Saul had a concubine named Rizpah, and Ish-bosheth asked Abner, "Why have you gone in to my father's concubine?" (2 Samuel 3:7).

Consider Ish-bosheth's folly here. The house of Saul was growing weaker and weaker, and Ish-bosheth was losing power to his general, Abner. Ish-bosheth confronted Abner about taking one of his father's concubines — in that culture a claim to royal power. Yet it was an empty threat, because he had no power to enforce the penalty for such treason. Even when Abner was more blatant, declaring that he would hand Israel over to David, Ish-bosheth felt he could do nothing.

Ish-bosheth does not appear to have been a strong leader. But perhaps his greatest handicap was that the Lord was against him and his house. God was strengthening David to be king over Israel.

David himself was not free of such fears, for he too felt powerless before his strong and popular general, Joab (cf. 2 Samuel 3:39). But he was wise enough not to bring private complaints against his general, as Ish-bosheth had. Instead, he humbled himself and showed himself honorable before the people, and so gained popular favor (cf. 2 Samuel 3:36–37), which added to his strength and protection against conspiracy.

Yet beyond these strategies, David's real strength was in God's promise and providence. As Solomon observed, "No wisdom, no understanding, no counsel can avail against the Lord" (Proverbs 21:30). Isaiah wrote that God created the ravager to destroy, yet "no weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed," and His servants will refute every tongue that rises against them (a paraphrase of Isaiah 54:16–17). And in the New Testament Paul declared, "If God is for us, who can be against us?" (Romans 8:31).

Friends, Ish-bosheth's downfall came primarily because he was on the wrong side of God's favor. David's triumph came primarily because he was on the right side of it.

Now, I am only considering temporal outcomes here, and such outcomes do not give the full picture; otherwise, some might even say Christ's ministry was a failure, since He died a shameful and horrible death and all His followers were scattered. Yet we know Christ's death was the greatest outcome of any event in history.

It is not only temporal outcomes that matter. Eternal outcomes matter too — and even more. Paul says that no hardship, failure, or loss is worth comparing with the eternal hope every believer has (cf. Romans 8:18). He writes that we do not lose heart; though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day; our light, momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen, for the things seen are transient, but the things unseen are eternal (a paraphrase of 2 Corinthians 4:16–18).

Friends, are you going through hardship, failure, or loss? Don't lose heart, but trust and obey the Lord. It is enough that you are on the right side of God's favor. You will be safe amid uncertain times and the schemes of crafty and wicked people. Instead of fretting, pray, and bring every anxiety to the Lord, always remembering to thank Him for everything, knowing that you are completely dependent on His grace (cf. Philippians 4:6–7). Yes, dear friends, humble yourselves and pray. Even when you are shaking with fear, pray. Even when you see only darkness and feel dread about the future, pray.

Meditate daily on God's Word. If you have more time, meditate more. Fill your mind with His truth, so that your perspective is not hijacked by your fears. Even if you feel you are on the wrong side of God's favor, this is the best thing you can do.

Don't think you can simply take matters into your own hands, for this will certainly turn out badly. Consider the wise counsel the seer Hanani gave King Asa: the eyes of the Lord run throughout the earth "to give strong support to those whose heart is blameless" toward Him (a paraphrase of 2 Chronicles 16:9). And listen to Solomon's words of wisdom: "Trust in the Lord with all your heart," and do not lean on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths (a paraphrase of Proverbs 3:5–6).

AI-Expanded Reflection

Rizpah, whose name appears only briefly in this chapter, becomes one of the most moving figures in 2 Samuel later on. When seven of Saul's descendants — including her two sons — were executed to atone for Saul's violence against the Gibeonites, Rizpah spread sackcloth on a rock and guarded their bodies from birds and animals "from the beginning of harvest until rain fell" (2 Samuel 21:10) — possibly for months. Her silent vigil moved David to give Saul, Jonathan, and the others a proper burial, "and after that God responded to the plea for the land" (21:14). A woman who appears in 2 Samuel 3 only as the object of a power struggle is later remembered for extraordinary faithfulness.

