And David said to the Philistine, Thou comest to me with sword, and with spear, and with javelin; but I come to thee in the name of Jehovah of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied.
For forty days the valley of Elah had gone quiet, because Israel's army had no answer to the giant. Then a shepherd boy changed the terms: this was not a fight about weapons, but about the God whose armies the Philistine had insulted.
Goliath listed metal; David named a Person. One writer explains why weapons like David's always give offence, and how David's answer changed the terms of the fight.
The flesh always thinks itself insulted, because our weapons are not the kind it uses. The flesh likes to see sword opposed to sword, helmet against helmet; the flesh loves its own. But David said, "I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied." So David puts the question on its true basis. It is now simply a question between the Lord of hosts and the Philistine. David takes David out of the picture altogether, and brings God Himself in as Goliath's opponent. It does not matter what we are, or how mighty the foe is. Will God not defend His own name? Here is the might of faith: faith always brings in almighty power.
In Scripture a name tells you who someone is. That is why David had already won before the stone flew.
He had a resource greater than Goliath with his armour and weapons. He confronted Goliath in the Name of Jehovah of hosts, the living God. In the Bible a name usually describes the person who bears it. When David invoked the Name of Jehovah he was depending on all that God is in unlimited power. Goliath was doomed from the moment David invoked the Name of Jehovah.
"Lord of hosts" is not a title from Israel's glory days. It first appears when everything was at its lowest, on the lips of a woman who was alone and shamed.
The first chapter of this book reveals still greater weakness. Hannah was alone and shamed. Around her was either spiritual deadness or shameless wickedness. The Lord had been dishonoured in His sanctuary, and His judgment hung over them. It was at such a moment that it pleased God to reveal Himself by a name which He had not taken before... Hannah was the first that we read of who cried to the Lord as Jehovah Tzebâôth (the Lord of hosts or armies, 1:11). David also met and overthrew Goliath in the might of that name (17:45).
The word David uses of Goliath is heavier than mockery. Only one man on the field heard it for what it was.
David could see more than the desperate position of the people. He saw how the situation affected God — "this uncircumcised Philistine... has defied the armies of the living God." The word "defied" or "reproach" holds the double thought of blaspheming and placing in jeopardy. Goliath did more than put the people in desperate danger. He defied God Himself, and David alone saw it.
Words like these have a history behind them. And they are not the boast they sound like.
Now David could never have stood like this at this hour, if he had not learnt God as his God in secret... The name of the Lord must be our strength against every evil, whether outside or within... You have only to put God in remembrance of His own name, and He will be jealous for that name. So there was no pride in David's heart here. He was shrinking himself into nothing, and making God everything. His most confident words are his most humble ones.
David had refused Saul's armour a few verses earlier. Had he kept it, the result would have proved nothing.
If David had used Saul's armour, no one would have learned that the Lord does not save by sword and spear. His fight would have looked like any other. But the sling and the stone gave little prominence to the man who used them. They gave the glory to Him from whom the victory came.
One writer reads the scene as a picture of Christ, setting David's aim and Christ's aim side by side.
He is here the representative of God whom the Philistine had defied. David's purpose was to glorify this God whom Satan had dishonoured, and that was Christ's purpose too. Their strength lay in fighting in His name... David had no doubt at all about how the contest would end... here is absolute faith, which has the secret of the Lord and counts on great things. Here David is the true type of Christ, for he represents God before the enemy.
- Defiance. Goliath's words blasphemed God and put His people in danger. David was the one man who heard the insult aimed at God.
- Name. A name describes its bearer; to call on "the Lord of hosts" is to lean on all that God is in unlimited power.
- Weakness. That title first appears in Israel's lowest hour, on the lips of Hannah. It is the same title David now uses against a giant.
- Stand aside. David takes David out of the fight. It is no longer boy against champion, but the Lord of hosts against a Philistine.
- Glory. The sling kept the winner small, so only God could take the credit. In that, David pictures Christ, who represents God before the enemy.
This day will Jehovah deliver thee up into my hand; and I will smite thee, and take thy head from thee; and I will give the carcases of the camp of the Philistines this day to the fowl of the heavens and to the wild beasts of the earth. And all the earth shall know that Israel has a God;
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
and all this congregation shall know that Jehovah saves not with sword and spear; for the battle is Jehovah's, and he will give you into our hands.
The verse is David's answer to a giant, spoken in the open ground between two armies. It names the real opponents in the fight, and says what the outcome will prove.
One writer sets what human nature wants to see against the ground David chose.
The flesh likes to see sword opposed to sword, helmet against helmet; the flesh loves its own. But David said, "I come to you in the name of the LORD of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied." So David puts the question on its true basis. It is now simply a question between the LORD of hosts and the Philistine. David puts David right out of the question. He brings in God Himself as the opponent of Goliath.
David went out without Saul's armour, and one writer explains why that mattered.
Here we have the true object of the man of faith. Israel and all the earth were to have a glorious testimony to the power and presence of God among His people. If David had used Saul's armour, no one would have learned that the Lord does not save by sword and spear. His warfare would look like anyone else's. But the sling and the stone gave little prominence to the one who used them. They gave the glory to Him from whom the victory came.
Another writer draws a wider principle from the weapon David used.
