And Jehovah sent Nathan to David. And he came to him, and said to him, There were two men in one city; the one rich, and the other poor.
Almost a year has passed since David took Uriah's wife and had Uriah killed. In all that time the king has said nothing about it. Then one line changes everything: God sends a prophet. Nathan does not begin with an accusation. He begins with a story about two men in a city.
David never came looking for God. God moved first, and both His righteousness and His mercy are in that move.
David had sinned in the matter of Uriah's wife, and was guilty before God of adultery and murder... How God's righteousness and God's mercy shine out. Righteousness made it necessary to deal with David over it; mercy moved God to send the prophet to the king about it. "The LORD sent Nathan to David."... Let it be noted too, before we move on, that it was God who sent to David; it was not David seeking after God.
Nothing in David had stirred on its own during the months in between. The war against the Ammonites had simply carried on.
A certain period of time passed after David committed this sin. The war against Ammon (begun in the previous chapter, which covers nearly a year) was still going on. The siege of Rabbah was not over yet, and we know that in those days an army could besiege a city for years. During this whole period David's conscience stayed silent. Yet his sin weighed on him, and the fruit of his wrongdoing was plain before his eyes.
Nathan had come to David once before, in 2 Samuel 7, when the king wanted to build a house for God. This second visit is nothing like the first.
Then the Lord steps in, after waiting a long time for David to repent. Nathan the prophet, carrying His word, comes on the Lord's behalf to stir up the king's soul. How different this chapter is from 2 Samuel 7! Then, in a time of prosperity and joy, David served the Lord with his whole heart. He had one thought only: to build a house for his God... Now the scene has changed. The Lord sends the prophet to set him in the light of a holy and righteous God. God's eyes are too pure to look at evil, and He must judge it.
Nathan could have named the sin in his first sentence. Instead he tells a story about a rich man and a poor man. That is how God's word does its work.
The word of God is a two-edged sword; it has no handle: it is all blade. It is the word that judges people, and they cannot judge it. "It discerns the thoughts and intentions of the heart."... The word of God does not talk about all sorts of fine bits of learning; it deals with a man's conscience. That is how the word of God is known. Nathan comes and tells David a lovely story of a little lamb. "Oh, he deserves to die." You are the very man!
David is furious at the man in the story. That reaction is itself a warning.
Do not always trust people when they show fierce indignation. David even then could feel hotly enough about evil. Sadly, there was no self-judgment. Nothing in his sin is more terrible than the long time he gave himself up to it, with no sign of right feeling toward man and no exercise of conscience toward God. So even when Nathan set the wrong plainly before him in a story, his anger burned only against another man's wrong... The only thing that enables us to judge anything rightly in others is self-judgment. If we are to see the speck in a brother's eye clearly, let us not forget to take the log out of our own. David stands here as a solemn example. The man who is quick to see sin in another may be completely blind to his own serious and unjudged wrongdoing.
Nathan's story leads David to pass sentence before he knows whose case it is. God's aim in that trap is not ruin.
The sentence went out from David, only for him to learn that the judge was the criminal. He was the guilty man; Uriah's wife was the one little ewe lamb... God had seen it; God remembered it; God would have David convicted of it. Convicted? Yes. Not to drive him to despair, but to lead him to repentance.
- Sent — The move is God's, not David's. Righteousness required Him to deal with the sin; mercy sent the prophet to do it.
- Silence — Nearly a year went by with the siege of Rabbah still running. David's conscience stayed quiet, though his sin was in plain sight.
- Story — Nathan begins with two men in a city. God's word is all blade and no handle: it does not invite debate, it reaches the conscience.
- Self-judgment — David burned with anger at another man's cruelty. Strong feeling about evil is no substitute for judging yourself.
- Saving aim — The trap closes, and the judge finds he is the criminal. God convicts him not to drive him to despair, but to lead him to repentance.
The rich had very many flocks and herds;
Nathan tells David a story about two men. One owns flocks and herds beyond counting. The other owns a single lamb. The rich man's wealth is what makes his next act indefensible — and it holds up a mirror to a king who already had everything.
The prophet does not accuse. He tells a story about a town and two men, and the king listens as an outsider.
Nathan speaks in a parable, and in his blindness David does not detect that he himself is the one this account is about. The prophet says, There were two men in a city, the one rich and the other poor. One had many flocks and herds; the other had only one little lamb which he cherished.
Nathan keeps the story just far enough from David's own case to slip past his guard. It also stops well short of what David had done.
The story stresses the great difference between the two men. The rich man had everything. The poor man had nothing but one little lamb, which he had cared for so tenderly that it was like a daughter to him. But when the rich man wanted a lamb to prepare a meal for a visitor, he stole the poor man's lamb, though he had flocks of his own. In the parable the difference from David's own case was just enough to keep it from being obvious. Yet the parable said far less than the truth David had to face. This rich man's case was not nearly as serious as David's. David was guilty not only of stealing, but of adultery and murder.
The wealth in the story is not a neutral detail. When God explains the parable, He lists what He had given David.
The Lord reminds David of all that He had done for him: "I anointed you king over Israel, and I delivered you out of the hand of Saul. I gave you your master's house, and your master's wives into your arms, and gave you the house of Israel and of Judah. And if that had been too little, I would have given you much more." The treasures of My grace were yours and you sinned in the presence of My love! "Why have you despised the word of the Lord, to do evil in His sight?" How had David despised it? God had heaped blessings on him and David had preferred to satisfy his lust!
That word "despised" reaches wider than one king's crime.
To covet the things the world can offer is to despise God. We are usually barely aware of this, but this is how God looks at things. "Because you have despised Me," He repeats in verse 10.
David reacts to the rich man with real heat. His sense of justice still works perfectly — on somebody else.
David's heart and conscience are in a bad state, yet his judgment is still righteous. Though he was under sin's yoke himself, he judged sin harshly in others. When we are not involved ourselves, we often see evil in others clearly and fully, while our own hearts go unjudged.
Another writer puts the warning sharply. Strong feeling about wrong does not prove that a conscience is awake.
Do not always trust people when they show fierce outrage. Even then David could feel strongly about evil. Sadly, there was no self-judgment... The only thing that lets us judge anything in others rightly is self-judgment. If we are to see clearly the speck in a brother, let us not forget to take the log out of our own eyes.
David was not seeking God. That God spoke at all was mercy.
David had sinned in the matter of Uriah's wife, and was guilty before God of adultery and murder... God could not pass it over. It must all come out to the light. So Nathan visited the king. How God's righteousness and God's mercy shine out. Righteousness required that God deal with him for it. Mercy moved God to send the prophet to the king about it... Notice too that it was God who sent to David; it was not David seeking after God.
The exposure was never meant to crush him: God "would have David convicted of it... Not to drive him to despair, but to lead him to repentance" (C E Stuart).
- Rich — the man in the story owns flocks and herds without number. The whole parable rests on how much he already had.
- Given — everything David held came from God's hand, and God says He would have added more had it not been enough.
- Despised — to reach past all that for what belongs to another is contempt for Him. Coveting what the world offers is the same thing in smaller clothes.
- Blind — David judged the rich man rightly, and his anger was real. Yet he never saw himself. Only self-judgment clears the eye to judge anyone else.
- Sent — God did not wait for David to come. Righteousness required that the sin be exposed. Mercy sent the prophet, and the goal was repentance, not despair.
but the poor man had nothing at all, but one little ewe lamb which he had bought, and was nourishing; and it grew up with him, and together with his children it ate of his morsel, and drank of his own cup, and slept in his bosom, and was to him as a daughter.
Nathan comes to David months after his affair with Bathsheba and the killing of her husband Uriah. He does not begin with an accusation. He tells a story about a poor man whose whole wealth was one pet lamb. The picture raises two questions: why did God approach a guilty king this way, and who is the lamb?
Two sides of God meet in this visit. He would not ignore the sin, and He did not wait for David to speak first.
David had sinned in the matter of Uriah's wife, and was guilty before God of adultery and murder. It was the great blot on his life, and God could not pass it over. It must all come out to the light. So Nathan visited the king. How God's righteousness and God's mercy shine out. Righteousness made it necessary to deal with David over it. Mercy moved God to send the prophet to the king about it. "The LORD sent Nathan to David." … David had shown no sign of repentance. Months had gone by, yet he had made no confession to God. One learns how a saint can fall, and how dull the conscience can become.
The verse piles up the details — bought, raised, fed from the man's own plate, held in his arms. Yet the picture still falls short of what it stands for.
The story stresses the great difference between the rich man and the poor man. The rich man had everything. The poor man had nothing but a little lamb. He had cared for it tenderly, so that it was like a daughter to him. The rich man wanted a lamb to feed a visitor. He had flocks of his own, but he stole the poor man's lamb. In the parable there was just enough difference from David's case to keep it from being too obvious. Yet the parable greatly understated the fact David had to face. The case of this rich man was nowhere near as serious as David's. David was guilty not only of stealing, but of adultery and murder.
Once the story lands, every part of it finds its owner: "He was the guilty man. Uriah's wife was the one little ewe lamb. And the secret history of Uriah's death now stood exposed to all the world." (C E Stuart)
In the story, the rich man's raid on his neighbour is triggered by a guest passing through. One writer reads that visitor as the desire that stops by rather than lives in us.
Let us watch out for this sort of traveller, for we are all likely to be visited by him. Certainly when he appears it is better to shut the door against him. This wayfarer is lust, a passing desire, not one that we habitually keep and feed. This traveller had entered the king's house, knowing he would find something there to feed on. Our hearts too always hold what it takes to give way to Satan's temptations. David forgot to depend on God and thought he could relax instead of serving and fighting. That was enough to let the traveller open the door and let himself in, and to leave disorder and ruin behind him.
Nathan does not name the sin. He tells a story, and David passes sentence on the man in it.
The word of God is a two-edged sword; it has no handle — all is blade. It is the word that judges people, and they cannot judge it. "It is a discerner of the thoughts and intentions of the heart." … The word of God does not talk about all sorts of fine bits of learning. It deals with a man's conscience. That is how a person comes to know the word of God. Nathan comes and tells David a beautiful story of a little lamb. "Oh, he deserves to die." You are the very man!
David's anger over the lamb was real. It also showed how little he had faced himself.
Do not always trust people when they show strong indignation. David even then could feel hotly enough about evil. Sadly, there was no self-judgment. Nothing in David's sin is more terrible than the long time he gave himself to it. All that while he seems to have had no right feeling towards man and no exercise of conscience towards God… The only thing that enables us to judge anything rightly in others is self-judgment. If we are to see clearly the speck in a brother's eye, let us not forget to take the log out of our own. David stands here as a solemn example. The one who is so quick to see sin in another may be blind to his own serious and unjudged wrongdoing.
The wrong was against a man; the sin was against God. That distinction is what opened the way to mercy.
His act, it is true, had been a wrong to another. He had taken the poor man's one little ewe lamb. But in all this he had sinned against God as well. When he discovers and feels this, he says, "I have sinned against the LORD." The effect was to leave him alone with God. As a wrongdoer, Uriah might have had a claim on him; but as a sinner, he had not. God must deal with him. The moment his sin leaves him alone with God, he listens to the voice of mercy: "The LORD also has put away your sin; you shall not die." He suffers chastening for the wrong he had done, but God cancels the wages of sin.
- Sent, not sought — David confessed nothing for months. Righteousness required God to deal with the sin; mercy sent the prophet.
- Understated — the stolen lamb was loved like a daughter. Even so, the king's crime was worse: it added adultery and murder to theft.
