"And David became greater and greater, for the Lord of hosts was with him" (1 Chronicles 11:9).

Success is in the eye of the beholder. David's rise to the throne of Israel would be considered a success by almost anyone. But what about Jesus? His life ended in death on a cross. He was abandoned and betrayed by His closest disciples. The very people He came to save not only rejected Him but mocked Him and demanded His crucifixion. Before His resurrection, Jesus' life would have been considered a failure by almost anyone.

Consider: if David had become greater and greater apart from the Lord, would we still consider him a success? Jeroboam II accomplished much as king of Israel and reigned as long as David, yet we count him among a long line of wicked kings. And Jesus is the unparalleled model of success, by virtue of His resurrection.

When we read this verse, it is easy to define David's success by the words "David became greater and greater." But that would be like confusing the rays of sunlight for the sun, or the hammer for the one who wields it. David's success rests in the words "for the Lord of hosts was with him." Habakkuk declares that though the fig tree does not blossom and there is no fruit on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields yield no food, though the flock is cut off and there is no herd in the stalls, "yet I will rejoice in the Lord"; God, the Lord, is his strength, who makes his feet like the deer's and lets him tread on the heights (cf. Habakkuk 3:17–19).

Along the same lines, Asaph writes that though his flesh and heart may fail, "God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever" (Psalm 73:26).

Friends, the Lord is our success. When we abide in Him, even failure becomes success, and apparent success becomes true success. Let us stop evaluating our lives by worldly outcomes — whether our ventures succeed, whether people like us, whether we are gainfully employed, whether we are physically fit. Instead, let us praise God in every circumstance and seek His glory on every occasion. We are designed to worship Him. If success can be defined narrowly, let us define it by our greatest and enduring purpose: to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The comment's instinct is confirmed by the way Chronicles tells David's story. The phrase "the Lord of hosts was with him" echoes the refrain first sounded when David was still an unknown shepherd: "the Lord was with him" (1 Samuel 18:12, 14, 28). Chronicles then immediately turns to a long list of David's mighty men (11:10–47) — a reminder that his rise also came through the loyalty of others whom God provided.

The contrast with Christ that the comment draws is exactly the argument of Philippians 2:5–11: Jesus emptied Himself, took the form of a servant, and humbled Himself to death on a cross — "Therefore God has highly exalted him." The world's definition of success runs in the opposite direction from the cross, which is why Paul insisted on "Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles," but to the called, the power and wisdom of God (1 Corinthians 1:23–24). The comment's definition of success — God's presence and God's glory — is what both Habakkuk and Paul settled on when everything else was stripped away.

The tribe of Benjamin could have been eliminated forever, but it was spared. In reading Romans 11:1, I realized that the apostle Paul was from the tribe of Benjamin. Thought-provoking, to say the least!

AI-Expanded Reflection

The commenter is recalling the dark ending of Judges, where the tribe of Benjamin was nearly wiped out after defending the men of Gibeah, who had committed a terrible crime (Judges 19–21). Only six hundred Benjamite men survived, and the other tribes, grieving that "one tribe is cut off from Israel" (21:6), took extraordinary steps to preserve it. Chronicles lists Benjamin's genealogy at length (1 Chronicles 7:6–12; 8:1–40), showing that the tribe that almost disappeared endured.

The connection to Paul is striking indeed. The same tribe produced Israel's first king, Saul — and, centuries later, another Saul, who persecuted the church before becoming the apostle to the Gentiles. When Paul wanted to prove that God had not rejected His people, his first piece of evidence was himself: he himself was an Israelite, "a member of the tribe of Benjamin" (Romans 11:1). The tribe that God spared from extinction gave the world the apostle whose letters have shaped the church for two thousand years. God's preserving grace often reaches further than anyone could imagine.