The weapon needed was not far off. The stone lay in the brook that ran between the two armies. It laid the Philistine champion low and silenced his boasting for ever. All his armour proved useless against the death-blow. Even the shield his armour-bearer carried in front of him did not stop the stone. God provided what was needed, and it proved to be enough. Here we have a principle of wide application. God does provide the weapons with which, if called upon, His people may meet those opposed to Him.
David names God twice, and not with the same name. "All the earth" is to learn there is a God in Israel; "all this assembly" is to learn that the LORD — Jehovah — saves. Mackintosh sees a deliberate distinction.
"All the earth" was to know and own the presence of God among His people. They could know nothing of the precious relationship involved in the title "Jehovah." That title was for the assembly of Israel alone. They were to know not only His presence among them, but His blessed way of acting. To the world He was Elohim; to His beloved people He was Jehovah.
David faces the giant alone, yet he says "into our hand," not "into my hand." One writer sets his words beside Jonathan's.
Jonathan was conscious in his soul of his link with the people of God — with Israel. So he said of the Philistines, "The LORD has given them into the hand of Israel." We see the same in David when he went out to meet the giant: "He will give you into our hand." In both cases there was no independent action. The faith was indeed their own, but they acted for and with the nation that God owned as His.
One writer asks how David sized up an enemy far stronger than himself.
Look at David in the presence of Goliath. Does he feel it is impossible to cope with such a powerful adversary? Nothing of the kind. His one conviction was that "the battle is the LORD's"; that Goliath was the Lord's enemy, and so the Lord would give him into his hand that day. He measured his enemy by the strength of the Lord. By that measure Goliath shrank into a tiny dwarf before him — into complete powerlessness and nothingness.
One writer takes the words "the LORD saves" and applies them to the reader.
Notice that — the Lord saves. You cannot save yourself; I cannot save myself. It is the Lord alone who can save me. God alone can meet man's need and ruin as a sinner, and I have no option but to accept God's Saviour.
- Whose fight — David steps aside and leaves the Philistine facing God. Goliath had defied Him, so the quarrel was His.
- Whose weapons — Saul's armour would have hidden God. The sling and the stone came from the brook nearby, and left the glory nowhere else to go.
- Whose name — the earth learns there is a God in Israel; the assembly learns the covenant name of the One who saves.
- Whose hand — David says "into our hand," not "into my hand." The faith was his own, but he fought for the whole nation.
- Whose salvation — the faith that cuts a giant down to nothing says the same thing to you. No one saves himself. The Lord saves.
And it came to pass, when the Philistine arose, and came and advanced to meet David, that David hasted, and ran towards the ranks to meet the Philistine.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And David put his hand into the bag, and took thence a stone, and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, and the stone sank into his forehead; and he fell on his face to the earth.
David closes the last few yards toward Goliath with a sling in his hand. One stone ends the fight — and the question is why God chose that weapon instead of a sword.
The hand goes into a bag, not into an armoury. One commentator marks the kind of means God chooses, and whose faith won the day:
God loves to do great things by the simplest means... Israel won the victory according to the faith of David.
The sling and the stone owed nothing to David's skill or to Israel's armoury. One writer draws out where David's real power lay:
David's power did not lie in the weapons that Saul offered, nor in anything that would attract the mighty of this world. The sling and the stone testified as clearly as anything could that "the Lord was with him," for they were not the weapons of man's warfare.
No one forged the stone that killed Goliath. It had been lying in the brook between the two armies all along, and one writer draws a principle from that which reaches far past this battlefield:
The weapon needed was not far off. David found the stone in the brook that ran between the two armies. It laid the champion of the uncircumcised low and silenced his boasting for ever. All his armour proved useless against the death-blow. Even the shield his armour-bearer carried in front of him did not stop the stone. God provided what was needed, and it proved to be all-sufficient. This is a principle of wide application. God does provide the weapons with which, if called upon, His people may meet those opposed to Him. The Lord promised to provide them (Luke 21:15). Stephen proved the Lord faithful to His word: his enemies could not resist the wisdom and spirit with which he spoke (Acts 6:10).
Goliath went into battle in full armour, with a man in front of him carrying his shield. He had guarded himself against the weapons he expected:
He never thought of such a weapon as a sling. He was looking for arrows. He had protected himself with a great big shield. But the stone slung by David went up in a curve and struck the giant on the forehead — on the spot he least expected it. Satan never thought that the death of Jesus would annul death. He never thought that sin would be put away by Jesus being made sin. Had he known, he would not have plotted His death.
David does not stall at the decisive moment. One writer traces that boldness back to what David had learned alone with God:
Living before God in secret will always make us act, if I may put it that way, on the offensive. This is remarkable in David... David did not delay and did not falter; he instantly used his simple weapons and struck his enemy to the ground.
Commentators do not stop at the duel. They read the sunken stone as the outline of something later:
The stone that sinks into Goliath's forehead deprives him of strength and of life. David cuts off Goliath's head with his own sword, like Him who by death destroyed the one who had the power of death.
One writer carries it to the cross, where the victory first looked like defeat:
Five smooth stones and a simple sling brought that huge mass of boasting flesh down to the dust... The Lord was crucified in weakness. He went out against the powers of darkness and the devil for us. As He hung rejected and exposed on a criminal's cross, it seemed as though He had met with complete defeat, beyond all recovery.
