Sermons

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A Tale of Two Giants
October 29, 2000
Second in a sermon series on the life of King David
Pastor Dan Baumgartner     
 I Samuel 17

I’m lighting this candle as we consider the word of God this morning from the scripture. Our story is found in I Samuel 17. It’s a long story, and I will read selected parts as we go. Let’s pray.

What happens when a David meets a Goliath? Let’s not approach this from too romantic a viewpoint. What USUALLY happens? 

In 1976 I was a junior at Queen Anne High School. I was playing on the basketball team, and we were doing reasonably well. I was scoring some points, and starting to feel pretty good about my season. Our next game coming up was against Cleveland. Cleveland had a team that was ranked first in the state. They had a 7’0’’ center who would go on to play in the NBA, a 6’8’’ forward who would play at the UW, and two guards who would also play major college basketball. Our tallest player was 6’4’’. 

We were the David, Cleveland was the Goliath. We practiced hard, we worked on special plays, we were ready for the big game, we were pumped up! They beat us by 50 points. It could’ve been 100. I scored one point. It was crushing. Goliath won. Isn’t that how it usually works? I mean, what could possibly overcome purely physical limitations?

I want to paint a picture for you this morning. Imagine, perhaps, that you are a television cameraman. It’s about 1000 BC, in the valley of Elah 14 miles outside of Bethlehem. It’s a pretty little valley. One side of the valley’s walls is higher than the other. On top of the low side is an army of Philistines. On top of the high side is the army of Israel. In the middle of the valley, with a small flat place on either side, is a small brook or stream. And as our camera zeroes in, we see crouched down there by the stream a single person. It’s David. 

This is only the second week we’ve looked at David’s story, and already David is in deep trouble. He has a huge problem. In fact, he has two GIANT problems facing him.

One giant you know all about…Goliath, champion of the Philistine army that is gathered on the low side of the valley. Every single morning, every single evening, Goliath strides out to the middle of the valley towards the stream. 

Goliath is literally a giant. He stands 9’9” tall. On his head is a huge bronze helmet. He wears a coat of armor that weighs over 125 pounds. He has armor all over his huge legs. A javelin the size of a tree hangs on his back, and he holds a spear whose tip alone weighs 15 pounds. Beside him, his caddy carries a huge standup shield. 

Every single day, for over a month, Goliath trumpets his own virtues and skills, and scorns those of his opponent. (hmm…brags about self, and tears down his opponent…sounds like an election year!). Every single day, twice a day for 40 days, Goliath struts before the army of Israel who cower up on the high hill. They don’t have a champion like Goliath, and they don’t have an army like the Philistines. The only card they hold is the high side of the valley, which would be hard for the Philistines to conquer from below. Forty days of verbal humiliation. 

You know, the experts tell us that if most of us just listen to the same thing over and over a couple times a day for about 30 days, we’ll have it memorized. It works great for memorizing scripture. But the poor Israelites have now unwillingly memorized every name in the book that Goliath throws at them. And though the old saying says, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me,” after 40 days I bet it hurt. It was humiliating. And Goliath was a 9’9” visual aid and they could do absolutely nothing about it. A physical barrier that put their future in danger. 

But there was a second giant of sorts in this picture. Israel’s own king Saul. The Bible tells us he, also, was a massively impressive physical specimen. Not as big as Goliath, of course, but still physically impressive…and spiritually anemic. King Saul of Israel is afraid. Israel is afraid. They are, after all, in a time of great crisis and transition in their history. 

Israel existed for centuries as a nomadic people. God finally settled them in the promised land and they are moving to a more agrarian existence. Led for years by prophets and judges, they are now for the first time led by the king they begged for, so “they could be like all the other nations.” But all the other nations know nothing of a living God. And Israel seems to be ignoring the fact that it is God who has truly set them apart from other countries. 

Saul may be a giant, but he is a giant of unbelief. He seems totally unaware of the presence of God in this crisis. What relevance does God have in the presence of Goliath? And so David stands between these twin giants: fear of the visible that threatens life, and doubt that God could do anything about it. 

And David, silly little David steps forward and volunteers for duty against Goliath. Saul is desperate, and perhaps a little intrigued by David’s willingness to call on the LIVING God. Saul hadn’t thought of that lately. And so he orders that his armor be given to David for the battle. And so David is honored with what every soldier in the army would dream of: wearing the king’s very tunic, coat of armor, helmet and huge sword. And then a funny thing happens…maybe the key moment in the whole story:

“I cannot go in these,” David said to Saul, “because I am not used to them.” So he took them off. David slowly unbuckles the armor and hands it back to Saul. I think it’s the hardest thing he does in this whole story. That armor, as attractive as it was, as much status as it gave him in Israel…wouldn’t let him move. But more than that, I think it obscured who God was calling David to be. When he wore it, he was pretending to be something he wasn’t.