All Israel gathered to David at Hebron and said, "Behold, we are your bone and flesh." In times past, even when Saul was king, it was David who led Israel out and brought them in, and the Lord had said he would shepherd His people Israel and be prince over them (a paraphrase of 1 Chronicles 11:1–2).

The men of Israel affirmed David's divine calling and appointment as king. They seem to have known that Samuel had anointed David. Yet until Saul died, Israel's leaders were unwilling to accept David's kingship. What is more, the account in Samuel indicates that after Saul's death they first gave their loyalty to Saul's son Ish-bosheth. Only because of Ish-bosheth's weak leadership did his general, Abner, effectively take control of Israel's leaders and deliver them to David.

Even though Israel's leaders acknowledged David's divine appointment, they acted to accept his kingship only when they had no other viable option. King Saul was dead. His son was weak. Who else should lead the people but David, perhaps the greatest military commander in their history? So their loyalty seems governed more by circumstances than by genuine faith in the Lord.

Friends, isn't there a lesson here for us? Do we obey God only when it is convenient? Do we trust Him only after exhausting every other option? Do we come to Him only after we have thoroughly enjoyed our sinful indulgences? Have we made Him the God of our leftovers?

In Genesis 4, two brothers offered sacrifices to God. Abel gave of the firstborn of his flock and their fat portions. Cain brought "an offering of the fruit of the ground." I believe Cain gave God his leftovers. God accepted Abel's sacrifice but rejected Cain's. Do we give God our best, or do we offer Him our leftovers?

Friends, when we talk about trying to find some "free time" to spend with God, we are giving Him our leftovers. When we pick politically acceptable, crowd-pleasing messages to preach, we are giving Him our leftovers. When our only struggle with sin comes after we have fallen, we are giving Him our leftovers. When we are more concerned about the business of church growth and uniting members around pastoral leadership than about upholding Christ and His truth regardless of church size and member approval, we are giving Him our leftovers.

Friends, follow Christ at all costs. Abide by His Word at all costs. Don't defend people, friends, or family just because of their position or your close relationship with them; do it because it is right and consistent with the principles and values of God's Word. Do this whether the circumstances are favorable or not. Are we seeking the approval of God or of people?

AI-Expanded Reflection

The contrast in Genesis 4:3–4 is subtle in the text. Abel's offering is described in detail — "the firstborn of his flock and of their fat portions," the best of the best — while Cain's is described simply as "some of the fruit of the ground." Many interpreters, like the comment, see the difference as one of quality and heart: Abel gave his first and best, Cain gave what was convenient. Hebrews adds that Abel offered "by faith" (11:4), and 1 John 3:12 says Cain's deeds were evil. God's words to Cain, "If you do well, will you not be accepted?" (Genesis 4:7), show that the issue was his heart and conduct, not the type of offering.

1 Chronicles 11–12 also gives a fuller picture of David's support than the comment's summary suggests. Chapter 12 lists warriors from every tribe — including Benjamites, Saul's own kinsmen — who came over to David while he was still a fugitive at Ziklag, long before Saul's death, and "day by day men came to David to help him" (12:22). Some came at great risk, and the Spirit came upon Amasai to declare, "Peace be to you, for your God helps you" (12:18). Alongside those whose loyalty followed circumstances were others who recognized God's anointed early and paid a price to follow him — a picture of those who follow Christ before the world acknowledges Him.

Phinehas the son of Eleazar was ruler over them in times past; the Lord was with him (a paraphrase of 1 Chronicles 9:20).

So Saul died for his unfaithfulness to the Lord, because he did not keep the word of the Lord, and also because he consulted a medium for guidance and did not inquire of the Lord. So the Lord put him to death and turned the kingdom over to David son of Jesse (a paraphrase of 1 Chronicles 10:13–14).

"David became greater and greater, for the Lord of hosts was with him" (1 Chronicles 11:9).

Phinehas was an effective ruler over the Levitical gatekeepers because the Lord was with him. God put Saul to death and gave the kingdom to David because Saul was unfaithful. David became greater and greater because God was with him.