- Small means. God loves to do great things by the simplest means — a hand in a bag, one stone, one throw.
- Supplied means. The stone was lying in the brook before the battle began; God provides the weapon His people need, and it proves all-sufficient.
- Unguarded point. Armour, spear and shield were all useless, because the blow landed where the giant never expected it.
- Forward motion. Faith that has lived before God in secret does not hesitate in public; David did not delay and did not falter.
- The pattern fulfilled. The stone took away Goliath's strength, and his own sword finished him. Christ too was crucified in weakness, and by death He destroyed the one who had the power of death.
So David overcame the Philistine with a sling and a stone, and smote the Philistine and killed him; and there was no sword in the hand of David.
One throw from a shepherd's sling ended a duel that had frozen two armies for forty days. Then the verse adds a detail that seems unnecessary once the giant is down: the hand that killed him held no sword. Commentators return to that short clause again and again.
The verse credits a sling and a stone. One writer looks behind the throw, to the man who had already put himself in God's hands.
Faith always honours God, and God always honours faith. David put himself into the hands of God, and the happy result of doing so was victory — full, glorious victory. Magnificent triumph! Precious fruit of simple faith in God! This should encourage the heart to throw away every human confidence, and to cling to the only true source of power.
No army movement contributed to it. The whole crisis turned on a single moment.
It was a wonderful deliverance, gained by a single blow — no manoeuvring of armies, no skill of generals, no bravery of soldiers. No; a stone from the brook, slung by a shepherd's hand, settled the whole matter. It was the victory of faith.
Nobody manufactured David's weapons. A brook shaped them, and one writer sees God's usual way of working in that.
No human skill or invention made this armour. The running brook had given these stones their smoothness. But faith is always armed like this. So the armour of faith always looks weak and foolish in the eyes of men. God has won His mightiest victories with instruments men most despised. Men treat preaching with scorn: a foolish thing in itself, with a foolish subject, Christ crucified. Yet it is "the power of God and the wisdom of God." Preaching has always been as foolish as David's sling. But what we need is far more of this simplicity, remembering that we have the truth of God to bring to people's consciences. We have weapons made mighty by God, if only we had simple faith to trust them alone, and to reject the armour of human energy, wisdom, and authority.
David moved fast, but there was no panic in his hands. One writer traces that steadiness back to the lion and the bear David faced with nobody watching.
Notice how calmly and deliberately David took the stone, though he acted at once. There was no show of effort. He did it just as though he were in the wilderness with no eye on him but God's. And the Lord directed that stone, just as He had enabled him to overcome both the lion and the bear! So David prevailed; and so faith always prevails.
The last clause is where commentators turn to Christ. The winner looked weak, and so did He.
"There was no sword in the hand of David" when he won the victory. A sling and stone are not the weapons of a mighty warrior. David himself looked weak in the eyes of men; "he was but a youth." And the apostle Paul says of the Lord Jesus: "He was crucified in weakness" (2 Cor. 13:4). To the religious Jew, "Christ crucified" was "a stumbling block." To the learned Greek it was "foolishness." Through death, by apparent weakness and defeat, Christ conquered Satan.
One writer turns that empty hand toward the reader's own rescue.
Notice this: the Lord saves. You cannot save yourself; I cannot save myself. It is the Lord alone who can save me. God alone can meet the need and ruin of man as a sinner, and I am left with no choice but to accept God's Saviour.
Goliath had prepared for arrows and carried a shield. The stone came from an angle he had not covered, and one writer sees a bigger surprise behind it.
He did not expect a weapon like a sling. He was looking for arrows, and had protected himself with a great big shield. But the stone slung by David went up in a curve and struck the giant on the forehead — on the spot he least expected. Satan never thought that the death of Jesus would put an end to death, or that sin would be put away by His being made sin. If he had known, he would not have plotted His death.
Israel added nothing to the fight.
The giant's head off, his army "fled," and all Israel had to do was to "plunder their camp" (v. 53). So with us — we only have to enjoy the spoil of Jesus' victory. He has done it all. We enjoy it all.
- Faith — David put himself into God's hands before he put a stone in his sling; the win was the fruit of that, not of technique.
- Weakness — a brook smoothed the stones; no forge did. God's greatest victories come through instruments men despise.
- Secrecy — the calm of the throw came from the lion and the bear, faced where no eye but God's was watching.
- Emptiness — "no sword in the hand of David" is the heart of the verse. It points to the One crucified in weakness, who conquered by apparent defeat.
- Spoil — one man fought alone, and an army that risked nothing collected the plunder; we only have to enjoy what Jesus won.
And David ran, and stood upon the Philistine, and took his sword, and drew it out of its sheath, and killed him completely, and cut off his head with it. And when the Philistines saw that their hero was dead, they fled.
The stone had already brought Goliath down, but David did not stop there: he finished the giant with the giant's own sword. Commentators read that last act as a picture of how Christ dealt with the enemy of God's people.
David killed Goliath before he held a sword at all. Writers see the whole point of the story there: David's own gear did not win this battle.