- All blade — the word has no handle. A story about a little lamb slipped past David's guard and reached his conscience.
- Blind spot — David burned at another man's sin while his own stayed unjudged. Only self-judgment lets us judge others rightly.
- Alone with God — the wrong was against a man, the sin against God. Once David owned that, he heard, "you shall not die."
And there came a traveller to the rich man, and he spared to take of his own flock and of his own herd, to dress for the wayfaring man that had come to him; and he took the poor man's lamb, and dressed it for the man that had come to him.
This verse is the turn in Nathan's story. A visitor arrives, and the rich man feeds him with his poor neighbour's only lamb. It raises three questions. Who is the traveller? Why would a man with flocks of his own spare them and take his neighbour's lamb? And why did God send a story instead of a direct charge?
Nathan's parable came after a long silence. The delay was not God overlooking the matter, but leaving room for David to speak first.
David did not confess his sin to God at once. Psalm 32:3-4 shows that the Lord waited some time, at least, before He sent the prophet Nathan to him. The wait was likely over nine months, because Bathsheba had given birth to a son. He was giving David the chance to confess his sin himself. In that time, as David says, God's hand was heavy upon him "day and night." How could his conscience have any rest? This misery went on until God sent Nathan to him with a very pointed parable. David did not know it was a parable concerning him until he was told it was.
The traveller does not move in. He passes through — and that is how the desire behind David's sin worked.
Let us watch out for this sort of traveller, for we are all likely to be visited by him. Certainly when he appears it is better to close the door against him. This traveller is lust, a passing desire, and not one that we habitually entertain and feed. This traveller had entered the king's house, knowing he would find something to feed on there. Our hearts too always contain what it takes to give way to Satan's temptations. David forgot to depend on God and thought he could relax instead of serving and fighting. This was enough to allow the traveller to open the door and let himself in, and to mark his visit with disorder and ruin.
The rich man was not in need. He simply would not spend what was his. And the story is still milder than the truth it stood for.
The rich man had everything. The poor man had nothing but a little lamb. He had cared for it tenderly, so that it was like a daughter to him. But the rich man wanted a lamb to prepare a meal for a visitor. He had flocks of his own, yet he stole the poor man's lamb. In the parable there was just enough difference from David's case as not to make it too obvious. Yet the parable said far too little about what David himself had to face. This rich man's case was not nearly as serious as David's. David was guilty not only of stealing, but of adultery and murder.
Nathan did not start with an accusation. He went after David's conscience instead, and let David pass the verdict.
Look at David. Nathan caught his conscience by appealing to his moral sense alone — his own view of right and wrong, his own measure of wrongdoing and its punishment. So David passed a sentence that justified God's judgment against himself. He little suspected that he was pronouncing sentence in his own case. But that is what happened. Self-love stepped aside for a moment, and his moral sense faced the offence alone. So David's own mouth judged him, and proved God's judgment right.
Nathan's story was about real people, and about a death that had been kept quiet. Grace was coming to David, but not before he faced what he had done.
He could be angry at another man's conduct while forgetting his own. But he had to judge himself before grace could be given to him. The sentence came from David's own mouth, only for him to learn that the judge was the criminal. He was the guilty man. Uriah's wife was the one little ewe lamb. And now the secret story of Uriah's death stood exposed to the whole world… God had seen it. God remembered it. God would have David convicted of it. Convicted? Yes. Not to drive him to despair, but to lead him to repentance.
- Visitor. The traveller is a passing desire, not a settled habit — which is why the safest moment to deal with him is at the door.
- Vulnerable. He called on David because David had stopped depending on God and relaxed instead of fighting. Every heart holds something he can feed on.
- Victim. The rich man spared his own flock and took the one lamb; the poor man's loss paid for the rich man's guest.
- Verdict. The story slipped past David's self-defence. His own moral sense sentenced him, and his own mouth proved God's judgment right.
- Vindication. God waited months for David to speak first. When He exposed him at last, it was not to crush him but to lead him to repentance.
Then David's anger was greatly kindled against the man; and he said to Nathan, As Jehovah liveth, the man that hath done this thing is worthy of death;
David has taken another man's wife and had the man killed, and now a prophet arrives with a story about a stolen lamb. The king boils over and swears the thief must die — never guessing that he is sentencing himself.
Nathan's picture was designed to expose David, yet the first thing it produced was rage at someone else. One writer traces how little the king felt through the whole affair:
David seems to have been strangely unfeeling in this whole matter. Nathan's touching parable set the blackness of his conduct before him. Even then he only grew indignant at the rich man's selfish behaviour, and never took it to himself. "Then David's anger was greatly kindled against the man, and he said to Nathan, 'As the LORD lives, the man who has done this deserves to die.'" So he pronounced judgment on himself without knowing it. He did not yet feel his own sin. He might have gone on to hunt down and punish the offender. But the prophet's word proved to be the very arrow of the Almighty, and it pierced his dull conscience. "You are the man."
The heat of his reaction might look like moral health. Another writer warns against reading it that way:
"Then David's anger was greatly kindled against the man." Do not always trust people when they show violent indignation. David even then could feel hotly enough about evil. Sadly, there was no self-judgment. Nothing in David's sin is more solemn than the long time he gave himself up to it, with no sign of a right feeling toward man or any exercise of conscience toward God. So even when the parable set the matter plainly before him, his anger burned only against another man's wrong… The only thing that enables us to judge anything rightly in others is self-judgment.
The sentence itself was not unfair. David's judgment still worked — as long as the case belonged to someone else:
David's heart and conscience are in a bad state, yet his judgment remains righteous. Although he himself was under sin's yoke, he judged it severely in others. When we are not involved ourselves, we often see evil in others clearly and fully, while our own hearts go unjudged.
David's verdict uses a set Hebrew phrase, which older translations render "he shall surely die." Other passages show what it means:
Use a concordance and you will find that "he shall surely die" (1 Sam. 20:31) is, in the margin, "he is the son of death"; that in 1 Sam. 26:16, "you are worthy to die," is similarly "you are sons of death," and the same in 2 Sam. 12:5 and 1 Kings 2:26.
The story kept just enough distance from David's own case to hide it. It was also gentler than the truth behind it:
In the parable there was just enough difference from David's case so that it would not be too obvious. Yet the parable greatly understated the fact David himself had to face. This rich man's case was nowhere near as serious as David's. David was guilty not only of stealing, but of adultery and murder.
David's oath condemned him, and the law agreed. Only mercy could answer it:
"I have sinned against the LORD." A short, real, but solemn confession. He admitted that he was in God's hands and deserved only death for his offences. "The LORD also has put away your sin; you shall not die," was the prophet's immediate and reassuring reply. The mercy of God could reach a man convicted of blood-guiltiness. The law could not meet the case. It demanded David's death on two counts, adultery and murder… There was nothing for him but the sovereign mercy of God.
- Sentence. David's anger produced a death sentence. It landed on himself, and he never saw it.
- Sleep. The verdict was right, but the conscience behind it was asleep. Seeing another's evil clearly proves nothing about our own.
- Suspicion. Loud anger at evil proves nothing. Only self-judgment lets us judge others rightly.
- Scale. The stolen lamb was mild next to the real crime. David's guilt covered theft, adultery and murder.
- Salvation. David said the guilty man deserved to die. When he confessed, he heard that the Lord had put his sin away. The law had no answer; mercy did.
and he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing, and because he had no pity.
David's anger flares at the rich man in Nathan's story, and he names the penalty out loud: death for the man, and the lamb repaid four times over. He does not yet know that he is sentencing himself, and that his own family will pay the fourfold price.
The number is not invented on the spot. It comes from Israel's law on theft, which set different rates for different animals.
This chapter continues the subject begun in Exodus 21:33. We are not told why stealing an ox called for five oxen in return, while a sheep called for only four sheep.
David rules by the book, and he gives a second reason: the rich man had no pity. Yet the story he judges is milder than the crime it mirrors.
The rich man had flocks of his own, yet he stole the poor man's lamb to prepare a meal for a visitor. The parable differed from David's case just enough to keep the point from being too obvious. Yet it greatly understated what David himself had to face. The rich man's case was nowhere near as serious as David's, who was guilty not only of stealing, but of adultery and murder.
The verdict is correct. The heart delivering it is not.
David's heart and conscience are in a bad state, yet his judgment stays righteous. He was under sin's yoke himself, and still he judged sin harshly in others. Where a matter does not touch us, we often see evil in others clearly and fully, while our own hearts go unjudged.
Strong feeling against evil is no proof of spiritual health, and there is only one cure:
Do not always trust people when they show loud indignation. David even then could feel real anger about evil. Sadly, there was no self-judgment... Let us not deceive ourselves, and let no one else deceive us. The only thing that lets us judge anything rightly in others is self-judgment. If we are to see clearly the speck in a brother's eye, let us not forget to take the log out of our own.
Nathan drew a verdict out of David before David saw whose case it was.
With remarkable skill he leads the king to pass judgment on himself, seemingly unaware, as he did so, of how terrible his own guilt was. David's anger flared at another man's conduct, while he forgot his own. But he had to judge himself before God could give him grace. The sentence came out of David's own mouth, only for him to learn that the judge was the criminal... God had seen it; God remembered it; God would have David convicted of it. Convicted? Yes. Not to drive him to despair, but to lead him to repentance.
David's own words set the measure of what followed. Commentators trace the repayment through deaths in his family:
Listen! "The LORD afflicted the child that Uriah's wife bore to David" (2 Sam. 12:15), and it died. His son, Amnon, forced his sister, Tamar, and was murdered by another son, Absalom. Absalom, the murderer, was brought back in unrighteousness. He rose in rebellion against his father, and slept with his father's concubines in the sight of all Israel. Then Joab killed him — the very man who had wrongly sought his return. Surely David in God's government reaped what he had sown.
The count does not stop at three.
In righteous anger, David had sentenced that rich man to pay back "fourfold" (2 Sam. 12:6). But the prophet replied, "You are the man"; and God let David's own sentence stand against him. We have seen three of David's "lambs" taken from him, but a fourth must go. We read the sad story of Adonijah's death in 1 Kings 1 and 2, especially 1 Kings 2:24-25. Truly "the rich man" restored "fourfold."
So what about forgiveness? It does not stop the harvest.
"Whatever one sows, that will he also reap." The sin of sowing weeds may be forgiven, but the reaping must be according to the sowing. The former is grace, the latter is government. Each acts in its own sphere, and neither interferes with the other... God let David walk the courts of the sanctuary as a subject of grace (2 Sam. 12:20) before He called him to climb the rugged slopes of the Mount of Olives as a subject of government (2 Sam. 15:30). We can safely say this: David's heart never had a deeper sense of divine grace than at the very time when he was feeling the righteous action of divine government.
- Verdict. David applies the law correctly: four sheep for a stolen sheep. But the case he judges is a milder version of his own, which involved theft, adultery and murder.
- Blindness. A conscience can stay sharp about other people's sin and never judge itself. Loud anger proves nothing. Only self-judgment fits a person to judge another.
- Exposure. Nathan drew the sentence out of David's own mouth, and the judge found he was the criminal. The aim was repentance, not despair.
- Repayment. The sentence stood against the man who spoke it. Writers count the child, Amnon, Absalom and Adonijah as the fourfold repayment.
- Grace and government. Forgiveness is real and full, yet the sowing is still reaped. David knew God's grace most deeply while living under God's governing hand.