Friends, do you notice a common theme in these passages describing the fates of rulers, whether religious or secular? God determines them. Consider Daniel's prayer praising the name of God forever, to whom wisdom and power belong, who changes times and seasons, deposes kings and raises up others, and gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to the discerning (a paraphrase of Daniel 2:20–21).

In fact, we are told that God knows all things, whether high or deep, near or far. He sees all things; read Psalm 139. And He works all things together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (cf. Romans 8:28–30).

Friends, this is why we have nothing to fear except God Himself. We do not need to fear changing circumstances. We do not need to fear the threats, accusations, deceptions, and stratagems of others. Why? God knows it all. God sees it all. God is in control. All we need to do is acknowledge God's sovereignty over the affairs of people, even of the entire universe, and do our utmost to align our wills with His. As Paul reminds every believer, we are to continue to work out our salvation with fear and trembling, "for it is God who works in you to will and to act" (a paraphrase of Philippians 2:12–13).

When we are faithful as believers, we are simply willing and working out what God is continually willing and working in us. It is our place to obey, not to produce. We simply do, and leave every outcome to the Lord. As Scripture teaches us, the plans of the heart belong to people, but the answer of the tongue is from the Lord; the Lord works out everything to its proper end, even the wicked for the day of disaster; a person plans their course, but the Lord establishes their steps; and the lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord (a paraphrase of Proverbs 16:1, 4, 9, 33).

It is when we lose our focus on Him, when our perspective on life gets skewed into thinking that we are in control, that we despair, give up, and forsake our calling.

Friends, I hate to break it to you, but this world and this life are not about you! They are not about your power, your greatness, or your success. They are about Him, and Him alone: His glory, His praise, and His honor. Therefore, whether you live in a cave in some obscure corner of the world or preside over a multinational corporation in Manhattan, you and I are instruments in the hands of our God. And if God has chosen to honor us with salvation and to let us enjoy His presence forever in heaven, it is all because of His sovereign grace. Our responsibility, and our joy, is simply to trust and obey Him always.

AI-Expanded Reflection

1 Chronicles 10 offers a clear example of the dual perspective the comment describes. 1 Samuel 31:4 says Saul fell on his own sword; 1 Chronicles 10:14 says the Lord put him to death. The Chronicler is not contradicting the earlier account but naming the cause beneath the event — the same pairing of human action and divine purpose that Philippians 2:12–13 expresses in the life of a believer.

There is also a well-known puzzle in verse 14. 1 Samuel 28:6 says Saul did inquire of the Lord before going to the medium, and received no answer. The Chronicler says he did not inquire of the Lord. The usual resolution rests on the vocabulary: Chronicles uses a verb (darash) that throughout the book means seeking the Lord in covenant faithfulness, not merely asking a question. Saul went through the motions of inquiry once God had already fallen silent, but he had not sought the Lord in the Chronicler's sense — and when the formal channels failed, he turned to a practice the Law forbade.

The note about Phinehas also has a backstory. He is remembered here as a gatekeeper's leader with whom the Lord was present, but his name is chiefly associated with Numbers 25. Chronicles' choice to remember him for faithful service is a small sign of the book's interest in the Levites' ordinary, steady ministry.

When Jabesh Gilead's inhabitants heard what the Philistines had done to Saul, their valiant men retrieved his body and his sons', buried their bones under a tree, and fasted seven days (a paraphrase of 1 Chronicles 10:11–12).

This relationship between Jabesh Gilead and the Benjamites, especially Saul, has earlier roots. In the terrible story of the Levite and his concubine (Judges 19–21), all Israel gathers for war against Benjamin over their atrocity, assembling together before the LORD at Mizpah. In the following battles, all but 600 Benjamite men are killed, leaving the tribe with no women to continue its family line — since everyone who'd assembled had also sworn an oath never to give a daughter in marriage to a Benjamite. Searching for a solution, the Israelites realize no one from Jabesh Gilead had joined the assembly at Mizpah — and since they'd sworn that anyone failing to attend would be put to death, they attack Jabesh Gilead itself, sparing only four hundred virgins, who are then given to the surviving Benjamites as wives.

