And the king said to Joab, Behold now, I have done this thing so go, bring back the young man Absalom.
Joab's plan has worked. The woman of Tekoa has pleaded, David has seen who stood behind her story, and now the king orders Absalom home — but is this grace, or only something that looks like it?
David does not pretend Joab tricked him. He knows whose plan this is, yet he speaks as the man who acts. (Older translations read "I have done this thing" where the ESV has "I grant this.") One writer shows the soft spot Joab aimed at, and what hitting it cost:
An appeal to grace always found an echo in David, so the woman of Tekoa 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. Joab's advice, which David followed, leads the king to abuse grace. That is all the more serious because his own feelings for his son were involved... and the king says to Joab, "Behold now, I have done this thing." He now takes responsibility for what Joab wanted to do.
Commentators differ on how much blame David deserves. One writer reads him more kindly here:
But when the king did discover the aim behind it all, he did not go back on his word. He says to Joab, "Behold now, I have done this thing." He owed everything to grace, and to nothing as much as grace, so he could not turn down an appeal to grace.
The man told to fetch Absalom was no friend of mercy. One writer weighs what Joab saw in the king against what God had already said:
Through the prophet the Lord had told David which of his sons He had chosen. That son was Solomon, whom God called "Jedidiah, the beloved of the Lord." Joab saw that David's heart secretly held the wish to make Absalom his successor. David may not even have admitted that wish to himself. Could the king hesitate between God's clear word and Joab's self-seeking hints?... It is a serious thing to let our natural affections guide us, however right they may be, instead of the spiritual judgment God has given us.
The woman's plea borrowed the language of grace. One writer weighs it and finds two things missing:
Two things are left out, however: the need of atonement for the broken law, and any guarantee about the future of the forgiven sinner. God's own plan for restoring the banished includes both. That is why it upholds righteousness, as it must if it is to be grace. Mercy to someone who has not repented is only a licence to sin, and David reaps the fruit of this in the end. To let the law be broken without any repayment weakens all the power of government. So the woman is not urging grace as God gives it. She urges only grace as Joab pictures it, and he, like many others, misunderstands it and twists it.
David's order stops short of a welcome. One writer shows where the king drew the line, and why:
David still held back in one serious way. He told Joab to send Absalom to his own home, but he refused to see Absalom himself. How could he rightly show any fellowship with Absalom while the young man stayed hardened in self-righteousness?
What follows in the story is the verdict on the decision:
David brings back this young man, but he brings him back unrighteously, without judging his sin, and the result was that he grew bold... Absalom was a murderer. However deep Amnon's guilt may have been, there was no excuse for Absalom. He was a murderer, and yet at the end of chapter 14 you hear him saying, "If there is any guilt in me." No one had judged his sin. He had come back unrighteously, his conscience was hardened, and so the moral character of David's throne was destroyed. Where the moral character is destroyed the throne is upset, and it provokes a revolt, as chapter 15 tells us.
- Pressure. Joab found the king's soft spot — an appeal to grace — and worked it for his own ends.
- Pledge. David owns the act. He had lived on grace himself, and could not refuse an appeal to grace, even when he saw who framed the plea.
- Piece missing. The plea left out atonement and left out any change in Absalom — mercy to the unrepentant is only a licence to sin.
- Partial. The restoration is half done. Absalom comes home, but not to the king's face — there was nothing yet to have fellowship with.
- Price. Sin unjudged hardens the sinner and undermines the throne — the revolt of chapter 15 grew out of this order.
And Joab fell to the ground on his face and bowed himself, and blessed the king; and Joab said, To-day thy servant knows that I have found favour in thy sight, my lord, O king, in that the king has fulfilled the request of his servant.
Joab has won: the woman he coached has worked on David's heart, and the king has ordered Absalom home. Now the commander of the army bows to the ground and thanks his master for the favour.
Joab's thanks are the delight of a man whose advice had carried the day. He had also misjudged what he was bringing into the kingdom.
Joab was delighted that David had listened to his advice, and he even bowed to the ground in thanksgiving before him (v.22). How mistaken he was in thinking that such action would consolidate the unity of the kingdom! On the surface it might seem so. But Absalom's arrogant pride was a grave danger to the kingdom, and Joab was completely blind to it.
Joab calls it "the request of his servant," and the request really was his own, not Absalom's. What he wanted from it was position.
He knew how soft David's heart was, and easily worked out that any scheme to help him bring his banished child back would be welcome. Doing the king this welcome service would give him a fresh claim to be second around his throne, and that is what sets Joab in motion now. He did not much care about Absalom's exile.
David discovered what Joab was aiming at, and he kept his word anyway. The reason lies in what David himself had received.
But the king, when he did discover the aim, did not swerve from his word. He says to Joab, "Behold now, I grant this." David owed everything to grace, and to nothing so much as grace. He could not possibly disown an appeal to grace. So he commanded, "Go, bring back the young man Absalom." Joab thanks the king, and acts.
The argument that moved David was true, and the man who supplied it had no share in it himself.
There could be no doubt that the story was well made. Sadly, it was the parable of one whose heart was not in the matter. It is solemn to see this from time to time in 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. This is what Joab was now doing through the woman of Tekoah. He held the truth in unrighteousness.
Joab asked for mercy with nothing settled underneath it.
Two things are completely left out, 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 of these. So it makes for righteousness, as it must do to be grace. Mercy to the merely unrepentant is only 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 more, misunderstands and twists it.
Joab had the order he wanted, but the homecoming had a limit.
David, however, still had a very serious reserve. He told Joab to send Absalom to his own home, but refused to see Absalom himself (v.24). How could he rightly show any fellowship with Absalom while the young man was still hardened in self-righteousness?
The favour Joab won turned against him, and God was using the whole affair for His own purposes.
