The king said, "Is it well with the young man Absalom?" Ahimaaz answered, "I saw a great commotion, but I do not know what it was" (a paraphrase of 2 Samuel 18:29).

Ahimaaz was so eager to bring news of the victory that he did not consider that he would also be bringing unhappy news to the king — that David's son was dead. Joab understood this and tried to dissuade him from carrying the message (2 Samuel 18:20).

Ahimaaz outruns the first messenger and reaches the king. He humbles himself and gladly announces the victory over the king's enemies. But then the king asks about his son Absalom, and Ahimaaz has no ready answer. He evades the question and leaves the telling to the other messenger. In that agonizing wait before the Cushite arrived, Ahimaaz likely recalled the general's words: "You are not to carry news today," for the king's son is dead (a paraphrase of 2 Samuel 18:20).

Joab understood David's heart. Yet his own contempt for Absalom — whom he had twice helped restore to the king's favor — outweighed his loyalty to the king's express wish that Absalom be spared. Joab knew the king would be grieved by the news of his son's death.

Ahimaaz understood the good news of victory, but he did not consider the heart of the one who would receive it. David's mind was on Absalom. He would more readily have accepted defeat, or even his own death, than this news. He had already lost two sons, and this was another, all in fulfillment of God's word of judgment against him for taking Uriah's life.

As for Ahimaaz, he likely regretted his haste.

Friends, let us learn this lesson from both Ahimaaz and Joab. They both let their emotions — over-eagerness in one, anger in the other — get the better of them. Often prudence requires us to be calm enough to see a situation from more than one angle, and then to act with wisdom rather than haste.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The chapter's emotional center is David's cry: "O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom!" (18:33). Joab then rebuked him sharply for shaming the soldiers who had risked their lives (19:5–7), and David went out to meet them. Both men were partly right: the grief was genuine, and the army did need its king. Scripture presents the tension honestly without resolving it neatly.

The comment's counsel about considering the hearer is practical wisdom that Proverbs repeatedly commends: "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver" (25:11); "whoever restrains his words has knowledge," and a cool spirit marks understanding (17:27). Paul adds the goal: speech that is "good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace" (Ephesians 4:29). Knowing what to say is only part of wisdom; knowing when, and to whom, is the rest.

The advice of Ahithophel, which he gave in those days, was as if one inquired of the word of God; so was all the advice of Ahithophel regarded by both David and Absalom (2 Samuel 16:23).

Then Absalom and all the men of Israel said, “The counsel of Hushai the Archite is better than the counsel of Ahithophel.” For the Lord had ordained to thwart the good counsel of Ahithophel, so that the Lord might bring calamity on Absalom (2 Samuel 17:14).

Ahithophel had a reputation for wisdom that matched the word of God. More than this, both David and Absalom treated any advice he gave with the highest regard. Therefore, it was completely out of character for Absalom to prefer Hushai's counsel over that of Ahithophel. But we are given the reason for this:

For the Lord had ordained to thwart the good counsel of Ahithophel (2 Samuel 17:14).

As amazing as Ahithophel's counsel was, it was no match for God's purposes, for God's ways are always infinitely higher than man's ways:

As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts (Isaiah 55:9).

No counsel, no matter how wise, can thwart God's purposes:

There is no wisdom, no insight, no plan that can succeed against the Lord (Proverbs 21:30).

The explanation for this is the difference between the Creator and the creature. He alone is God, and He knows the future as well as the past, so that He always does just as He pleases:

Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say, ‘My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please’ (Isaiah 46:9–10).

Therefore, it is utterly foolish to go against God's will. The great Jewish teacher, Gamaliel, reminded the Jewish Council in Jerusalem, who opposed the preaching of the apostles, that if what the disciples were preaching was from God, they would not be able to stop them:

But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men; you will only find yourselves fighting against God (Acts 5:39).

While Ahithophel was wise, he was not wise enough to understand before Absalom's rebellion that it was foolish to go against God's chosen servant, David. Later, Solomon would be the wisest man in the world, but even his wisdom came up short when he violated the LORD's command not to intermarry with foreign women who turned his heart toward other gods.

