“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on
religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show
you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me — watch how I do it.
Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting
on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” (Matt.
11:28-30)
Your Goliath
owns a weapon. It doesn’t fire bullets; it fires sadness, instead. It doesn’t
take lives; it takes smiles. It doesn’t inflict flesh wounds; it inflicts faith
wounds. Ever been hit? If you can’t find your rhythm, you have. If you can’t
seem to get to first base, or even get out of bed for that matter, you have.
Every step forward gets lost in two steps backward. Relationships sour. Skies
darken. Your nights defy the sunrise. You’ve been hit. It’s like your problems
are the Sioux, and you’re feeling a lot like Custer – on your last stand.
David feels like
it’s his. Saul has been getting the best of David, leaving him sleeping in
caves and lurking behind trees. Six hundred soldiers depend on David for
leadership and provision, and these six hundred men have wives and children. David
has two wives of his own – which probably guarantees a little tension in his
tent, too. Running from a crazed king. Hiding in hills. Leading a ragtag group
of soldiers. Feeding more than a thousand mouths. And the enemy’s weapon has
found its mark. Listen to David: “David thought to himself, ‘Sooner
or later, Saul’s going to get me. The best thing I can do is escape to
Philistine country. Saul will count me a lost cause and quit hunting me down in
every nook and cranny of Israel. I’ll be out of his reach for good.’” (1
Sam. 27:1) No hope and, most of all, no God. David focuses on Saul. He hangs
Saul’s poster on his wall, replays his voicemail messages and re-reads his
texts. David immerses himself in his fear until his fear takes over: “I will be
destroyed.”
He knows better,
however, because in brighter seasons and healthier moments, David modeled heaven’s
therapy for tough days. The first time he faced the Philistines in the
wilderness, “David inquired of the Lord.” (23:2) When he felt small against his
enemy, “David inquired of the Lord.” (23:4) When attacked by the Amalekites,
“David inquired of the Lord.” (30:8) Puzzled about what to do after the death
of Saul, “David inquired of the Lord.” (2 Sam. 2:1) When crowned as king and
pursued by the Philistines, “David inquired of the Lord.” (5:19) David defeated
them, yet they mounted another attack, so “David inquired of the Lord.” (5:23) In
other words, David kept God’s number on speed dial. Confused? David talked to
God. Challenged? He talked to God. Afraid? He talked to God . . . most of the
time. But not this time.
On this occasion,
David talks to himself. He doesn’t even seek the counsel of his advisers. When Saul
first lashed out, David turned to Samuel. As the attacks continued, David asked
Jonathan for advice. When weaponless and breadless, he took refuge among the
priests at Nob. In this case, however, David consults David. Poor choice for an
advisor. Look at the advice he gives himself: “Sooner or later, Saul is going
to get me.” (1 Sam. 27:1) No he won’t, David. Don’t you remember the golden oil
of Samuel on your face? God has anointed you. Don’t you remember God’s promise
through Jonathan? “You shall be king over Israel.” (23:17) Have you forgotten
the assurance God gave you through Abigail? “The Lord will keep all his
promises of good things for you. He will make you leader over Israel.” (25:30)
God even assured your safety through Saul himself: “I know indeed that you
shall surely be king.” (24:20)
But in a wave of
weariness, David hits the pause button on good thoughts and thinks, “Sooner or
later, Saul’s going to get me. The best thing I can do is escape to Philistine
country. Saul will count me a lost cause and quit hunting me down in every nook
and cranny of Israel. I’ll be out of his reach for good.” (27:1) So David
leaves, and Saul calls off the hunt. David defects into the hands of the enemy.
He leads his men into the land of idols and false gods and pitches his tent in
Goliath’s backyard. He plops down in the pasture of Satan himself.
Initially, David
feels relief. Saul gives up the chase. David’s men can sleep with both eyes closed.
Children can attend kindergarten, and wives can unpack the suitcases. Hiding
out with the enemy brings temporary relief. But doesn’t it usually? Stop
resisting drugs, and you’ll laugh — for a while. Move out on your spouse, and
you’ll relax — for a time. Indulge in porn, and you’ll be entertained — for a
season. But then the talons of temptation sink in. Waves of guilt crash in. The
loneliness of breaking up rushes in. “There’s a way of life that looks harmless
enough; look again — it leads straight to hell. Sure, those people appear to be
having a good time, but all that laughter will end in heartbreak.” (Prov. 14:12–13)
Listen to the
third stanza of David’s song of the slump. In verse one, “he wore out.” So, “he
got out.” And in order to survive in the enemy camp, David “sells out.” He
strikes a deal with Achish, the king of Gath: “Give me a place in one of the
cities in the country, that I may live there; for why should your servant
live in the royal city with you?” (1 Sam. 27:5) Note David’s self-assigned
title: the “servant” of the enemy king. The once-proud son of Israel and
conqueror of Goliath lifts a toast to the arch-enemy of his family. And Achish
welcomes the deal. He grants David a village, Ziklag, and asks only that David
turn against his own people and kill them. And, as far as Achish knows, David
does. But David actually raids the enemies of the Hebrews: “Now David and his
men went up and raided the Geshurites, the Girzites and the Amalekites. . . . Whenever
David attacked an area, he did not leave a man or woman alive, but took sheep
and cattle, donkeys and camels, and clothes. Then he returned to Achish.”