Joab found his master in Absalom. God allows all these things. He had already used Joab's deceits, his cunning, his wickedness and his cruelty to carry out His own purposes. He will use Absalom to the same end, and in the end His ways will be only ways of grace toward David. But Joab must now obey the man he had thought to dominate. He will not forget this. Absalom has become an obstacle to his plans, a power Joab can no longer count on and one who has turned against him. At a suitable moment Joab will kill Absalom.
The man who says here that he has found favour ends without any.
Joab was zealous and able, the mightiest of David's mighty men. Yet he showed no grace to others, and he found none for himself at the end.
- Request. The plea David granted was Joab's own. He wanted to stand second around the throne, not to help Absalom.
- Favour. David owed everything to grace, so he could not turn down an appeal to grace.
- Twist. Joab could argue for mercy while having no share in it. He turned the grace of God to his own purpose.
- Lack. His mercy left out atonement and any security for the future — grace according to Joab, not grace according to God. Absalom came home, but the king would not see him.
- Result. The favour he won made Absalom his master. Joab showed no grace to others and found none for himself — while God used it all for His own purposes.
And Joab arose and went to Geshur, and brought Absalom to Jerusalem.
Joab obeys the king and rides to Geshur, where Absalom had been hiding since he killed his brother Amnon. He brings him back to Jerusalem. The journey looks like mercy. But the commentators press two questions on it: who really gained by it, and can a man come home while his heart stays where it was?
The man who makes the trip is not a neutral messenger. One writer listens to the woman who pleaded with David and finds a private calculation under the whole rescue.
In fact, the woman's words show us that Joab meant to secure a future position for himself with Absalom. Absalom was bound to be grateful to him for bringing him back to the court.
The way the exile was fetched back still carries a shadow of something greater, and the timing of what follows is itself a pattern.
The way Absalom was brought home pictures a magnificent display of divine mercy. Here again we have another witness to the same truth we have often noted. It is only after God has shown His rich mercy that Satan and man ripen and carry out their deepest malice.
Earlier in her plea the woman said that God devises means so that His banished are not shut out from Him. One writer names that means.
Here, then, is the means that God in His love has devised, so that His banished ones are not shut out from Him. The Son of Man, in whom there is no cause for death, dies in the place of the man who must die. The Saviour dies for the sinner. The Just for the unjust.
Commentators differ on how far that plea matched God's way. One writer finds two things missing from it, and finds the proof in how the homecoming turned out.
Two things, however, are left out completely: the need of atonement for the broken law, and a guarantee about the future of the forgiven sinner. God's plan for restoring the banished includes both. That is why it makes for righteousness, as it must do if it is to be grace. Mercy to a person who has not repented is only permission 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… There is no ring, no fattened calf, not even a sight of his father's face, for the unhappy man whom the commander of the army brings back from Geshur.
A change of address changed nothing in him. Everything Scripture records about him after the return is about how he looked.
But he is still Absalom. Wherever or however we see him, he is himself. His taste remains in him, and his smell is unchanged, even though he had now returned from exile… He comes home the same self-willed Absalom, the servant of his own desires and of nothing else… All that can be said in his praise, as with Saul before him, concerns his outward good looks.
David's love for his son was real. One writer weighs that love against what God had already said.
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. Through the prophet the Lord had let him know which of his sons He had chosen. That son was Solomon, whom God had named "Jedidiah," the beloved of the Lord… Could the king hesitate between God's clear word and Joab's self-seeking hints?… It is a serious thing to let our natural affections direct us, however proper they may be, instead of the spiritual judgment God has given us.
One writer notes what was missing from the whole affair, and what it later cost.
In all these records of those sad events we hear not a word that David asked the Lord… And so Absalom was brought back. The king commands, "Let him dwell apart in his own house; he is not to come into my presence." It was an evil hour when it happened. Absalom's rebellion and the king's exile were the fruit of Joab's unscrupulous plot.
- Errand. Joab's ride to Geshur was not pure kindness. He worked to secure his own standing with the next king.
- Shadow. The homecoming still pictures divine mercy. Malice often ripens right after God shows mercy.
- Means. God devises means so His banished are not shut out from Him. One writer names that means: the Just dying for the unjust.
- Shortfall. David's pardon lacked atonement and lacked repentance. So it was grace as Joab conceived it: no ring, no feast, no sight of his father's face.
- Fruit. Absalom came home unchanged in heart. The rebellion that drove David from his throne grew out of this hour.
And the king said, Let him turn to his own house, and let him not see my face. And Absalom withdrew to his own house, and saw not the king's face.
David lets Absalom come home from exile — but not all the way home. His son gets a house in the city and a closed door at the palace. That half-welcome raises two questions. Can a king forgive a crime no one has confessed? And what does such a pardon do to his kingdom?
David's order does two things at once. It brings Absalom home. It also keeps him away from the king. One writer explains both halves:
When the king did see what Joab was aiming at, he still did not go back on his word. He says to Joab, "Behold now, I have done this thing." He owed everything to grace, to nothing so much as grace, so he could not turn down an appeal to grace. So he commands, "Go therefore, bring the young man Absalom again." Joab thanks the king, and acts. But David is not indifferent to the guilt of the past, and he forbids Absalom to come near him.
(The quotes keep the wording of an older English Bible. In the ESV, David's order reads, "Go, bring back the young man Absalom.")
Why does the text measure Absalom's standing by whether he sees his father? Because in Scripture the face is the register of favour:
David gives us a striking, though negative, example. He would not let Absalom see his face (2 Sam. 14:24). This made it clear that Absalom no longer enjoyed his father's favour.
David's reserve was not coldness. Absalom came home unchanged inside:
David, however, still held something back, and it was serious. He told Joab to send Absalom to his own house, but he refused to see Absalom himself (v.24). How could it be right for him to show any fellowship with the young man while he was still hardened in self-righteousness?
The recall had skipped the one thing that mattered. A father's feelings brought Absalom back, not a changed heart:
David allows him to return, against the clear command of the law. Even if he had only killed a man by accident, he should have stayed in a city of refuge. But he was a murderer. With his murder still on him, David takes him back on purely natural grounds — no confession, no judgement, no atonement.