As it is written in the first letter to the Corinthian church:

I will destroy the wisdom of the wise; the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate (1 Corinthians 1:19; cf. Isaiah 29:14).

For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength (1 Corinthians 1:25).

I believe both Ahithophel and Solomon realized near the end of their lives the error in their reasoning. Ahithophel realized it and killed himself, perhaps understanding that God had thwarted his wise counsel and he would be executed for treason when David retook the throne (cf. 2 Samuel 17:23).

The Book of Ecclesiastes suggests that Solomon realized in the end that the only thing that mattered in life was to fear God and keep His commands (Ecclesiastes 12:13–14).

Friends, let us learn this lesson from Ahithophel and Solomon. Let us reaffirm our devotion to the Lord. Let us realign our priorities so that the focus of our lives might be understanding and obeying His will. This is true wisdom. Even as the Scriptures teach,

Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is (Ephesians 5:15–17).

If you are reading my sharing this morning, won't you consider stopping to reflect for a moment, even several moments, perhaps even the next hour? Reaffirm your devotion to the Lord. Then, follow up on this commitment by reflecting on what specific things you can set in motion in your life now or shortly hereafter so that His will might become the priority of your life.

AI-Expanded Reflection

Ahithophel's reputation makes the rejection of his advice remarkable. His plan offers a swift attack while David is vulnerable; Hushai's alternative gains time for David to escape and prepare. The narrator identifies the Lord's purpose behind the decision, while also showing the human means through which it occurs. Hushai understands Absalom's fears and ambitions and offers counsel that appeals to them. Providence and a recognizable political process appear together.

The phrase “good counsel” in 2 Samuel 17:14 concerns its effectiveness for Absalom's objective. It does not make the objective morally good. Ahithophel can give strategically sound advice in the service of rebellion. This distinction is essential wherever skill is admired. A plan may be clever, efficient, and persuasive while serving an unjust end. Wisdom in the fullest biblical sense requires a right purpose as well as competent means.

The original rightly points out that such competence cannot overturn God's purpose. Proverbs 21:30 places human counsel beneath the Lord's authority. Yet this assurance should not lead readers to assume that whatever succeeds must therefore be righteous. Scripture records evil enjoying temporary success, and even here Absalom's rebellion has already caused substantial harm. God's final purpose does not turn every intermediate action into something to imitate.

Gamaliel's advice in Acts 5 expresses restraint in the face of uncertainty about the apostles. It should not become a universal test that a movement's survival proves its divine origin. The passage records the counsel given on that occasion, and the apostles' truth is established by the wider witness to Christ. Duration and popularity alone are insufficient credentials. False teaching and unjust institutions can persist for a long time.

Ahithophel's death is also not explained with complete access to his thoughts. The text reports his response after his counsel is rejected, but the original's suggestions about anticipated execution or recognition of divine opposition remain conjecture. His suicide should not be presented as a wise, necessary, or inevitable conclusion. The tragedy underscores how destructive a life organized around control and political success can become; it does not establish that no other response was possible.

The appeal to Solomon and Ecclesiastes likewise needs appropriate modesty. Traditional association of Ecclesiastes with Solomon gives the original's comparison a recognizable setting, but the book does not straightforwardly narrate a final conversion after all the events of 1 Kings 11. Its concluding call to fear God can be received on its own authority without supplying a biographical sequence the text does not explicitly provide.

The corrected reference to God frustrating human wisdom is 1 Corinthians 1:19, where Paul contrasts the cross with worldly expectations of power and wisdom. Ephesians 5:15–17 then calls believers to careful living that understands the Lord's will. A concrete response is to examine both the goal and the method of our plans. Does this proposal serve truth and love, or merely promise a desired result? Can we abandon an effective strategy when it requires wrongdoing? Faithful wisdom seeks God's revealed purposes while recognizing that our most impressive counsel remains creaturely, limited, and in need of correction.

The king was shaken. He went up to the room over the gateway and wept, crying out for his son Absalom, wishing he had died instead (a reference to 2 Samuel 18:33).

