There are six things the Lord hates—no, seven things he detests: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that kill the innocent, a heart that plots evil, feet that race to do wrong, a false witness who pours out lies, a person who sows discord in a family. [Proverbs 6:16-19 (NLT)]
Saul, a man willing to kill his son rather than concede his error in making a foolish vow, wasn’t quite as eager to fulfill other vows he made. Later, he promised his daughter (along with exemption from taxes and military service) to the man who killed Goliath. While the vow prohibiting his men from eating came from his desire for revenge, this one may have come from fear. It was the king’s job to lead his men into battle and Saul, as the tallest man and the only one with bronze armor like Goliath’s, was the obvious choice to take on the Philistine. Perhaps Saul hoped the promise of wealth, honor, and a place at the king’s table would be incentive enough for someone else to volunteer to face the Philistine. For 40 days Goliath had taunted Israel but there were no takers until David.
Saul’s appreciation of the giant-killer quickly waned when he realized how popular the young warrior was. Jealous and afraid of being displaced as king, he had second thoughts about having David so close to the throne. Rather than openly reneging on his promise, Saul added an additional requirement. To become his son-in-law, David had to prove himself a true warrior. David, however, already had proved his worth as commander of Israel’s troops. Nevertheless, unwilling to soil his hands with David’s blood, Saul regularly sent him back into battle so the Philistines could kill him. David, however, was up to the task and always returned unharmed. When the time came for David’s marriage to Merab, however, Saul gave her to someone else!
When Saul’s daughter Michal fell in love with David, seeing another opportunity for Philistines to kill the young man, the king offered her to him. Then, rather than honor his first two promises, Saul upped the ante again by demanding a grisly dowry of foreskins from 100 Philistines within a limited amount of time. Although Saul claimed he wanted vengeance on his enemies, what he really wanted was David’s death during what seemed an impossible mission! Although Saul was sure David would die in his effort, the young man returned with twice the required number and the king had no choice but to honor his vow. That, however, didn’t stop him from trying to kill his son-in-law.
Even after Saul promised Jonathon that David would not be killed, the king tried to kill him with his spear. When David escaped, Saul told his troops to kill him at his house, but David escaped again. Years later, Saul again promised not to kill David if only he’d return home but, by then, David knew the king was not a man of his word. Having experienced Saul’s paranoia, deception, and erratic behavior, David knew it was just a matter of time before Saul broke his promise again. He and his men fled to Philistia.
Years later, Saul’s failure to keep one of Israel’s vows cost the nation a three-year drought and Saul’s family their lives. 400 years earlier, Israel pledged, “in the name of the Lord,” to allow the pagan Gibeonites to live in peace in the land. Disregarding this sacred covenant, Saul tried to wipe them out. Although the remaining Gibeonites didn’t hold all of Israel responsible for what amounted to murder, they did hold Saul accountable. As a result, they hung seven of Saul’s descendants.
Saul, a man described as someone who “spent most of his life looking around rather than looking up,” left as his legacy a long line of broken promises—promises made without regard to God’s warnings not to swear falsely. Unwilling to honor his own promises, Saul was unable to believe David’s sincere pledge that he’d never harm his king. After a promising beginning, Saul had a sad and shameful ending. His pride, impulsiveness, disobedience, insecurity, and jealousy eventually got the best of him.
It’s been said that you’re only as good as your word. How good is your word?
Last week, when writing how Jephthah’s reckless vow caused his daughter’s death, I remembered how Saul’s equally foolish vow nearly cost his son’s life. While Israel was at war with the Philistines, Saul and his 600 men were camped near Gibeah. Israel was seriously out-numbered by the better-armed Philistines and, because their enemy controlled the pass at Micmash, Saul’s troops could proceed no further. Although the rest of Saul’s men were afraid, Jonathan and his armor bearer were confident that the Lord was with them. Tired of the hopeless standoff with their enemies, the two snuck out of camp and headed toward the Philistine garrison. After passing through two treacherous cliffs and scaling a steep slope, they entered the enemy outpost and, outnumbered ten to one, killed them all.
In the years following the exiles’ return to Judah and the rebuilding of the Temple, adherence to the Law grew lax. Knowing how to live a Jewish life depended on knowing the commandments of the Torah but the people had drifted away from God and His word and were committing the same sins that got them exiled! More than fifty years after the Temple’s rebuilding, Ezra arrived in Jerusalem. As a priest and teacher of the law, Ezra was shocked to find such disobedience. He tore his clothes and pulled his hair in sorrow before kneeling in prayer. He led the people in prayers of confession and repentance after which they swore a solemn oath to follow the Lord’s commands.
Even without knowing what a petard is, we probably know that when someone gets “hoisted by his own petard,” he’s been foiled by his own scheme. When Shakespeare’s audience heard this phrase spoken by Hamlet in 1600, they knew a petard was a bomb. In the bard’s day, hoisted had more than one meaning. Along with lifted, it meant removed or taken out. Taken literally, Hamlet’s phrase meant that his enemy would be blown up by his own bomb!
In a classic Peanuts comic (drawn by Charles Schulz), the meek Linus asked his bossy big sister Lucy, “Why are you always so anxious to criticize me?” She answered, “I just think I have a knack for seeing other peoples’ faults.” When Linus queried, “What about your own faults?” Lucy replied, “I have a knack for overlooking them.” Along with her over-sized ego, Lucy has what psychologists call “fundamental attribution error.”
Since we both attended liturgical churches as girls, my friend and I were trying to recall the terms for the various parts of a traditional church building. We knew the foyer is called the narthex and the congregation sits the church’s nave. We also knew the altar rail usually separated the nave from the chancel in the front. It’s from the chancel that the service is conducted and where the altar, pulpit, and lectern are located. We even recalled that the sacristy was the room holding Communion supplies and linens. Since we were worshipping in a park that morning, my friend asked the location of our sanctuary. In historic usage, sanctuary and chancel were synonymous but, in modern usage, a sanctuary consists of the entire worship space of a church. With no building, we had no narthex, nave, or chancel but we did have a worship space; our sanctuary was a gazebo in a county park.
Devotions of the Heart 