The comment's point that temporal outcomes do not tell the whole story is an important one. David's rise to power in 2 Samuel 3 was accompanied by violence he did not sanction — Joab's murder of Abner — and David publicly mourned Abner and refused to eat until sunset, so that all Israel understood "that it had not been the king's will" (3:37). His integrity in that moment, as much as his political skill, won the people's trust. Being "on the right side of God's favor," as the comment puts it, is shown not by success alone but by faithfulness when faithfulness costs something.

I am weak today, though anointed king; and these men the sons of Zeruiah are too difficult for me. May the Lord repay the evildoer according to his evil" (2 Samuel 3:39).

This is an interesting statement. It appears that what David is saying is that even though he had been anointed king, he did not feel he had the strength to exact judgment against Joab for the murder of Abner. He did not even mention Joab by name but just referred to the "sons of Zeruiah." The sons were Joab, Abishai, and Asahel. They were all chief military leaders over David's army. Even though Asahel was dead, Joab and Abishai were still powerfully influential.

Ish-bosheth, the son of Saul, foolishly confronted Abner, the commander of his army, over Saul’s concubine and, in turn, lost his kingdom (2 Samuel 3:6–11). In contrast, David would not be so foolish to confront his military commander over the matter of Abner's death, but he made sure that all Israel knew that he himself was not guilty.

It would not be until David's death and the passing of the throne to Solomon that David felt that his throne carried enough clout to exact judgment for Joab's treachery:

Now you yourself know what Joab son of Zeruiah did to me—what he did to the two commanders of Israel’s armies, Abner son of Ner and Amasa son of Jether. He killed them, shedding their blood in peacetime as if in battle, and with that blood he stained the belt around his waist and the sandals on his feet. Deal with him according to your wisdom, but do not let his gray head go down to the grave in peace. (1 Kings 2:5–6).

David had the wisdom to know that just ascending to the throne of Israel was no guarantee of power and influence. He had to win over the people. He had to be mindful of not offending his military leaders.

Also, he had the discernment to understand that he could consolidate his power better if he did not harm Saul or his sons. He honored them instead. God had rejected Saul and would Himself remove him from the throne, freeing David from any blood-guilt with respect to Saul. When David ascended the throne, no one could justifiably exact revenge against David, who was innocent of Saul's blood, even to the extent of mourning over the former king and judging the man who claimed to have killed Saul and brought the news as if it were a glad tiding.

Friends, God gave David such wisdom and ingenuity to navigate the sensitive and dangerous political channels of this transfer of power. I do not point these things out to exalt David but to commend his trust in the LORD. I believe that David's reign and dynasty were built on the basis of this trust and faithfulness toward God.

This is what I try to imitate with respect to the various platforms God has given me to serve Him, whether in the church, in my work, or in my home. I apply what wisdom God has granted me, as best I can, but I recognize my weakness and my susceptibility to ignorance and failure at every point. And while I relish the support of others, I do not depend upon it, for my motivation is simply trusting and honoring the Lord my God. It is His approval and reward that I ultimately seek.

Brothers and sisters, I encourage you to follow my example in this, even as I follow the example of Christ.

AI-Expanded Reflection

David's confession of weakness after Abner's murder reveals the difference between holding a title and possessing the power to enforce every judgment. Joab and Abishai are formidable figures, and David recognizes their influence. The passage refuses to portray the transition to his reign as a simple exercise of unquestioned royal authority. Leadership takes place amid loyalties, rivalries, fear, and consequences that cannot always be controlled by a declaration.

The original emphasizes David's prudence in navigating those realities. There is value in recognizing that a leader may need to distinguish what can be done immediately from what requires a longer course. David publicly mourns Abner, condemns the killing, and makes clear that he did not authorize it. Such actions matter even when he does not at once impose the full penalty. Public truth can resist the false impression that political advantage makes violence acceptable.

