2 Samuel 14:1–20

At the end of 2 Samuel 13 the king was longing for Absalom. This was an unfortunate weakness. Absalom was a murderer; the law of the Lord did not allow David to long after him. The murderer fell into the hands of the avenger of blood. Only the blood of the man who had shed blood could make expiation… When Absalom came back from his self-chosen exile, David should have carried out the sentence. To spare him would be to add disobedience to transgression.

These humiliating facts ought to have held back David's affections. But Joab watches, keen to see the king turn aside from the simple path of obedience. "Now Joab the son of Zeruiah knew that the king's heart went out to Absalom." He is not a man to let this moment pass without using it to his own advantage. So he turns to an unworthy scheme to lead David to call the fugitive back to Jerusalem… The words he puts in the mouth of the woman of Tekoah suggest that Joab's hidden motive was to have David name Absalom as his successor… In truth, the words of this woman show us that Joab meant to secure a future position for himself with Absalom, who was sure to be thankful to him for bringing him back to the court.

He hides behind his instrument, the woman of Tekoa, who will work more effectively on the king's heart. The appeal is all to the heart. The pity stirred by the widow's tale is the most powerful means anyone could devise. Perhaps he borrows Nathan's method. But Nathan worked through the heart to reach the conscience; Joab works to override the conscience and set it aside… Absalom has sinned; but so had Amnon; the thing is done and cannot be undone — why keep remembering it?

At this time there was more than weakness in this well-loved king. In his heart there was a divine cord that always rang true when it was touched. Joab knew this well, and he used it. An appeal to grace always found its echo in David; therefore the woman of Tekoah comes to plead with the king for grace. He gives in. He forgets that grace is not the only principle at work. God is also a righteous God, and His grace cannot be lifted up at the cost of His righteousness… Grace ought not to yield to feelings, human ties, or the gentleness of human nature.

David gives in to Joab's trick. He is weak enough not only to let Absalom return, but after a time to restore him to favour. This weakness and injustice soon bears the bitterest fruit. When we wrongly spare someone to indulge our own feelings, we always expose ourselves to the evil nature that we should have controlled and condemned. The very next verse after the one that tells of Absalom's welcome by his father announces Absalom's rebellion against him.

There is a magnificent display of divine mercy pictured in the way Absalom was brought home… The cunning Joab employed the woman of Tekoah. Joab knew well that the heart of the king was yearning after his guilty son. He also knew that the king's conscience held him back, for the king carried out the law of God. God had entrusted the sword to him in Israel, and Absalom had stained the people and the land of God with blood, as well as the family of the king.

Here we see in full the principles that work the evil. The main actor now is the unscrupulous Joab. He knows well the weak side of David's nature. He also knows divine grace, and its power over a soul that has learned its debt to it. He knows it well enough to use grace on behalf of what is not grace. Yet he has no evil design against David... Most people would call this only a well-meaning blunder. He goes wrong because, sadly, he has no divine wisdom and does not seek it... Joab is to David like an unjudged sin. David has no power against it, and it is always at hand to strengthen the worse nature and defeat the better one. Let us earnestly pray and seek that we have no Joabs.

It was the habit of the Hebrews, as it still is in the East, to make a great demonstration of their mourning. They would beat their breasts, cover their heads, and fast. They would put dust and ashes on their heads, neglect their hair, wear dull-coloured garments, tear their clothes, and wear sackcloth... At a death professional mourners were hired, mostly women... God does not want those who grieve to feel nothing: the Lord wept at the grave of Lazarus, but He would have reality in all things. He had to say to His people, "Rend your heart, and not your garments."

Anointing the body, or parts of it, was a common practice — for comfort, appearance, friendliness, healing, or burial. To neglect this was a sign of mourning.

City of Judah... Rehoboam built or fortified it "for defence." Being built on a hill, it was a suitable place for blowing the trumpet in time of danger. The prophet Amos was among its herdsmen.

He hides himself behind his instrument, the woman of Tekoa, who will work more effectively on the heart of the king. The appeal is all to the heart, and for this purpose the pity roused by the widow's tale will be the most powerful means that can be devised. Perhaps he borrows Nathan's method. But Nathan sought through the heart to reach and work on the conscience. Joab, on the contrary, seeks to override it and set it aside.

In his heart there was a divine cord that always responded faithfully when touched. Joab was well aware of this and did not fail to make use of it. An appeal to grace always found its echo in David; so the woman of Tekoah comes to plead with the king for grace. He yields, forgetting that grace is not the only principle involved. God is also a righteous God, and His grace cannot be raised up at the cost of His righteousness... Grace ought not to yield to feelings, human ties, or the gentleness of human nature.

In all these records of those sad events we hear not a word that David inquired of the Lord... Joab plans a scheme to bring Absalom back into the king's favour... The wisdom he used was not the wisdom from above, but the wisdom of a cunning man. The whole story was deception, and "the wise woman" of Tekoah lent herself as a willing instrument... Absalom's rebellion and the king's exile were the fruit of the unscrupulous plot of Joab.

He was content to be second in the kingdom, for his worldly wisdom told him he might hold that place in safety, but he knew he could not seek more than that without risk. He could get both Abner and Amasa out of his way when he thought they were intruding into the place he had his eye on; but the first place he would leave with David.

The words he puts in the mouth of the woman of Tekoa lead us to suppose Joab's hidden motive: that David might name Absalom as his successor… In truth, the words of this woman show us that Joab had in mind to secure a future position for himself with Absalom, who would surely be thankful to him for having brought him back to the court.

He hides behind his instrument, the woman of Tekoa. She will work on the king's heart better than he could. The appeal is all to the heart. For that purpose, nothing is more powerful than the pity stirred by the widow's tale. He borrows Nathan's method, perhaps. But Nathan used the heart to reach the conscience and work on it. Joab does the opposite: he uses the heart to override the conscience and set it aside.

