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The song of Moses and the song of Miriam The Lord is your:
The song is new song:
So sing a new song.
A family is a divinely-ordained community. It is a set of defined relationships, with obligations and privileges assigned by God accordingly. It is not an arbitrary collection of individuals, and it is not something that we get to define. God created the family—it was not invented by us in the first place, and so we do not get to reinvent it. For this reason, parents must beware of treating the family as an “assemblage” that results from “techniques” developed by “experts.”
Young parents should therefore come to the Scriptures with a true hunger and openness. This is particularly true of those young parents who didn’t see a good model growing up—God is the God of new beginnings. He breaks the cycle, blessing to a thousand generations, and cutting off disasters after three or four. Be encouraged.
“Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children” (Eph. 5:1, ESV
).
“The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with singing” (Zeph. 3:17).
The juxtaposition of these two passages is intended to make the foundational point that, as God treats us as His children, so also we, in imitating Him, must seek to be like Him in our treatment of our own children. As He deals with us, so also must we deal with our own children.
God has created us as reflective and imitative creatures. We become like what we worship. Idolaters do this (Ps. 115:4-8), and worshipers of the true God do it (2 Cor. 3:18). This is the way human beings are. There are few places where the ramifications of this are as important as they are in child-rearing.
In the Zephaniah passage, consider first that the Lord our God is mighty. You are much stronger than your children. But His might is deployed for the good of His people, for their salvation, and not for their suffocation. Your purpose is to be used as the instrument of your children’s salvation. You are not the ground of that salvation, but you are an appointed instrument. You obviously cannot be saving grace, but you are commanded to imitate it, and to facilitate it.
When the mighty God intervened to save, He did so at great cost to Himself. Jesus, when He took the loaf of bread that represented His broken body, He began by giving thanks. When Jesus went to the cross, He did so for the joy that was set before Him (Heb. 12:2). The sacrifices that you will make for your children should therefore be something you sing over. You are not just to sing when they are being adorable, asleep in the crib. Life is messier than that, and the whole thing should be met with a song. The delight we are imitating here is not “unrealistic.” It takes account of the world as it is, and rejoices still.
When God created us, He placed us in a garden full of delights, and with just one prohibition in the middle of the garden. Nothing was prohibited out in the world, and only one thing was prohibited in the garden. A severe penalty was attached to that one prohibition, but then God saw to it that when the restriction was disobeyed by our first parents, the severest blow of retaliation would fall upon Himself. What kind of God is this?
So the environment of your home is grace. All that you have is theirs. There are standards within this—grace is not an amorphous, gelatinous mass. Grace has a backbone. Grace is a vertebrate. And yet when the standards are broken, the heaviest sacrifices in the work of restoration are made by the guardians of grace—not the enforcers of law, not the pointers of fingers, not the parental accusers, and not the quiver in the voice of parental self-pity.
A garden of grace can contain a tree of law. A garden of law cannot contain a tree of grace. Whatever you do, an attempted tree of grace there will turn into a tree of reward, a tree of merit, a tree of earnings.
We have a tendency—when in the grip of our own unguided wisdom—to get everything exactly backwards. We think that the gold sanctifies the temple (Matt. 23:17). We think that man was created so that there would be somebody around to keep the sabbath (Mark 2:27). We think that goat milk was created so that we would have something to cook the young goats in (Dt. 14:21).
But discipline is directed toward an end; it is teleological. And no discipline seems pleasant at the time, but the glory of discipline is found in the harvest (Heb. 12:11). Discipline and fruition occupy time, just like your children do. Bringing children up is not abstract bookkeeping, but is rather a story—from planting to harvest. Hardship in a story is grace. Hardship without a story is just pain.
When it comes to Christian living, there are three l’s to choose from. There is legalism, there is license, and there is liberty. In the home, legalism occurs when parents try to establish “traditional values” or a “disciplined atmosphere” on their own authority, or in their own name. Strictness becomes the central standard, and parental law is central. License happens when it turns out that legalism involves a lot of work, and there is not a very good return on it. And so parenting turns into a long stream of excuses and lame theories about the ineffectualness of spanking. If you have told 28 people this week that “he didn’t get his nap today,” then perhaps you should reevaluate.
Liberty is not some middle position between these two—it is another thing entirely. Liberty is stricter than legalism, and liberty is freer than license. Liberty—purchased for us by Christ on the cross—lines us up with how God made the world. None of our shifts or evasions can do that for us. The righteousness of liberty outdoes the Pharisees (Matt. 5:20), and the joy of liberty outdoes the libertine.