And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man! Thus saith Jehovah the God of Israel I anointed thee king over Israel, and I delivered thee out of the hand of Saul;
Nathan has just told David a story about a poor man's one little lamb, and David has condemned the man who took it to death. The prophet now turns that verdict on the king himself, and then lists everything God had already given him.
The parable led David to sentence himself before he knew who was on trial. One writer traces how the prophet did it, and where the conviction was meant to lead.
The man who had the mind of God visited the king, into whose hand God had placed the sword of judgment. Now they stand face to face, the prophet of God before the ruler God had appointed. With great skill he leads the king to pass judgment on himself. David seems not to see, as he does it, how terrible his own guilt is. David's anger was kindled against the supposed offender. He could be angry at another man's conduct while forgetting his own. But he had to judge himself before God could show him grace. The sentence went out from David, only for him to learn that the judge was the criminal... Convicted? Yes. Not to drive him to despair, but to lead him to repentance.
Kelly draws a warning from David's blazing anger: loud outrage at another's sin is no proof of a clean heart.
"And David's anger was greatly kindled against the man." Do not always trust people when they show fierce indignation... The only thing that enables us to judge anything rightly in others is self-judgment. If we are to see the speck in a brother's eye clearly, let us not forget to take the beam out of our own. David stands here as a solemn example. The man who is quick to see sin in another may be completely blind to his own serious and unjudged sin.
God's message is short. It does not exaggerate the crime or soften it — it simply names the man.
There is no excusing, there is no making it out worse. It is the simple record of the fact — this one little lamb you have taken. Ah, when God speaks, how brief, how simple, how heart-searching, how straightforward it is! The message came home to David's heart and conscience. One word from God and the work is done. "You are the man" — the man, the one single offender before Him, no other such sinner on the face of the earth as David.
The same writer applies that singling out to every child of God.
If you and I are children of God, it is because God singled us out, each one, as a special sinner, so that He may show special mercy to each one. He does not deal with us as a crowd. Each soul has to deal with Him alone, and come to this: "There is no one like me for badness, and there is no one like God for love, and goodness, and grace!"
Before naming the crime, God lists His own gifts. Rossier reads that list as the measure of the offence.
The Lord reminds David of all that He had done for him: "I anointed you king over Israel... and gave you the house of Israel and of Judah; and if that had been too little, I would have given you much more." The treasures of My grace were yours and you sinned in the presence of My love! "Why have you despised the word of the Lord, to do what is evil in His sight?" How had David despised it? God had heaped blessings on him and David had preferred to satisfy his lust.
The point of the list, another commentator notes, is not that David had earned any of it.
First God reminds David that He had in pure grace anointed him as king of Israel, delivering him from King Saul's attempts to kill him... In fact, He would have given David yet more if David felt he did not have enough. All of this was to remind David how totally dependent he was on the great grace of God.
Nathan had stood before David once before — with the promise about his house in chapter 7.
Nathan the prophet had in earlier days been sent to David with words of approval and encouragement, and everything was honourable between them. But when David had sinned, the same Nathan is sent to him with words of terrible rebuke and conviction.
David's answer is confession, and Nathan's next word is pardon. Yet the chastening that follows still bears the shape of the sin.
Notice the solemn principle of retribution here. It is found again and again, in real life as in Scripture. Our sin always shapes the form of our chastening... "And David said to Nathan, I have sinned against the Lord. And Nathan said to David, The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die." He had sentenced himself, but God in every sense is greater.
- Grace given. Before God charges David, He lists what He gave: the anointing, rescue from Saul, a kingdom. He would have given more.
- Grace despised. The size of the gift measures the size of the sin; David sinned surrounded by the very love that had provided for him.
- Grace exposing. The parable made David sentence himself. The judge found that he was the criminal — and the conviction aimed at repentance, not despair.
- Grace personal. "You are the man" reduces a crowd to one. God deals with each soul alone, singling out a special sinner for special mercy.
- Grace restoring. Confession met pardon at once. Yet the chastening still took the shape of the sin, and God proved greater than the sentence David passed on himself.
and I gave thee thy master's house, and thy master's wives into thy bosom, and gave thee the house of Israel and of Judah; and if [that] had been too little, I would moreover have given unto thee such and such things.
God speaks to David after his sin, and He begins with a list of gifts: a throne, rescue, a kingdom, a household. Then He adds that He would have given still more — so what did David lack?
God's first word to David is not the law but His own giving. One writer walks through the list item by item.
First God reminds David of pure grace: He had anointed him king of Israel. He had rescued him from King Saul's efforts to kill him. More than that, God had given Saul's house and his wives into David's keeping. He had also brought both Judah and all Israel under David's rule. In fact, He would have given David yet more if David felt he did not have enough (vv. 7-8). All of this was to remind David how totally dependent he was on the great grace of God.
God's word that He would "add to you as much more" removes every excuse of need. David did not take because God had withheld; he took while God's hand was still open.
The treasures of My grace were yours and you sinned in the presence of My love! "Why have you despised the word of the LORD, to do what is evil in His sight?" How had David despised it? God had heaped blessings on him and David had preferred to satisfy his lust!
The phrase sounds strange today. It is not about romance but about power.
In the eyes of many people, taking a dead king's wife or concubine was the same as claiming the rights of the king (2 Sam. 12:8; 16:21-22). Abishag was not David's wife in the true sense of the word, yet people must have counted her as belonging to the dead king.
So God's point is succession: everything Saul held, He handed to David. The kingdom was a gift, not a seizure.
The verse leads into the charge that David despised the Lord. One writer shows how wide that word reaches.
God pronounced this same judgment against Eli (1 Sam. 2:30) because he honoured his sons more than God. Eli feared the Lord, but he despised Him by letting his sons trample on the sacrifices and offerings God had commanded in His dwelling. And so the Lord tells him: "those who despise me shall be lightly esteemed." We find the same truth in Luke 16:13: "No servant can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money." To covet the things the world can offer is to despise God. In general our souls are very little aware of this, but this is how God looks at things.
David's fall had a long history. One writer traces it back to what David never dealt with in himself.
David had not fulfilled what the law required. He had not realized his own weakness, as is shown by his many marriages. He had not made, as Job had, a covenant with his eyes. He walked in self-indulgence, and the very height of his position brought on his fall. In the warm sun of prosperity, the indulgence he allowed himself ripened into a bitter harvest. There was no help, because he sought none! So he fell; and so will all who follow this course.
This list of grace lands on a man who was quick to judge someone else's sin. One writer draws the warning.
The only thing that enables us to judge rightly anything in others is self-judgment. If we are to see clearly the speck in a brother's eye, let us not forget to take the log out of our own eye. David stands here as a solemn example. The man who is so quick to see sin in another may be completely blind to his own grave and unjudged wrongdoing.
- Given. Crown, rescue, household, kingdom — God gave David each one by pure grace. The list shows how completely he depended on it.
- More. God stood ready to add as much again. David lacked nothing, and sinned while God's hand was still open.
- Despised. To covet what the world offers is to despise God. He laid the same charge on Eli.
- Ripened. Self-indulgence he never judged grew in the sun of prosperity, and ripened into a bitter harvest.
- Blind. A man can burn with anger at another's sin and stay blind to his own. Only self-judgment clears the sight.
Wherefore hast thou despised the word of Jehovah to do evil in his sight? thou hast smitten Urijah the Hittite with the sword, and hast taken his wife to be thy wife, and hast slain him with the sword of the children of Ammon.
The prophet has just exposed David, and God now lists the charge: a command despised, a soldier dead, a wife taken. Two questions press hard: why does a man who received so much despise God's word, and how is David the killer when Ammonite soldiers struck the blow?
God lists His gifts before He names the deeds. One writer weighs the sin against that list.
The Lord reminds David of all that He had done for him: "I anointed you king over Israel, and I delivered you out of the hand of Saul … and gave you the house of Israel and of Judah; and if that had been too little, I would moreover have given you such and such things" (vv. 7-8). The treasures of My grace were yours and you sinned in the presence of My love! "Why have you despised the word of the LORD, to do what is evil in His sight?" How had David despised it? God had heaped blessings on him and David had preferred to satisfy his lust!
The wording of the charge closes every exit. David is not invited to explain himself.
But despite this abundant incentive to be fully subject to the authority of the Lord, David had despised the positive commandment of the Lord. He is told, "You have killed Uriah the Hittite with the sword: you have taken his wife to be your wife, and have killed him with the sword of the people of Ammon" (v.9). The Lord's verdict is clear and positive: David is guilty. He could not dare to make the slightest excuse for himself.
Uriah fell in battle, at the hands of men who knew nothing of the plot. God still calls the death David's own act. No arrangement could hide it.
The charge left no room for evasion or excuse. You have struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword. But David had struck no blow; Uriah died as a soldier by the hand of the enemy. Had David glossed over his sins by such an excuse? If he had, he could do it no longer. "You have killed him with the sword of the Ammonites" were words the truth of which he could not deny. In this case every distinction between legal guilt and moral guilt collapsed. David had signed no death warrant. The Ammonites who struck Uriah knew nothing of his plot against the life of his faithful servant. Yet in God's eyes the act was as much David's as if he had signed the death warrant for Uriah's public execution, or had struck him dead with his own hand. David imagined the affair had been managed quietly. He was now undeceived. God had not been ignorant of his sins, and He had not been indifferent. Not every crime is detected on earth… Either in this world or in the next, God, the moral Governor, takes up such matters and settles them.
Uriah lost his life and Bathsheba her husband. Yet the verse weighs the crime by God's sight. David's own confession afterwards takes the same measure.
All sins are first of all against God, whoever else they may harm. The case of David shows this clearly, in the matter of Bathsheba and Uriah… The words of the prophet led David to confess what he had done. Psalm 51 is the record of that confession. Verse 4 gives the remarkable words: "Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight." Since all sins are first of all against God, only God can give eternal forgiveness for them.
David was not a private man. He reigned in God's name, and that shaped how God dealt with him.
This was a very great sin: David committed it in secret; God punishes it in the sight of all Israel. If David did not know how to glorify God, and if — while reigning in His name — he did not keep a true testimony to the nature of God's kingdom, but falsified its character instead, God Himself will know how to trace its features again in the sight of all men. He will do it through the chastisement He sends on the man who dishonoured Him in this way. That man had taken away the only witness to His government which God had set up before men.
David confesses. What follows holds grace and government apart.
Grace meets this confession, as he hears, "The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die." But grace and government are two different principles. Grace says, "The Lord has put away your sin." Government can only say, "The child also that is born to you shall surely die." The wheels of God's governmental chariot never stop, and "whatever a man sows that shall he also reap."
- Given — God lists His gifts first: the anointing, the rescue from Saul, the kingdom, and more if David had wanted it.
- Despised — The sin was contempt for the word of the One who gave him everything. David preferred his lust to his Giver.
- Counted — The Ammonite sword was David's sword. Distance, deniability and other men's hands change nothing in God's reckoning.
- Exposed — David sinned in secret. He stood for God's government before the nation, so God answered it in the sight of all Israel.
- Forgiven, yet reaped — Grace met his confession and David did not die. God's government still ran its course: what a man sows, he also reaps.
Now therefore the sword shall never depart from thy house; because thou hast despised me, and hast taken the wife of Urijah the Hittite to be thy wife.
Nathan has just exposed David's adultery and his arranged killing of Uriah. Now the prophet moves from the charge to the sentence: a lasting mark on the king's family. Two questions follow. Why does God call this despising Him? And why does the sword stay in a house God is ready to pardon?
God weighs the sin against what He had already given David. Nathan first lists the throne, the rescue from Saul, the kingdom — and only then names the sin.