David had a soft spot, and Joab knew how to use it. A woman from Tekoah begged the king to show grace, and David could never say no to such an appeal:
An appeal to grace always found an answer 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 at stake. God is also a righteous God, and His grace cannot be lifted up at the cost of His righteousness. Joab's advice, which David followed, leads the king to abuse grace. That is all the more serious because his own feelings as a father were involved... Grace should not give way to feelings, family ties, or natural human kindness. But in David it did.
Verse 24 is David trying to hold back what he has already let go. Righteousness comes in late here, as a closed door instead of a real judgment.
The plan was not David's own, and David never took it to God. One writer points out what is missing from the whole story:
In all these records of those sad events we do not hear one word about David asking the Lord... The wisdom he used was not the wisdom from above, but the wisdom of a cunning man. The whole story was a deception, and "the wise woman" of Tekoah let herself be used as a willing tool. And David finds out that it is all a plot; yet, blinded by a mere love for Absalom, and without thinking of God's claims in this case, he becomes a willing victim of Joab's scheme... The king commands, "Let him turn to his own house, and let him not see my face." It was an evil hour when it happened. Absalom's rebellion and the king's exile were the fruit of Joab's dishonest plot.
Commentators differ on where most of the blame falls. Some point to Joab's scheming. Others point to David, who never brought the matter to God.
- Recalled — An appeal to grace always moved David, so he brought Absalom home. But he was "not indifferent to the guilt of the past," so he shut him out of his presence.
- Refused — Seeing the king's face meant standing in his favour. Shut out of it, Absalom was home in the city but not welcome at the palace.
- Unrepentant — Absalom returns with "no confession, no judgement, no atonement," and David cannot express fellowship with a son "still hardened in self-righteousness."
- Unbalanced — Grace is not the only principle in play; God is also righteous, and "His grace cannot be exalted at the expense of His righteousness."
- Unravelling — David never asked the Lord. The plot was Joab's, and "Absalom's rebellion and the king's exile were the fruit" of it.
But in all Israel there was none to be so much praised as Absalom for his beauty from the sole of his foot even to the crown of his head there was no blemish in him.
Absalom is back in Jerusalem, and the record pauses to describe him: the handsomest man in Israel, flawless from head to toe. Scripture says little about how people look. So why measure this man only by his surface?
Absalom comes home from exile unchanged. When commentators look for something to praise in him, all they find is a description of his body.
But he is still Absalom; wherever or however we see him, he is himself. His taste remains in him, and his scent is not changed, even though he had now returned from exile. He comes home the same self-willed Absalom, the servant of his own passions and of them only. "Who is lord over us?" is the language of everything he does. Everything that can be said in any way of commendation is, like Saul before him, about his good looks. We have no account of him beyond this of his beauty.
One writer sets Absalom's flawless body next to Isaiah's picture of the inner man.
Absalom's physical appearance was so attractive that he drew the attention of all the people. "From the sole of his foot to the crown of his head there was no blemish in him." Of his body this was true. But Absalom ought to have known that spiritually "from the sole of the foot even to the head, there is no soundness in it, but bruises and sores and raw wounds" (Isa. 1:6). He was evidently proud of the growth of his hair also, since he let it grow for a year before cutting it. Long hair is a glory to a woman, but a shame to a man (1 Cor. 11:14-15). It is meant to signify subjection, but with Absalom this was only hypocrisy.
Beauty is not evil in itself. But in a man who has drifted from God, it turns dangerous.
At this point we are told of the great beauty of Absalom. It is one of the miseries of a soul away from God that every natural gift becomes evil instead of good. Among these gifts, none is more ensnaring than personal beauty. Simply because it is external, it is the thing most surely appreciated both by its owner and by those around him. Even against our better judgment, it is hard to believe that this fair exterior does not truly represent the soul within.
The praise itself did damage.
Absalom was a remarkably handsome man. We can well understand such a handsome boy and young man being greatly spoiled by such praises.
Israel had already taken one king chiefly for his looks. The same instinct stirs again here.
Next the Spirit of God gives us the description of the person of Absalom. There was everything to attract the eye. There was everything to meet the natural desires of anyone who would want the best-looking man in Israel to be king. Nature had worked this way before in the choice of Saul. It worked the same way again with Absalom.
Some writers see the portrait pointing forward, to a ruler still to come.
Surely both of them are pictures of the beast, the wilful king of the last days. And will he not be decked out with the same beauty in the flesh? Will he not have his gifts and fine proportions all to admiration? Will he not be perfect in every subtle attraction and form of beauty, like the serpent in the garden?
Absalom's looks were the asset he used. But they only worked at a distance.
Absalom stole the hearts of the men of Israel. He came in by flatteries and took over David's place in their thoughts and affections. He was a good-looking man, well suited to captivate the crowd. But his beauty and his flattery had no effect on those who were close to David. When the messenger came saying, "The hearts of the men of Israel are after Absalom," it became clear who was for David.
In the Song of Songs the bride reaches for a word Absalom could never earn.
Natural beauty may be found in someone in whom violence and corruption are most pronounced, as we read of Absalom. In the Beloved there was more than the absence of blemishes — He is altogether lovely.
- Surface. "No blemish" describes his skin, not his soul. Isaiah 1:6 uses the same head-to-foot sweep for a body with no soundness in it.
- Snare. Away from God, a natural gift turns against its owner. Beauty most of all, because both its owner and everyone around him prize it.
- Spoiled. Praise spoiled the handsome boy. His long hair should have meant subjection; in him it was hypocrisy.
- Sway. Looks and flattery won the crowd. They had no power over the men who stood near David, and that showed who truly belonged to him.
- Standard. Absalom had no blemish; only the Beloved is altogether lovely. Having no faults is not the same as being lovely.
And when he shaved his head (for it was at every year's end that he shaved it, because it was heavy on him, therefore he shaved it), he weighed the hair of his head at two hundred shekels after the king's weight.