Of course Joab meant this to apply to the case of Absalom's killing of Amnon. But the cases were not parallel. First, David had more than two sons. Second, they did not fight each other. One had planned the killing in advance and did it in cold blood, while the other was completely off guard.

There could be no doubt that the allegory was admirably drawn. But it was the parable of someone whose heart was not in the matter. It is a solemn thing to see this from time to time in Scripture history, and in fact now as well. There are natural minds who sometimes see more clearly what suits a saint of God than saints themselves feel. But it is only those who know how to turn the grace of God to their own purpose when it suits them. This is what Joab was now doing by the woman of Tekoa. He held the truth in unrighteousness.

He knows well the weak side of David's nature. He also knows enough of divine grace, and of its power over a soul that has learned its debt to it, to use it with effect on behalf of what is not grace… His is the misery of a soul at its best away from God. Such a soul must lead others away from Him too, even without meaning to… Joab is to David like an unjudged sin. David has no power against it, and it is always at hand to strengthen the worse nature and defeat the better. Let us earnestly pray and seek that we have no Joabs.

In all this David was excusable, no doubt, when we think of the natural feelings of a father for his son. But as a servant of God he was guilty… It is a serious thing to let our natural affections direct us, however legitimate they may be, instead of the spiritual judgment God has given us.

Joab was not much concerned about truth and justice. He cared about the outward prosperity of the kingdom of Israel, because he knew his own position depended on it. He thought that bringing Absalom back would make the kingdom look more united under David. But he did not know what danger he was inviting when he used a wise woman to speak to David in a cleverly crafted parable.

She pretends to be a mourner. She comes to the king with just the kind of claim on his sympathy that would catch his affections at once and bring his own sorrow fully to mind. She tells him about her two sons. One had killed the other in a quarrel in a field. Now the avenging relative was after the killer, threatening to leave her a withered stump in the ground. Matters like this should lie with the proper judges, who decide between the avenger and the manslayer (Numbers 35). But David is surprised. Nature speaks in him too quickly. The pull of natural feeling moves him, and he gives her a pledge, confirmed three times, that nothing will happen to her son.

The subtle Joab employed the woman of Tekoah. He knew well that the heart of the king was yearning after his guilty son. At the same time he knew that the king had difficulty in conscience, for he was the executor of the law of God. God had entrusted the sword to him in Israel. Absalom had brought the stain of blood on the people and the land of God, and on the family of the king too.

God does insist on righteousness, and He resents every failure to keep it here below. Yet He never gives up grace. He always puts the right of divine mercy above the claims of earthly righteousness. And certainly David was one who could not resist such an appeal. Could David really deny the grace that was his only ground and chief boast before God?... Joab had not the slightest appreciation of grace himself. Still, he knew this was the surest way to David's heart.

This gospel came from the mouth of an unknown widow, the "wise woman of Tekoah." It shows us that Israel, even at that early stage of God's dealings with them, had sweet truths to feed on... "The woman's seed" was the king's highway, raised up under the eye of faith. It is the good news, known and published, by which God has devised to bring home His banished ones.

An appeal to grace always found its echo in David; so the woman of Tekoah comes to plead with the king for grace. He yields, forgetting that grace is not the only principle involved. God is also a righteous God, and His grace cannot be exalted at the expense of His righteousness. David followed Joab's advice, and it leads the king to an abuse of grace. It is all the more serious because his own natural affections were involved... Grace ought not to give way to feelings, human ties, or the softness of human nature. But with David it did.

In all these records of those sad events we never hear a word that David inquired of the Lord. Joab now appears on the scene again, and for evil, though he did not mean to harm the king... The wisdom he used was not the wisdom from above, but the wisdom of a cunning man. The whole story was deception, and "the wise woman" of Tekoah made herself a willing instrument.

He hides behind his tool, the woman of Tekoa, who will work more effectively on the king's heart. The appeal is all to the heart, and for that, the pity stirred by a widow's story is the most powerful means anyone could devise. He may be borrowing Nathan's method. But Nathan went through the heart to reach the conscience and work on it. Joab does the opposite: he wants to override the conscience and set it aside.

Naomi longed to see with her own eyes an heir born to Boaz and Ruth, so that her husband's name would be kept alive in his tribe and the main aim of the redemption reached. To see how anxious wives and mothers in Israel were about this, compare the words of the widow of Tekoah in 2 Samuel 14:5-7.

The woman's story need not be too like Absalom's story. That might be dangerous. The emotions rush like a storm, and once stirred they do not keep to the channels of sober judgment, mentally any more than morally. Once the right push reaches David's affections, they will catch every likeness in the case put before him and let the rest slip. So a sudden fight in a field suits Joab's purpose better than the murder kept hidden in the heart for two years, which was the reality behind the picture. The net is not spread in vain, though it is almost in sight of the bird.

A parable should give an accurate picture of what it is meant to teach. But clever handling can use a parable to lead someone to a completely false conclusion. Joab hired the wise woman of Tekoah, and she used clever, worldly wisdom to put a case to David that was somewhat like the case of his son Absalom, but not parallel at all. In fact the two were completely at odds on basic points. David let himself be deceived by it.

Was it really possible for David to deny the grace that was his only ground and chief boast before God? This, then, was what Joab, who had not the slightest appreciation of grace himself, would still know to be the surest way to David's heart. This is what the woman of Tekoah pleads. She comes before the king, and he asks her what her sorrow is.