The Lord reminds David of all that He had done for him: "I anointed you king over Israel. I delivered you out of the hand of Saul. I gave you your master's house and your master's wives into your care. I gave you the house of Israel and of Judah. And if that had been too little, I would have given you much more" (vv. 7-8). The treasures of My grace were yours and you sinned in the presence of My love! "Why have you despised the word of the Lord, to do evil in His sight?" How had David despised it? God had heaped blessings on him and David had preferred to satisfy his lust!
The charge also sharpens: from despising God's word to despising God Himself. David worked hard to keep the affair out of human sight. That effort showed whose eyes he feared.
Notice, "You have despised Me." David had tried to hide his sin from public view by putting Uriah out of the way. He forgot the all-seeing eye of the Lord. He forgot too the honour of His holy name. Had he remembered the Lord at the moment when his own nature was speaking inside him, he would not have fallen into the trap. The sense of God's presence is the great safeguard against evil. But how often we are more influenced by the presence of other people than by the presence of God!
God shapes the sentence to match the crime, item for item.
He had killed Uriah with the sword of the children of Ammon — the sword should now never depart from his house. He had taken Uriah's wife — others should take his wives. He had done it secretly — but, said the Lord, I will do this thing before all Israel, and before the sun. We shall find the sentence carried out in chapters 13:28-39; 16:21-22; 18:14.
David confesses, and God pardons him. The sword still stays. Darby sets the two side by side: God forgives the person, and God still governs His world.
David is pardoned, because he confesses his sin. But as to His government, God shows Himself inflexible. He spares the king — for he deserved death — yet He tells him that the sword will never depart out of his house. David's punishment also matches his sins.
The sentence ran on to the end of David's life, and the verse still calls Bathsheba the wife of Uriah. Yet this dealing has a limit.
Full and everlasting forgiveness does not free those who receive it from God's dealings with them in government. David had to experience that, right to the end of his life. The child born to him by Uriah's wife must die. (Bathsheba was still regarded in that light.) And the sword should never depart from his house. Amnon, Absalom and Adonijah were examples of that. Governmental dealing, however, ends with this life. God's favour to us, based on the sacrifice of Christ, lasts for ever.
The verse is not only about a king. Rossier turns the same word on the desires we quietly let into our own hearts.
Every natural heart has lusts that attract it. By "lusts" we do not mean only the defiling things of the world. We also mean "the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life" — pleasures, vanity, and ambition. These things find easy access into a Christian's heart. How many days and years often pass without our shutting the door to them! Every time we open the door to this visitor we are despising the Lord Himself.
- Despising — God weighs the sin against all He had already given David. To sin in the face of that love is to despise Him.
- Secrecy — David feared people's eyes more than God's. So God makes the judgment public.
- Sword — the punishment takes the shape of the sin: he killed by the sword, and the sword lodges in his house.
- Pardon — God forgives David and spares his life. In government He stays inflexible. Forgiveness and consequences are not the same thing.
- Limit — Amnon, Absalom and Adonijah fulfilled the word. But this kind of dealing ends with this life. God's favour, based on the sacrifice of Christ, lasts for ever.
Thus saith Jehovah Behold, I will raise up evil against thee out of thine own house, and I will take thy wives before thine eyes, and give them unto thy neighbour, and he shall lie with thy wives in the sight of this sun.
Nathan has just exposed David's sin, and God now names what will follow. Trouble will rise inside David's own family, and a neighbour will take his wives in the open. Two questions follow: how can a man God forgives still face a sentence, and why does the punishment match the crime so closely?
Pardon and sentence stand side by side. One writer sets two sounds together: mercy speaking, and something else moving behind it.
There, in that deep pit, the arrow of conviction reached his conscience. It drew out from his broken heart those penitent words: "I have sinned against the Lord." How were those words met? By the clear and ready response of that free grace in which our God always delights: "The Lord has put away your sin." This was absolute grace. God forgave David's sin completely. There can be no question about this. But the soothing words of grace fell on David's ears when he confessed his guilt. At the same time, the solemn wheels of government began to move in the distance. Mercy's tender hand had only just removed the guilt when "the sword" came out of its sheath to carry out the necessary judgment.
Notice how the trouble answers what David did. He took another man's wife in private; a neighbour would take his own wives in the open.
Note the solemn principle of retribution in this case, one found again and again in fact as in Scripture. Our sin always gives the form of our chastening... "You did it secretly." Here comes the contrast, as before there was the parallel. One or the other marks God's ways. Each shows in the strongest way how deceitful sin is for man, and how God hates it for ever.
The trouble did not come from outside. It grew inside David's own family, and it wore his own features.
Chastening arises for David from his own house. The uncontrolled evil in his own character reflects itself in the passions of his sons, in whom the power of heredity plainly shows itself... There is evil in our natures, but we are responsible to govern our natures, and grace and the power of God are stronger than these. Without the grace of God, or His restraining hand, nature will show itself. Here was the hound on the leash, ready to chase David.
David had hidden everything. God brought it all into daylight — "in the sight of this sun," as the verse says. The reason reached beyond David. His throne existed to show what God's rule looks like.
This was a very great sin: David committed it in secret; God punishes it in the sight of all Israel. If David did not know how to glorify God, nor how to keep a true testimony to the nature of God's kingdom while reigning in His name; if instead he falsified its character; then God Himself knows what to do. In the sight of all men He will trace those features again. He will do it through the chastisement He sends on the man who has so dishonoured Him.
When Nathan spoke, David did not yet know who the neighbour would be. One commentator weighs what David was not told.
What a shock it must have been when David heard that a neighbour of his would commit adultery with his wives! Not secretly, but with open contempt for David, and with the full knowledge of the people. How much more shocking it would have been if at this time the Lord had told him that the neighbour would be his own son (ch.16:21-22)! David had sinned in secret. He wanted to keep what he did from the people. But God would repay him in public, before them all.
Absalom later did this on Ahithophel's advice, a man set on ruining David. His plotting only carried out what God had said.
Ahithophel thought this would strengthen Absalom's hand. In fact he only worked out the fulfilment of God's word, advanced the goal of His ways, and hurried on the restoration of the man he meant to destroy. This wicked man will soon be caught in his own trap.
The consequences ran on for years, but they had a boundary that the forgiveness did not.
Full and everlasting forgiveness does not free those who receive it from God's dealings with them in government. David had to experience that, even to the end of his life... Governmental dealing, however, ends with this life. God's favour to us, based on the sacrifice of Christ, lasts for ever.
- Pardoned — God put away David's guilt as soon as he confessed, and that forgiveness was full and for ever.
- Patterned — the chastening takes the shape of the sin: a wife taken for a wife taken, a secret act answered in public.
- Personal — God raises the evil up "out of his own house": David's own uncontrolled nature comes back in his sons.
- Public — David's throne existed to show God's rule, so God restores that testimony in the sight of all Israel.
- Passing — the schemers only fulfilled God's word. This kind of government ends with this life; God's favour lasts for ever.
For thou didst [it] secretly; but I will do this thing before all Israel and before the sun.
David committed his sin in secret. Nathan's closing words tell him the cover-up has failed where it counts. God saw it, and He will answer a hidden crime in the open.
The word "secretly" describes what David managed with people, not with God. One writer links this verse to Psalm 139 and God's all-seeing eye:
David's flagrant sin in the matter of Uriah the Hittite was committed in secret. But God knew the whole sordid story, and exposed his guilt to all Israel. (2 Sam. 12:12) The king said within himself, "Surely the darkness shall cover me," but he had to learn that the darkness could not hide from Jehovah, and he found, to his shame, that his secret sin was revealed in the light of the sun (Ps. 139:11-12).
A quiet rebuke would have spared the king's reputation. But God's name was tied to the crime, so the answer had to be public:
the whole matter must be exposed. Satan had caught his victim in a dreadful tangle of evil, and it must all be undone. The holiness of God's house must be kept at all cost. His name and truth must be fully vindicated. His servant must be beaten in view of the whole congregation — yes, "in the sight of the sun." To man's judgement it might seem wiser to hide the chastening of one who stood so high. But that is not God's way. By the judgement He carries out among His people, He will prove to every onlooker that He has no fellowship with evil.
More than one man's character was at stake. David reigned in God's name, so his correction itself puts God's kingdom on display:
Suppose David did not know how to glorify God. Suppose that, while reigning in His name, he did not keep a true testimony to the nature of God's kingdom, but falsified its character instead. Then God Himself knows how to retrace its features in the sight of all men, through the chastening He sends on the man who has so dishonoured Him.
The punishment is not random trouble. It takes its shape from the sin itself: where David chose the dark, God chooses daylight.
Notice the solemn principle of retribution in this case, so often found in fact as in Scripture. Our sin always gives the form of our chastening… And further, "You did it secretly." Here comes contrast, where before there was likeness. One or the other marks God's ways. Each shows in the strongest way how sin deceives man, and how God hates it forever.
The threat was not a figure of speech. It came true in David's own household, in the open, through his own son:
What a shock it must have been to David to hear that a neighbour of his would commit adultery with David's wives. It would not be secret. It would be done with open contempt for David, and the people would know all about it. How much more shocking if at this time the Lord had told him that the neighbour would be his own son (ch.16:21-22)! David had sinned secretly, wanting to keep his actions from the people. But God would repay him in public, before all the people (v.12). The Lord Jesus warned His disciples against hypocrisy. He told them, "Nothing is covered up that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known" (Luke 12:1).
Verse 13 gives David immediate forgiveness. Verse 12 still stands. Both are true at once:
There, in that deep pit, the arrow of conviction reached his conscience. It drew from his broken heart those repentant words, "I have sinned against the Lord." How were those words met? By the clear and ready response of that free grace in which our God always delights: "The Lord has put away your sin." This was absolute grace. God forgave David's sin completely… Yet while the soothing words of grace fell on David's ears at his confession, the wheels of government were already turning, and their solemn sound came from the distance.
This verse is regularly read as a warning that God's reckoning need not wait for a future day:
It is not necessarily only in the day of judgment that this takes place: the Lord may deal with it now. "You did it secretly," says God through Nathan to David; "but I will do this thing before all Israel, and before the sun."
- Secret — David hid the matter from people. God knew the whole story and exposed it to all Israel.
- Shape — the chastening is cut to fit the crime: what he took, another takes; what he did in the dark, God does in daylight.
- Sight — the open dealing guards God's name. Every onlooker sees that He has no fellowship with evil among His own people.
- Sword — the words came true inside David's own family, in the open. Jesus taught the same rule: nothing hidden stays hidden.
- Sequel — God forgave at once and in full. Yet His government still ran its course. Pardon and consequences are not the same thing.
And David said to Nathan, I have sinned against Jehovah. And Nathan said to David, Jehovah has also put away thy sin thou shalt not die.
David had hidden his sin with Bathsheba and Uriah until God sent the prophet Nathan to confront him. This verse is the turning point: David confesses, and the answer comes at once — a pardon that does not cancel the consequences.
David's confession names the Lord. One writer marks the gap between being ashamed that people know and seeing that the act is evil before God.
Nathan speaks only one phrase, "You are the man," to convict David. David too says only one thing in God's presence: "I have sinned against the Lord." When a soul has seen this it has taken a tremendous step forward... Those we have offended may forgive our sins against them. We may make amends in some measure for the sins we commit against ourselves. But what can we say when we have sinned against the Lord? One person says, "I have sinned," because he is ashamed that men can see it. It is quite another thing when a person is convicted that what he has done is evil in the sight of the Lord.
Others in Scripture said the same words with no change of heart.