Faith always honours God, and God always honours faith. David put himself into the hands of God. The happy result was victory — full, glorious victory. "So David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and with a stone, and struck the Philistine and killed him. There was no sword in the hand of David." A magnificent triumph! The precious fruit of simple faith in God! How it should encourage the heart to throw away every confidence in the flesh, and to cling to the only true source of power.
David had already promised to take the giant's head — and he said it holding a sling, not a sword.
David had said that he would cut off Goliath's head. It might have sounded like an empty boast, for there was no sword in his hand. He did it all the same. The giant's head was cut off by his own weapon — surely a foreshadowing of what we read in Hebrews 2:14. The fight over, the Philistines fled... Israel took the spoil of the Philistines, but David was content with Goliath's head and Goliath's armour. The armour he put in his tent, and the head he carried to Jerusalem. This is the first time Jerusalem appears in connection with God's king, and it fits the order of events exactly. For the one who has the power of death must be defeated before the kingdom can be set up in power.
The sword that killed Goliath was Goliath's own. Writers see in that the pattern of a far greater victory.
David conquered through weakness. The stone was a small thing next to the giant's sword and spear, but God aimed it to lay him low. Then Goliath's own sword killed him and took off his head. Little did the giant realise how his end would come! And was it not the same with Satan? The proud enemy of God and of men saw all his forces gathered to meet Christ in the weakness of manhood... Then the Son of God entered the dark realm of death, the very thing the devil had used to terrify men. But death could not hold Him. The Lord Jesus took the very weapon that made men tremble and used it to defeat Satan and break the power of death. For it is written: "...through death He might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery" (Hebrews 2:14-15).
Jonathan, the son of King Saul, was watching. One writer traces five stages in what the sight did to him.
When the giant falls, what comes next? I think Jonathan took a long deep breath when he saw the giant's head come off. I see five points in Jonathan's history. When David came into the camp, Jonathan was trembling and miserable. When he saw David go out — for he had heard what David said — he was hopeful. I hope he will beat him, he said; and you say, I hope Christ has met my case. When the giant's head came off, he could say, Thank God it is all done, I am clear of that enemy now. He was delivered. Next he was enriched, and lastly he became devoted.
Israel had not struck a blow, yet the army broke into a shout. Everything they gained came from a fight someone else won.
"And the men of Israel and Judah rose with a shout." Every doubt and fear vanished when their victorious representative returned. His victory was their victory. They were as clear and as free from the Philistine oppressor as he was.
That sword did not stay in the valley. David later took it up again, and one writer draws the principle out of it.
David then takes the sword of Goliath. It was by the power of death that the Lord destroyed all the strength of the one who had the power of death. Death is the best weapon in God's arsenal, when it is wielded by the power of life.
- No sword. The giant was already down before David held a blade — the win belonged to God, not to the weapon.
- The sword. The blade that had terrified Israel beheaded its owner. Writers see the pattern of Christ: He entered death Himself and destroyed the one who had the power of death.
- The head. David kept his word and carried the proof to Jerusalem — the enemy must fall before the kingdom can rise in power.
- The watchers. Jonathan moved from trembling to hopeful. Then he was delivered, enriched, and devoted — the order in which a finished victory works on a heart.
- The nation. The enemy ran, and Israel went free without striking the giant. Their representative's victory counted as theirs.
And the men of Israel and of Judah arose, and shouted, and pursued the Philistines, until thou comest to the ravine and to the gates of Ekron. And the wounded of the Philistines fell down on the way to Shaaraim, even to Gath, and to Ekron.
One man went down into the valley alone, and when he came back up the whole army moved. This verse turns Israel's fear into a shout and a chase. It also raises a question: what had these men done to earn the ground they now took?
The Philistines had staked their confidence on one enormous man. When he fell, their hopes fell with him.
"And when the Philistines saw that their champion was dead, they fled." How empty are the hopes that rest on human strength! It looks impressive, but it will not last. Who would have thought that all that heavy armour would come to nothing before a sling and a stone? Yet see the end. The champion of the Philistines fell, and with him all the hopes they had cherished. "And the men of Israel and Judah rose with a shout and pursued the Philistines." Yes, they might well shout. It was clear that God had gone out before them, to deliver them from the power of their enemies.
Not one Israelite soldier had faced Goliath. Yet the shout and the chase belong to the whole army.
"And the men of Israel and Judah rose with a shout and pursued the Philistines." They won the victory according to the faith of David.
Another writer pictures the moment David came back into the camp.
Every doubt and fear vanished when their victorious representative returned. His victory was their victory. They were as clear and as free from the Philistine oppressor as he was.
The verse puts the shout before the chase. One writer finds it strange that people today hear of a greater deliverance and stay quiet.
I am not at all surprised to read, "And the men of Israel and Judah rose with a shout" (1 Sam. 17:52). People hear God's delivering gospel and take hold of it. I sometimes wonder why they do not shout, "Hallelujah, I am saved tonight." I would be glad to hear you say it. Once you enjoy the sense of the deliverance Christ brings, it will move you powerfully. The fact is that people are very proper nowadays, and are little moved by the gospel.
The soldiers who chased to Ekron collected goods they had not won.
Once the giant's head was off, his army "fled," and all Israel had to do was "spoil their tents" (v. 53). It is the same with us — we have only to enjoy the spoil of Jesus' victory. He has done all. We enjoy all.
