No one is
good except God alone
.’ Mark 10:18 ESV
Nowhere are we more in need of this
reminder by Jesus than when it comes to the golden boy of Scripture—David of
Bethlehem. He’s the hero par excellence, the runt of the litter who
becomes a champion, the underdog who triumphs over hostile giants and jealous
kings, the ordinary shepherd boy who braves a fearsome foe and, keeping his
integrity in the face of massive temptation, eventually rises to such heights
he’s crowned king of all Israel. He lives in God’s favour—and, but for one
major moral lapse when he spots a beautiful woman and falls in lust with her, he’s
an exemplary man of faith. His songs have lasted right through the ages—his
words of praise and wonder, confession and repentance have endured across three
millennia. The 23rd psalm is beloved by millions. His impact is
incalculable. He’s such an influential figure in
Israelite history that the prophecies about the coming Messiah naturally look
forward to the reinstatement of a kingship like his. The Jews got it wrong
about Jesus for that very reason. They were looking for a ruler in the mould of
David, not in the mould of God. The messianic title, ‘Son of David’, led them
to believe that the glory of David’s throne would return in earthly power. They didn’t realise the grim legacy of his
reign needed to be removed first.  For many people, the only dark stain on
David’s monarchy is his adulterous liaison with Bathsheba. We’re well overdue
for a wake-up call on that belief. We’ve bought into David’s own assessment of
himself at the end of his life:  
If my house were not right with God, surely
He would not have made with me an everlasting covenant, arranged and secured in
every part; surely He would not bring to fruition my salvation and grant me my
every desire.
2 Samuel 23:5 NIV There’s a hint here that David is back-formulating
a justification for the dubious deeds of his life and suggesting: ‘I must have
been righteous, because God favoured me.’ This kind of impression management
enables any sense of shame to be covered and his self-image shoe-horned into
the ideal that he wants to portray rather than what actually exists.  David’s statement completely ignores the
reality that the gifts of God are irrevocable and that His grace is not, and
never can be, earned. It might be a comforting thought—the kind of sentiment
expressed at so many eulogies where anything unpleasant about the deceased is routinely
suppressed—but it treads on dangerously slippery ground. Is this a declaration
of faith on David’s part or is it a subtle promotion of works?
 Now, when Jesus the healer of history
comes into the picture, He never seems to address the issue of Bathsheba. This
is startling. After all, there are so very many ancient ruptures that He set
about mending—from Adam and Eve’s disobedience to the transgressions of the
Watcher angels to Joseph’s dispossession of the Egyptians to Elijah’s failures
to complete his divinely ordained assignment to Moses’ striking the rock to the
civil war brought about by Moses’ grandson Jonathan to Nehemiah’s insistence on
divorcing foreign women—that it’s curious David’s sin never undergoes repair.
Jesus deals with cosmic tragedies, national tragedies and personal tragedies. So
it’s always seemed somewhat odd to me that, given its massive ongoing
ramifications, David’s lechery never drew Jesus’ attention.  But then I realised I’d fallen into the
same trap that I was warning other people about. I was assuming that David
first went off the rails when he spotted Bathsheba bathing. But his sin surely
didn’t spring full-blown out of nowhere. So consider: what if he’d deviated
long before the Bathsheba incident? And if such were the case, then Jesus’
mending would have focussed on the critical juncture where things actually
started to go wrong, rather than when they were visibly so wide of the mark
they’d be impossible to miss.  What, then, would that pivotal moment be? David
lying to the priests of Nob? Or maybe to the Philistine king, Achish? Could it
be David breaking his covenant with Jonathan and failing to come to defend him
when he knows the Philistine battle plan? Or David marrying a multiplicity of
wives and concubines when the Torah commands a king to refrain from so doing?  Where in David’s storyline does Jesus
break in to ‘recapitulate’ events so that the past is fixed, the nation
redeemed and the world mended? Where is the crossroads to the path not taken? It’s a shock to realise just how early it
is. It’s almost at the very beginning of David’s story. It’s right back as far
as the moment when David brings lunch to his brothers and hears Goliath
taunting the Israelite armies.  In the time of Jesus, another young boy
brings a lunch that Jesus distributes to thousands of people. This is a battle
between Jesus and the spiritual power behind Goliath—Dagon, the fish-and-grain
god of the Philistines. Jesus’ distribution of bread is an act of war and we’d
be more aware of that if Bethlehem wasn’t always translated house of bread
but occasionally house of warfare. So, was David wrong to kill Goliath? I
don’t know. But I do know that the ending of Jesus’ recapitulation of this
battle is His refusal to become king. That, I suspect, is where David went
wrong. He accepted the kingship when offered, when he should have pointed the
people back to God as King. He could have been the Lord’s champion, like the
judges of old, not a king. As we begin this series on David, it’s
worth reminding ourselves over and over again: 
No one is good except God alone.’ It’s also worth reminding ourselves that this is not an excuse for sin.
Because the atonement of Jesus—in bringing us into glorious oneness with
God—confers on us all the support we ever need to be transformed by His grace,
and become good. This is Grace Drops and I’m Anne Hamilton. May Jesus, the redeemer of
history, grant you goodness.