I know. But I told her she was.”
God, too, made a covenant
to adopt His people, and His covenant’s not invalidated by our ransacking His
house looking for something to steal. But it’s one thing to love us when we’re obedient
and willing, but when we ruin his house and steal what’s His? But the father didn’t
look at the wrecked house and say, “Come back when you’ve learned some respect,
young lady!” And God doesn’t look at our frazzled lives and say, “I’ll die for
you when you deserve it,” any more than David looked at Mephibosheth and say,
“I’ll rescue you when you’ve learned to walk.”
(Saul’s son Jonathan
had a son named Mephibosheth, who was crippled in both feet. He was five years
old when the news came from Jezreel that Saul and Jonathan were dead. Mephibosheth’s
nurse had picked him up and ran away. But as she hurried to leave, she dropped
him, and now he was lame ….) (2 Sam. 4:4) The parentheses around this verse are not a typographical
error. Mephibosheth is bracketed into the Bible – literally. Frankly, the verse
doesn’t tell us much, either: just his name (Mephibosheth); his calamity (he
was dropped by his nurse); and his deformity (he was handicapped).
Mephibosheth was the son
of Jonathan, and the grandson of Saul, the first king of Israel. Saul and
Jonathan had been killed in battle, leaving the throne to be occupied by David.
Now in those days, the new king often staked out his territory by “eliminating”
the family of the previous king. And although David had no intention of
following this tradition, Saul’s family didn’t know that. So, they hurried to
escape, and of special concern to them was little, five year old Mephibosheth
since, upon the deaths of his father and grandfather, he was the presumptive
heir to the throne. So, if David was intent on murdering Saul’s heirs, this boy
would be first on his “hit list.” As a result, the family got out of town. But
in their haste, Mephibosheth slipped from the arms of his nurse, permanently
damaging both feet. And for the rest of his life he would be handicapped – a cripple.
For nearly twenty years
the young prince had lived far away, unable to walk to the king and way too
fearful to talk to him. He was unable to help himself. Meanwhile, David’s
kingdom was flourishing. Under his leadership, Israel grew to ten times its
original size. He knew no defeat in battle, or insurrection in his court. Israel
was at peace, the people were thankful, and David, the shepherd-made-king, did
not forget his promise to Jonathan.
David and Jonathan had
been legendary friends, meeting its ultimate test the day David learned that
Saul was trying to kill him. Jonathan pledged to save David, but asked his friend
for one favor in return: “You must never stop showing your kindness to my
family, even when the Lord has destroyed all your enemies from the earth.” (1
Sam. 20:14-15)
So now David, perhaps standing
on the balcony overlooking his kingdom, was reminiscing about his friendship
with Jonathan. Perhaps David thought, “Had it not been for Jonathan saving my
life, none of this would’ve happened.” Whatever his mood, David turned to his
servants and said, “Is anyone still left in Saul’s family? I want to show
kindness to that person for Jonathan’s sake!” (2 Sam. 9:1) David had been delivered,
and now he wanted to return the favor. A servant named Ziba knew of a
descendant. “Jonathan has a son still living who is crippled in both feet.’ The
king asked Ziba, ‘Where is this son?’ Ziba answered, ‘He is at the house of
Makir son of Ammiel in Lo Debar.’” (Vs. 3 and 4)
Just one sentence and
David knew he had more than he’d bargained for. The boy was crippled in both
feet, and who would’ve blamed David for asking Ziba, “Are there any other
options, like any healthy family members?” Who would have faulted David for thinking,
A cripple just won’t fit into the castle
crowd. Only the elite walk these floors, and this kid can’t even walk. And what
service can he provide? He has no wealth, no education, no training. And who
knows what he looks like. All these years he’s been living in … what was it
again? Lo Debar? Even the name means “barren place.” Surely there’s someone I can
help who isn’t so needy. But
David’s only response was, “Where is this
son?” (Vs. 4)
How long had it been since
Mephibosheth had been called a son? In all previous references he was called a
cripple. Every mention of him thus far was followed by his handicap. But the
words of David make no mention of his affliction. He doesn’t ask, “Where’s Mephibosheth,
this problem child?” Rather, he asks, “Where’s this son?” Maybe you know what
it’s like; each time your name is mentioned, your calamity follows – like Pig Pen in the Peanuts comic strip. “Have you heard from John lately? You know,
the guy who got divorced?” Or, “We got a letter from Jerry. Remember him, the addict?”
Or, “Sharon’s in town. What a shame she has to raise those kids alone.” Or,
maybe, “I saw Melissa today. I don’t know why she can’t keep a job.” Your past
follows you wherever you go, and Mephibosheth carried his stigma for twenty
years. When people mentioned his name, they mentioned his problem.
