Giants

Giants

“The Lord will deliver you into my hand … that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel” (1 Sam 17: 46).

The slender, beardless boy knelt by the brook with mud on his knees while the water bubbled through his hands. His copper-colored hair, tanned skin and dark eyes stole the breath, and hearts, of single women. But he’s not looking at his reflection, though. He’s looking for rocks. “Stones,” is probably a better word. Smooth stones – the kind of stones that stack neatly in a pouch and, when necessary, rest flush against a leather sling. Flat rocks that balance heavy on the palm and missile like a comet into the head of a lion, a bear, or, in this case, a giant. (Oh my!)

Meanwhile, Goliath stares down from the hillside. Only disbelief keeps him from laughing. He and his Philistine herd have rendered their half of the valley into a forest of spears. A growling, bloodthirsty gang of hoodlums boasting do-rags, B.O. and barbed-wire tattoos. And Goliath towers above them all: nine feet, nine inches tall in his stocking feet, wearing 125 pounds of armor, and snarling like the main contender at a WWF contest. He wears a size-20 collar, a 10½ hat, and a 56-inch belt. His biceps burst, his thigh muscles ripple, and his boasts belch through the canyon. And the tip of his spear? It’s about the weight of a bowling ball.

“This day I defy the ranks of Israel! Give me a man and let us fight each other.” (1 Sam. 17:10) Who will go mano a mano conmigo? (Translation: “Who will go hand-to-hand with me?) Give me your best shot! But no volunteers, at least not until today. Not until David.

David had just arrived that morning. He’d earlier clocked out from his sheep-watching duties to deliver bread and cheese to his brothers on the battlefront. That’s where David hears Goliath defying God, and that’s when David makes his decision. He takes his staff in his hand, chooses five smooth stones from the brook, puts them in his shepherd’s bag, grabs his sling and gets close to the Philistine. (17:40) Goliath scoffs at the kid and calls him Twiggy, e.g. “Am I a dog that you come to me with sticks?” (17:43)

Skinny, scrawny David. Bulky, brutish Goliath. The toothpick versus the tornado. The toy poodle taking on the Rottweiler. What odds do you give David against his giant? Better odds, perhaps, than you give yourself against your own? But your Goliath doesn’t carry a sword or a shield. Maybe your giant brandishes weapons of unemployment, abandonment, abuse or depression. Your giant doesn’t parade up and down the hills of Elah; he prances through your office, your home or maybe a classroom. He brings bills you can’t pay, grades you can’t make, people you can’t please, drugs you can’t resist, pornography you can’t refuse, a career you can’t escape, a past you can’t shake, and a future you can’t face.

You know Goliath’s roar.

David faced one who fog-horned his challenges morning and night. “For forty days, twice a day, morning and evening, the Philistine giant strutted in front of the Israelite army.” (17:16) And yours does the same. First thought of the morning, last worry of the night – your Goliath dominates your day and interrupts your joy. How long has he been stalking you?

Goliath’s family was an ancient foe of the Israelites. Joshua drove them out of the Promised Land three hundred years earlier. He destroyed everyone except the residents of three cities: Gaza, Gath, and Ashdod. Gath bred giants like Yosemite grows sequoias. Guess where Goliath was raised? See the G on his letterman’s jacket? Yep. Gath High School. His ancestors were to Hebrews what pirates were to the British navy. And Saul’s soldiers saw Goliath and thought, “Not again! My dad fought his dad. My grandpa fought his grandpa.”

You’ve groaned similar words, haven’t you? “I’m becoming a workaholic, just like my father.” “Divorce streaks through our family like stripes on a zebra.” “My mom couldn’t keep a friend either. Is this ever going to stop?” Your Goliath awaits you in the morning, and torments you at night. He stalked your ancestors and now looms over you. He blocks the sun and leaves you standing in the shadow of doubt. “When Saul and his troops heard the Philistine’s challenge, they were terrified and lost all hope.” (17:11)

You know Goliath. You recognize his walk and wince at his talk. You’ve seen your Goliath. The question is, is he all you see? And you know his voice. But is it all you hear? David saw and heard more. Read the first words he spoke, not just in the battle, but in the Bible: “David asked the men standing near him, ‘What will be done for the man who kills this Philistine and removes this disgrace from Israel? Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?’” (17:26)

David shows up discussing God. The soldiers mentioned nothing about him, the brothers never spoke his name, but David takes one step onto the stage and raises the subject of the living God. He does the same with King Saul: no chitchat about the battle or questions about the odds. Just an announcement: “The Lord, who delivered me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear, He will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine.” (17:37). In other words, no one else discusses God. David discusses no one else but God.