Reading this account and the king's distress, I can sense some of the weight of his guilt. Remember the LORD's judgment for David's sin against Uriah: that the sword would never depart from his house, and that calamity would come out of his own household — what he did in secret, God would do before all Israel (a paraphrase of 2 Samuel 12:10–12).

Absalom kills Amnon after Amnon's assault on their sister Tamar. Then Absalom usurps David's throne and publicly claims his father's concubines. Now Absalom is killed. All of this follows what the LORD had said. Yet after David confessed, Nathan told him the LORD had taken away his sin and he would not die — and David does not die, not even in Absalom's rebellion. But David cries out that he wishes he had died instead.

Absalom is guilty of rebellion. But it must have crossed David's mind how much of this was Absalom and how much was the outworking of judgment for his own sin. He must have thought that if he had not acted as he did, none of this would have happened — Amnon would still be alive.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The chain the comment traces is real and the text invites it, though one thing should be named rather than passed over. What Amnon did to Tamar was rape, and 2 Samuel 13 records it in detail — including that David, told of it, was angry and did nothing. Tamar is described afterward as desolate in her brother's house, and she disappears from the narrative. The two years between the assault and Absalom's revenge are years in which no one acted on her behalf.

That sharpens the comment's point about David's guilt in a specific direction. The judgment announced in chapter 12 concerned the sword in his house, and the first thing that happens is a daughter assaulted and a father who does not respond. Absalom's rebellion did not begin with ambition; it began with a grievance the king had refused to address.

The lament in 18:33 is one of the most affecting things in Scripture — eight repetitions of "my son" in a single verse. Whatever else David got wrong, the grief is not performance, and the book lets it stand without qualification.

2 Samuel 16 begins with Ziba, Mephibosheth's steward, greeting David and his fleeing men with donkeys, bread, fruit, and wine for their journey. When David asks where Mephibosheth is, Ziba claims he's stayed behind in Jerusalem, hoping Israel would now restore his grandfather's kingdom to him — prompting David to give Ziba everything that had belonged to Mephibosheth (a paraphrase of 2 Samuel 16:2–4).

My first reaction was thinking how ungrateful Mephibosheth must be. But as the story continues, we're reminded there are always two sides to a story. After Absalom's death, when David returns, Mephibosheth comes to meet him too — having neglected his own feet, mustache, and clothing the entire time David was gone, in visible mourning. He explains he'd asked Ziba to saddle his donkey so he could go with David, but Ziba betrayed and slandered him instead, adding that David, like an angel of God, should do whatever he thinks best (a paraphrase of 2 Samuel 19:24–28).

With two completely contradictory accounts, whom is David supposed to believe? Ziba could be telling the truth — though Mephibosheth himself, given his disability, would be an unlikely king, he did have a son, Mica (2 Samuel 9:12), giving him some conceivable motive to hope for restoration. But based on the specific detail that Mephibosheth had genuinely neglected his own appearance the entire time David was away — not something easily faked overnight to deceive him — I tend to believe Ziba was the one lying, and Mephibosheth was in genuine mourning.

Unable to fully resolve the matter, David orders the land divided between them. Mephibosheth's response is telling — he tells David to let Ziba take everything, now that his lord the king has returned home safely (2 Samuel 19:30). Giving up everything to a lying servant reveals exactly where Mephibosheth's heart truly was — he understood his own earthly wealth meant nothing compared to the love and provision his king could offer him.

I think we need to be like Mephibosheth, trusting more in our own King than in our earthly possessions.

AI-Expanded Reflection

Mephibosheth's own closing response is worth reading alongside the wealth he'd initially been given at David's own invitation, covered elsewhere in this project — he wasn't someone who'd never known material comfort choosing to remain indifferent to it; he'd been dining at the king's table for years by this point. That makes his final willingness to surrender it all back to Ziba without argument considerably more striking than simple detachment from wealth he'd never valued — it's someone who'd genuinely experienced the king's provision, and concluded, apparently without much struggle, that David's safe return mattered more to him than keeping any of it.

Abishai asks David why this "dead dog" should be allowed to curse the king, offering to go cut off his head. But David tells him this isn't his concern — if the LORD told this man to curse David, who can question it? He tells his officials that if his own son is trying to kill him, how much more understandable is a mere Benjamite's curse — let him curse, since the LORD told him to; perhaps the LORD will look on David's misery and restore His covenant blessing instead of the curse (a paraphrase of 2 Samuel 16:9–12).