We will address this in much greater detail in the conclusion to this series, but it will be helpful for us to take a look at where we are going. Children matter because as creatures they bear the image of God, as sinners that image is defaced in them, and as saints that image is being restored in them.
By creating the human race in one fertile man and woman, God was declaring that His image was going to grow and mature over the course of generations. When we fell into sin, the curse of our loss was extended over generations. And now that the promised seed of the woman has come, we are given the opportunity to bring up our children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord (Eph. 6:4). This is part of what it means to put off the old man, and to put on the new (Eph. 4:20-24). God is after a lineage.
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In the last chapter, we caught a glimpse of the old David. Here, in this passage, he is fading in and out. He is easily duped by Ziba, but he also shows great restraint and humility in the face of Shimei’s taunting. But, for all his stumbles, he remains a clear type of the Lord Jesus.
“And when David was a little past the top of the hill, behold, Ziba the servant of Mephibosheth met him . . .” (2 Sam. 16:1-23).
As David passes the top of the mountain, Ziba arrives with many provisions (v. 1). David asks, and the provisions are explained (v. 2). The absence of Mephibosheth is noticed by David, and Ziba slanders his “master’s son” (v. 3). David impetuously gives all Mephibosheth’s holdings to Ziba (v. 4). David goes a little further, and encounters someone else from the house of Saul, a man named Shimei, a man cursing as he came (v. 5). Across some kind of a ravine, he threw rocks at David and his entourage (v. 6). He calls David a man of blood, and a son of worthlessness, a son of Belial (v. 7). He accuses David of bloodguilt concerning the house of Saul (v. 8), which was false. Abishai suggests that if someone were to cut off Shimei’s head, it would stop talking so much (v. 9). David rebukes Abishai, and says that the Lord is behind it (v. 10). Look, David says, my own son is trying to kill me. Why can’t this Benjamite curse (v. 11)? Perhaps the Lord will turn this cursing around (v. 12). As they continued, Shimei walked alongside them, cursing, throwing stones, and throwing dirt (v. 13). Eventually, they came to a stopping point, presumably the Jordan (v. 14).
Back in Jerusalem, Absalom arrives with Ahithophel (v. 15). Hushai comes to him, saying God save the king, but not saying which king (v. 16). He is called David’s friend, which was a court title, but also a just description. Absalom asks him why he is not with David (v. 17). Hushai replies that he will serve the one that is chosen by the Lord, and by the people (v. 18). Notice the ambiguities. Shouldn’t he serve the king’s son (v. 19)? Absalom asks Ahithophel what he should do next (v. 20). Ahithophel tells him to burn all his boats by publicly going into his father’s ten concubines (v. 21). This will prevent anyone from hedging their bets because of any possibility of rapprochement. So they pitched a tent on the top of the palace, and Absalom took his father’s concubines in the sight of all Israel (v. 22). And the counsel of Ahithophel was regarded as if it were from an oracle of God (v. 23).
The story that Ziba tells is not plausible on the face of it. Absalom would be as likely to hunt down and kill any remaining heirs of Saul’s house as to put one on the throne. But David, stung and betrayed, accepts this story immediately. At the same time, he still thinks of Mephibosheth as the son of Jonathan—your “master’s son.”
The palace roof where the concubines were violated was the same roof from which David first lusted after Bathsheba. Everything is coming back around. And David is humiliated by Shimei near the top of the mountain, and by his own son on the top of his palace.
Shimei is filled with irrational hatreds. He calls David a man of blood, which he was, but he accuses him of this with regard to the house of Saul, which he manifestly had not been. When Nathan rebukes David for his sin, he does so because it had given occasion to the enemies of God to blaspheme (2 Sam. 12:14), and this is an instance of it. Shimei had clearly hated David prior to the incident with Bathsheba. Sins and failures in the godly are often what breach the dam of resentment—but the resentment accumulated in the first place because of godliness.
We must always distinguish the decrees of God from the commandments of God (Dt. 29:29). God governs the world through His sons and through His tools. He always governs the world in every detail—that is not up for grabs. But the fact that someone is a tool in the hand of God does not mean that he is morally justified in doing what he is doing. We have here a case in point.
The law of God prohibited a son taking his father’s wife or concubine (Lev. 18:7-8). The prophet Nathan had predicted that God would do this very thing (2 Sam. 12:11). So even though God was giving these women to Absalom, he still had no right to take them. Ahithophel had no right to give this counsel, even if he knew of Nathan’s prophecy.
Is it possible for the will of God to be thwarted? Well, of course, and of course not, depending on what you mean by will. Do you mean the decretive will of God? Of course not. Do you mean the moral will of God, as measured by His commands? Of course.