Between the note on Absalom's flawless looks and the list of his children sits a strange piece of bookkeeping. A young man cut his hair once a year and weighed the clippings. The commentators read this small detail as a window into the man who would soon try to take his father's throne.
One writer reads the yearly weighing as visible proof of what beauty was doing to Absalom:
Here we are told of Absalom's great beauty. It is one of the miseries of a soul away from God that every natural gift becomes evil instead of good. Among these gifts, none is more ensnaring than personal beauty. Being purely external, it is the thing most surely appreciated both by the one who has it and by those around him. Even against our better judgment, it is hard to believe that a fair exterior does not truly represent the soul within. Absalom was certainly conscious of his power in this respect — who that has it is not? His vanity shows in the long allowed growth and the weight of his thick hair.
The verse measures the hair "by the king's weight." That phrase names one of two shekels used in the Old Testament:
Note that two shekels are mentioned in the Old Testament. One is according to "the king's weight," probably the standard shekel used for all ordinary business. The other is called the "shekel of the sanctuary," of which it is said, "the shekel is 20 gerahs." This perhaps implies that the common shekel was different. Michaelis says that the proportion was 5 to 3, the business shekel being the smaller.
The weighing itself is the point. One writer links the yearly ritual to what long hair was meant to say about a man:
He was evidently proud of the growth of his hair too, for he let it grow a year before cutting it. Long hair is a glory to a woman but a shame to a man (1 Cor. 11:14-15). It is meant to signify subjection, but with Absalom this was only hypocrisy. He was so proud of its luxuriant growth that he weighed it when he cut it! Its weight came to about five and a half pounds. Philippians 3:19 speaks of such people, those who "glory in their shame."
Commentators differ over the number itself. The Hebrew letters for twenty and two hundred look alike, so one writer reads the figure as twenty and treats two hundred as a copyist's slip (Arno Clemens Gaebelein).
The hair and the flawless body are all the record gives us to praise:
He comes home the wilful Absalom still, the servant of his own passions and of them only. "Who is lord over us?" is the language of everything he does. His tongue was his own. "No God," he says in his heart continually. Everything that can be said in any way of commendation is, like Saul before him, about his good looks in the flesh. We have no account of him beyond this of his beauty.
The description explains Absalom's pull on the nation. It also repeats an older mistake, the choice of Saul:
Next the Spirit of God gives us the description of the person of Absalom. There was everything to attract the eye. There was everything to meet the natural desires of anyone who would want the best-looking man in Israel to be king. Nature had done its work earlier in the choice of Saul. It was repeated again with Absalom.
The hair he weighed and admired appears once more in the story — hanging in a tree:
He hangs in the tree, another Lot's wife to be kept in constant remembrance. He had taken and set up for himself a pillar in the king's valley and called it by his own name, because he had no son to keep his memory alive on earth. But the Lord was now giving him another and a very different memorial — a memorial of shame, not glory. His body was thrown into a pit in the forest, and a great heap of stones was piled on him. All his glory was tarnished. He was hanged by the hair of his head, which had been his boast in the flesh. Instead of a pillar to his own name, he is made a pillar to us — a witness to the shame and ruin of turning away from God.
- The gift. Beauty was a real gift, but in a soul away from God every natural gift turns evil instead of good.
- The weighing. He cut his hair each year and put it on the scales. That is vanity made measurable — glory placed in what should have marked subjection.
- The standard. "The king's weight" was the everyday business shekel, not the sanctuary shekel. Absalom used a merchant's scale on himself.
- The record. Beyond his looks, Scripture has nothing to commend in him — a man whose tongue was his own and who said in his heart, "No God."
- The end. The hair he boasted in hanged him, and the pillar he raised to his own name is now a memorial of shame instead of glory.
And to Absalom there were born three sons, and one daughter, whose name was Tamar she was a woman of a beautiful countenance.
Chapter 14 ends by counting what Absalom had: three sons and a daughter named Tamar, beautiful like her father. Later he says he has no son at all — so why does Scripture pause here to list his children?
The sons, the daughter and the good looks form one list of natural advantages. David leaned toward Absalom because of them, and one writer shows why that was a mistake.
He ought to have understood that Absalom could not be the man according to God's purposes, despite all his outward advantages (vv. 25-27). Absalom was a very handsome man, perhaps as impressive as Saul. David had seen his own brother Eliab set aside, in spite of his handsome appearance, to make room for David himself, the poor keeper of the sheep. Even Samuel had thought of Eliab: "Surely the LORD's anointed is before Him" (1 Sam 16:6). It is a serious thing to let our natural affections guide us, however right they may be, instead of the spiritual judgment God has given us.
Of the four children, only the daughter gets a description: she was beautiful to look at, like her father. But there is a second beauty, and that is the one God values.
This world offers different types of beauty… Outward beauty by itself is worth nothing except in men's eyes. There is another beauty that can go together with outward beauty in men of faith, and God values it as the reflection of character: the beauty of a pure soul or of simple faith, the shining out of a heart that shuts out evil and sin, a heart with no deceit in it.
Absalom gave his daughter the name of his own sister — the sister whose disgrace at Amnon's hands started the whole tragedy. Verse 25 said no blemish could be found in Absalom from head to foot. One writer sets that against a very different head-to-foot picture, then notes the naming.
Physically this was true. But Absalom should have known that spiritually "from the sole of the foot even to the head, there is no soundness in it, but bruises and sores and raw wounds" (Isa. 1:6)… We are also told that Absalom had three sons and a beautiful daughter, and that he named her after his sister Tamar (v. 27).
The sons disappear from the record; the daughter's line does not. Years later King Rehoboam took a granddaughter of Absalom as his wife.
Then he took Maacah, a granddaughter of Absalom. According to Josephus, Maacah's mother was Tamar, the daughter of Absalom (2 Sam. 14:27). He had many wives and concubines. So he gave way to the same taste for many wives that his father and grandfather had, and his turning away from God most likely started with this sin.