An appeal to grace always found an echo in David, so the woman of Tekoah comes to plead with the king for grace. He gives in, forgetting that grace is not the only principle involved. God is also a righteous God, and His grace cannot be lifted up at the cost of His righteousness. Grace should not give way to feelings, to family ties, or to the softness of human nature. But with David it did. Giving in to his fatherly affection, he did not see the enemy's work clearly enough, though it did not completely escape him: "Is the hand of Joab with you in all this?" Absalom, the enemy, is welcomed into Jerusalem — and what an enemy he proves to be!

A "wise woman" of Tekoah is provided, whom Joab instructs in this matter... She pretends to be a mourner, and comes to the king with just the sorrowful claim that would catch his affections at once and bring his own sorrow fully to mind. She tells him of her two sons, and how one killed the other in a quarrel in a field. The relative was out after the killer, threatening to leave her a withered stump in the earth. Such matters should lie with the proper judges, who decide between the avenger and the killer (Numbers 35). But David is surprised — nature speaks in him too quickly.

He hides behind his instrument, the woman of Tekoah, who will work more effectively on the heart of the king. He borrows Nathan's method, perhaps. But Nathan aimed through the heart to reach the conscience and work on it. Joab seeks the opposite: to override the conscience and set it aside... The woman's story need not be too like the story of Absalom: that might be dangerous. The emotions have a storm-like force, and once roused they do not respect the channels of sober judgment... Once stirred by the needed push, David's affections will catch every likeness the story suggests, and let the rest slip. So the sudden fight in the field suits Joab's purpose better than the two years' murder hidden in the heart. That murder was the reality behind the picture.

Of course Joab meant this to apply to the case of Absalom's killing of Amnon. But the cases were not parallel. First, David had more than two sons. Secondly, they did not fight together: one had deliberately planned to kill the other and did so in cold blood, the other being totally off guard.

He is not a man to let this chance pass without turning it to his own advantage. So he uses an unworthy scheme to lead David to call the fugitive back to Jerusalem. The words he puts in the mouth of the woman of Tekoah suggest his hidden motive: David should name Absalom as his successor... In truth, her words show that Joab meant to secure a future position for himself with Absalom. Absalom would surely be grateful to him for bringing him back to the court.

God does insist on righteousness, and He resents every failure to keep it here on earth. Yet He never abandons grace. He always holds the title of divine mercy above the claims of earthly righteousness. And certainly David was one who could not resist such an appeal... was it really possible for David to deny that grace which was his only ground and chief boast before God? Joab himself had not the slightest appreciation of grace. Yet even he knew this was the surest way into David's heart.

Yet righteousness was not guarded here, as God does perfectly in Christ. So a suspicion arises that all was not straight... There could be no doubt that the allegory was admirably drawn. Sadly, it was the parable of one whose heart was not in the matter. How solemn it is to see this again and again in the course of Scripture history — and we may see it now as well. There are natural minds who sometimes see more clearly what suits a saint of God than saints themselves feel. But it is only those who know how to turn the grace of God to their own purpose when it suits them.

David's concern for Absalom became known to Joab. Joab cared little about truth and justice. He cared about the outward prosperity of the kingdom of Israel, because he knew his own position depended on it. He thought that bringing Absalom back would give the kingdom a better appearance of unity under David. But he did not know what danger he was inviting. He hired a wise woman to speak to David in a cleverly designed story.

"The legs of the lame are not equal: so is a parable in the mouth of fools." A parable should accurately re-present what it is intended to teach, but subtle manipulation can so use a parable as to convey a completely false conclusion... The wise woman of Tekoah, being hired by Joab, used subtle, worldly wisdom in presenting to David a case that was in measure similar to that of his son Absalom, but not at all parallel: in fact completely at odds in fundamental points. David allowed himself to be deceived by it.

Of course Joab meant this to apply to Absalom's killing of Amnon. But the cases were not parallel. First, David had more than two sons. Second, these two did not fight each other. One had planned the killing and carried it out in cold blood, while the other was completely off guard.

The words he puts in the woman of Tekoa's mouth suggest a hidden motive. Joab wanted David to name Absalom as his successor: "Give up the man who struck his brother … And so they would destroy the heir also" (v. 7)... In fact, her words show that Joab meant to secure a future position for himself with Absalom, who would be grateful to him for bringing him back to the court.

He may be borrowing Nathan's method. But Nathan went through the heart in order to reach the conscience and work on it. Joab does the opposite: he wants to override the conscience and set it aside... Absalom has sinned; but so had Amnon. The thing is done and cannot be undone now. Why keep remembering it?

The emotions act with the force of a storm. Once roused, they do not respect the channels of sober judgment... So a sudden fight in a field suits his purpose better than the murder hidden in the heart for two years, which was the reality behind the picture. And the pitiful state of the widow, with her "coal that is left" about to be quenched, can be thrown in for the sake of the impression... The net is not spread in vain, even though the bird almost sees it.

Such matters should be left to the proper judges, to decide between the avenger of blood and the one who killed (Numbers 35). But David is taken by surprise. Natural feeling speaks in him too quickly. His affections move him, and three times over he promises her that nothing will happen to her son.

But this is only one of many cases scattered right through divine history. God does insist on righteousness, and He resents every failure to uphold it here below. Yet He never gives up grace. He always holds the claim of divine mercy above the claims of earthly righteousness... And Joab, who had not the slightest appreciation of grace himself, still knew this was the surest way to David's heart.

He gives in, forgetting that grace is not the only principle involved. God is also a righteous God, and His grace cannot be lifted up at the cost of His righteousness... Grace should not give way to feelings, human ties, or the softness of human nature.

Joab was not much concerned about truth and justice. He cared about the outward prosperity of the kingdom of Israel, because he knew his own position depended on it. He thought that if Absalom could be brought back, the kingdom would look more united under David. But he did not know what danger he was inviting when he used a wise woman to speak to David through a story that was cleverly planned.