One writer starts from the promise David made before the fight, then follows the chase and compares what Israel carried off with what David carried off.
David had said he would cut off Goliath's head. It might have sounded like an empty boast, for there was no sword in his hand. He did it all the same. The giant's head was cut off with his own weapon — surely a picture of what we read in Hebrews 2:14. The fight over, the Philistines fled, and Israel chased them to the gates of Ekron and Gath, their two nearest cities. Israel took the spoil of the Philistines, but David was content with Goliath's head and Goliath's armour. He put the armour in his tent (Luke 11:21-22). He carried the head to Jerusalem. This is the first mention of Jerusalem in connection with God's king, and it fits the order of events exactly. For the one who holds the power of death must be beaten before the kingdom can be set up in power.
The men in this verse joined the fight after the outcome was settled. One writer draws a line between two kinds of courage.
Still, it is beautiful to see what happens where faith has acted in the middle of the people's ruin. It has stirred up many other instruments. Encouraged and roused by its success, they act without fear, in the same power that brought about the first deliverance. It is worth noticing, though, how different the two things are. Israel was flushed with success, and that strengthened the hands of the mighty men, so they beat strong enemies. The faith that counts on God is another matter. It counts on Him when strength and success are on the enemy's side and the people are running away. The second was David's case with Goliath; the first was the case of the men who killed the other giants.
- One fought. David faced the champion alone; the soldiers in this verse never traded a blow with Goliath.
- All won. Israel won the victory according to David's faith — his victory became their victory, his freedom their freedom.
- They shouted. The shout came before the chase. A deliverance you feel is a deliverance that moves you.
- They gathered. The chase reached Gath and the gates of Ekron. The spoil cost them nothing, because David had already won it.
- He kept the head. Israel took the goods; David took the head to Jerusalem. The one who holds the power of death must fall before the kingdom comes in power.
And the children of Israel returned from chasing after the Philistines, and they pillaged their camps.
Israel's soldiers had spent forty days hiding from a challenge no one would answer. Now the giant is dead and the Philistines are running. The same men who fled are walking through an empty enemy camp, taking whatever they want. One man won this battle. A whole nation collects the reward.
Nothing in this verse describes a fight. Israel returns from the chase and helps itself to what the Philistines left behind. The camp is what older translations call their tents. One writer shows how little the army still had to do once the champion fell.
"And when the Philistines saw that their champion was dead, they fled," and Israel "plundered their tents." The enemies scatter. Nothing is left for the men of Israel and Judah to do but take the spoil that David's victory has won for them.
The two armies stood on opposite hills and never fought each other. Everything hung on the two men in the valley between them. That is why the victory belonged to every Israelite there.
"And the men of Israel and Judah rose with a shout." Every doubt and fear vanished when their victorious representative came back. His victory was their victory. They were as clear and as free from the Philistine oppressor as he was. … The application lies plainly before us. Our Lord Jesus, who is greater than David, has gone into death's dark valley, "delivered up for our trespasses." Many Christians stop there. They get no further than hoping for the best. The gospel does not stop there. Having beaten the foe, our great Representative has come up out of the valley, "raised for our justification." His victory is our victory. His freedom is our freedom. This is what His resurrection means for us.
Earlier in the chapter these men ran from Goliath. Now they are the ones chasing. One writer names the power that won the battle, and the part Israel had in it.
Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit, says Jehovah. His Spirit was upon David. The means looked worthless — a sling and a stone, as if against a dog. Yet the giant falls and receives his death-blow from his own sword. The battle is won. The victory is by the Spirit of Jehovah. Israel does not fight but chases a fleeing foe, and reaps the fruit. But it is David the anointed who becomes the centre of all eyes, the wonder, and for the time, the praise of Israel. Saul might kill his thousands, but David his ten thousands.
With the leader gone, the whole force behind him collapsed. One writer sees the same pattern in the world around us.
Goliath's defeat is also the defeat of the Philistines. The world, like its leader, is now a conquered enemy. We may well take courage in facing it, even though trouble and suffering are still bound to be our share.
The army loaded itself with Philistine goods. David kept only two things.
The fight over, the Philistines fled, and Israel pursued them to the gates of Ekron and Gath, their two nearest cities. Israel plundered the Philistines, but David was content with Goliath's head and Goliath's armour. The armour he put into his tent. The head he carried to Jerusalem. Here Scripture names Jerusalem for the first time in connection with God's king, but this fits the order of events perfectly. For the one who has the power of death must fall before the kingdom can be set up in power. So Jerusalem, the place of the throne, only comes into this history after the death of the enemy of God and of His people.
Jonathan was one of the men who walked into those tents. One writer traces what that did to him.
The men of Israel and Judah were moved. They plundered the tents of the Philistines, and they were enriched. Among them Jonathan was enriched. At first he was anxious, then hopeful, then delivered. Now he is enriched. In the next chapter we see that he becomes devoted to David and surrenders everything to him.
- One fought. The armies never met. Everything lay between two men in the valley, and a sling and a stone settled it.
- All shared. The victor's win became the army's win. They were as free from the Philistines as he was, without striking a blow.
- Israel only gathered. Their part was not fighting but collecting. They chased a fleeing enemy and reaped fruit they never grew.