Nevertheless, the narrative should not be read as approving every compromise simply because it is politically understandable. Joab's murder remains wrong, and David's inability or unwillingness to deal with him becomes part of the unresolved burden of his reign. The later instructions to Solomon do not automatically prove that postponement was the best possible response at every earlier stage. Political survival and moral wisdom can overlap, but they are not identical.

The comparison with Ish-bosheth also needs care. Abner's relationship with Saul's concubine had potential dynastic significance, so the king's concern was not necessarily foolish merely because confronting a powerful commander proved costly. Nor does Abner's angry reaction establish that the accusation was false. The text portrays a struggle over authority; it gives limited access to the motives the original reconstructs. Responsible application should not turn the lesson into a rule that powerful subordinates must never be challenged.

David's treatment of the Amalekite in 2 Samuel 1 is similarly more specific than executing a messenger for bringing unwelcome news. The man claims to have killed the Lord's anointed, and David judges him on his own testimony. The account raises interpretive questions when compared with Saul's death in 1 Samuel 31, but its stated basis is the claimed killing, not simply the tone of the report. Details like this keep political analysis tied to the narrative rather than allowing a general theory to absorb every event.

For Christian leadership, the constructive lesson is humility without surrender of accountability. We can acknowledge limited knowledge and power, seek counsel, act on what is clear, and refuse to call expediency righteousness. Dependence on God should make truthfulness and protection of others more important, not provide a spiritual explanation for permanent inaction. Sometimes faithful action is gradual; sometimes delay allows further harm.

The original's desire to seek God's approval is therefore best joined to transparent self-examination. Whose interests does a compromise protect? What steps toward justice remain possible? Who can question the leader's judgment? Christ's example includes both patient restraint and costly truth. Following him means more than preserving a platform from which to serve; it means allowing the manner of service itself to remain accountable to his character.

There are times in Scripture where God is silent — not that He is absent, but that we are not given His opinion directly on every matter, which sounds a good deal like life. The book of Ruth is one: the whole story unfolds and God gives no spoken verdict. We do get to see His mind through other Scriptures and through what He does with people's actions.

In these chapters there is one place where God speaks: David asks whether he should go up, and is told to go; he asks where, and is told Hebron. That is all. From there he is made king over Judah, gains Abner's support, and is reunited with his first wife, whom he had never divorced — she was taken from him.

On justifying evil: we are never called to do evil. God does no evil. Yet God in His sovereignty uses human choices, including evil ones, to accomplish His will. In a passage where David is doing well, he declares his innocence of Abner's death. By several measures Abner acted defensibly in killing Asahel — two sides were fighting, Abner warned him and offered him a way out, a fight ensued. The greater shame is that a Hebrew killed a Hebrew, which should not be passed over lightly. The law does allow for an avenger of blood, but David does not seem to view it that way; he speaks of the bloodguilt of the matter, treating Abner's death as unjust.

God's silence is often taken as approval. Conversely, we should not assume disapproval either. We should use Scripture to interpret Scripture.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The methodological point at the end is a good one and it is the same principle this project has applied to Judges: narrative silence is neither endorsement nor condemnation, and the reader's job is to supply the judgment from the rest of Scripture rather than from the absence of comment.

The observation about Michal is worth extending, because the situation is more tangled than the comment's summary allows. Saul had given her to another man, Paltiel, who by the time David reclaims her has been her husband for years and follows the procession weeping until he is ordered home (2 Samuel 3:15–16). The text gives that detail and then drops it. Michal is moved between households three times by decisions she is never recorded as making, and the next thing we hear of her is the estrangement in chapter 6. The narrator does not comment on any of it — which is precisely the silence this comment is describing, and one of the places where it is hardest to read.