David wisely told the woman to go home and wait while he thought her case over (v.8). But the woman wanted an answer at once. She knew she could not afford to let David ask others about her case. So she tells him, in effect, that she and her father's house would take the blame for anything that came of a quick decision, and that he and his throne would be guiltless (v.9). How well she knew how to work on David's feelings! Yet he should have known that he could not rely on the word of one woman alone, who was clearly on her own side. Still, he went half way for her: he told her to bring him anyone who pressed her about this matter, and he would see that she was not pressured again.

He may be borrowing Nathan's method. But Nathan worked through the heart in order to reach the conscience and stir it. Joab works to override the conscience and push it aside. He has hardened his own and done well by it. He is no prophet who can foresee the end, and the future does not trouble him. He cannot see why conscience should trouble anyone else this much.

Once stirred by the needed push, David's affections will seize on every likeness in the case suggested and let the rest slip. So the sudden quarrel in the field suits his purpose better than the two years' murder hidden in the heart, which was the reality behind the picture; and the widow's pitiful state, with her last "coal" ready to be put out, can be thrown in for the impression it makes. Once the king has pledged himself to the woman, he is taken to have judged his own case, and he cannot draw back from his word. The net is not spread in vain, even though the bird almost sees it.

David is caught off guard. Such cases should have been left to the proper judges, who decide between the avenger and the man who killed. (Num. 35.) But David is caught off guard. Natural feeling speaks in him too quickly. His own longings move him, and he gives her a promise, confirmed three times, that nothing will happen to her son. Then, armed with that promise, she presses her attack on the king's heart more openly.

Could David really refuse the grace that was his own only ground and chief boast before God? Joab had not the slightest appreciation of grace himself, yet he knew this was the surest road to David's heart.

An appeal to grace always found an echo in David, and so the woman of Tekoah comes to plead with the king for grace. He gives in, forgetting that grace is not the only principle involved. God is also a righteous God, and His grace cannot be lifted up at the cost of His righteousness.

David wisely told the woman to go home and wait while he considered her case (v. 8). But the woman wanted an answer at once. She knew she could not afford to have David ask other people about her case. So she tells him, in effect, that she and her father's house would accept the blame for anything that came of his deciding at once. He and his throne would be guiltless (v. 9). How well she knew how to influence David's feelings!

The crafty Joab used the woman of Tekoa. He knew well that the heart of the king was yearning after his guilty son. He also knew that the king had a difficulty in conscience, for the king had to carry out the law of God. God had entrusted the sword in Israel to him, and Absalom had brought the stain of blood on the people and the land of God, as well as on the family of the king.

This is only one of many cases that mark the whole line of divine history. God does insist on righteousness, and He resents every failure to maintain it here below. Yet He never gives up grace. He always holds the right of divine mercy above the claims of earthly righteousness. And certainly David was one who could not resist such an appeal.

There could be no doubt that the story was drawn with great skill. Sadly, it was the parable of someone whose heart was not in the matter. How solemn it is to see, from time to time in Scripture history and in fact now, that there are natural minds who can sometimes see more clearly what suits a saint of God than saints themselves feel. But these are only people who know how to turn the grace of God to their own purpose when it suits them.

Two things are entirely ignored, however: the need of atonement for the broken law, and the guarantee about the future of the forgiven sinner. God's plan for bringing the banished home includes both of these. That is why it makes for righteousness, as it must do to be grace. Mercy shown to the unrepentant is only licence to sin, and David finds the fruit of this in the end. And to let the law be broken without anything to put it right weakens all the power of government.

Power once attempted this, and failed terribly. David on the throne of Israel undertook to bring back a banished one, by a simple word or decree of power such as his throne carried. But this ended in greater harm, and the throne that attempted it in effect forfeited itself by the act.

God has, however, done it — because He can sprinkle blood on the throne such as the throne can accept. He can, and He has, joined righteousness with peace in this great matter. He brings His banished ones home under a sure and clear title to see His face and to walk in His presence. And His own throne is not only guiltless but glorified. New honours clothe it. Mercy and truth adorn it, each with its own glory, shining at its brightest.

David's concern for Absalom became known to Joab. Joab was not much concerned about truth and justice. He cared about the outward prosperity of the kingdom of Israel, because he knew his own position depended on it. He thought that bringing Absalom back would make the kingdom look more united under David. But he did not know what danger he was inviting when he hired a wise woman to speak to David in a cleverly crafted story.

David was right to tell the woman to go home and wait while he looked into her case (v.8), but the woman wanted an answer at once. She knew she could not afford to have David ask others about her case… How well she knew how to work on David's feelings! Yet he should have known he could not rely on the word of one woman who was plainly biased in her own favour. Still, he went half way for her. He told her to bring him anyone who pressed her about this matter, and he would see that no one troubled her again.

David is caught off guard. Such matters should lie with the proper judges, to decide between the avenger and the man who killed (Num. 35). But David is caught off guard. Nature speaks in him too quickly. His natural feelings move him, and he gives her a pledge, three times over, that nothing will happen to her son.

The woman's story need not be too like the story of Absalom: that might be dangerous. The emotions act with the force of a storm. Once stirred, they keep to no channel of sober judgment, in the mind any more than in the conscience. Touch David's affections with the right stimulus, and he will catch every likeness in the case put before him, and let the rest slip… Once the king has pledged himself to the woman, the claim is that he has judged his own case, and that he cannot draw back from his pledged word. The net is not spread in vain, though almost in sight of the bird.

Of course Joab meant this to apply to the case of Absalom's killing of Amnon. But the cases were not parallel. First, David had more than two sons. Second, they did not fight each other. One had planned the killing and carried it out in cold blood, while the other was completely off guard.