Later Absalom sets up a pillar because he has no son to keep his name alive. Some readers treat that as a contradiction with this verse and a sign of two different sources. One writer gives a simpler answer.
He had hoped for a more honorable death. In his lifetime he had set up a pillar and called it after his own name, "for he said, 'I have no son to keep my name in remembrance.'" Some claim that the books of Samuel are a patchwork by many writers who used different sources. They point us to chapter 14:27 and to the discrepancy. But why should there be one? Absalom may have put up this monument before he had any sons, or he may have lost his two sons.
Three sons were not enough to keep the name he wanted, and neither was the pillar he built. The Lord gave him a different memorial.
He had taken and set up for himself a pillar in the King's Valley, and called it after his own name, because he had no son to keep his memory alive on the earth. But the Lord was now giving him another and very different memorial — a memorial in shame and not in glory… instead of a pillar to his own name, he becomes a pillar to us — a witness to the shame and ruin of turning away from God.
- Named — his one daughter carries the name of the sister whose ruin started the family's collapse. Like her father, she is praised only for her looks.
- Weighed — sons and good looks are natural advantages, and none of them made Absalom God's choice. Natural affection must not overrule spiritual judgment.
- Lost — by the time Absalom says he has no son, the three sons are gone. He may have built his monument before they were born, or outlived them.
- Carried — the line that lasted ran through the daughter. Tamar's own daughter Maacah became King Rehoboam's wife.
- Remembered — he built a pillar to keep his name alive, and the Lord gave him a memorial of shame instead. The name that lasts is a warning, not a glory.
So Absalom dwelt two full years in Jerusalem, and did not see the king's face.
Absalom is back in Jerusalem, living in his own house in his father's city, yet for two full years the door to the king's presence stays shut. He is home, yet not welcome. What is a restoration worth when it stops short of the king's own face?
In a royal court, access to the king measured a man's standing. One writer draws out what the ban told everyone watching:
David gives us a striking example here, though a negative one: he would not let Absalom see his face (2 Sam. 14:24). In this way it became clear that Absalom no longer enjoyed his father's favour.
Another writer describes what such access meant:
To see the king's face was the highest privilege of all. Anyone the king let into his presence could count himself happy… To see the king's face is to share his close friendship.
So Absalom had the city, the house, the name — and none of the nearness.
Joab's scheme and a wise woman's pleading had brought Absalom back, but David never looked easy about it. One writer traces the king's unease to his own duty: he was the guardian of the law he had just set aside:
The king, however, does not seem to be quite at ease… But the king was the guardian of the law. His soft heart had led him into an act of grace, by which he undertook to set the law aside. Yet the thought seems to lurk there that he was in debt to the law. So, 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.
The two years were not aimless. They came at the end of a longer wait:
Two more years passed. That made five years in which David had been waiting for some sign of repentance from Absalom. Absalom knew very well why his father did not want to see him. But he seemed to count on time healing the break, without ever admitting he had done wrong.
David's refusal had a reason behind it:
How could he rightly show any fellowship with Absalom while the young man was still hardened in self-righteousness?
Yet a partial welcome satisfies nobody. One writer sets Joab's scheme beside God's way of bringing back the banished:
Two things are left out completely, however: 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, and so it makes for righteousness — as it must, if it is to be grace. Mercy to the unrepentant is only permission to sin, and David finds the fruit of this in the end. To let the law be broken without repair weakens the whole power of government… He cannot receive Absalom as the repentant man he was not. He dare not open his arms the way God does with a returning son. There is no ring, no fatted calf, not even a sight of his father's face, for the unhappy man whom the commander of the army brings back from Geshur.
God's welcome of a returning son is full. David's stopped short of an embrace.
Living back in the city did nothing for Absalom's heart. He came home the man he had always been:
But he is still Absalom. Wherever or however we see him, he is himself… He comes home the same self-willed Absalom, the servant of his own passions and of nothing else. "Who is lord over us?" is the language of everything he does… The only praise anyone can give him is, like Saul before him, praise of his good looks.
One writer counts what that hollow peace cost David, and sets God's way beside it:
Had David acted faithfully towards Absalom, he would have saved himself all the grief that came from a kiss of reconciliation without repentance. Absalom not only tried to take the kingdom from his father, but also to take his life. When God reconciles, He not only does so in perfect righteousness, bringing repentant sinners near to Him in grace, but He also clears every bit of enmity out of the heart.
- Face. Seeing the king's face meant favour and closeness. Shut out, Absalom had a house in Jerusalem but no standing with his father.
- Half. A scheme brought Absalom home, and terms kept him at arm's length. David was uneasy the whole time.
- Wait. David waited five years for one sign of repentance. Absalom expected time to do what only confession could do.
- Mercy. Mercy to the unrepentant is only permission to sin. No ring, no fatted calf, no father's face: grace that ignores righteousness is not grace.
- Unchanged. Two years back in the city left him the same self-willed man. A new address changes nothing while the heart stays hard.
Then Absalom sent for Joab, to send him to the king; but he would not come to him; and he sent again the second time, but he would not come.
Absalom has been back in Jerusalem for two years. He lives in his own house, but his father will not see him. So he sends for Joab, the man who arranged his return, to carry his case to the king. Twice Joab will not come.
David's distance was deliberate. He was waiting for something:
Two more years passed. That made five years in which David had been waiting for some sign of repentance from Absalom. Absalom knew very well why his father did not want to see him. But it seems he counted on time healing the break, without ever admitting he had done wrong.
David had drawn the line when Absalom first came home:
David, however, still held back in a very serious way. He told Joab to send Absalom to his own home, but he refused to see Absalom himself (v.24). How could he show any fellowship with Absalom while the young man was still hardened in self-righteousness?
Joab had his own reason for staying away:
Still, David does not want this guilty man to come before him. Joab accepts his master's decision. Once, twice, he refuses to see Absalom, who had called him, because he senses that it is in his interest to side with the king.