Pharaoh could say, "I have sinned this time," when the thunder and hail frightened him and he wanted them stopped. Yet he had not repented. He sinned still more and hardened his heart once the thunder stopped... Saul said to Samuel, "I have sinned." But he revealed the state of his heart when he added, "Yet honor me now before the elders of my people." ... In none of these cases was there real repentance. David's case is quite different. He was not thinking about his reputation with men and how to save it. He saw and confessed what his guilt was before God.
The pardon is startling. Under the law, David's case had only one outcome.
"I have sinned against the Lord." A short, real, but solemn confession. It admits that he was in God's hands and deserved only death for his offences... God's mercy could reach a man guilty of blood. The law could not meet the case. It demanded David's death on two counts, adultery and murder. He could offer no sacrifice, for he had sinned deliberately and defiantly. There was nothing for him but the sovereign mercy of God. Could that mercy reach him? God did not leave him in doubt for a moment. The prophet did not have to go away and wait before he could assure him of pardon.
Nathan speaks in the past tense, not the future.
Having produced this thorough conviction of sin, God does not keep His poor guilty servant waiting. Again He speaks only one sentence to him: "The Lord also has put away your sin." He does not say the Lord will put it away. He says the Lord has put it away. He had dealt with His servant's sin beforehand. He had made provision, so that the sin was gone from David and no longer came up before God. This is what we find at the cross of Christ.
He received no sign, no sacrifice, and no second announcement — and he did not ask for one.
On what could the convicted man rest? On the word of God. He had nothing else. That word was spoken once and, as far as we read, never repeated. Does God have to speak twice? David did not ask that. He heard, and he rejoiced in the mercy of his God... He did not cross-examine the prophet to make sure there was no mistake... Many of us have acted very differently. Many still do — slow to receive the gospel message, slow to bow to the free proclamation of forgiveness.
The same visit brings pardon and announces the child's death. One writer names two principles at work.
Grace meets this confession, as he hears, "The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die." But grace and government are two different principles. The first says, "The Lord has put away your sin"; the second can only say, "The child who is born to you shall surely die" — for the wheels of God's governmental chariot never stop, and "whatever one sows, that will he also reap."
The pardon rests on what God has done, not on David.
"The Lord has put away your sin," the prophet declared. God, who alone could do it, had done it. David could not put it away; Nathan could not either. God could, and did. Then it could never be charged to David.
- Convicted — one phrase from Nathan, "You are the man," reached David's conscience.
- Confessed — David owned the sin as against the Lord; Pharaoh and Saul said the same words with unchanged hearts.
- Cleared — the law demanded his death twice over, and no sacrifice covered his case. Only sovereign mercy was left, and it came at once.
- Completed — Nathan says God has already put the sin away; the provision was made beforehand, and one writer points to the cross.
- Chastened — the pardon stood, but the child still died; grace and government run on different tracks.
Howbeit, because by this deed thou hast given great occasion to the enemies of Jehovah to blaspheme, even the child that is born to thee shall certainly die.
The prophet Nathan has just told David that God has put his sin away and he will not die — then in the same breath he announces the child's death. Free pardon and public government run side by side here, because David's sin handed the world an argument against God.
A note on wording: the ESV says David "utterly scorned the LORD." Older translations read "you have given great occasion to the enemies of the LORD to blaspheme." The writers quoted below use that older wording.
The same chapter holds both a pardon and a sentence. One writer sets the two side by side:
Grace meets this confession, as he hears, "The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die." But grace and government are two different principles. Grace says, "The Lord has put away your sin." Government can only say, "The child also that is born to you shall surely die." The wheels of God's governmental chariot never stop, and "whatever a man sows that shall he also reap."
Forgiveness here is complete. What follows is not God re-opening the case:
Full and everlasting forgiveness, however, does not exempt those who receive it from God's dealings with them in government. David had to experience that, right to the end of his life. The child born to him by Uriah's wife must die, and the sword would never depart from his house... Governmental dealing, however, ends with this life. God's favour to us, based on the sacrifice of Christ, lasts for ever.
God's reason for the sentence is not the sin alone, but what it gave His enemies:
Such is the consequence that the world draws from our faults. Satan uses each of our sins to turn people's hearts openly against God and against Christ. Look, the world says, what their religion leads them to do! — and God is blasphemed. Satan stirs up desires in a Christian for two reasons: to be able to accuse him, and to turn those who watch his fall against Christ, so that they may not turn to Him for salvation.
The damage did not end with David's generation:
To this day unbelievers and people who reject the Word of God point to David's sin and blaspheme. Yet the very things they sneer at are the things they practise.
David was not a private man. His position made his sin weigh far more:
David's sin had openly defied God's law. By his own example it loosened the moral duty the people owed their God. David was God's anointed and God's representative in government, yet he had trampled one of God's basic laws underfoot. So the anointed king had become the guiltiest sinner in his kingdom.
The punishment matched the sin — and then answered it in the open:
Note the solemn principle of retribution here, seen as often in real life as in scripture. Our sin always gives the form of our chastening... "You did it secretly, but I will do this thing before all Israel, and before the sun." Here God's way is contrast, where before it was likeness. Either one marks His ways. Each shows how deeply sin deceives man, and how God hates it for ever.
The innocent child bears the blow, not the guilty father — the hardest edge of the verse:
Death does not strike David, the guilty one, but his cherished son. God's judgment must fall on the king's house at once, where everyone can see it. The child falls sick. The poor father is in anguish, and he fasts and pleads with God. If it were possible, may God show him grace! No, discipline must run its course.
Nor was this the whole of it:
The death of the child, however, was but the first sound of the storm of judgement about to burst upon David's house. He might fast, pray, humble himself, and lie face down in the dust, but the child must die.
The story does not end in ruin. David bowed to the sentence and came out the other side:
While the child lived, he pleaded with the Lord for it. He did not despise the chastening of the Lord; he felt it very deeply. But when the child is dead, he accepts God's will in full submission... While we pass under such discipline for our sin, we are aware of no light and no talking with Him. Still, we may come out of it with renewed strength and power, as David did... God shows him that, however unbending He is in righteousness, His love and interest in him are unchanged.
In David's answer to his servants, commentators find real hope:
The child had gone where David himself would follow, and where he would find him: in this he certainly expresses the comfort that remains for him of meeting in eternity the baby of a few days' existence upon earth.
- Pardoned — "You shall not die" is pure grace. God put David's sin away the moment he confessed it, and never charged it against him again.
- Governed — pardon does not cancel consequence. Grace and government are two different principles. The wheels of government never stop.
- Exposed — David sinned in secret, so God judged him in the open. Our sin always gives the form of our chastening.
- Blasphemed — God gives the reason: the sin gave His enemies occasion to blaspheme. Unbelievers still point at David and sneer. Satan uses a believer's fall to turn onlookers away from Christ.
- Restored — David bowed to God's will and rose with renewed strength, comforted that he would go to his child. God is unbending in righteousness, and His love never changes.
And Nathan departed to his house. And Jehovah smote the child that Urijah's wife bore to David, and it became very sick.
Nathan has gone home, and the sentence he announced begins to fall on the child born to David and Bathsheba. David has just heard that his sin is put away, so why does the blow still land — and why on the child instead of the guilty king?
The verse opens with the prophet going home. Nathan had brought both pardon and sentence, and then he withdrew.
Nathan knew that David's confession was real. At once he assured David that the Lord had put away his sin, and that he would not die, as justice would demand... Nathan, as a true prophet, has delivered only the message from God, then he leaves David alone with God.
Forgiveness of the sin and cancelling of its results are two different things. One writer sets them side by side, as two sounds heard at the same moment.
There, in that deep pit, the arrow of conviction reached his conscience. It drew out of his broken heart these words of repentance: "I have sinned against the Lord." How were those words met? By the clear and ready response of that free grace in which our God always delights: "The Lord has put away your sin." This was absolute grace. David's sin was fully forgiven... But when he confessed his guilt, the soothing words of grace fell on David's ears — and in the distance the wheels of government began their solemn movement.
Scripture does not call the baby's illness an accident. The Lord Himself afflicts the child, and that stroke begins a long chain through David's family.
Listen! "The Lord afflicted the child that Uriah's wife bore to David" (2 Sam. 12:15), and it died. His son, Amnon, forced his sister, Tamar, and was murdered by another son, Absalom. Absalom, the murderer, brought back in unrighteousness, rose in rebellion against his father... Surely David in God's government reaped what he had sown.
Bathsheba was David's wife by now, yet the text withholds that title here. The wording keeps the crime in view. God's dealings with His people in this life also have a limit.
Full and everlasting forgiveness, however, does not spare those who receive it from God's dealings with them in government. David had to experience that, even to the end of his life. The child born to him by Uriah's wife (for in that light Bathsheba was still regarded) must die... Governmental dealing, however, ends with this life. God's favour to us, based on the sacrifice of Christ, lasts for ever.
David had been told he would not die. The one who suffers is the son, and the pain to the father is the point.
Death does not strike David, the guilty one, but his cherished son. God's judgment had to fall on the king's house at once, where everyone could see it. The child falls sick; the poor father is distressed and fasts and prays to God. If it were possible, may God show him grace! No, discipline must run its course. What anguish for David's very tender heart in the presence of the innocent victim of his sin!
The child does not die at once. The illness drags on, and the delay works on the father.
In His faithful government, God did not take the child away at once. Instead He afflicted him with serious illness. This searched David's soul more deeply and kept him in prayer and fasting for the seven days of his son's illness.
The child's death was not God's last word about this mother.
Yet from that very mother — from her who had been the wife of Uriah the Hittite — the grace of God raised up the heir to the throne of Israel. God made him His firstborn, higher than the kings of the earth — a picture of Christ in peaceful glory, as David had been in suffering and warlike power.
- Word. Nathan announced both pardon and sentence, then left. From that moment David deals with God alone.
- Wound. The illness is not bad luck. The Lord Himself struck the child, and that stroke starts a chain running on through Amnon and Absalom.
- Pardon. Forgiveness came at once and in full. It removed the guilt, not the results. Mercy spoke while the wheels of government were already turning.
- Purpose. The blow fell on the son, in public and over seven slow days, so the guilty father would feel it to the depths.
- Grace. God's government has a limit: it ends with this life. From the same mother He raised up the heir who pictures Christ in peaceful glory.
And David besought God for the child; and David fasted, and went in, and lay all night on the earth.
God had forgiven David's sin, but his child lay dying, and the king spent the night face down on the ground. Why plead for a life that must be given up, and what does that pleading do in a forgiven man?
One writer reads David's body language as confession:
"And David fasted and went in and lay all night on the ground" (2 Sam. 12:16). Here we have David lying on the ground in the attitude of a true penitent. The arrow of conviction had entered his conscience. Nathan's pointed word, "You are the man," had fallen with divine power upon his heart. He takes his place in the dust, conscience-smitten and heart-broken before God.
David confessed, and God pardoned him. The discipline still came:
The sin of David has been extremely great; but we can plainly see in him the precious work of the Spirit. Confounded by the simple faithfulness of Uriah, he cannot escape the hand of God! David is pardoned, for he confesses his sin. But in His government God shows Himself to be unbending. He spares the king — who deserved death — yet He tells him that the sword will never depart from his house. As to David's affections, the chastisement was in the death of his child, a chastisement which he deeply felt.