(27:8–9)
Not David’s
finest hour, to say the least. He lies to the Philistine king and covers up his
deceit with bloodshed. He continues this duplicity for sixteen months. Not
surprisingly, there are no psalms from this particular season of David’s life.
His harp hangs silent. The slump mutes the minstrel. And things get worse
before they get better. he Philistines decide to attack King Saul. David and
his men opt to switch sides and join the opposition. Envision U.S. armed forces
joining with the Jihadists. They journey three days to the battlefield, get
rejected, and travel three days home. “The Philistine officers said, . . .
‘He’s not going into battle with us. He’d switch sides in the middle of the
fight!’” (1 Sam. 29:4) So, David leads his unwanted men back to Ziklag, only to
find the village burned to the ground. The Amalekites had destroyed it while
they were away, and had kidnapped all of their wives, sons and daughters. When
David and his men see the devastation, they weep until they are “exhausted with
weeping.” (30:4) Rejected by the Philistines. Pillaged by the Amalekites. No
country to fight for. No family to come home to. Can matters grow worse? Yes, they
can.
Anger flares in
the soldiers’ eyes. David’s men start looking for rocks. “The people in their bitterness
said he should be stoned.” (30:6) We have to wonder at this point whether David
is regretting his decision? Longing for simpler days in the wilderness, perhaps?
The good ol’ cave days, maybe? No Philistine rejection or
Amalekite attacks there. His men loved him. His wives were with him. Now, in
the ruins of Ziklag with men picking stones to throw at him, does he regret his
prayerless choice to get out and sell out? You be the judge.
Slumps. They’re the
Petri dish for bad decisions, the incubator for wrong turns, the assembly line
of regretful moves. How we handle our tough times stays with us for a long
time. So, how do you handle yours? When hope takes the last train and joy is
nothing but the name of the little girl who used to live next door . . . when you’re
tired of trying, tired of forgiving, tired of hard weeks or hard-headed people
. . . how do you manage your dark days? With a bottle of pills or scotch? With
an hour at the bar, a day at the spa, or a week at the coast? Many opt for these
alternatives. So many, in fact, that we assume that they re-energize a sad
life. But do they? No one denies that they help for a while, but over the long
haul? They numb the pain, but do they remove it? Or, are we like the sheep on
the Turkish cliff? Who knows why the first one jumped over the edge. Even more
bizarre are the fifteen hundred others who followed, each leaping off the same overhang.
The first 450 animals died. The thousand that followed survived only because
the pile of corpses cushioned their fall.
We, like sheep,
follow each other over the edge, falling headlong into bars and binges and beds.
Like David, we crash into Gath, only to find that Gath has no solution. Is
there a solution? Yes, there is. Doing right what David did wrong. He failed to
pray. So do the opposite: be quick to pray. Stop talking to yourself,
and talk to Christ, instead. He’s the one who invites: “Are you tired? Worn
out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover
your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest.” (Matt. 11:28) God, who is
never downcast, never tires of your down days. David neglected good advice. So,
learn from his mistake. Next time you lack the will to go on, seek
healthy counsel. You won’t want to, of course. Slumping people love slumping
people. Hurting people hang with hurting people. We love those with whom we can
commiserate, and avoid those who correct. Yet correction and direction are what
we need. “Refuse good advice and watch your plans fail; take good counsel and
watch them succeed.” (Prov. 15:22) Be quick to pray, seek healthy counsel, and don’t
give up.
Don’t make the
mistake of Florence Chadwick. In 1952 she attempted to swim the chilly ocean
waters between Catalina Island and the California shore; a distance of some 32
miles. She swam through foggy weather and choppy seas for fifteen hours. Her muscles
began to cramp, and her resolve had weakened. She begged to be taken out of the
water. But her mother, riding in a boat alongside, urged her not to give up. Florence
kept trying but grew exhausted and eventually stopped swimming. Aids lifted her
out of the water and into the boat. They paddled a few more minutes, the mist broke,
and Florence discovered that the shore was less than a half mile away. “All I
could see was the fog,” she explained at a news conference. “I think if I could
have seen the shore, I would have made it.”
Take a long look
at the shore that awaits you. Don’t be fooled by the fog of the slump. The finish
may be only strokes away. God may be, at this very moment, lifting his hand to
signal Gabriel to grab the trumpet. Angels may be assembling, saints gathering,
demons trembling. Stay at it. Stay in the water. Stay in the race. Stay in the fight.
Give grace – one more time. Be generous – one more time. Teach one more class,
encourage one more soul, swim one more stroke.
David did. Right
there in the smoldering ruins of Ziklag, he found strength. After sixteen
months in Gath. After the Philistine rejection, the Amalekite attack, and the
insurrection by his men, he remembered what to do. “David found strength in the
Lord his God.” (1 Sam. 30:6) Have you?
Grace,
Randy
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