There’s a knock
on the front door. Makir goes to answer it and there stands Ziba with an
authoritative look on his face in his gardening cloths. He bluntly tells Makir
the news: "David wants to see Mephibosheth. And there sits middle-aged
Mephibosheth, sitting on his mat in the corner of the room by the cool breeze
of a window. Even in the heat of the day, however, he feels a cold chill run
through his arms and back. Now, finally, after all of these years, David’s found
him and his life’s over. “It’s not fair,” he thinks. I mean, it’d started out
great: his father was prince Jonathan, and his grandfather was King Saul, the
first great king of Israel and Judah. He was royalty, and royalty had its perks.
When he was young, everything seemed to come his way - the gifts, the friends, and
the fun - all because he was royalty. Back then he even had a royal name,
"Mirab Baal," meaning "opponent of Baal." Baal was a false
god. But now even his name was different: Mephibosheth – “Son of Shame,"
all because of that one day when his world was turned upside-down.
On the day that
his dad Prince Jonathan, and his grandpa King Saul died in battle, Mirab Baal's
life went terribly wrong. His nurse took him to Lo Debar, a city far away from
the palace. To further protect the now-dethroned heir apparent, his name was
changed from Mirab Baal to Mephibosheth; after all who would be interested in a
person with a name like "Son of Shame." He had to learn how to live
without functional legs. He had to learn to sit again. He had to learn to be
carried by others. He had to learn to be cared for by others. And his nurse
continued to care for him, but living in secret, without his dad, without his
grandpa, was hard, very hard, and hard for a very long time.
It wasn't fair. He’d
heard his grandpa had badly disobeyed God: King Saul, again and again, had
tried to kill David. King Saul had even gone to a witch to see if he could get
some spiritual advice. As a result, grandpa Saul died, and so did his dad,
Prince Jonathan, and Mirab Baal, now Mephibosheth, was left for years to fend
for himself. Now, Ziba was at the door. "King
David wants to see Mephibosheth. NOW!" And just then, a flash of
anger ripped through Mephibosheth. How did King David hear that he was here,
anyway? There was only one answer – Ziba. Ziba was in charge of taking care of
his property, and Ziba wanted the property for himself. So what better way than
to rat out Mephibosheth so that the new king would eliminate him and leave all
the property to Ziba.
But there was
nothing Mephibosheth could do. His legs didn’t work. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t
fight. He could only face the end of his life with honor. He was cursed. Because
of his grandfather, everything had gone wrong for him, and at times he’d wished
he’d never been born a prince. But there was no way of changing that now. Ziba
was at the door, and soldiers, the king’s soldiers no less, had forced their
way in past Makir. They picked him up by the arms and placed him on the muddy
floor of a chariot and the cross-country race began to the city of Jerusalem.
When they
arrived, they put him on the floor, down the steps from the throne where King
David was seated. Mephibosheth stretched out his hands and put his face to the
ground not daring to even look at the king. He hoped that the sword would fall
quickly to end his life. Though he
may have been told that David was kind, what assurances did he have? And though
the emissaries surely said that David meant no harm, he was afraid. The anxiety
was on his face that faced the floor, and David’s first words to him were,
“Don’t be afraid.” Your King is known to say the same thing to you, too. The
most repeated command from the lips of Jesus is, “Fear not.” In fact, the
command to not be afraid appears in every book of the Bible. Mephibosheth had
been called, found and rescued, but he still needed assurance. Don’t we all.
And just as David kept his
promise to Jonathan, so God keeps his promise to us. The name Mephibosheth means
“Son of Shame.” And that’s exactly what David intended to correct for the young
prince. In quick succession, David returned all of Mephibosheth’s land, crops,
and servants, and then insisted that the cripple eat at the king’s table – not just
once but four (4) times. “I will give you back all the land of
your grandfather Saul, and you will
always eat at my table.” “But Mephibosheth, your master’s grandson, will always eat at my table.” “So
Mephibosheth ate at David’s table as
if he were one of the king’s sons.” “Mephibosheth
lived in Jerusalem, because he always sat
at the king’s table. And he was crippled
in both feet.” (2 Sam. 9:7, 10, 11, 13) Do you see yourself in this story?
We are children of
royalty, crippled by the fall, permanently marred by sin, living parenthetical
lives on earth only to be remembered by the King. Driven not by our beauty but
by his promise, He calls us to Himself and invites us to take a permanent place
at His table. And though we often limp more than we walk, we take our place
next to the other sinners-made-saints and we share in God’s glory. Like
Mephibosheth, we are sons and daughters of the King, and our greatest offering
is nothing in comparison to what we’ve been given.
“Crippled.” “Pauper” – they’re
not a pejorative; they’re an adjective. It describes a noun, maybe a person just
like you.
Grace,
Randy
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