In his heart there was a divine cord that always responded faithfully when touched. Joab knew this well and made full use of it. An appeal to grace always found its echo in David; therefore the woman of Tekoah comes to plead with the king for grace. He gives in, forgetting that grace is not the only principle at stake. God is also a righteous God, and His grace cannot be lifted up at the cost of His righteousness.

Two things drop out of sight completely, however: the need of atonement for the broken law, and any guarantee about the future of the forgiven sinner. God's plan for restoring the banished includes both, and so it upholds righteousness — as it must, if it is to be grace. Mercy to someone who will not repent is only a license to sin, and David reaps the fruit of that in the end.

This gospel in the mouth of this unknown widow, the "wise woman of Tekoah," further shows us that Israel, even in their infant dispensation, had sweet truths to feed upon. From the beginning indeed the joy has been but one. "The woman's seed" was the king's highway cast up under the eye of faith, the known and published good news, whereby God has devised to fetch home His banished ones.

By this Absalom had defiled the land and forfeited his life. All he can now do is flee to strangers, for the land had no city of refuge for such a man. The avenger of blood might claim him at Bezer or at Kedesh. He had shed his brother's blood, and this cried for vengeance.

The woman of Tekoah was employed by the subtle Joab, who knew well that the heart of the king was yearning after his guilty son. At the same time he knew that the king had difficulty in conscience, for he was the executor of the law of God. To him God had entrusted the sword in Israel, and Absalom had brought the stain of blood on the people and the land of God, as well as on the family of the king.

She tells him of her two sons: one had killed the other in a quarrel in a field. The relative was out after the killer, threatening to leave her a withered stump in the earth. Such matters should be left to the proper judges to decide between the avenger and the killer. (Numbers 35.) But David is surprised. Nature speaks in him too quickly, and he gives her a pledge three times assured that nothing shall happen to her son. Then, armed with this pledge, she more directly goes after the heart of the king.

On every ground, then, David was called on to assert what was due to God against his own son. But this is only one of many instances scattered across the whole line of divine history. God does insist on righteousness, and He resents every failure to maintain it here below. Yet He never gives up grace. He always holds the title of divine mercy above the claims of earthly righteousness. And certainly David was one who could not resist such an appeal.

How solemn a thing it is to see this from time to time in scripture history, as we may see it now too. There are natural minds who can sometimes see more clearly what is fitting for a saint of God than saints themselves feel. But it is only those who know how to turn the grace of God to their own purposes when it suits them. This is what Joab was now doing through the woman of Tekoah. He held the truth in unrighteousness.

The king, however, seems not to be quite at ease. The pleading of our wise woman was as wise as it could have been. But the king was the guardian of the law. The softness of his heart had betrayed him into an act of grace, by which he had undertaken to set the law aside. Yet the thought seems to be lurking there, that he was a debtor to the law. However, at the king's word Absalom is brought home. But it is on terms of not seeing the king's face, and so he lives two full years in Jerusalem apart from David.

Having secured the ground this way, the woman begins to open the secret. The king had now pledged his royal word. Grace was very dear to his heart. His feelings were moved and stirred deeply. It was no new thing for him, as his treatment of Mephibosheth could attest. Who knew or valued so highly the "kindness of God"? He had known the need of it himself. Joab had taken advantage of this. He put forward this woman to plead before David the made-up trouble of her house. Now the king's conscience might be relieved. If he would spare another's house, despite guilt, would he not spare his own? This was what calmed his fears. Nothing could be more cunningly devised. So we see how the woman step by step begins to explain what she was really aiming at... It was no question of her son, but of the king's banished.

The woman's story need not be too like the story of Absalom: that might be dangerous. The emotions have a storm-like force. Once roused, they do not respect the channels of sober judgment, whether mental or moral. Give David's affections the needed push, and they will catch every likeness suggested and let the rest slip... When the king has pledged himself to the woman, it is assumed that he has judged his own case. He cannot draw back from his given word. The net is not spread in vain, though almost in sight of the bird.

The appeal is all to the heart... He borrows, perhaps, Nathan's method. But Nathan went through the heart to reach the conscience and work on it. Joab wants instead to override the conscience and set it aside. He has hardened his own conscience and prospered. He is no prophet, so he cannot foresee the end. The future does not trouble him, and he cannot see why conscience should trouble another so much.

"Joab the son of Zeruiah perceived that the king's heart was toward Absalom" (v. 1). He is not a man to let this chance pass without turning it to his own advantage. So he resorts to an unworthy scheme, to lead David to call the fugitive back to Jerusalem. The words he puts in the woman's mouth suggest his hidden motive: David might name Absalom as his successor... In truth, the words of this woman show us what Joab had in mind. He meant to secure a future position for himself with Absalom. Absalom would surely be grateful to him for bringing him back to the court.

She had finished the hardest part of her task: getting this commitment from David. Now she respectfully asks his permission to speak a further word. She uses it to apply David's commitment to his relationship with Absalom. She asks him why he had planned such a thing against the people of God. This was bold language, and not an accurate account of the facts, for David was not planning to kill Absalom... But David should have seen that her whole comparison was wrong. The cases were in no way parallel... Even David knew perfectly well that Absalom had shown no sign of repentance.

An appeal to grace always found its echo in David; so the woman of Tekoah comes to plead with the king for grace. He yields, forgetting that grace is not the only principle involved. God is also a righteous God. His grace cannot be lifted up at the cost of His righteousness.

The king had now pledged his royal word. Grace was very dear to his heart. Deep feeling moved him. Joab had taken advantage of that. He put this woman forward to plead before David about the made-up trouble in her house. Now the king's conscience could rest. If he would spare another's house despite its guilt, would he not spare his own? This was what calmed his fears. Nothing could have been more cleverly planned.

The emotions act with the force of a storm. Once roused, they do not keep to the channels of sober judgment, in thinking any more than in morals. Once the right push stirs David's affections, he will catch every likeness in the case put before him, and let the rest slip... The net is not spread in vain, though the bird nearly sees it.