Grace does not remove God's government. Another writer explains why:
Yet the government of God is not displaced by the grace shown, nor would it be grace that did displace it. The throne becomes a "throne of grace," but is no less — one may reverently say, all the more — a throne. If there is evil, He must be seen standing against it, even as He seeks in His love to deliver men from it. His chastenings are needed by His children, because they are children; they are needed, also, as witness to the world of what He is.
The child was not taken at once, and the delay kept David on the ground:
God, in His faithful government, did not take the child away at once, but struck him with serious illness. This searched David's soul more deeply, keeping him in prayer and fasting for the seven days of his son's illness. Evidently he thought that the earnestness of his prayer might change God's mind. His servants did everything they could to draw him away from his deep distress as he lay on the ground.
David's own words explain the fasting. He had no promise to hold on to, so he asked:
David's child, the fruit of his terrible sin, was about to die. Face down in the dust before God, fasting and praying, the king begged Him in tears for the life of the child. He said, "Who knows whether the LORD will be gracious to me, that the child may live?" But his prayer could not be granted; the fruit of sin must die.
One writer reads that pleading as a wrestling with God. The wrestling ended only when David's will gave way:
David sees his dear child sick. He fasts and prays, but he wrestles with God; his will was not submissive. When the child was dead, David changed his clothes, ate and drank, and could come to worship before the Lord. The struggle in his heart had ended, and his will was broken.
The night on the ground was not the end. David got up a different man:
The child dies. David rises from the earth, washes himself, anoints himself with oil, and changes his clothing. It is as though he were a new man beginning a new career. He goes into the house of the Lord and bows down. Is he mourning? No. He acknowledges God's righteousness, holiness and love, and he acknowledges that the discipline has cleared God's character. After having bowed down before the Lord he is on his way to renewed fellowship with Him.
- Conviction. Nathan's word struck David's conscience, and he took his place in the dust, heart-broken before God.
- Pardon. David confessed, and God pardoned him — He spared the king who deserved death.
- Government. Forgiveness does not lift the rod. The throne of grace is still a throne, and God disciplines a forgiven child because he is a child.
- Pleading. "Who knows?" is honest prayer when God has given no promise. David begged for seven days, and the answer was no.
- Worship. When his will broke, David rose, washed, and bowed before the Lord — on the road back to fellowship with Him.
And the elders of his house arose, [and went] to him, to raise him up from the earth; but he would not, and he ate no bread with them.
David's newborn son by Bathsheba is dying. The king lies on the ground for seven days and will not get up, eat, or listen to his elders. God had already forgiven the sin. So why is David still in the dust, and what is he hoping for?
The illness is not God taking back His pardon. Forgiveness is one thing; how God deals with sin's results in this life is another.
Forgiveness is full and everlasting. Even so, it does not free those who receive it from God's dealings with them in government. David had to experience that, even to the end of his life. The child born to him by Uriah's wife (for Bathsheba was still regarded in that light) had to die. And the sword would never depart from his house. Of that, Amnon, Absalom, and Adonijah were examples. Governmental dealing, however, ends with this life. God's favour to us, based on the sacrifice of Christ, lasts for ever.
Those three names are David's own sons: the sword fell inside his own family. The discipline had a limit, though — it ran out at the end of his life.
God could have taken the child at once. Instead the boy lay ill for seven days. Those days worked on David, and they show what he hoped his prayers might do.
In His faithful government, God did not take the child away at once. Instead He gave him a serious illness. This searched David's soul more deeply and kept him praying and fasting for the seven days of his son's illness. It seems he thought that his earnest prayer might change God's mind. His servants did everything they could to draw him away from the intensity of his distress as he lay on the ground.
The elders do what anyone would: get the king up and get food into him. He refuses, and the reason lies in who he blames for the illness.
God took Bathsheba's nameless child from the earth. This was His government on the father for his sin. David sought by fasting and earnest prayer that the child might live. The elders of his house tried to raise him from the ground where he had thrown himself down. But he would not let them lift him, and he would not eat bread. His anguish was deep. He felt he had brought this judgment on the child.
David already knew the child must die. He prayed anyway — not on a promise, but on the bare chance that God might be gracious.
David's child, the fruit of his terrible sin, was about to die. The king lay face down in the dust before God, fasting and praying. With tears he begged God for the life of the child, for he said, "Who can tell whether the Lord may be gracious to me, that the child may live?" But his prayer could not be granted; the fruit of sin had to die.
Commentators read David's posture in two ways. One sees a man still fighting God, who can eat and worship only when that fight is over.
David sees the child sick who is dear to him; then he fasts and prays, but he wrestles with God; his will was not submissive. When the child was dead, David changed his clothes, ate, and drank. Now he could come and worship before the Lord, because the struggle in his heart had ceased. His will was broken.
Another sees real repentance already at work in him, driven home by Nathan's word.
Here we have David lying on the ground in the posture of a true penitent. The arrow of conviction had entered his conscience. Nathan's pointed word, "You are the man," had fallen with divine power upon his heart. He takes his place in the dust, conscience-smitten and heart-broken before God.
- Forgiven. God had already forgiven the sin in full. What follows is His government, not the loss of His favour — and it ends with this life.
- Disciplined. God did not take the child at once. A slow illness kept David praying and fasting for seven days.
- Distressed. He would not let the elders lift him up or feed him. He knew whose sin had brought this on his son.
- Hoping. His prayer rested on nothing but a "who can tell." God did not grant it; the fruit of sin had to die.
- Broken. When the struggle in his heart ended, he rose, ate, and worshipped. The discipline had done its work. It did not crush him.
And it came to pass on the seventh day, that the child died. And the servants of David feared to tell him that the child was dead; for they said, Behold, while the child was yet alive, we spoke to him, and he would not hearken to our voice; and how shall we say to him, The child is dead? he may do some harm.
The child born to David and Bathsheba lingers seven days and then dies. The men closest to the king are too frightened to tell him. Two questions run through this verse. Why does a child die for a father's sin when God has already forgiven that father? And what turns David's week of weeping into worship?
Nathan had told David that God had put his sin away. In the same visit Nathan said the child would die. Writers treat these as two lines of God's dealing running at once.
But grace and government are two different principles. The former says, "The Lord has put away your sin." The latter can only say, "The child who is born to you shall surely die." For the wheels of God's governmental chariot never stop, and "whatever a man sows, that will he also reap" (Gal. 6:7).
This is not God changing His mind about David. It is God showing the world, in public, that He stands against the evil He forgives.
If there is evil, He must be seen standing against that evil, even while He seeks in His love to deliver people from it. His children need His chastenings, because they are children. They are needed also to show the world what He is.
The sin had been hidden; the loss is not. One writer points out that God matched the form of the discipline to the form of the offence.
Notice the solemn principle of retribution in this case. It is found in real life as regularly as in Scripture. Our sin always gives the form of our chastening… "For you did it secretly, but I will do this thing before all Israel and before the sun."
The blow did not fall at once, and the week of delay did its own work in David.
God, in His faithful government, did not take the child away at once, but afflicted him with serious illness. This searched David's soul more deeply, keeping him in prayer and fasting for the seven days of his son's illness. It seems he thought that the earnestness of his prayer might change God's mind. His servants did everything they could to turn him from his intense distress as he lay on the ground. But he would not listen until he heard them whispering together, and questioning them, found that the child had died.
No word came from God during that week to soften the blow. One writer treats that silence as normal when God is dealing with us over sin.
While the child lived, he begged the Lord for it. Far from despising the chastening of the Lord, he clearly felt it most intensely. But when the child is dead, he accepts God's will in perfect submission… It had been a moment of thickest darkness to him, because no word came from the Lord to ease the sorrow of his heart. I believe this is usually the case when we are suffering under God's judgment. We need to feel the righteous government of God. While we are passing under it for our sin, we are not aware of light or communion with Him. But still, we may come out of it with renewed strength and power, as David did.
His servants feared he might "do himself some harm." The news did the opposite.
The child dies. David rises from the earth, washes himself, anoints himself with oil, and changes his clothing. It is as though he were a new man beginning a new career. He goes into the house of the Lord and bows down. Is he mourning? No, he acknowledges the righteousness, holiness, and love of God as well as the clearing of His character through discipline.
Another writer holds this up as the pattern for anyone standing beside a grave.
There was grief, and deep grief, and God would not blame him for it. But in his touch with God he triumphed. He worshipped.
David's answer to his servants looks forward, not back.
The child had gone where David himself would follow, and where he would find him. In this he certainly expresses the comfort that remains for him: meeting in eternity the baby who lived only a few days on earth.
- Sin. Forgiveness was real and instant. But it did not cancel God's government: the sin sown still bore its harvest.
- Sentence. The discipline took the shape of the offence — done in secret, judged before all Israel and before the sun.
- Silence. Seven days of illness and no word from God: the darkness of being under His hand is felt, not explained.
- Surrender. When the news came, David washed, changed, and worshipped. He grieved without complaining, and he owned that God was right.
- Seeing again. David's comfort is that he will go where the child has gone: the parting is real, but it is only for a while.
But David saw that his servants whispered, and David perceived that the child was dead; and David said to his servants, Is the child dead? And they said, He is dead.
For seven days David had fasted on the ground, begging God for his sick child. The verse turns on what he does the moment hope is gone.
The servants now had worse news than the illness, and they weighed what it would do to him.
On the seventh day of the child's sore sickness, the little life flickered out. David's servants were afraid to tell the distressed parent the truth. If he grieved so much while life was there, what would he do when hope was gone? David noticed the servants whispering to each other, and asked, Is the child dead? They said, He is dead. How then did David behave in his sore sorrow?
The death was not random. It was the third judgment announced after David's sin, and it fell where everyone would see it.
David had been told that violence and corruption would be found in his house as the fruit of his sin. The third judgment is the death of his child. Death does not strike down David, the guilty one, but rather his cherished son. It is necessary for God's judgment to fall on the king's house in a visible, immediate way before the eyes of all. The child falls sick; the poor father is distressed and fasts and begs God. If it were possible, may God show him grace! No, discipline must run its course. What anguish for David's extremely tender heart in the presence of the innocent victim of his sin!
Why did the grief stop once the worst had happened? One writer answers by looking at David's will.
David sees the child sick who is dear to him; then he fasts and prays, but he wrestles with God; his will was not submissive. When the child was dead, David changed his clothes, ate, drank, and could come to worship before the Lord. He could do this because the struggle in his heart had ceased, and his will was broken.
Grief and worship stood together in what David did next.
His conduct was beautiful. He arose from the earth, washed himself, changed his clothes, and came into the house of the Lord and WORSHIPPED. There was no giving way to grief unworthy of a man. Grief there was, and sore grief, and God would not rebuke him for this. But in his touch with God he triumphed. He WORSHIPPED.
David's own stated comfort was that he would one day go to the child. Writers value that word differently. One takes it as a lesson for believers who do have more light than David had:
We sometimes look with pity on Old Testament saints as people with little light… But here is a lesson we New Testament believers would do well to think over and gain from. David also comforted himself with the thought, "I shall go to him, but he will not return to me." We part, but not forever. We part for only a very little while.
Another argues that the Christian's ground of comfort has moved on from David's:
The bereaved one is not entitled to draw his comfort from the reflection, "I shall go to him, but he will not return to me," as David in his day rightly did. He should find his comfort rather in this… that "if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep."
For seven days God sent David no word to soften the sentence. One writer treats that silence as normal when God's hand is on us for our sin.
It had been a moment of thickest darkness to him, for there had been no communication from the Lord to ease the sorrow of his heart. I believe this is usually the case when we are suffering under God's judgment. We need to feel the righteous government of God. While we are passing under it for our sin, we are not conscious of light or of conversation with Him. But even so, we may come out of it with renewed strength and power, as David did… And God shows him that, however unbending He is in righteousness, His love and interest in him are unchanged.