Joab ends up under the man he brought home, and God allows it:
Joab found his master in Absalom. God allows all these things. He had already used Joab's lies, his cunning, his wickedness and his cruelty to carry out His own purposes. He will use Absalom in the same way. And in the end His ways toward David will be only ways of grace.
Sending twice is the whole of what Absalom offers the man he owes everything. One writer lets that small detail show his character:
He comes home the same self-willed Absalom, the servant of his own passions and of nothing else. "Who is master over us?" is the language of everything he does... His acts from first to last are enough to give him his right name and place. In his own character, and in everything that character shows itself in, Absalom is still the self-willed one... Even kindnesses have little claim on him. He may send to Joab, the man he owed everything to, a second time. But beyond that small courtesy his heart owns no debt to him.
Absalom is home but unwelcome. That half-place came from a pardon with no repentance behind it. The woman who pleaded for him had urged mercy on David with no place for righteousness:
Two things are completely ignored, however: the need for atonement to the broken law, and any guarantee about the future of the forgiven sinner. God's way of restoring the banished includes both, and so it makes for righteousness — as it must, if it is to be grace. Mercy to a person who has not repented is only permission to sin, and David finds the fruit of this in the end. Letting the law be broken with no amends made weakens the whole power of government. So what the woman urges is not grace as God gives it; it is only grace as Joab understands it... He cannot receive Absalom as a repentant man, because Absalom was not one. He dare not open his arms the way God does when a lost son comes home.
Commentators differ on where the blame falls. Some trace it all to the plot itself: "Absalom's rebellion and the king's exile were the fruit of Joab's dishonest plot" (Arno Clemens Gaebelein).
Refused twice, Absalom forced Joab to come:
Finally Absalom took the initiative, sending for Joab to act as a go-between. But Joab would not come. Twice he refused to come to Absalom. But Absalom was a determined young man. Nothing would satisfy him until the king took him back into full favor — at least in public, before the people. He told his servants to set fire to a field of ripe barley belonging to Joab (v.30). This brought Joab to Absalom in protest. But we never read of Absalom paying Joab for his loss.
- Face withheld. David shut Absalom out for two more years — five in all. He was waiting for a sign of repentance that never came.
- Face demanded. Absalom wanted his place back without confessing anything. He counted on time, not sorrow, to heal the break.
- Face avoided. Joab had arranged the return. He refused twice, because his interest now lay with the king. Then he found he had made a master he could not control.
- Face of ingratitude. Absalom sent twice. That was the whole of his courtesy to the man he owed everything. He owned no debt, and burned Joab's barley when he was ignored.
- Face of God's way. Mercy given to the unrepentant is only permission to sin. God's way of restoring the banished upholds righteousness. David's half-pardon did not, and it bore its fruit in rebellion.
Then he said to his servants, See, Joab's allotment is near mine and he has barley there go and set it on fire. And Absalom's servants set the allotment on fire.
Absalom has been back in Jerusalem for two years, yet the king still refuses to see him, and Joab has twice ignored his summons. So he burns a neighbour's ripe crop to force a meeting — an act that tells us more about him than about the field.
Absalom had run out of polite options. One writer traces what he wanted, and what never followed the fire:
Absalom finally acted, sending for Joab to be his go-between. But Joab would not come. Absalom was a determined young man. He would not get what he wanted until the king took him back into full favour — at least in public, before the people. He told his servants to set fire to a field of ripened barley belonging to Joab (v.30). This brought Joab to Absalom in protest, though we do not read of Absalom ever paying Joab for his loss.
The field belonged to the one man who had worked to bring Absalom home:
In his fury Absalom sets Joab's field on fire. He turns violence on the very man who had pleaded his cause, then travelled to Geshur to fetch him, then brought him back to Jerusalem — and who had counted on all this to put Absalom in his debt.
Exile had changed nothing in him. Another writer says kindness laid no debt on his heart:
He comes home the same self-willed Absalom, the servant of his own desires and of nothing else. "Who is lord over us?" is the language of everything he does... Even kindness has little claim on him. He may send to Joab, the man he owed everything to, a second time; but past that small courtesy his heart owns no debt to him.
Two years of waiting might have produced repentance. Instead it bred resentment, and Absalom ended it the way he did everything — by force:
This was clearly where his resentment against his father began, and where the ambitious plans started that would soon bring disaster on many people besides himself. In the end he breaks out of the restraint he is under, in his own hot-headed, high-handed way. He forces Joab to come and see him, and forces his way in to his father. This is the exact opposite of confessing sin. If he has done wrong, he is ready to suffer for it. So his father's kiss of peace is not even the mercy of the woman of Tekoa; it is the seal on his own claim that he needs no mercy.
Absalom could only burn that field because David had brought him home. Commentators point to a flaw in how the king did it:
An appeal to grace always found an echo in David; so the woman of Tekoa 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. Joab's advice, which David followed, leads the king to misuse grace. That is all the more serious because his own love for his son was involved.
Mercy without judgement hardened him, and the damage ran far past one crop:
David brings this young man back, but he brings him back wrongly, without judging his sin, and the result was that he grew bold... No one had judged his sin. He had been brought back wrongly. His conscience grew hard. So the moral character of David's throne was destroyed. And where the moral character is destroyed, the throne is overturned — it provokes a revolt, as chapter 15 tells us.
Joab set the whole plan in motion to gain a hold over Absalom. The burning field showed who actually held whom:
Joab found his master in Absalom... But Joab has to obey the man he had thought he could control. He will not forget it. Absalom has become an obstacle to his plans, a power Joab can no longer count on, and a man who has turned against him. When the moment suits him, Joab will kill Absalom.
The burning is a small rehearsal of the rebellion two chapters later. Force first, then cunning:
But a heart this dead to the claims of kindness finds it easy to take up anything Satan suggests. He has used the rough strength of the lion in his friends' grain fields. Now he is quite ready to use the cunning of the serpent in his father's kingdom.
