A Tale of Three Kings

by Gene Edwards

King Saul sought to destroy David, but his only success was that he became the instrument of God to put to death the Saul who roamed about in the caverns of David’s own soul. Yes, David was virtually destroyed in the process, but this had to be. Otherwise the Saul in him would have survived. David accepted this fate. He embraced the cruel circumstances. He lifted no hand nor offered resistance. Nor did he grandstand his piety. Silently, privately, he bore the crucible of humiliation. Because of this he was deeply wounded. His whole inner being was mutilated. His personality was altered. When the gore was over, David was barely recognizable.

How strange, is it not, what suffering begets? There in those caves, drowned in the sorrow of his song and in the song of his sorrow, David became the greatest hymn writer and the greatest comforter of broken hearts this world shall ever know.

He sometimes gives unworthy vessels a greater portion of power so that others will eventually see the true state of internal nakedness within that individual. So think again when you hear the power merchant. Remember, God sometimes gives power to people for unseen reasons. A person can be living in the grossest of sin, and the outer gift will still be working perfectly. The gifts of God, once given, cannot be recalled. Even in the presence of sin. Furthermore, some people, living just such lives, are the Lord’s anointed . . . in the Lord’s eyes. Saul was living proof of this fact. The gifts cannot be revoked. Terrifying, isn’t it?

Ah! He has moved out of the mist into the light. We will see him clearly now. That face. Is it not you?! Yes. It is. It is you! You who can so wisely discern the presence of an unworthy Saul! Go! Look in yon mirror. That man is you! Look, too, at the name upon that coat of arms. Behold: Absalom the Second!

“And now, being an old man, I will add a word I might not have known then. Abishai, no man knows his own heart. I certainly do not know mine. Only God does. Shall I defend my little realm in the name of God? Shall I throw spears, and plot and divide . . . and kill men’s spirits if not their bodies . . . to protect my empire? I did not lift a finger to be made king. Nor shall I do so to preserve a kingdom. Even the kingdom of God! God put me here. It is not my responsibility to take, or keep, authority. Do you not realize, it may be his will for these things to take place? If he chooses, God can protect and keep the kingdom even now. After all, it is his kingdom.

Abishai called out once more, softly this time. Admiration flashed across his face. “Good King, thank you.” “For what?” the puzzled king asked as he turned back in the doorway. “Not for what you have done, but for what you have not done. Thank you for not throwing spears, for not rebelling against kings, for not exposing a man in authority when he was so very vulnerable, for not dividing a kingdom, for not attacking young Absaloms who look like young Davids but are not.” He paused. “And thank you for suffering, for being willing to lose everything. Thank you for giving God a free hand to end, and even destroy, your kingdom— if it pleases him. Thank you for being an example to us all. “And most of all,” he chuckled, “thank you for not consulting witches.”