- Sentence. God had announced this death as the fruit of David's sin. It fell in full view on the king's house, while the guilty man himself lived.
- Silence. Seven days of fasting brought no word from God to ease the sorrow. Under His government a man may feel only darkness, with no light and no conversation with Him.
- Surrender. The change at "He is dead" was not numbness. David's will was broken, the wrestling stopped, and he could worship.
- Worship. David's grief was real, and God did not rebuke it. He still rose, washed, and worshipped, and in that touch with God he triumphed.
- Strength. A man may come out of such dealings with new strength. God is unbending in righteousness, and His love toward him does not change.
Then David arose from the earth, and washed, and anointed himself, and changed his clothing, and entered into the house of Jehovah and worshipped; then he came to his own house and required them to set bread before him, and he ate.
David's child by Bathsheba dies while he is fasting and praying for him. Instead of breaking down, David gets up, washes, and goes in to worship — and his servants cannot understand it.
Every action here reverses what David had been doing while the child lived. One writer sees a man starting a new life.
The child dies. It is as though he were a new man beginning a new career. He goes into the house of the Lord and bows down. Is he mourning? No, he acknowledges the righteousness, holiness, and love of God as well as the clearing of His character through discipline. David rises up a restored man; he can go to his house and ask for a meal. After bowing down before the Lord, he is on his way to renewed fellowship with Him.
While the child lived, David pleaded. Once the child died, something inside him settled — and that, not the news itself, is what made worship possible.
David sees his dear child sick. He fasts and prays, but he wrestles with God, and his will would not submit. When the child died, David changed his clothes, ate, drank, and could come and worship before the Lord. He could do this because the struggle in his heart had ended, and his will was broken.
Why does the verse bother to mention oil? Anointing after washing had a plain, everyday meaning.
The word means to anoint the body after washing. It was used for the practice, common in the East, of anointing the body or parts of it for comfort, appearance, friendliness, healing, or burial. For the ordinary daily routine compare Ruth 3:3; 2 Sam. 12:20; 2 Chr. 28:15; Matt. 6:17. To neglect this was a sign of mourning, 2 Sam. 14:2; Dan. 10:3.
The verse says David worshiped, and what he did was bow. Others in Scripture did the same, and one writer draws out what they share.
Israel worshipped when they bowed the head at God's revelation by Moses. So David worshipped (2 Sam. 12:20)... Job worshipped when he fell down in subjection to God's dealings with him... What were all these acts? They were a thankful acknowledgment of God for what He had done or said, and an acceptance of His mercy.
David's sin had already been forgiven, and yet the child still died. One writer explains how forgiveness and consequence can both be true at once.
"Whatever one sows, that will he also reap." The sin of sowing weeds may be forgiven, but the reaping must be according to the sowing. The former is grace, the latter is government. Each acts in its own sphere, and neither interferes with the other. God let David walk the courts of the sanctuary as a subject of grace (2 Sam. 12:20) before He called him to climb the rugged slopes of Mount Olivet as a subject of government (2 Sam. 15:30). And we can say with confidence that David's heart never felt God's grace more deeply than at the very moment when he was feeling the righteous action of God's government.
Through the whole ordeal God said nothing. One writer treats that silence as normal, and not as the end of the story.
It had been a time of deepest darkness to him, for no word came from the Lord to soften the sorrow of his heart. And I believe this is usually the case when we are suffering under God's judgment. We need to feel the righteous government of God. While we pass under it for our sin, we are not aware of any light or any talking with Him. Even so, we may come out of it with renewed strength and power, as David did. We next find him fighting against Rabbah in the full tide of victory.
One writer points to David's behaviour as a model for anyone who has lost someone they love. The point is not that David felt less.
His conduct was beautiful. He did not give way to weak grief. There was grief, and deep grief, and God would not scold him for it. But in his touch with God he triumphed. He WORSHIPPED. Are we tested by a painful loss? If we worship, give God the glory, and accept the trial from His hand, we will be greatly helped to bear it.
- Rise — David gets up off the ground because his will has stopped fighting God's. The struggle ended before the washing began.
- Wash — Washing, oil and fresh clothes were ordinary daily care. Mourners went without them, so taking them up again ended the mourning.
- Worship — Bowing before God is a thankful acknowledgment of Him for what He has done or said, and an acceptance of His mercy.
- Bread — He eats and returns to his house, a restored man on his way back to fellowship with God.
- War — No word from God came in the darkness. Yet David came out with renewed strength, and next appears victorious at Rabbah.
And his servants said to him, What thing is this which thou hast done? thou didst fast and weep for the child alive; but as soon as the child is dead, thou dost rise and eat bread.
David has confessed his sin, and Nathan has told him the child born to Bathsheba will die. His household watches him fast and lie on the ground for seven days. Then, at the moment they expect his grief to break out, he gets up, washes, worships, and eats.
One writer sets out what the servants assumed, and the answer David gave them:
His servants were puzzled by this. Like most people, they assumed that death would call for far more distress and sorrow than sickness would. David replied that while the child was alive there was some hope he might recover, and so he had prayed and fasted for that. But now that death had come, prayer and fasting could never bring the child back again.
David had already heard that God had put his sin away. So why did the child still have to die? One writer separates forgiveness from God's government:
Full and everlasting forgiveness, however, does not free those who receive it from God's dealings with them in His government. David had to live with that, right to the end of his life. The child born to him by Uriah's wife (for Bathsheba was still seen in that light) must die, and the sword would never depart from his house.
Another writer notes who bore the blow, and why it had to be public:
Death does not strike down David, the guilty one, but rather his cherished son. It is necessary for God's judgment to fall on the king's house in a visible, immediate way before the eyes of all. The child falls sick; the poor father is distressed; he fasts and pleads with God. If it were possible, may God show him grace! No, discipline must run its course.
David's fasting was not quiet acceptance. One writer reads it as a struggle with God, and the change afterwards as the end of that struggle:
David sees his dear child sick. He fasts and prays, but he is wrestling with God. His will was not submissive. When the child was dead, David changed his clothes, ate and drank, and could come to worship before the Lord. The struggle in his heart had ended, and his will was broken.
Commentators differ slightly in emphasis here. Others describe the same seven days as genuine soul-searching rather than a struggle against God — the illness "deepened the soul-exercise of David, keeping him in prayer and fasting."
One writer follows David step by step, from the ground to the table:
The child dies. David rises from the earth, washes himself, anoints himself with oil, and changes his clothing. It is as though he were a new man beginning a new career. He goes into the house of the Lord and bows down. Is he mourning? No. He acknowledges the righteousness, holiness, and love of God, and he sees that God's discipline has cleared God's character. David rises up a restored man. He can go home and ask for a meal to be brought to him.
One commentary weighs what David's answer was saying, and what it was not:
The king mourns, but he submits. His servants ask why his behaviour changed when he heard the child was dead. He answers by showing that plain natural grief was not what had been driving him. Nor would he fret against the Lord with useless sorrow. The child had gone where David himself would follow, and where he would find him. In this he expresses the comfort left to him: he would meet in eternity the baby who lived only a few days on earth.
Another writer turns that same sentence toward anyone standing at a graveside today:
We sometimes look with pity on Old Testament believers, as people who had little light. True, our privileges in truth and light, and our access to the whole Word of God, are far greater than any Old Testament believer ever had. But here is a lesson we New Testament believers would do well to think over and gain from. David also comforted himself with the thought, "I shall go to him, but he will not return to me." We part, but not forever. We part for only a very little while.
- Forgiven, still governed. God put David's sin away, yet His dealings with David's house went on. Pardon and consequence are not the same thing.
- While there was hope, he prayed. Fasting belonged to the time when the child might still recover; once death came, prayer could not bring him back.
- When hope closed, the will broke. He stopped wrestling, and the struggle in his heart ceased.
- A broken will can worship. He washed, changed, bowed before God, and ate — a restored man, not a crushed one.
- The parting is short. "I shall go to him" — he would follow the child and find him, and that was his comfort.
And he said, While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept; for I thought, Who knows? [perhaps] Jehovah will be gracious to me, that the child may live.
David's servants could not understand him. He had fasted and wept over a dying child. Then he rose and ate the moment the child died. His answer explains the whole week: he prayed while there was still something to pray for.
The turning point was not the sickness but the death:
David answered their questions. While the child was alive, there was some hope that he might recover. To that end he had prayed and fasted. But now that death had taken place, prayer and fasting could never bring the child back again... He might have realised that all his prayers and fasting would not heal his son, for God had told him plainly through Nathan that the child would die.
David already knew the sentence. Yet while the child breathed, there was still room to plead.
The words are a question, not a claim. One writer sets them beside the decree of the king of Nineveh:
We see the same effect of the Spirit of God in the remarkable decree of the king of Nineveh. But its closing words, "Who knows whether God will turn," remind us of the words of a greater king than he. I mean king David, whose deep and genuine repentance in Psalm 51 has just been mentioned. David's child, the fruit of his terrible sin, was about to die. The king lay face down in the dust before God, fasting and praying. He wept as he begged God for the life of the child... But his prayer could not be granted; the fruit of sin must die.
David prayed anyway, and one writer says what he hoped from it:
The child's illness deepened David's distress of soul. It kept him in prayer and fasting through the seven days that his son was ill. It seems he thought that the earnestness of his prayer might change God's mind.
The outcome was never in doubt, and no amount of self-humbling could alter it:
The death of the child, however, was only the first sound of the storm of judgment about to burst on David's house. He might fast, pray, humble himself, and lie face down in the dust, but the child had to die; judgment had to take its course.
God had already forgiven David's sin. So why did the child still die? Pardon and God's dealings with us in this life are not the same thing:
Full and everlasting forgiveness does not free those who receive it from God's dealings with them in government. David had to experience that, even to the end of his life. The child born to him by Uriah's wife must die, and the sword would never depart from his house... Governmental dealing, however, ends with this life. God's favour to us, based on the sacrifice of Christ, lasts for ever.
One writer reads David's fasting as the cry of a father who knows the child is suffering for his fault: the king "is distressed and fasts and begs God. If it were possible, may God show him grace! No, discipline must run its course."
David's answer to his servants shows how he grieved:
The king mourns but submits. His servants asked why his conduct changed when he heard that the child was dead. He answers by showing that it was not merely natural grief that had moved him, and that he would not fret against the Lord with useless sorrow.
One writer explains what changed when David rose and worshipped:
David sees the child sick who is dear to him; then he fasts and prays, but he wrestles with God; his will was not submissive. When the child was dead, David changed his clothes, ate, drank, and could come and worship before the Lord. He could do this because the struggle in his heart had ceased, and his will was broken.
- Sentence. Nathan had announced that the child would die. David's fasting could not overturn it: "judgment had to take its course."
- Pardon. God forgave the sin, but forgiveness does not free a person from His dealings in government. Those dealings end with this life.
- Plea. "Who knows?" is a question, not a demand. While the child lived, David could still ask God for grace.
- Submission. His sorrow was not mere natural grief, and he would not "fret against the Lord with useless sorrow."
- Worship. When the struggle in his heart ceased, David rose, ate, and worshipped — on the day God refused his prayer.
But now he is dead, why should I fast? can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.
David has just lost the child born to Bathsheba, after days of fasting and prayer for the child's life. His calm when the news comes shocks his servants, and his answer points to a meeting still ahead of him.