2 Samuel 3:36 records that this pleased the people very much — in fact, everything the king did pleased them.

David fasts in mourning over Abner's death, and the people are pleased. The writer tells us that everything the king did pleased them, which I take to mean he consistently acted with integrity, courage, wisdom, humility, and leadership. Whenever I come to this verse my heart leaps and I find myself wanting to know such a person, and to be one.

We seem to have the opposite today. Public confidence in institutions and leaders sits at historic lows, and leadership has become a locus of division rather than a rallying point. When was the last time a national leader did something that pleased the whole people? We tend to find just the opposite.

When we look at religious leadership, the picture is not much better. Many go through the motions of their office, and it is rare to find something genuinely inspiring. It is distressing that we now measure exemplary leadership largely by whether someone has avoided a major scandal. The scale has been lowered so far that almost anyone can gain approval with a single good deed, a particular talent, or sufficient influence.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The verse deserves a qualification the comment does not give it, because "everything the king did pleased them" is a statement about a moment rather than a permanent assessment. It appears in a chapter where David is working hard to demonstrate that he had no part in Abner's killing — he curses Joab publicly, walks behind the bier, weeps at the grave, and refuses food. The people's approval is specifically approval of a king who has just gone to visible lengths to show he did not benefit from a murder that benefited him.

That is the narrower and more useful observation. The thing that satisfied the people was not charisma or achievement but a ruler taking public pains to be seen as clean when suspicion would have been reasonable. The same book records plenty of moments when David did not please the people, and one of them is the direct consequence of a murder he did arrange.

After David makes peace with Abner, Saul's former army commander, Joab kills him in revenge for his own brother's death. David condemns this harshly, declaring his kingdom forever innocent of Abner's blood, calling for it to fall instead on Joab and his entire family — never without someone diseased, disabled, violently killed, or starving (a paraphrase of 2 Samuel 3:28–29). Mourning Abner's death, David tells his men that a great commander has fallen in Israel that day, admitting that though anointed king, he feels too weak against Joab and his brothers, asking the LORD to repay the evildoer according to his deeds (a paraphrase of 2 Samuel 3:38–39).

Yet we later learn Joab becomes commander of David's entire army, ruling justly over Israel alongside him (a paraphrase of 2 Samuel 8:15–16). Though not mentioned in 2 Samuel 5's account of Jerusalem's conquest, 1 Chronicles 11 tells us David had promised command of his army to whoever led the attack against the Jebusites — and Joab, going up first, received exactly that command (a paraphrase of 1 Chronicles 11:6).

Even though Joab was of questionable character — David himself calls him "evil" — it seems David kept him as commander because he consistently won his battles. David, who moved swiftly to execute others (the Amalekite who claimed to kill Saul, the men who brought Ish-bosheth's severed head), was strangely slow to act against Joab specifically.

Even today, we face this same tension between morality and results. A politician's personal failings get easily overlooked as long as they vote the way we want; an unscrupulous employee gets promoted as long as they're profitable. Keeping Joab close may have helped David succeed militarily, but it came at real personal cost later — it's Joab who places Uriah on the battle's front line to be killed, following David's own letter instructing exactly that (a paraphrase of 2 Samuel 11:14–16). David gave the order, of course — but I wonder whether he could have gotten away with it so easily if Joab had been a man of genuine integrity instead. Recall that when Saul ordered his guards to kill Ahimelech, the priest of Nob, they refused outright (a paraphrase of 1 Samuel 22:17).

I'm thankful to be surrounded by faithful brothers and sisters who rejoice with me in success, mourn with me in despair, encourage me in doing good, and rebuke me when I fall.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The comparison this comment draws between Joab's guards and Saul's guards is worth naming as a genuinely important contrast in leadership accountability — Saul's guards refused an unjust order and faced no apparent consequence for it, while David seemingly never had subordinates willing to refuse him the same way. That may say less about the two kings' relative moral character in the moment and more about the kind of men each had chosen, or tolerated, close to their own authority over time — a sobering point for anyone in leadership, since the willingness of people around you to say no to a bad order may depend less on your own stated values and more on whether you've actually built a culture where refusing you is genuinely survivable.