She asks him why he had planned such a thing against the people of God. This was bold language. It was not an accurate account of the facts, for David was not planning to kill Absalom... She calls Absalom David's own "banished" one. She calls the king "faulty," because the ruling he gave about her son was not carried out with his own son. David should have seen that her whole comparison was wrong. The cases were not parallel at all.

Joab is not a man to let such a chance pass without turning it to his own advantage, so he uses a shabby scheme to get David to call the exile back to Jerusalem. The words he puts in the mouth of the woman of Tekoa suggest his hidden aim: to have David name Absalom as his successor... In this woman's words we can see that Joab meant to secure a future place for himself with Absalom, who would surely thank him for bringing him back to the court.

She had reached David's heart and won a pledge out of the warmth and rush of human affection. Now she wants to settle his conscience about it too. She wants him to learn that in God Himself he has a right to let "mercy rejoice against judgment" toward the guilty — just as his heart wished, and as his lips had promised... She pleads with David on Absalom's behalf the very mercy of God in the gospel.

Banished from the garden of Eden we most certainly are, and God does not propose to put us back into the Garden. There can be no return to a state of innocence. But God says, in effect, "If your sin has banished you from the Garden, by My grace I have devised a way so that you need not be shut out from Me."

It is also true that God has devised a wonderful means in the cross of Christ to restore banished, sinful souls. But even this does not apply to those who will not repent. That was the one fatal flaw in applying these things to Absalom. Even David knew that Absalom had shown no sign of repentance.

He gives in, forgetting that grace is not the only principle at stake. God is a righteous God too, and His grace cannot be lifted up at the cost of His righteousness. David follows Joab's advice, and it leads the king to abuse grace. That is all the more serious because his own fatherly affection was involved... Grace must not give way to feelings, family ties, or natural human softness.

To carry out this scheme Joab had the nerve to speak for God before the king.

This is only one of many instances that mark the whole line of divine history. God does insist on righteousness, and He resents all failure in keeping it here below. Yet He never abandons grace. He always holds the title of divine mercy above the claims of earthly righteousness. And certainly David was one who could not resist such an appeal... This then was what Joab, who had not the slightest appreciation of grace himself, would still know to be the surest way to David's heart.

If we knocked over a glass filled with, say, marbles, we could easily gather them up again. But if we spilled a glass of water, the wisest and most skilful man could not gather up every drop again. In a case of this kind we would be helpless. This surely is the lesson of the water spilled on the ground. We are helpless to wipe out a single sin from before God, to remove the sentence of death, or avert the judgment.

The pouring out of water was the acknowledgement of utter weakness and emptiness. No one had done anything like it before, and that shows Israel saw what was morally fitting for the moment. Such an acknowledgement of weakness cannot fail to bring blessing from God. In the spiritual realm, felt weakness is power.

When it is a question of how we stand before God, Romans 3:22-23 tells us plainly: "there is no distinction: for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." The king on his throne and the criminal in the condemned cell are alike in this respect: both are sinners needing a Saviour. But this great "no difference" truth does not stop with man's sin. Blessed be God, it holds good for His grace too.

Mark the two words "from Him"... Banished from the garden of Eden we most certainly are, and God does not propose to put us back into the Garden. There can be no return to a state of innocence. But God says, as it were: "Your sin banished you from the Garden. By My grace I have devised means so that you need not be expelled from Me."

God has, however, done it — because He can sprinkle blood on the throne such as the throne can accept. He can, and He has, joined righteousness with peace in this great matter. He brings His banished home with a sure and clear title to see His face and to walk in His presence. And His own throne is not only guiltless but glorified.

David's heart was toward the prodigal... Then Joab comes in through the wise woman of Tekoah. In the end David gives way and brings him back without judging his sin. But does God bring back His prodigals without judging their sin? No, no. He has judged it in the cross of Christ.

The wise woman continues to speak (in verses 15-17) as though she had given a true account of her own case. She tells David that the people had made her afraid, and that this moved her to come to him. She felt she could perhaps count on him to protect her and her son. In verse 17 she says she had told herself she could trust the king's word to comfort her, since he discerns good and evil. This was flattery, meant to win her point with David. She was the kind of woman who knew how to "wrap people around her finger."

He knew how soft David's heart was. He easily worked out that any scheme to help him bring back his banished child would be welcome. Doing the king this welcome service would also give him a fresh claim to be the second man around his throne. That is what sets Joab in motion now.

What a contrast between Nathan's mediation and that of Joab through the woman of Tekoah (2 Sam. 14)! There everything was trickery and lying. The aim was to work on the king's spirit, to flatter his hidden leanings, and in the end to put a deceitful and violent man on Israel's throne in place of David. Here prudence points out what should be done, without wavering from the truth in the least.

David wisely told the woman to go home and wait while he considered her case (v.8), but she wanted an answer at once. She knew she could not afford to have David enquire of others about her case... How well she knew how to influence David's feelings! Yet he should have known that he could not rely on the word of one woman alone, who was plainly biased in her own cause.

An appeal to grace always found its echo in David; therefore the woman of Tekoah comes to plead with the king for grace. He gives in. He forgets that grace is not the only principle at work. God is also a righteous God, and His grace can never be honoured at the cost of His righteousness. Joab's advice, which David followed, leads the king to abuse grace, and it is all the more serious because his own affections were involved. Grace must not give way to feelings, human ties, or the softness of human nature.

When we spare someone else unrighteously, to indulge our own feelings, we always expose ourselves to the evil of the nature we should have controlled and condemned.

