Brokenness

Do you remember when Nathan told David that the sword would never depart his household?  It was really true.  It seems that the life of David can be clearly divided into two parts: before and after Bathsheba.  Before taking Bathsheba as his own, David’s life was full of confidence, power, success, and the admiration and adoration of the people.  Things weren’t perfect; there were missteps in his governance and there were tensions at home.  But the life and kingdom of David could be characterized by strength and success.

After taking Bathsheba, David’s life became marked by loss, tensions, and a growing weakness or vulnerability.  As I mentioned last week, he was growing older and perhaps engaging in the kinds of self-reflection we do as we are coming to terms with age.  His children were growing up and so were their problems.  There’s a saying that when your children are little they break your dishes, when they are big they break your heart.  This is true, isn’t it?

Even without those problems, David’s life was complicated.  It is helpful to remember that David had many wives and concubines; he had lots of children from many different mothers.  So there was bound to be some competition within David’s household for his attention, his favor, and ultimately his kingdom.

It started with his eldest son, Amnon, who was restless and dissatisfied and grasping for something more, just as his father had been.  Like his father had done, Amnon grasped for something he shouldn’t have – his half sister, Tamar.  When David learned of this he was angry but he did nothing.  Amnon’s half brother Absalom, however, became his enemy from that moment and wouldn’t rest until he had killed Amnon, two full years later. 

When David learned of Amnon’s death, he grieved but he did nothing.  Absalom fled and remained in exile for three years.  David yearned for his son Absalom, but he did nothing.  Finally, with an intervention from Joab, the commander of his army, David sent for Absalom and he returned to Jerusalem.  But the relationship between David and Absalom remained strained.  Again, David did nothing.

It soon began to look as though Absalom had some pretty raw ambitions.  He is a beautiful young man, the text tells us, charming, handsome, with a full head of heavy, thick hair.  Apparently he was vain about his hair; he would let it grow for a year and only cut it when it was uncomfortably heavy.  Why am I telling you about his hair?  Because it will come into the story. 

He inserted himself into the business of the court and began engaging the people who came to see his father in ways that would curry favor for himself.  The text says, Absalom stole the hearts of the people of Israel, and it was not for the good of the kingdom.  Something was definitely up with Absalom. 

And soon we find out what it is.  After three years of scheming, Absalom left Jerusalem and raised an army against his father.  David receives word that Absalom and his army have conquered the city of Hebron and are on their way to Jerusalem.  The king and all his people flee into the wilderness.  He is now at war with his son Absalom. 

Absalom has a growing band of revolutionaries with him, but David has the professional army, which knew a little more about strategy, and it is becoming clear that David’s army will prevail – which is good.  But this is no ordinary war for King David.  He has never before had to go up against his own child and David has mixed feelings on what he is about to do.

One thing has become clear:  David loves his children.  But his love seems impotent in the face of their hurt, anger, jealousy, and fear.  Let us see now how things unfold with his war against Absalom.

2 Samuel 18:5-9,15,31-33     The king ordered Joab and Abishai and Ittai, saying, “Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom.” And all the people heard when the king gave orders to all the commanders concerning Absalom. So the army went out into the field against Israel; and the battle was fought in the forest of Ephraim. The men of Israel were defeated there by the servants of David, and the slaughter there was great on that day, twenty thousand men. The battle spread over the face of all the country; and the forest claimed more victims that day than the sword.

Absalom happened to meet the servants of David. Absalom was riding on his mule, and the mule went under the thick branches of a great oak. His head caught fast in the oak [by his hair!], and he was left hanging between heaven and earth, while the mule that was under him went on. And ten young men, Joab’s armor-bearers, surrounded Absalom and struck him, and killed him. 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 rose 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!”

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Joyce Carol Oates wrote a story back in the 1990’s called We Were the Mulvaneys.  The Mulvaneys were a perfect American family: mom and dad and four children happy, prosperous, and full of love.  Then something happens.  Someone pokes a hole in their perfect bliss and things fall apart.  Sometimes it seems like our human happiness is a house of cards, ready to collapse if someone exhales too loudly.

Perhaps it seemed that way to David.  Each time one of his children acted out their anger or hurt, he reacted essentially the same way: like he never saw it coming. 