The supreme example of this is of course the murder of Jesus. Jesus going to the cross was the will of God (Luke 22:42). At the same time, it was the will of Herod, Pontius Pilate, the Gentiles, and all the Jews (Acts 4:27). What they did, they did with wicked hands (Acts 2:23), and those wicked hands fulfilled the holy decree of God (Rev. 13:8).
David leaves Jerusalem by crossing the Kidron to the Mount of Olives (2 Sam. 15:23, 30). Jesus leaves Jerusalem by crossing the Kidron to the Mount of Olives (John 18:1). David leaves the Ark behind him in Jerusalem (2 Sam. 15:24-29). Jesus leaves the Temple behind Him in Jerusalem (Matt. 24:1-3). David was betrayed by Ahithophel (2 Sam. 15:31). Jesus was betrayed by Judas (Matt. 26:47-50). Ahithophel hangs himself when his plan is not followed (2 Sam. 17:23). Judas hangs himself when his plan backfires (Matt. 27:5). Mephibosheth seems to fall away (2 Sam. 16:1-4). Christ’s disciples do fall away (Matt. 26:56). David is reviled without responding (2 Sam. 16:5-8). Jesus is reviled without responding (Matt. 27:39-43).
Jesus, the perfect one, is not ashamed to be called our brother. Neither is He ashamed, as the perfect antitype, to be represented by a failed type. We are to look at David and—less the sin—we are to see Jesus.
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As we begin to work through this passage, we see that David is still far too passive, far too trusting. Even though he is forgiven for his sin, he is forgiven in a palace. It is not until he is walking toward the wilderness, barefoot, as a seventy-year- old man, that we see the stirrings of the kind of shrewd faith that used to accompany him when he had to haunt the wilderness caves earlier in his life. Psalm 3 was written upon this occasion, and look to the great conclusion of verse 8. Salvation belongs to the Lord.
“And it came to pass after this, that Absalom prepared him chariots and horses, and fifty men to run before him . . .” (2 Sam. 15:1-37).
So Absalom began acting like a Gentile king, in an ostentatious way (v. 1). He would get up early to come and play the demagogue in the gate (vv. 2-6). When he was forty years old, Absalom asked the king for permission to go and sacrifice in Hebron in order to fulfill a vow (vv. 7-9). The conspiracy was well-organized, strong, and shrewdly conducted—involving men who knew nothing of it as a cover (vv. 10-12). Ahithophel, Bathsheba’s grandfather, was among the conspirators. Before the arranged signal for revolt was given, a messenger came and warned David (v. 13). David acts swiftly (finally), and does so in a way that would spare the city (v. 14). All of his people, with the exception of ten concubines, depart with the king (vv. 15-17). His Gentile troops march past him, and David tries to dissuade some recently arrived Gittites (Philistines) from coming with him, but to no avail (vv. 18-22). Little ones are mentioned, which makes this a refugee column, not an army (v. 22). Everyone crossed the Kidron, heading for the wilderness (v. 23). Zadok and Abiathar bring the Ark with them, but David sends them back into Jerusalem for some priestly espionage (vv. 24-29). David went up the Mount Olivet, barefoot and with his head covered (v. 30). On the way David received word that Ahithophel had gone over to the other side, and he prayed in his old manner (v. 31). At the top of the mountain there was a shrine, a high place, and David prayed there. His answer to prayer, a man named Hushai, arrived at that very moment (v. 32). David gives him the mission of going over to Absalom’s side (vv. 33-36), in order to subvert Ahithophel’s counsel. So Hushai arrived in Jerusalem from the east, just as Absalom was arriving from the south (v. 37).
When David abandons Jerusalem, they go out to the “last house” (v. 17). The brook Kidron separated Jerusalem from Mount Olivet, which had a long ascent heading eastward, and which on the far side sloped down toward the Jordan. Their plan was to get away, across the Jordan, into the wilderness.
David is taking the standard route of exile. Adam and Eve were banished to the east of the Garden, and centuries later Israel was taken into exile to the east. But as he goes out from the presence of the Lord, he leaves the Ark of the Covenant behind deliberately, as an act of faith. He is not superstitious (vv. 25-26). If he is ever able to return to Jerusalem, it will be the Lord’s gift. This exile has some hope in it.