David's heart went out to his prodigal son. But he said, "If this heart brings him back, this hand holds a sword that must be planted in his chest as soon as he returns." Then Joab comes in through the wise woman of Tekoah, as you read. In the end David gives way and brings him back without judging his sin. But does God bring back His prodigals without judging their sin? No, no. He has judged it in the Cross of Christ.

He will not let this occasion pass without using it to his own advantage. So he resorts to an unworthy intrigue to lead David to recall the fugitive to Jerusalem. The words he puts in the mouth of the woman of Tekoah lead us to suppose Joab's hidden motive. He wanted David to name Absalom as his successor: "Give up the man who struck his brother… and we will destroy the heir also" (v. 7)… In fact, in the words of this woman we can see that Joab had in mind to secure a future position for himself with Absalom, who would certainly be grateful to him for bringing him back to the court.

When the slayer found the shelter of the city of refuge, the judges were to hear his case at the gate, the recognised place for administering justice. If it turned out that he had not struck his neighbour deliberately, and had not hated him beforehand, then the slayer found a refuge within the walls. However, this secured the manslayer's life, not his inheritance. He forfeited that as long as he lived inside the city of refuge. He was only a refugee under protection.

The subtle Joab employed the woman of Tekoah. He knew well that the heart of the king was yearning after his guilty son. At the same time he knew that the king had difficulty in conscience, for he was the one who carried out the law of God. To him God had entrusted the sword in Israel. Absalom had brought the stain of blood on the people and the land of God, as well as on the family of the king.

It is the way of grace she pleads. It was impossible for David to resist this. If God devises means for His banished to return, who was David to differ from God? God has unstained holiness and a jealous regard for righteousness. Yet He still devises His effective means, and David knew it well. Who or what was David, then, that he should hold out against the pitiful case of his banished one?

Of course Joab meant this to apply to Absalom's killing of Amnon. But the cases were not parallel. First, David had more than two sons. Secondly, they did not fight together. One had deliberately planned to kill the other and did so in cold blood. The other was completely off guard.

An appeal to grace always found its echo in David; so the woman of Tekoah comes to plead with the king for grace. He yields, forgetting that grace is not the only principle involved. God is also a righteous God, and His grace must not rise at the expense of His righteousness… Grace ought not to yield to feelings, human ties, or the gentleness of human nature.

This gospel in the mouth of this unknown widow, the "wise woman of Tekoah," further shows us that Israel, even in the early days of God's dealings with them, had sweet truths to feed on. From the beginning the joy has been only one. "The woman's seed" was the king's highway built up under the eye of faith. It was the known and published good news, by which God has devised to fetch home His banished ones.

What, then, is "to know good and evil"? It is something said of the Godhead too: "as one of us," we read, "to know good and evil"! It is to sit in judgment and pass sentence on the good or evil we find in our own souls. The wise woman of Tekoa said of David the king, "my lord the king is like the angel of God to discern good and evil" (2 Sam. 14:17). This refers to the decisions of judgment. The same is said of Solomon in 1 Kings 3:9, and of Israel in Deut. 1:39; see also Heb. 5:14.

In verse 17 she goes further. She says she had told herself that she could trust the word of the king to comfort her, because he discerns good and evil. This was flattery to gain her point with David. She was telling him that he was wise enough to see that her argument was good. To back this up she adds, "The LORD your God be with you!" She was a woman who knew how to "wrap people around her finger."

He hides behind his tool, the woman of Tekoa, who will work on the heart of the king better than he could. The appeal is all to the heart. For that purpose the pity stirred by the widow's tale is the most powerful means anyone could design. He probably borrows Nathan's method. But Nathan went through the heart to reach the conscience and work on it. Joab goes through the heart to override the conscience and push it aside.

Once the king has given the woman his promise, the assumption is that he has judged his own case and cannot go back on his word. The net is not spread for nothing, even though the bird almost sees it.

In his heart there was a divine cord that always responded faithfully when touched. Joab knew this well and did not fail to use it. An appeal to grace always found its echo in David, so the woman of Tekoa comes to plead with the king for grace. He yields. He forgets that grace is not the only principle at work. God is also a righteous God, and His grace cannot be exalted at the expense of His righteousness.

Two things are ignored completely: the need of atonement for the broken law, and the guarantee about the future of the forgiven sinner. God's plan for restoring the banished includes both of these, so it makes for righteousness, as it must do if it is to be grace. Mercy to the unrepentant is only a licence to sin, and David finds the fruit of this in the end… So it is not grace according to God that the woman urges. It is only grace according to Joab, and he, like so many others, misunderstands and twists it.

David brings this young man back, but he brings him back unrighteously, without judging his sin. The result was that he grew bold… No one had judged his sin. He had come back unrighteously. His conscience was hardened. So this destroyed the moral character of David's throne. Where that character is destroyed, the throne is upset, and it provokes a revolt, as chapter 15 tells us.

Yet righteousness was not guarded here, as God does perfectly in Christ. So a suspicion arises that all was not straight... There could be no doubt that the story was very well built. Sadly, it was the parable of one whose heart was not in the matter.

The words he puts in the mouth of the woman of Tekoa lead us to suppose that Joab had a hidden motive. He wanted David to name Absalom as his successor: "Deliver him that struck his brother... and we will destroy the heir also" (v. 7)... In truth, in the words of this woman we can see that Joab had in mind to secure a future position for himself with Absalom. Absalom would surely be thankful to him for bringing him back to the court.

He hides behind his instrument, the woman of Tekoa. She will work more effectively on the heart of the king. The appeal is all to the heart... He may be borrowing Nathan's method. But Nathan went through the heart to reach the conscience and work on it. Joab does the opposite: he wants to override the conscience and set it aside.

Once the king has pledged himself to the woman, the assumption is that he has judged his own case. He cannot draw back from his pledged word. The net is not spread in vain, even though it is almost in sight of the bird.