- The head matters most. Israel took the goods. David kept the head and the armour, because the one with the power of death must fall before the kingdom can be set up.
- Enrichment ends in devotion. Jonathan moved from anxious, to hopeful, to delivered, to enriched. Then he surrendered everything to the man who won it all.
And David took the head of the Philistine and brought it to Jerusalem; but he put his armour in his tent.
The fight in the valley of Elah ends with two quiet actions: a head carried to a city not yet David's, and armour stored in a tent. Commentators read both trophies as signs of a far greater victory than a shepherd's win over a giant.
David does not report the battle. He carries the evidence of it, and everyone watching can read it for themselves.
David then comes back, and is led before Saul. And what has he got with him? He has the head of the Philistine in his hand. He is the victor, and he walks through the ranks of Israel to the king with the proof in his hand. He has the giant's sword in one hand, and his head in the other. He does not say a word; he does not need to. The sword and the head that he carried told the story of his victory better than any words could.
The trophy that ended the war also captured a heart.
He had also seen him in the tent of the king with the head of Goliath in his hand. There David won his heart. So Jonathan stripped himself, gave up everything that marked him out, and made a full surrender to him. David was victor on the battlefield, and victor in the tent of the king too. The trophy of his first victory was the head of Goliath; the trophy of the second was the heart of Jonathan. Have we known a turning point like that in our lives? Has the Lord Jesus captivated us?
Israel plundered the fleeing army. David kept only what came from his own fight, and each piece went to a different place.
Israel plundered the Philistines, but David was content with Goliath's head and Goliath's armour. The armour he put into his tent (Luke 11:21-22); the head he carried to Jerusalem. Here the record names Jerusalem for the first time in connection with God's king, and this fits the order of events perfectly. For the one who has the power of death must fall before the kingdom can be set up in power. So Jerusalem, the place of the throne, only comes into notice in this history after the death of the enemy of God and of His people.
The armour goes home with the winner. One writer reads that move to the tent as part of the picture.
David kills Goliath with the giant's own weapons (v. 51). Through death Christ overcame him who had the power of death, that is to say, the devil. Then the victor withdraws to his own tent (v. 54), carrying off the trophies of his victory. So Christ has gone up to His own dwelling place, leading "captivity captive."
Others still held Jerusalem when David carried a giant's head there. He staked a claim on the city long before Israel captured it.
We see opposition also to David; but when he had killed the giant, he "took the head of the Philistine and brought it to Jerusalem" (1 Sam. 17:54); and, though the Jebusites resisted him for a long time, on the ground of victory over these enemies, God's earthly centre was set up. It will be so finally when David's greater Son, "THE BRANCH" is brought forth. The city of God's choice shall then fall no more.
Commentators read the scene as a type — a picture that points forward to Christ. One writer adds a suggestion he does not press.
David stood with the head of Goliath in his hand. There he is an outstanding type of our Lord Jesus Christ in His triumph over the power of sin, the world, Satan and death. As he comes up from the valley of Elah, we have a picture of Christ coming forth in the might of His victory when He arose from among the dead. It is striking that David took the head of Goliath to Jerusalem (1 Sam. 17:54), the place which was to become the centre when he established his kingdom. Some have thought Golgotha — the place of a skull — may have some connection with this event. I mention it only as a possible link.
- Victory first. David says nothing on his return. The head and the sword in his hands make the whole argument.
- Then the throne. Jerusalem enters the story here for the first time under God's king. The enemy who held the power of death had to fall first.
- Then the claim. Enemies still held the city. Yet that victory became the ground for God's earthly centre, and it will be so again under David's greater Son.
- Then the spoil. The armour goes to the victor's own tent. So Christ carried His trophies up to His own dwelling place, leading captivity captive.
- Then the heart. Jonathan saw the trophy and gave up everything that marked him out. David's second victory that day was not on a field but in a heart.
And when Saul saw David go forth against the Philistine, he said to Abner, the captain of the host, Abner, whose son is this young man? And Abner said, As thy soul liveth, O king, I cannot tell.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And the king said, Inquire thou whose son this youth is.
Saul has just watched a young shepherd kill the Philistine champion. Instead of celebrating, he turns to his commander and asks whose son the boy is. Yet David had already served in Saul's own court. How could the king not know him?
Some have tried to solve Saul's ignorance by rearranging the chapters. One commentator answers that a troubled king could forget a harp player:
David had indeed served him earlier, and not long before. But his disordered state might well confuse his memory. And a great captain might be excused for never noticing a boy musician brought in to play the harp to the king. In my opinion this is no fair stumbling-block. It is not legitimate to move the earlier fact out of the place where it stood, as some learned people have suggested. To my mind there is no small beauty in the incidents being recorded exactly as they are.
Commentators differ on the reason. Another sees no problem at all, since Saul's interest grew as David's place changed:
No discrepancy exists between 1 Samuel 16:19-23 and the question which Saul afterwards asks: "Whose son is this youth?" (17:55-58). Earlier, the king had no wish to know the background and family of a man who only carried his armour and played the harp for him. But now that same man is about to become his son-in-law. So it interests him to learn David's personal history more exactly.