He never saw it coming when Nathan pointed a finger at him and said, “You are the man!”   And one fears that he learned nothing, after all, from that episode. Because again and again and again, as David’s family is imploding, self-destructing, he never sees it coming.

David, the great politician, could always read the political landscape.  He could judge the right time and manner for bringing the Ark of the Covenant into Jerusalem and claiming the role of religious leader on top of political leader.  As a great warrior, David could always read the military landscape, knowing when and how to make his next move and claim his next kingdom.  David could read all the signs outside of his own household.  But when it came to such personal matters, David was blind.

I can sympathize, because these personal matters cut a little close to the heart.  They can seem even more dangerous than the dangers of the battlefield.  David was certainly more comfortable in the political or the military arenas than he was in coping with his own personal feelings toward his children, or his wives, and their feelings toward him.

And his responsibilities to the kingdom certainly did not encourage him to be too introspective.  The people of Israel didn’t care about whether David was in touch with his feelings; they merely wanted a strong, prosperous, and safe kingdom.  In the situation, the appearance of stability was probably more important than actual stability in David’s home.  And I am guessing David had fully bought into that.

The Mulvaney family, in Oates’ story had bought into the image they projected of perfection.  They lived in a small town in upstate New York.  Everyone in their community regarded them as a perfect family. Dad ran a successful business, mom was a busy homemaker, the kids were student athletes and cheerleaders.  Everything looked just right.  But looking right and being right are two different things and one can mask the cracks in the other.

They didn’t even know that things weren’t right in their home until tragedy struck them from outside.  And they never saw it coming, just like David never saw it coming.

When we look in from outside, or when we read a story like the story of David and the story of the Mulvaneys, we can see things they didn’t see.  We are like a surgeon who cuts a patient open to see what’s really going on inside. 

We can look at David’s story and ask, “Why did he not step in and support Tamar, or why did he not console Absalom when he was hurting?”  In the same way, last week we asked “Why did David not stop himself as he was hurtling down the road to self-destruction?” 

At the roundtable as we discussed this story, we said that perhaps David’s weakness was his emotion.  David was a man of jubilant highs and deep lows.  His emotional openness charms us, but it also seems to lead to devastation.  His emotions may have been his weakness.  Yet, I think it may be even more complex than that.

David’s weakness was really in the way he responded to his emotions.  When the child of Bathsheba was deathly ill, David spent hours and days on his knees in prayer.  But when the child died, he rose and washed himself and went on with his life as though nothing had happened. 

When Amnon assaulted Tamar, when Absalom assaulted Amnon, when things were falling apart, David did the same thing again and again.  He put away his grief, and he rose and went on as though nothing had happened. 

Eventually, the grief he had pent up inside could no longer be held.  And he sobbed, “Absalom, my son. Would I had died instead of you.”  I have no doubt that he meant it.  Love hurts – God knows this is true.

But there wasn’t time for a king to be indisposed with grief.  Again, Joab intervened and ordered him to pull it together for the sake of his army and his kingdom.  Once again, David had to patch up his brokenness and pretend it wasn’t there.

So, the heartbreaks would continue. 

One of the things people love about David is his humanness. He is no 2-dimensional Bible hero – he is a fully fleshed out human being, whom we can relate to, and sympathize with, and love.  We are blessed to be able to see so many of David’s flaws, see how things could have gone differently, and see how we might apply this understanding to our own lives.  This is one of the benefits I see in David’s story.

As Jesus pointed out, it’s always easier for us to see the speck in our neighbor’s eye than it is to see the log in our own eye.  But perhaps a story like this story of David makes it easier for us to see the wrong turns we make, and open our eyes to opportunities we might have missed.

We are all broken.  We, like the Mulvaneys, like David, have all kinds of flaws.  We have all kinds of power to hurt one another, through our actions and our failure to act.  Knowing these things is the first step.  But our brokenness is not the last word.  The last word, and the first word, is the love of God, without bounds – a love that heals all wounds, binds up broken hearts, and restores all souls. 

No person or family is perfect.  No image of perfection is real – not in this world.  But the love of God in Jesus Christ is perfect.  May we strive toward this love and may it guide all our actions toward one another.