The revolt of Absalom was a demagogic one. We ought to pay closer attention to this reality than we do, for we are ruled by demagogues. He was active in this activity (“rose up early”), and exploited the delays caused by the justice system. When some guy from Ephraim called the federal courthouse, he had been told “for English, press three” one too many times, and so he came down to Jerusalem in a frustrated frame of mind. Absalom met him there, kissed him, treated him as a brother (v. 5) . . . right before getting back into his stretch limo. Men knew how to use photo ops long before there were any cameras. At the beginning of this section, David continues in his passivity. Absalom is misbehaving in serious ways. The kings of Israel were not permitted that kind of thing (Dt. 17:16), and the terrain of Jerusalem was not conducive to them anyway. And yet Absalom rode around in one, with a retinue of fifty runners. Such high-handed ostentatious display would be pretty hard to miss.
Throughout the passage we have the juxtaposition of those who ought to have been loyal and weren’t (e.g. Absalom) and those who had every reason not to feel obligated (e.g. Ittai), even in the eyes of David himself, but who did the right thing regardless. David saw him, and gave him every opportunity to return to Jerusalem, and to do so with a blessing (v. 20). But Ittai responds in much the same way that Ruth did when Naomi presented her with a way of opting out. This man, from the same city that Goliath was from, swore by the Lord—wherever the king was going to be, that it where Ittai was going to be. The issue was fidelity, not success.
Passivity is not faith, and faith is not grasping and scheming. Notice in this passage that when David’s faith starts showing signs of life again, his trusting and his action blend perfectly. The two kinds of “not faith” here are David’s inaction in the face of Absalom’s insolent campaigning, on the one hand, and Absalom’s conspiring to seize power by the strength of his own hand. This is the case even though Absalom is not worshiping idols. He goes to Hebron to pay his vows (v. 8), and the treachery grew strong in the midst of sacrifices (v. 12). These were sacrifices to Yahweh.
Trust in God, and do whatever He says. Sometimes He says to wait. Sometimes He says to act. Sometimes He will have you send cloak and dagger spies into Jerusalem.
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Ahab had been at peace with Syria (1 Kings 20:31-34) and had even joined with Syria in other military ventures (the twelve kings versus the Assyrian Shalmaneser III at the Battle of Qarqar, 853 BC). But eventually Ahab grew weary of the peace and began thinking more of the cities that had been lost to Syria. Thus, Ahab allied himself with Jehoshaphat to attack the Syrians.
Jehoshaphat was a faithful king (1 Kings 22:43 and 46) and wanted to hear from the Lord before beginning this campaign. Ahab gathered his prophets, a host of around 400 men. Apparently, about 400 was the necessary number to be a respectable prophetic host (1 Kings 18:19). Ahab had gathered his prophets together before and it didn’t go well for him. Learning from lessons doesn’t seem to be his strength. But Jehoshaphat wanted to hear from one of the Lord’s prophets.
Two scenes unfold at the same time. The first was Zedekiah before Ahab. The threshing floor was a wide open place that was only used for threshing at a certain time of the year, and therefore was available for large gatherings the rest of the year. Essentially, you can think of the threshing floor like we would think of
the fairgrounds.
Zedekiah really prepared for this moment and brought his own prop. Horns signify might and power. They show up in horned crowns in ANE images, see also Deut 33:17 and Jer. 48:25. At the same time, the messenger comes to Micaiah, the prophet of the Lord and gives him a warning. The prophets have all agreed upon the word that would be given and they have spoken with “one mouth.”
We learn a whole world about Ahab in verses 15 and 16. Ahab both wanted a lie and didn’t want a lie. He was deceived and knew the truth. And so Micaiah gives him the real truth. Israel will lose their king and they will be “like sheep without a shepherd.”
Micaiah has given a glimpse into the throne-room of God, where the host of heaven is gathered. The host of heaven is the angelic realm of both unfallen and fallen angels. It includes the demonic powers that were worshipped as pagan deities. And though the host includes fallen powers, it is clear from this passage that they are all under the sovereign power of God (Deut. 4:19, 17:3, 2 Kings 17:16, 21:3, Jer. 8:2, 19:13, 33:22).
Micaiah’s words are rejected and he is struck by Zedekiah (cf. John 18:22, Acts 23:2). He is thrown into prison (cf. Jer. 20:2, 32:2, 37:15, Mat. 21:35, 23:29, Acts 7:51-53) This is how prophets are treated.
The king of Syria wanted Ahab dead and ordered his troops to hunt for him. But Ahab disguised himself in the battle and sent Jehoshaphat in his royal robes (v. 30). But Ahab’s disguise was not nearly as effective as the decree of the Lord. The flight of an arrow, shot at random, that hit right between the joint of the armor, strikes Ahab down.
Ahab’s inglorious death fulfilled the prophecies of Elijah and of Micaiah. And Israel was left without a shepherd. Despite the glory of the buildings that Ahab built, his house was left desolate.
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