Sometimes natural minds see more clearly what is fitting for one of God's people than God's people feel themselves. But only such people know how to turn the grace of God to their own purpose when it suits them. This is what Joab was now doing through the woman of Tekoa. He held the truth, but he held it in unrighteousness.

An appeal to grace always found its echo in David; so the woman of Tekoa comes to plead with the king for grace. He yields. He forgets that grace is not the only principle at work. God is also a righteous God, and His grace cannot be lifted up at the cost of His righteousness... He gave way to his love as a father. So he did not see the work of the enemy clearly enough, though it did not escape him completely: "Is the hand of Joab with you in all this?" (v. 19).

But again David acted without weighing this matter soberly before God. Wisdom would have seen the serious inconsistencies in Joab's illustration. Wisdom would have left Absalom where he was until he showed some evidence of repentance. But David let his feelings for Absalom come first. He told Joab to bring Absalom back to Jerusalem.

In all these records of those sad events we do not hear a word that David inquired of the Lord... It seems almost as if Joab imitated Nathan when he came with his message to David. But God had not sent him, and David's conscience was not touched. The wisdom he used was not the wisdom from above, but the wisdom of a cunning man.

Righteousness was not guarded here, as God does perfectly in Christ. So a suspicion arises that all was not straight... There could be no doubt that the parable was admirably drawn. Sadly, it was the parable of someone whose heart was not in the matter.

She kept turning the whole matter to Absalom's case. That could not help raising David's suspicions that Joab was involved, for he knew that Joab wanted Absalom brought back to Jerusalem. When David asked, she had to admit that Joab had planned the whole thing. She also flattered David, telling him that he was as wise as an angel of God in seeing it.

He is not a man to let this chance pass without using it to his personal advantage. So he turns to an unworthy scheme to lead David to call the runaway back to Jerusalem. The words he puts in the woman's mouth lead us to think Joab's hidden motive was that David might name Absalom as his successor.

In all these records of those sad events, we never hear that David asked the Lord about anything. Joab came up with a scheme to bring Absalom back into the king's favour. He must have tried this many times before — verses 19 and 22 show it. It almost seems as if Joab imitated Nathan when he came with his message to David. But God had not sent him, and David's conscience was not touched. The wisdom he used was not the wisdom from above, but the wisdom of a cunning man. The whole story was deception, and "the wise woman" of Tekoa lent herself as a willing instrument.

Two things are entirely ignored: the need of atonement for the broken law, and the guarantee about the future of the forgiven sinner. God's plan for restoring the banished includes both of these. So it makes for righteousness — as it must, if it is to be grace. Mercy to someone simply unrepentant is only a licence to sin, and David finds the fruit of this in the end. And to let the law be broken without repair weakens the whole power of government. So it is not grace according to God that the woman urges. It is only grace according to Joab. He, like so many others, misunderstands and twists it.

He gave in to his love as a father. So he did not see the enemy's work clearly enough, though it did not completely escape him: "Is the hand of Joab with you in all this?" The woman admits: "Joab has done this thing." Then the king says to Joab: "Behold now, I have done this thing." He now takes responsibility for what Joab wanted to do. The enemy, Absalom, is received at Jerusalem — and what an enemy he proves to be!

When the king did discover the aim, he did not go back on his word... He owed everything to grace, and to nothing so much as grace. He could not possibly disown an appeal to grace.

There could be no doubt that the story was very well drawn. Sadly, it was the parable of someone whose heart was not in the matter. It is a serious thing to see what Scripture history shows again and again, and what we may see now too. Some natural minds can at times see more clearly what suits a saint of God than the saints themselves feel. But they are only people who know how to turn the grace of God to their own purposes when it suits them. This is what Joab was now doing by the woman of Tekoah. He held the truth in unrighteousness.

The words he puts in the mouth of the woman of Tekoah lead us to suppose that Joab's hidden motive was that David might name Absalom as his successor… In truth, in the words of this woman we can see that Joab had in mind to secure a future position for himself with Absalom. Absalom would certainly be thankful to him for bringing him back to the court.

He hides himself behind his tool, the woman of Tekoa, who will work better on the heart of the king. The appeal is all to the heart… He borrows Nathan's method, perhaps. But Nathan sought through the heart to reach and work on the conscience. Joab, on the contrary, seeks to override the conscience and set it aside. He has hardened his own conscience and prospered. He is no prophet, so he cannot foresee the end, and the future does not trouble him. He cannot see why conscience should trouble another so much.

In the application, the justice of the case is cleverly made out to be sin against the people of God: the king is guilty in not bringing home his banished one. More than that, her plea urges the grace of God against him — grace that David himself had so clearly proved. God Himself "plans that the banished one should not stay banished from Him." So David is walled off from the appeal of conscience, and hedged in on every side.

She keeps turning the whole matter to Absalom's case. That could not help but raise David's suspicions that Joab was involved, for he knew that Joab wanted Absalom brought back to Jerusalem. In answer to his question about this, she now has to admit that Joab planned the whole thing. Yet she flatters David, telling him that he was as wise as an angel of God in seeing it.

An appeal to grace always found its echo in David. So the woman of Tekoah comes to plead with the king for grace. He yields, forgetting that grace is not the only principle involved. God is also a righteous God, and His grace cannot be exalted at the expense of His righteousness. Joab's advice, which David followed, leads the king into an abuse of grace. It is all the more serious because his own affections were involved… He gave way to his love as a father, and so did not discern the work of the enemy well enough. Even so, this did not fully escape him: "Is the hand of Joab with you in all this?"

This shows us that we may often find some stray and rich grains of wheat in the far corners of the Lord's granary. And this gospel in the mouth of this unknown widow, the "wise woman of Tekoah," further shows us that Israel, even in their infant stage, had sweet truths to feed on.