What a person plans and tries to implement will ultimately fail, while what God promises will prevail. David's throne was genuinely at stake, and he could have been permanently removed — yet God preserved him again by thwarting his enemies' scheme. Even when God's action isn't visible to the naked eye, we can still perceive it through faith, exactly as David did. Sometimes we feel surrounded by problems on every side, with no visible way out of the pit we're trapped in. Let's not be discouraged, since God, who knows our exact situation, won't let us be tempted beyond what we can bear, and will always provide a way through so we can endure it. David's attitude wasn't simply accepting hardship as fate, even though it might sound that way — he was genuinely acknowledging God's control, exactly as we see in his response to Shimei's insults. Let's examine ourselves to see whether we trust God the same way David responded to hardship.

AI-Expanded Reflection

David's specific reasoning here is worth noting as a striking act of theological humility under real personal attack — rather than simply defending his own dignity against an insult, he entertains the possibility that this humiliation might actually be from God, and responds by wondering whether God might use even this suffering for eventual good (2 Samuel 16:12). That's a considerably harder posture than mere patient endurance; it's actively refusing to assume that everything difficult happening to him must be entirely random or entirely unjust, choosing instead to remain open to the idea that even an enemy's cruelty might be operating within some larger purpose David himself couldn't yet see.

Chapter 20: the king's officials answer him, "Your servants are ready to do whatever our lord the king chooses" (1 Kings 20:32).

There are times I miss having to just — obey. As a child, that was all I had to do — obey. As a student, I just obeyed. As a teacher, as an independent adult, I have to be far more engaged. It's not that I prefer one over the other, but there are times I miss that "obey" mindset. It's refreshing to be in it — I just relax, trust that everything will be fine, and, to make it easier, know that if anything goes wrong, it won't be my fault, or my job, to fix it.

This mindset is similar to submitting to God. I was recently praying earnestly for a friend going through some distress, hoping God would perform some obvious miracle that would open a door to witness to him. If I were in charge, I had an elaborate plan mapped out, even the words picked out. I anticipated all night that something miraculous would happen. To keep it short: I was looking for a bird. At one point, in the dark, I passed a pole with a fake bird on top and got excited, thinking my plan had matched God's — but it was just a fake bird, not the real one I was looking for.

I thought, why didn't God take this opportunity? I relaxed and told myself: God's way is better. Maybe it isn't in God's plan to give this particular witness, or maybe it's less about the bird and more about me walking around looking for one in the first place. Either way, I resolved that as much as I wanted things to happen my way, I wasn't in control, and whatever happened would be fine either way. I would just obey, since it isn't for me to fix — only to obey.

By the way, the bird we were looking for was found the next morning. A small miracle that it survived the night and made it back.

Yujin adds... Amen, brother Fernando! Concerning our earnest desires and prayers, consider what Paul writes in Romans 9:1–4 — he insists, with his conscience bearing witness through the Holy Spirit, that he isn't lying about the depth of sorrow and unceasing anguish he carries for his own people, the people of Israel, going so far as to say he could wish himself cursed and cut off from Christ if it would save them (a paraphrase of Romans 9:1–4). Paul desires his Jewish brothers be saved, but he knows many of them, even most of them, will remain lost and be condemned along with the rest of the unbelieving world. We must witness, and we must pray, in obedience to God — but it's never our desires or our effort that saves; it's purely the grace of God.

AI-Expanded Reflection

Fernando's fake-bird story is a small, almost comic version of something Paul takes with total seriousness in the passage Yujin cites — wanting a specific outcome badly enough to feel real grief when it doesn't unfold the way hoped, while still trusting the outcome to God rather than manufacturing it. Paul doesn't stop caring about Israel's salvation just because it's not his to control; if anything, his anguish over it runs deeper because of how much he trusts God's sovereignty rather than his own effort. That's the same posture Fernando lands on with the bird: not indifference dressed up as faith, but genuine longing held loosely enough to actually rest in God's timing instead of forcing a result.