David sees what others don’t, and refuses to see what others do. All eyes, except David’s, fall on the brutal, hate-breathing hulk. All compasses, except for David’s, are set on the polestar of the Philistine. All journals, but David’s, describe the feelings of living day after day in the land of the Neanderthal. The people know his taunts, demands, size and strut. They have majored in Goliath. David majors in God. He sees the giant, mind you; he just sees God more so. Look carefully at David’s battle cry: “You come to me with a sword, with a spear, and with a javelin. But I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel.” (17:45)

 

Note the plural noun—armies of Israel. Armies? The common observer sees only one army of Israel. Not David. He sees the Allies on D-Day: platoons of angels and infantries of saints, the weapons of the wind and the forces of the earth. God could pellet the enemy with hail as he did for Moses, collapse walls as he did for Joshua, or stir thunder as he did for Samuel. David sees the armies of God. And because he does, David hurries and runs toward the army to meet the Philistine. (17:48)

David’s brothers cover their eyes, both in fear and embarrassment. This is a train wreck in the making. Saul sighs as the young Hebrew races to a certain death. Goliath throws his head back in laughter … just enough to shift his helmet and expose a square inch of flesh on his forehead. David spots the target and seizes the moment. The sound of the swirling sling is the only sound in the valley. Whooooosh, Whooooosh, Whooooosh. The stone torpedoes through the air and into the skull; Goliath’s eyes cross and legs buckle. He crumples to the ground and David runs over and yanks Goliath’s sword from its sheath, shish-kebabs the Philistine, and cuts his head off.

When was the last time you did the same thing? You know. How long has it been since you ran toward your challenges? We tend to retreat, or duck behind a desk of work, or crawl into a pill bottle of distraction. Like a one-sided football team, we have only a defense not an offense. For a moment, a day or a year, we feel safe, insulated, anesthetized. But then the work runs out, the drugs wears off and we hear Goliath again. Booming. Bombastic. So, try a different tack next time. Rush your giant with a God-saturated soul.

And how long has it been since you loaded your sling and took a swing at your giant? Too long, you say? Then David is your model. God called him “a man after my own heart.” (Acts 13:22) He gave this appellation to no one else. Not Abraham. Not Moses. Not Joseph. He called Paul an apostle, John his beloved, but neither was tagged a man after God’s own heart. But when you read David’s story, you wonder what God saw in him in the first place.

David fell as often as he stood; stumbled as often as he conquered. He stared down Goliath, but ogled at Bathsheba; defied God-mockers in the valley, yet joined them in the wilderness. An Eagle Scout one day. Hanging out with the Mafia the next. He could lead armies but couldn’t manage his own family. Raging David. Weeping David. Bloodthirsty. God-hungry. Eight wives. One God. A man after God’s own heart? Really? That God saw him as such gives us all reason to hope.

David’s life has little to offer the unstained saint. “Straight-A” souls find David’s story disappointing. The rest of us find it reassuring because we ride the very same roller coaster. We alternate between swan dives and belly flops, soufflés and burnt toast. In David’s good moments, no one was better. But in his bad moments? Frankly, could anyone be worse? The heart God loved was a checkered one, at best. But we need David’s story. Giants lurk in our lives. Giants of rejection, failure, revenge and remorse.

 Giants. We must face them. Yet we need not face them alone. Focus first, and most, on God. The times David did, giants fell. The days he didn’t, David did. Test this theory with an open Bible. Read 1 Samuel 17 and list the observations David made regarding Goliath. There are only two. One statement to Saul about Goliath (v. 36), and one to Goliath’s face: “Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?” (v. 26)

That’s it. Two Goliath-related comments (tacky ones at that) and no questions. No inquiries about Goliath’s skill, age, social standing, or IQ. David asks nothing about the weight of the spear, the size of the shield, or the meaning of the skull and crossbones tattooed on the giant’s bicep. David gives no thought to the diplodocus on the hill. But he gives much thought to God. Read David’s words again, this time focusing on his references to his Lord. “The armies of the living God” (v. 26). “The armies of the living God” (v. 36). “The Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel” (v. 45). “The Lord will deliver you into my hand … that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel” (v. 46).“The Lord does not save with sword and spear; the battle is the Lord’s; He will give you into our hands” (v. 47). Nine references. God-thoughts outnumber Goliath-thoughts by a score of nine to two. That’s about 88%.

How does that ratio compare with your own? Do you ponder God’s grace four times as much as you ponder your guilt? Is your list of blessings four times as long as your list of complaints? Is your mental file of hope four times as thick as your mental file of dread? Are you four times as likely to describe the strength of God as you are the demands of your day? No? Then David’s your man.

Robert Ripley, the “Believe-It-or-Not” man, once pointed out: “A plain bar of iron is worth $5. This same bar of iron, when made into horseshoes, is worth $10.50. If made into needles, it is worth $355. If made into penknife blades, it is worth $3,285; and if turned into balance springs for watches, that identical bar of iron becomes worth $250,000.” The difference? The pounding that’s applied.

So, this week, remember: Focus on giants—you stumble. Focus on God—your giants tumble. The God who made a miracle out of David stands ready to make one out of you, too.

Grace,

Randy