This week, Israel and Hamas have entered a pause in their war. It’s an opportunity for humanitarian relief. Somewhere in that pause is a time to consider the human condition of sorrow. We all experience it. Sorrow has no boundaries. On the Israeli side, fathers are mourning the loss of sons held as hostages in a network of Hamas-dug tunnels in Gaza being bombed by Israel. On the Gaza side, mothers cry for the children she cannot provide shelter for in a home she will never return to. There is plenty of sorrow to go around.
David experienced his share of sorrow. He cried over the death of Abner, his brave comrade-in-arms (2 Sam. 3:23). He wept over the death of his best friend Jonathan (2 Sam. 1:12). David refused to eat upon hearing of the death of his child conceived with Bathsheba (2 Sam. 17). But it was the death of his son Absolom that left him with a sorrow that could only be expressed in profound brevity, “My son is dead.” Eight times in two verses (2 Sam. 18:33; 19:4), repeated:
“My son, Absalom! My son, my son, Absalom! If only I could have died in your place! Absalom, my son, my son!”
Despite the fact that Absalom was at war with David to take the crown; despite the fact that Absalom slept with David’s household concubines in public view to shame his father; despite the fact that Absalom set up a throne outside the gates of Jerusalem and counseled the people as if he had already disposed his father as king, David’s sorrow was deeper and acutely cutting over the news of the death of his beloved Absolom.
The backstory of Absalom’s death is found in 2 Sam. 18. David’s men had soundly defeated the army of the ten tribes of Israel aligned with Absalom. David warned his general, Joab, to be gentle with his son as Absalom’s defeat was imminent. Yet, as Joab came upon David’s son who had entangled himself in a forest of low-hanging tree limbs while in flight on mule-back, the insensitive general thrusted spears in the helpless Absalom hanging from a branch. He ordered his aids to finish the job. Two messengers on foot delivered the news to David.
The Cushite replied, “May the enemies of my lord the king and all who have plotted against you be like that young man!” 2 Sam. 18:32
The news was devastating, but it was not without warning. The assumed rule of leadership is that the consequences of bad choices will eventuate themselves. What a man sows he reaps. “The sword of violence shall never leave your house” was God’s judgment on David’s adultery with Bathsheba (2 Sam. 12:10). Absalom’s death cut David deep.
Even though the civil war over the kingship of Israel with the defeat of Absolom was a resounding victory, it was bittersweet. Blood is thicker than political water. David would have rather died in place of his son.
Thank God, God in the person of His Son Christ, died in the place of our sins—sins of equal weight to David’s affair with another man’s wife.
“We all have sinned and have come short of the glory of God (Ro. 10:9,10).”
“But while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Ro. 5:8,9
God’s love-laced grace is sufficient.
But he said to me, “My grace is enough for you. When you are weak, my power is made perfect in you.” So, I am very happy to brag about my weaknesses. Then Christ’s power can live in me. 2 Cor. 12:9
We would do well to give pause for thought in the temporary moments of the human condition of our sorrows—sorrows of death, sickness, and heartbreak—that sorrow has no boundary that grace cannot contrain.
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