- Mercy — David brought his son home out of love, but never judged his sin. That is grace cut loose from righteousness.
- Hardening — Mercy that asks for no repentance does not soften a man. Absalom grew bolder, and his conscience grew harder.
- Fire — The burnt barley field makes that hardness visible. He used force on the man who had brought him home, and never paid for the loss.
- Demand — He wanted the king's face, not the king's forgiveness. His words claim innocence instead of confessing guilt.
- Revolt — A field first, then a throne. The arson grew into rebellion two chapters later, and Joab ended up serving the man he meant to control.
Then Joab arose, and came to Absalom to [his] house, and said to him, Why have thy servants set my allotment on fire?
Absalom has been back in Jerusalem for two years, and his father has still not let him in. Joab arranged that return, but he now ignores two summonses. So Absalom burns his crop to force the meeting. Commentators read the fire as the moment Absalom's real character shows, and as the point where Joab's scheming turns back on him.
Joab comes only to protest, and only after he has refused two summonses. One writer traces the sequence, and notes what never follows.
Finally Absalom took the initiative, sending for Joab to act as an intermediary. But Joab would not come. Twice he refused to come to Absalom. But Absalom was a determined young man. He would not get what he wanted until the king restored him to full favour — at least in public, before the people. He told his servants to set fire to a field of ripened barley belonging to Joab (v.30). This brought Joab to Absalom in protest, though we do not read of Absalom ever paying Joab for his loss.
Absalom did not burn a stranger's field. He burned the field of the man who had got him home from exile.
In his fury Absalom sets Joab's field on fire. He uses violence against the man who had pleaded his cause, had gone to fetch him from Geshur, and had brought him back to Jerusalem — counting on putting Absalom in his debt. Joab, moved by his own interest, comes to make Absalom account for what he has done. Against his will, he then has to plead with David to let the king see his son again.
Absalom owed Joab his return from exile. Another writer measures what that debt was worth to him.
Even favours have little claim on him. He may send a second time to Joab, to whom he owed everything, but beyond that small courtesy his heart owns no debt to him.
Scripture has just praised Absalom's looks. The burning barley showed what those looks hid.
His deed shows that behind the beautiful exterior there was a proud, violent and evil spirit. After Joab refused to come to him, he set Joab's barley field on fire.
Joab brought Absalom home to put him in his debt. The fire turns that around, and one writer traces Absalom's death back to this moment.
Joab found his master in Absalom. God allows all these things. He had already used Joab's deceits, his cunning, his wickedness and his cruelty to carry out His own purposes. He will use Absalom to the same end, and in the end His ways will be only ways of grace toward David. But Joab has to obey the man he had thought to control. He will not forget this. Absalom has become an obstacle to his plans, a power Joab can no longer count on, and one who has turned against him. At a favourable moment Joab will kill Absalom.
Two years of waiting had bred resentment. Absalom does not ask for the king's presence; he forces it. A wise woman from Tekoa had earlier pleaded for mercy for him — mercy is the one thing he will not take.
For two years he is left to fret at the restraint put on him. We already know how long he could nurse a dangerous plan in secret. Here clearly was the beginning of resentment against his father, and of ambitious plans that would soon bring disaster to many besides himself. At last he frees himself from that restraint, and he does it in his own headstrong, domineering way. He forces Joab to come and see him. He forces himself into his father's presence. This is the complete opposite of any confession of sin. If he has done wrong, he is ready to suffer for it. So his father's kiss of peace is not even the mercy the woman of Tekoa pleaded for. It becomes the seal on his own claim that he needs no mercy.
Absalom's revolt did not come before David's kindness. It came after it, and the order matters.
In Absalom's case there was a still deeper kind of lawlessness, because his tie to the king was closer and more dependent. Besides, mercy had been shown to him in the richest way. David had met the most dreadful wickedness on his part with greater love and grace. After all this, we find Absalom laying his plots and working his schemes to take his father's throne.
- Fire. Joab refused two summonses, so Absalom burned his ripe barley. The record never shows him paying for it.
- Favour. The field belonged to the man who pleaded his cause and brought him home from exile. Absalom's heart owned no debt to him.
- Face. He would not ask for the king's presence. He forced Joab, then forced his way in — and confessed nothing.
- Facade. One act exposed him: behind the beautiful exterior was a proud, violent and evil spirit.
- Fruit. Joab found his master in the man he meant to control. Mercy without repentance ripened into open rebellion.
And Absalom said to Joab, Behold, I sent to thee, saying, Come hither, that I may send thee to the king, to say, Why am I come from Geshur? it would have been better for me to be there still. And now let me see the king's face; and if there be iniquity in me, let him slay me.
Absalom has been back in Jerusalem for two years, and his father still refuses to see him. So he sends Joab with a message: is this a son asking to be forgiven, or a man demanding his rights?
Absalom is not asking for a conversation. In a royal court, to come before the king was to stand in his favour. Being shut out meant the opposite.
David gives us a striking example, though a negative one: Absalom was not allowed to see his father's face (2 Sam. 14:24). This made it clear that Absalom no longer had his father's favour.
Absalom had done real wrong and had lived away at Geshur until Joab brought him home. David was not sulking. He was waiting for something that never came.
Two more years passed. That made five years in which David had been waiting for some sign of repentance from Absalom. Absalom knew very well why his father did not want to see him. But he seems to have counted on time healing the break, without ever admitting that he had done wrong.
Absalom's own words show what he thinks of his return, and of his guilt.
Absalom insists to Joab that he must be allowed to see David's face. He says it would be better for him to be still in Geshur if he is not allowed. But his attitude was still defiant and self-righteous. He does not admit the slightest wrong on his part. He only says that if there is any guilt in him, the king can put him to death.
Earlier a woman from Tekoa had come to plead with David for grace. Another writer shows what Absalom's demand does to that kind of mercy.