Friends, an Amalekite brings David news of Saul's death, assuming it's good news. He even lies about killing Saul himself — likely hoping for credit and reward before Israel's future king. To anyone else in David's camp, this might have sounded like welcome news, but not to David. He'd had more than one clear opportunity to kill Saul himself, with plenty of justification — yet he refused, recognizing it wasn't his place to exact justice against God's anointed. Don't miss this, since it's genuinely relevant for us today — David considered God's own honor above his personal advantage.

David sacrificed his personal right, his rightful claim, and a clear opportunity, for the sake of God's honor. We often think we've earned fair pay, respectful treatment, courteous service, and are entitled to demand it "on principle." From a worldly perspective, this reasoning is sound, and everyone around us might approve — but doing so fails to follow the model David set, later followed by John the Baptist, and preeminently by Jesus Himself, who teaches us to deny ourselves, take up our cross, become living sacrifices, and suffer real loss for His name's sake.

We don't do this out of weakness — no one would dare accuse David of weakness, a man who killed his tens of thousands. His convictions and actions clearly show where his real strength and hope lay: in God alone. Holding this view of things means others often won't understand why we do what we do — they may even mock us for foolishness, since we didn't position ourselves for maximum personal gain. Paul essentially testifies that he'd serve for free, so no one could accuse him of doing it for money. David would later say he wouldn't offer God anything that cost him nothing. What's our own testimony? Are we more concerned with fair treatment, protecting our own interests, and positioning ourselves for maximum personal benefit — or are we genuinely seeking first God's kingdom and righteousness?

AI-Expanded Reflection

The Amalekite's fatal miscalculation is worth noting alongside this comment's own point, since it mirrors exactly the worldly logic being critiqued — he assumed David, like most rulers, would reward whoever eliminated a rival, regardless of the method. David's response (having him executed for even claiming to harm the LORD's anointed, 2 Samuel 1:14–16) demonstrates in real time exactly the principle this comment is describing: David's refusal to seek personal advantage over God's honor wasn't merely a private conviction he held quietly — it was consistent enough to be visibly, publicly enforced the moment someone else tried to profit from violating it on his behalf.

All the people took notice, pleased with everything the king did — so that day, all Israel knew David had no part in Abner's murder (a paraphrase of 2 Samuel 3:36–37).

One could easily call David a shrewd politician, performing a calculated move to win people's loyalty. But God, who sees straight through to our hearts, knew his was genuine. Once again, he truly has a heart after God's own — exactly as Scripture already declared to Saul, that the LORD had sought out a man after His own heart to rule His people, since Saul himself had failed to keep the LORD's command (a paraphrase of 1 Samuel 13:14).

In the midst of all his life's turmoil, David genuinely gave his heart to the Lord, always thinking about what would please Him. Yujin mentioned in our SMT class what Scripture means calling David "a man after God's heart" — David was proactive in loving God. For example, I sometimes ask my children to do chores, and I'm glad when they listen and obey — but if I come home one day to find the whole house already cleaned, or dishes washed and dried without being asked, I'm genuinely delighted, because they thought about pleasing me and acted voluntarily. David may have related to God this same way. Let's consider today how we might please our Father, whether or not it brings us personal comfort.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The chores analogy this comment offers is worth extending slightly, since it captures a genuinely useful distinction between two kinds of obedience Scripture consistently distinguishes — doing exactly what's required when asked, versus anticipating what would please someone and acting before being asked at all. David's own psalms repeatedly show this second, more proactive posture, not just responding to explicit commands but actively seeking out what would delight God (Psalm 40:8, "I delight to do your will"). That's the specific quality this comment's own parenting illustration captures so well — the difference between a child who obeys instructions and one who's internalized enough of a parent's heart to act on their own initiative toward the same goal.