Scripture doesn't explain why Jabesh Gilead's people failed to gather with the rest of Israel in the first place. Did they already have some close connection to Benjamin? Were they simply afraid Benjamin would win? Either way, from this point forward, Jabesh Gilead maintained close ties with the Benjamites. When Saul, himself a Benjamite, is anointed king, his very first military victory is defending Jabesh Gilead from an Ammonite threat to gouge out the right eye of every inhabitant, humiliating all Israel — hearing this, the Spirit of God comes powerfully on Saul, and he promises the men of Jabesh Gilead they'll be rescued by the next day (a paraphrase of 1 Samuel 11:2, 6, 9).

After Saul's death, Jabesh Gilead's men didn't forget what he'd once done for them, valiantly retrieving and burying his body and his sons'. When David learns it was these men who'd buried Saul, he sends messengers blessing them for their kindness, promising to show them the same favor in return (a paraphrase of 2 Samuel 2:4–6).

Saul died specifically because he was unfaithful to the LORD (1 Chronicles 10:13) — not at the hands of another man, righteous or unrighteous. Yet the people of Jabesh Gilead showed kindness to this unfaithful servant of the LORD, and for that kindness, they're still remembered today.

Let's not forget to show kindness to others, since the LORD sees and remembers what's done with pure hearts and pure motives.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The multi-generational loyalty this comment traces from Jabesh Gilead's original rescue by Saul to their own eventual act of loyalty toward his corpse decades later is worth noting for its remarkable duration — this single act of gratitude, first earned through Saul's youthful military rescue, apparently outlasted his entire troubled reign, his final unfaithfulness, and even his death in disgrace on the battlefield. That kind of loyalty, sustained through everything that happened in between, suggests genuine gratitude for a specific past kindness can remain durable even when the person who earned it later disappoints in nearly every other respect — the debt of loyalty and the assessment of overall character apparently being two separate ledgers entirely.

Friends, did you notice, tucked away in 1 Chronicles 11:41, the mention of "Uriah the Hittite"? This is the same Uriah who was Bathsheba's husband, with whom David committed adultery — the same Uriah David later murdered to hide his own misdeed, and perhaps also to prevent retribution against him. Here he's listed among David's mighty men — one of David's own elite soldiers. He was also a Hittite, one of the Canaanite peoples not completely destroyed during the time of the Judges, in violation of God's own command. It appears that even as a foreigner, he pledged undivided, selfless devotion to Israel, a people not his own by birth — in some ways, similar to Ruth the Moabite. This makes David's crime against him even more heinous. David, like Israel itself, was meant to be a light to the nations, showing forth God's goodness and justice — yet this injustice against Uriah, committed by none other than God's own chief representative on earth at the time, seriously dishonored God's name among the nations. This should give us real pause to consider what kind of light we're showing the world, and whether that light might actually be darkness instead.

I share this observation to show that Old Testament writers don't always make every connection explicit for you — they expect readers to make many of these connections themselves, through careful, thoughtful reading of God's Word. When you do, reading the Bible becomes a genuinely amazing journey of discovery.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The detail this comment surfaces — Uriah's specific inclusion among David's most elite, trusted soldiers — deserves one more layer, since it means David didn't simply wrong a random subordinate, but one of his own most loyal and capable men, someone who by every account had more than earned his king's protection rather than his betrayal. That specific detail, easy to miss in a genealogical list most readers skim past entirely, transforms Uriah's death from an unfortunate side effect of royal misconduct into something closer to a targeted betrayal of one of David's own most faithful servants — exactly the kind of quiet textual connection this comment's own closing point encourages readers to go looking for.