David's behaviour looks backwards until you see what he had been praying for. One commentator sets out his reasoning, and what David had already been told:
David answered their questions. While the child was alive, there was some hope that he might recover, and to that end he had prayed and fasted. But now that death had come, prayer and fasting could never bring the child back again. In fact, he might have realised that all his prayers and fasting would not heal his son, because God had told him plainly through the prophet Nathan that the child would die.
David's sorrow was real, but he would not turn it against God. Another writer sets out what David still had to look forward to:
The king mourns, but he submits. His servants ask why his behaviour changed when he heard that the child had died. His answer shows that it was not merely natural grief that had moved him, and that he would not fret against the Lord with useless sorrow. The child had gone where David himself would follow, and where he would find him. In this he expresses the comfort that remains for him: meeting in eternity the baby who lived only a few days on earth.
The first half of the sentence is the comfort; the second half is the discipline David accepts. One commentator draws out both:
"I shall go to him." David is now content to carry the mark of this discipline to the end of his life — the discipline that his son's death bears witness to. "He will not return to me." David can never have that joy, but he accepts the path of death as necessary. One day he must walk it to find his son.
David's words assume two living persons on either side of death. One writer used that assumption against those who taught that the dead no longer exist at all:
David says, when speaking of the death of his child, "I shall go to him, but he will not return to me." Scripture rebukes your doctrines at every turn! According to you, the child was not in existence for David to go to, and David, on dying, would be no more in existence to go to him!
David's question is not a real question. Notice too the direction he expects: he goes to the child, and the child does not come back to him:
When David heard that Bathsheba's child had died, after agonising in prayer for the child's life, he asked his question as a rhetorical one, stating a strong negative. "I shall go to him, but he will not return to me." It is clear that David knew nothing of contact with the spirits of the departed.
Set beside another grieving father, David's response stands out. Jacob, believing Joseph dead, spoke of going down to the grave in mourning:
Both men face the death of a child. One says, "I will go down into the grave mourning." The other says, "I will go up to the house of the Lord and worship." Yet both were true believers. One looked no further than death and the grave. The other looked beyond death to resurrection, into a scene where "death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore."
David expects to find his child. One commentator states the same confidence about children who die young:
Are you not certain that all who die in infancy are saved? That just as their little bodies bear the penalty of Adam's sin, their precious souls share the benefit of Christ's atonement!
David's hope reached as far as reunion beyond death. One writer points out that the Christian's hope reaches further:
The Old Testament believer looked for reunion with those who had died, in the realm of the dead. The New Testament believer looks to meet in the air, in resurrection life and glory, everyone he has said goodbye to in the faith of Christ.
- Prayer — David prayed while the outcome was still open. When God's answer was final, he stopped asking and worshipped.
- Submission — David took the loss as discipline from God's hand. He would not fret against the Lord with useless sorrow.
- Reunion — The comfort is not that the child returns, but that David will one day go where the child already is.
- Existence — David speaks of someone to go to. Father and son both stay real persons after death.
- Beyond — David looked past death to reunion. Writers say the Christian looks further still, to resurrection and glory.
And David comforted Bathsheba his wife, and went in to her and lay with her; and she bore a son, and he called his name Solomon; and Jehovah loved him.
David's fasting is over, the first child is dead, and the story turns at once from a grave to a cradle. It puts two unlikely things side by side: a husband comforting the wife he had wronged, and the Lord loving the son born of that union.
The mourning is over. Now David can comfort his wife instead of needing comfort himself. One writer follows that same grace as it reaches Bathsheba:
The king is now able to console Bathsheba. Grace flows out to him anew. He has a son whom he names Solomon (meaning, Peaceable) and whom the Lord through Nathan calls "Jedidiah" (meaning, Beloved of Jehovah). Defilement would have kept Bathsheba from any share in God's blessings, yet grace brings her into the Messiah's line of descent (Matt. 1:6). She becomes the mother of the king of peace and glory. Grace delights to work for fallen creatures. It joins them to Christ, to show its "exceeding riches" in the ages to come.
David named this son "Peaceable" while God's word about a sword on his house still stood. One writer explains where such peace comes from:
The birth and naming of Solomon shows us how complete God's forgiveness was, and how fully it filled David's heart. He could be at peace, and could call this child of Bathsheba "Peaceful", even though the declaration about the sword on his house had not been withdrawn. The future is not untroubled, and yet his heart is. There is a true peace in submission, where we know God in His perfect love: that "perfect love casts out fear". How else could anyone ever reach it?
Nathan had come once before to expose the king's guilt. God sends him a second time on a very different errand:
Again Nathan, by God's direction, visited the king (2 Sam. 12:24-25), not to revive the memory of his guilt, but to assure him that divine favour continued. Bathsheba again bore a son, and David called his name Solomon, as God had directed beforehand (1 Chron. 22:9). The name itself was a pledge of peace and quietness in Israel during that son's reign. But we read that "the Lord loved him, and He sent by the hand of Nathan the prophet, and He called his name Jedidiah," that is, Beloved of Jehovah. What a touching, tender proof of grace on God's part, and of His desire to reassure His servant of it. Solomon spoke of the character of his reign. Jedidiah assured David that his child was an object of Jehovah's love.
Bathsheba lost one son and saw another crowned. Set side by side, the two births show two sides of God's dealings:
What happened to Bathsheba's children reminds us of the Scripture, "Note then the kindness and the severity of God" (Rom. 11:22). The Lord struck the child that was born of David's sin, and he died. But God chose her second child, Solomon, to succeed David as King of Israel... It was Jehovah's love for Solomon, sovereign love, that put him on the throne.
The second name echoes David's own name, and it points beyond Solomon:
Nathan calls the infant Jedidiah (Jedid-yah), that is, the darling of the Lord. He points directly to the meaning of the King's own name: David means the darling, the beloved one. Loved by God; chosen by God; preferred by Him above all others for the throne — what an expressive type of our blessed Lord! He is God's true beloved (Isa. 42:1), who in His due time "shall speak peace to the nations, and his rule shall be from sea to sea, and from the River to the ends of the earth" (Zech. 9:10).
Forgiveness did not cancel the consequences. Both realities run on together through the rest of David's life:
"Whatever one sows, that will he also reap." No wonder, then, that adultery and murder sprang up again and again in David's path. It is no surprise that the sword never departs from his house... All this thorn and thistle is the sure fruit of sin. But in the middle of it, one little flower springs up from this cursed ground. It is a type and witness that where sin had abounded, grace over-abounds. From this David and this Bathsheba, joined together by sin, a child springs. His name stands next in the line of the Lord's ancestry. And, as if to confirm it, he receives a special name, "Jedidiah," "beloved of the Lord."
Naming the chosen son here made David responsible later. When his affection drifted toward Absalom, he already had God's answer in hand:
Through the prophet's mouth the Lord had let him know (2 Sam. 12:24-25) which of his sons He had chosen; this son was Solomon... Could the king hesitate between God's positive word and Joab's self-seeking insinuations?... It is a serious thing to allow ourselves to be directed by our natural affections, however legitimate they may be, rather than by the spiritual judgment God has given us.
- Comfort. David can comfort Bathsheba only after the discipline has run its course. Grace flows out to him again, and through him to her.
- Peace. "Solomon" means Peaceable. David could give that name while the sword still hung over his house. Peace comes from knowing God's love, not from calm circumstances.
- Love. Nathan's second visit does not reopen the guilt. It brings the name Jedidiah, "Beloved of Jehovah" — God's own word that He loves this child.
- Choice. Sovereign love, not David's merit, put Solomon on the throne, and made him a picture of God's true Beloved.
- Reach. The consequences of sin still ran their course. Yet from this marriage came the line of the Messiah: grace over-abounding where sin abounded.
And he sent by the hand of Nathan the prophet; and he called his name Jedidiah, for Jehovah's sake.
David's sin with Bathsheba had cost a child's life. Why then does God send Nathan the prophet to name the next son Jedidiah — "beloved of the LORD"?
Nathan had already confronted David over his sin. This second visit had a different aim.
That meeting between Nathan and David ended. God struck the child, and the child died. Afterwards Solomon was born. Again Nathan, at God's direction, visited the king (2 Sam. 12:24-25), not to stir up the memory of his guilt, but to assure him that divine favour continued... What a touching, tender proof of grace on God's part, and of His desire to reassure His servant of it.
David named the boy Solomon; God named him Jedidiah. Each word carries its own weight.
When Solomon was born his father named him Solomon, which means "Peaceable" (2 Sam. 12:24). The LORD had named him this before his birth (1 Chron. 22:9). But when the child was born, the LORD sent Nathan the prophet to David with a second name for him — Jedidiah, which means "beloved of the LORD" (2 Sam. 12:25)... Another writer has noted the link with David's own name. David means the darling, the beloved one. Nathan calls the infant Jedidiah, that is, the darling of the LORD.
One writer draws out what each name told David:
Solomon spoke of the character of his reign. Jedidiah assured David that his child was an object of the LORD's love.
The gift came at the point of David's deepest failure.
This son of Bathsheba was a son of peace to his father's heart. God seals him to David as His gift, with a love whose barrier cannot be broken through. That is what the name Jedidiah means: "beloved of the LORD." Let us bless God for a love that can so triumph over sin.
This grace did not stop with the king.
Grace flows out to David again. He has a son whom he names Solomon (meaning Peaceable) and whom the LORD through Nathan calls "Jedidiah" (meaning Beloved of the LORD). Defilement would have kept Bathsheba from a portion in God's blessings, but grace brings her into the Messiah's line of descent (Matt. 1:6). She becomes the mother of the king of peace and glory.
The name also settled who would rule Israel next.
The LORD struck the child born of David's sin, and he died. But God chose her second child, Solomon, to succeed David as king of Israel... It was the LORD's love for Solomon, sovereign love, that put him on the throne.
Years later that same word tested David's own heart.
Through the prophet's mouth the LORD had let him know (2 Sam. 12:24-25) which of his sons He had chosen; this son was Solomon, the son of Bathsheba, whom God had called "Jedidiah, the beloved of the LORD." Joab realised that David's heart secretly cherished the thought of making Absalom his successor, though perhaps David would not even have admitted this desire to himself. Could the king hesitate between God's clear word and Joab's self-serving hints?... It is a serious thing to let ourselves be guided by our natural affections instead of the spiritual judgment God has given us — however proper those affections may be.
God's choice of Solomon makes him a picture of someone greater.
Loved by God; chosen by God; preferred by Him above all others for the throne — what a clear picture of our blessed Lord! He is God's true beloved (Isa. 42:1). In His own time He will "speak peace to the nations," and His "rule shall be from sea to sea, and from the River to the ends of the earth" (Zech. 9:10).
Another writer connects Solomon's name to a title of the Messiah.
The title "wellbeloved" points to the Messiah. The LORD's own name for Solomon (Jedidiah), the "beloved of his God" (2 Sam. 12:25; Neh. 13:26), carries that title. Solomon is a picture of Him who was the true Heir of the LORD's vineyard (Mark 12:6-7).
- Grace answers. God gives the name Jedidiah right after David's worst failure. It is a love that triumphs over sin.
- Grace names. He sent a prophet to attach the word "beloved" to the child, so David would know His favour continued.
- Grace includes. The same love that comforted David brought Bathsheba into the Messiah's line of descent.
- Grace enthrones. Sovereign love, not merit, set Solomon on the throne. David was meant to hold God's word above his own feelings for Absalom.
- Grace foreshadows. Solomon was loved, chosen, and preferred above all others. He pictures the true Beloved, whose rule will reach from sea to sea.