In the end he breaks out of the restriction he is under, and he does it in his own hasty, high-handed way. He forces Joab to come and see him. He forces himself into his father's presence. This is the complete opposite of any confession of sin. If he has done wrong, he is ready to suffer for it. So his father's kiss of peace is not even the mercy the woman of Tekoa asked for. It becomes the seal on his own claim that he needs no mercy.
Notice how the meeting is arranged. Absalom cannot get what he wants by asking, so he burns a field. The man who once worked to bring him home now has to act for him again.
In his fury Absalom sets Joab's field on fire. He turns violence on the very man who had pleaded his cause, had gone to fetch him from Geshur, and had brought him back to Jerusalem, counting on putting Absalom in his debt. Joab acts out of self-interest. He comes to ask Absalom to explain what he has done, and against his will he has to plead with David to get the king to agree to see his son again.
David gave way. The kiss in the next verse looks like a happy reunion, but notice how little the record says about it.
Joab told the king what Absalom was demanding, and David gave in to the pressure. We may be sure he did it with uneasy thoughts. Joab called Absalom to come to David, and "the king kissed Absalom" (v.33). That is all we are told. There is no mention of any pleasant conversation between them. How different it was with the prodigal son, who came home in real repentance. His father "ran and embraced him and kissed him" (Luke 15:20). But David tried to show love while compromising righteousness. That could not bring good results, as the history that follows proves.
Another writer names what David forgot.
An appeal to grace always found an echo in David. That is why the woman from Tekoa 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 cost of His righteousness.
Mercy did not soften Absalom. It gave him a platform.
David had met the most dreadful wickedness on Absalom's part with greater love and grace. After all this, we then find Absalom laying his plots and working out his schemes to take the throne from the king, his own father.
- Face means favour. Shut out of the king's presence meant shut out of the king's favour. That is what Absalom wants back.
- Favour withheld. David waited five years for one sign of repentance. Absalom knew the terms and waited for time to do what confession would not.
- Favour demanded. His offer to die if guilty admits nothing. It turns the kiss he gets into a receipt for innocence instead of an act of mercy.
- Favour forced. Absalom burns a field and forces Joab to act for him. He arranges his own welcome by pressure, not by repentance.
- Favour wasted. David showed love and let righteousness go. The rebellion that follows is what that kindness grew into.
And Joab came to the king, and told him. And he called Absalom, and he came to the king, and bowed himself on his face to the ground before the king; and the king kissed Absalom.
Two gestures close a two-year estrangement: a son bows to the ground, and his father kisses him. Commentators do not read this as a happy ending — they read it as the moment feeling pushed righteousness aside, and they trace Absalom's rebellion back to it.
Absalom did not come asking for mercy. He forced the meeting himself, and admitted nothing. One writer weighs what that leaves the kiss to mean.
In the end he frees himself from the restraint he is under, and he does it in his own headstrong, domineering way. He forces Joab to come and see him. He forces himself into his father's presence. This is the complete opposite of any confession of sin: if he has committed iniquity, he is ready to suffer for it. So his father's kiss of peace becomes not even the mercy of the woman of Tekoa. It becomes the seal on his own claim that he has no need of mercy.
Absalom had murdered his brother Amnon. One writer names what the law required, and what this welcome left out.
David lets him come back, against the clear command of the law. Even if he had only killed a man by accident, he should have stayed in a city of refuge. But he was a murderer. With his murder still on him, David takes him back on natural grounds — no confession, no judgment, no atonement.
The same writer looks from the kiss to what came of it, and turns it into a warning.
"The king kissed Absalom." Yes, the king kissed the murderer, instead of letting the law of the God of Israel take its course. … David's excessive tenderness only paved the way for Absalom's open rebellion. A terrible warning! Deal gently with evil, and it will certainly come to a head and crush you in the end.
The account gives the kiss and no words. One commentator sets it beside a very different homecoming.
Joab called for Absalom to come to David, and "the king kissed Absalom" (v.33). That is all that is said. There is no mention of any pleasant conversation between them. How different was the case of the prodigal son when he returned in genuine repentance. His father "ran and embraced him and kissed him" (Luke 15:20). But David sought to show love while compromising righteousness. This could not possibly bring good results, as the history that follows proves.
Another writer sets God's own way of reconciling beside it:
And how solemn it was when "the king kissed Absalom" — kissed an unrepentant murderer. This is not the way God reconciles sinners. He reconciles the guilty, but not until there is repentance… When God reconciles, He does it in perfect righteousness. He brings repentant sinners near to Him in grace, and He clears every bit of enmity out of the heart.
David's heart was always open to an appeal for grace. One writer shows what that openness left out.
An appeal to grace always found an echo in David; so the woman of Tekoah comes to plead with the king for grace. He yields. He forgets that grace is not the only principle involved. God is also a righteous God, and His grace cannot be raised up at the expense of His righteousness… Grace ought not to give way to feelings, human ties, or the softness of human nature. But with David it did.
Absalom left that meeting unchanged. One writer follows him out of the king's presence.
David allowed Absalom back into Israel without upholding righteousness. There was no full confession of guilt, and no submission to whatever the rights of the throne demanded. Absalom saw the king's face and received his kiss, and it did not melt his soul. Instead, it introduces us to the rebel… He goes out from the king's presence to nurse the secret purpose of his soul: to drive the Lord's anointed — his own father — from the throne, and to seat himself on it.
- A kiss demanded. Absalom forced the meeting and admitted no wrong. The kiss then sealed his claim that he needed no mercy.
- A kiss without confession. Three things were missing here: confession, judgment, atonement. Their absence ruined the reunion, not the affection in it.
- A kiss without righteousness. David's readiness to show grace was real. But grace gave way to a father's feelings, and God's righteousness dropped out.
- The kiss God gives. God does reconcile guilty people, but only where there is repentance. In the parable the father ran to a son who came home confessing.
- A kiss that fed a rebellion. It never melted Absalom's heart. It freed him to plot against the very throne his father sat on.