Saul had felt the good David did him. That is not the same as knowing David:
God may use one person to bring relief to someone carried away by the power of the enemy, without the least fellowship of spirit between them. Such a servant may soon be forgotten — as people say, "out of sight, out of mind." Those who are far from God have no real knowledge of the person who walks with Him. At the time, Saul knew well that David's harp soothed him. Yet David, though Saul loved him then, left no impression at all on his spirit. There never was a real bond between them.
Another writer finds the same failure in people generally, and in Israel:
Though Saul knew the power of David's harp for a time, he never knew David himself. He had not learned David, if I may put it that way — David was still a stranger to him (1 Samuel 17:56). And how this tells us of man, and of Israel, still! People enjoy the rain from heaven and the fruitful season, yet stay ignorant of the Father who arranges all this for them. Jesus healed Israel, but Israel did not learn Jesus. Many pressed on Him in the crowd who never touched Him.
Saul cannot place David at the very moment David steps into the public work of God. One writer gives the reason:
David now appears as Israel's last hope, in the direct and public service of the Lord, not of the king. That makes a man a stranger even to his brothers, and an alien to his mother's household. The Lord knew this above all. David certainly was that to Saul and his courtiers. God's chosen may force the world's respect, even its love, for what it cannot help admiring and needing. But they are soon forgotten.
Abner cannot tell, so the question comes back to David himself, and the name he gives is a humble one:
How this leads our heart to the manger at Bethlehem, the home at Nazareth, to Him who was a carpenter and the son of a carpenter! When royal courts asked of Him, "Where is he?" the answer came back, as it did of David in 1 Samuel 17, "O king, I cannot tell." So he has to answer for himself, "I am the son of Jesse the Bethlehemite" — a small, despised household, and he the least in the house.
The same blindness appears again in the Gospels. One writer links the two:
Does this not recall the Jews' ignorance in John 7 about Christ's origin and where He had come from?
What Abner could not say, faith can say now:
Abner, asked the question by Saul, "Whose son is he?" could not answer. But we can answer the question. It is the Father's only begotten Son in whom He is well pleased; Jehovah's Servant, God's King. He has met the adversary, and shortly He is going to undo the works of the adversary.
- Asked — After the victory Saul asks whose son the boy is. Commentators differ on why: some point to his disordered mind, others to his new interest in a future son-in-law.
- Forgotten — David's harp refreshed Saul, yet Saul never knew David. Taking the benefit is not the same as knowing the person.
- Unknown — Public service of the Lord, rather than of the king, is what made David a stranger even to his own brothers.
- Lowly — The answer names a small, despised household: the son of Jesse the Bethlehemite.
- Answered — What Abner could not tell, faith can tell: the Father's only begotten Son, God's King, who has met the adversary and will undo his works.
And as David returned from the slaughter of the Philistine, Abner took him, and brought him before Saul with the head of the Philistine in his hand.
Goliath is dead, but the chapter does not close with the fight. It closes with a young man carrying a severed head through the ranks, and a king who cannot say who he is.
David needed no speech when he came back. What he carried through the ranks said everything.
David then comes back, and is led before Saul. And what has he got with him? He has the head of the Philistine in his hand. He is the victor, and he carries the proof of his victory as he goes to the king and walks through the ranks of Israel. He has the giant's sword in one hand and his head in the other. He does not say a word. He does not need to. The sword and the head he carried told the story of his victory better than any words.
One man fought; a whole nation gained. One writer draws the line from that to the believer:
So with us, we have only to enjoy the spoil of Jesus' victory. He has done all. We enjoy all. Proof of David's victory is seen as "Abner took him, and brought him before Saul with the head of the Philistine in his hand" (v. 57). The evidence of Christ's victory is that He is now alive before God.
The head did not stay on the battlefield. David carried it to Jerusalem, and one writer sees that order of events as deliberate.
The giant's head was cut off with his own weapon — surely a foreshadowing of what we read in Hebrews 2:14... He carried the head to Jerusalem. This is the first time Jerusalem is mentioned in connection with God's king, and it fits the order of events perfectly. For the one who holds the power of death must be defeated before the kingdom can be set up in power. So Jerusalem, the place of the throne, only appears in this history after the enemy of God and of His people is dead.
Saul had already met David. David had played the harp for him. Yet now the king cannot place him.
Saul loved him for the good and relief he received. It seems this did not last long. David had gone back from Saul to feed his father's sheep at Bethlehem (1 Sam. 17:15), and "out of sight, out of mind" proved as true for David as for many another man who has stood in a king's court... But this is not all. David now appears as Israel's last hope, in the direct and public service of the Lord, not of the king. That makes a man a stranger even to his own brothers, and a foreigner in his mother's house, as the Lord knew above all others.
Commentators differ on the reason for Saul's question. Kelly puts it down to absence: David had left the court, and the king forgot him. Another writer points to changed circumstances:
Until now the king had not been eager to learn about the background and family of a man who only carried his armour and played the harp for him. But that man is about to become his son-in-law. It is natural that Saul now wants to know David's personal history more exactly.
One writer sees the same blindness repeated later, with Christ Himself:
Jesse's son has rescued him, yet Saul does not know where David comes from. "Whose son is this young man?" he asks Abner. Does this not remind us of the Jews' ignorance in John 7 about Christ's origin and where He had come from? Saul knows him no better when David presents himself, holding in his hands the sure pledge of victory.
Abner, the man Saul turned to for an answer, had nothing to say. One writer turns the question toward the greater King:
Abner, asked by Saul, "Whose son is he?" could not answer. But we can answer the question. It is the Father's only begotten Son, in whom He is well pleased; Jehovah's Servant, God's King. He has met the adversary, and soon He will undo the works of the adversary... It is Jesus, who has met the enemy and defeated him. He has plundered principalities and powers, and He is now at God's right hand, with all power in heaven and earth given to Him.
Saul and Jonathan looked at the same young man holding the same head. It changed only one of them.
Saul represents the religious man, and as the religious man he asked him, "Whose son are you?" He was grateful. I don't like mere gratitude; gratitude means, "I would do as much for you." Look at Jonathan — he loved David as his own soul. Now you see where he is: the oppressor is gone.
- Proof. David comes back holding the head. The victory is finished, and it needs no words.
- Place. The head goes to Jerusalem. The enemy who holds the power of death must fall before the king's throne is set up.
- Question. "Whose son?" The victor is honoured and still unknown. Commentators differ on why Saul forgot him.
- Answer. Abner cannot say. Faith can: the Father's Son, now at God's right hand with all power.
- Response. Saul offers thanks and stays the same. Jonathan loves David as his own soul. One victory, two hearts.
And Saul said to him, Whose son art thou, young man? And David said, I am the son of thy servant Jesse the Beth-lehemite.
Goliath lies dead, and David walks back through Israel's ranks carrying the giant's head. The king watches him come and does not know who he is, so the nation's deliverer has to name his own father.
David had already played the harp for Saul and carried his armour. So how can the king not know him? Commentators say Saul's interest had simply changed:
There is no discrepancy between 1 Sam. 16:19-23 and the question Saul later asks: "Whose son is this youth?" (17:55-58). Before this, the king had no interest in the background and family of a man who only carried his armour and played his harp. But now that same man is about to become his son-in-law, so of course he wants to know exactly who David is.
Another writer answers the puzzle, and the proposal to move these verses:
At first sight it sounds very strange. David had already been brought in to soothe the king when an evil spirit from Jehovah troubled him. And now Saul has to ask such a question. But Saul's disordered state might well confuse his memory. And a great captain might be excused for never noticing a boy musician brought in to play the harp to the king. So far from this being a fair stumbling-block, I see no small beauty in the incidents being recorded just as they are. Some have proposed moving these last verses of 1 Samuel 17 to the end of 1 Samuel 16, or moving the end of 1 Samuel 16 to the end of 1 Samuel 17. Both would be wrong.
David's music had given Saul real relief. But Saul never came to know David himself:
Though Saul knew the power of David's harp for a time, he never knew David himself. David was still a stranger to him (1 Sam. 17:56). And how this speaks to us about man, and about Israel still! Man will enjoy the rain from heaven and the fruitful season. But he stays ignorant of the Father who orders all this for him. Jesus healed Israel, but Israel never learned Jesus. Many pressed on Him in the crowd who never touched Him. All this is like Saul, who could be refreshed by David's music and still have to ask, "Abner, whose son is this youth?"
The man who owed David most claimed not to know him. Commentators differ on whether Saul had truly forgotten:
Saul should have been the first to acknowledge what God had done through David. Instead he claimed not to know him (1 Sam. 17:56). It is hard to believe he had forgotten a man whose harp playing had helped him so much (1 Sam. 16:23). But this shows a solemn fact. The world is quick and willing to ignore how God unfolds His purposes for man's blessing through His chosen instrument. "Who is David? and who is the son of Jesse?" said another who refused his claims and despised his person (1 Sam. 25:10). "I have become a stranger to my brothers, an alien to my mother's sons" (Ps. 69:8) tells of the deep sorrow of a loving heart, forced into such isolation by faithfulness to God.
David answers with his family, not his victory — and that family carried no weight:
How this leads our heart to the manger at Bethlehem, the home at Nazareth, to Him who was a carpenter and the Son of a carpenter! The lowly Man of Luke's Gospel comes clearly before us, as He tells of "the son of David, the son of Jesse." Men asked at royal courts, "Where is he?" and the answer came back, as of David in 1 Samuel 17, "O king, I cannot tell." So he has to answer for himself, "I am the son of your servant Jesse the Bethlehemite" — a small, despised house, and he the least in that house.
Saul heard David's answer and learned only a name. Another man was listening:
When David returns with the evidence of his victory, what marks Jonathan is not so much excitement about the victory. His heart is held by the person of the one who won it... Here was one who, unknown and unasked, could step into that terrible gap and face all the power of the enemy for him. That thought affected Jonathan so deeply that we read, "the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul."
- Question. Saul asks whose son David is. A king who had used David as a harp player had never cared who his family was — and now David is about to become his son-in-law.
- Text. There is no need to move these verses to remove the puzzle. The beauty is in the events standing just as they are recorded.
- Blindness. Saul enjoyed the harp and never knew the harpist. People still take God's gifts and stay ignorant of God Himself.
- Christ. Jesus met the same treatment. He healed Israel, and Israel never learned Him; the manger at Bethlehem and the carpenter's home tell the same story.
- Two hearers. David names a small, despised house. Saul hears it and learns only a name; Jonathan hears it and his soul is knit to David.