Whenever I get together with couples who are engaged, I try to ask them this question at some point: “Where have you tried to convince your fiance that you are more stable and together than you really are?” Notice I don’t ask IF they do this, but WHERE! It’s a good question for couples getting to know each other. In fact, it’s a good question for people who have been married for a long time. After 18 years, I still find myself trying to convince Anne that I’m a financial wizard, or the epitome of discipline, or a time manager extraordinaire. I’m not. Sometimes I have to admit that to her. And that’s not easy…but you know, after you strip off something that you’re not…it feels pretty good. 

That’s not true just in marriages, of course. Who are you in your friendships? Do you let people know the real you…or do you pretend you are someone else? Often times as Christians, we paint ourselves as strong spiritually. People say, “How you doing?” and we have an automatic response to say “great, great.” And on the inside we’re dying, and if we were honest, we’d say “Lord, I need your spirit in me. I’m so thirsty to be touched by you. I feel like you’re a long, long ways away.”

And so when David takes off Saul’s armor, I doubt if he knows who he is yet…but he seems to know who he is not. He is not Saul. And he does not want to go back to being part of cowardly, God-ignoring Israel. And so we find him crouched down there by the stream. All time seems to stand still. I picture David as being a little dazed, finding himself in the middle of a now silent valley, wondering what he is doing there with no protection and no strategy. 

Some of you are fans of C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia series. In the sixth book, The Silver Chair, the small band of good guys are deep under the earth in the den of a powerful and destructive witch. They find themselves slowly sinking under the power of her enchanting voice and warm fire, and they soon find themselves muttering, trying to remember who they are or where they came from. The enchantment world seems more real than the one they came from. But finally at the last moment one of the group, a creature called Puddleglum, manages to crawl over to the fire and plunge his hand into the searing flames. That act, and the ensuing yells break the spell the witch had been weaving. Their vision clears, and they know again who they are, and what is real.

David seems to be about the same work. Crouching down, he eventually plunges his hand into the cool water of the brook and grabs five smooth stones. His vision clears, and he realizes he has been bewildered by the two giants. And David has what one author has called a “defining moment.” He is compelled to decide if God is truly real, and whether or not that knowledge will guide his life. 

Each of us come to these forks in the road. At some point, we decide if we will follow the living Christ. We are confronted by God, and we either reject him, or relegate him to some small religious corner of life…or we follow. But as our lives unfold, there are many other moments that continue to face us. 

Over and over again we will hear voices asking us: Is God real enough for me to trust here? Will we listen for God’s voice? Or will we listen to the giant voices of fear and doubt? 

What about you? Will you be guided by voices telling you to live a certain way, or maintain a certain lifestyle? Do you hear the roar of voices urging us to avoid risk and seek security? Are you listening to the one urging you to climb this or that ladder? Do you hear voices telling you that “when push comes to shove, only the physical world is real. Anything spiritual is pure speculation”? Or the ones that say, “If you were really a Christian, you would be different.” Or “If God were real, the world would be different.” Those voices of fear and doubt are everywhere. 

And yet we have always before us the David choice to plunge our hand into the stream, to have our vision cleared and say again: “God, I know you are real, and I choose to trust…right here. Even though I don’t understand it all.” What will guide our choices is understanding who we are…and like David, that’s not always easy to figure out when the giants are shouting at us.

Many of you have read of Dietrick Bonhoeffer, the German pastor who was indicted in a plot to murder Hitler during World War II. Imprisoned and eventually executed by Hitler, Bonhoeffer spent many months in prison. While there, it is said he carried out an amazing ministry to many sick and condemned prisoners. And yet, he wrestled mightily to know who he really was. Was he a hero? Or a hypocrite? This is part of a poem he wrote called “Who Am I?”

Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
like a Squire from his country house.

Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage, struggling for breath…
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
faint and ready to say farewell to it all.

Who am I? This or the Other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
and before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army
fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, thou knowest, O God, I am thine!

In the end, Bonhoeffer throws himself at the mercy of the living God, knowing that at the most basic level his identity lies in his belonging to God. 

It seems to me that David decides essentially the same thing. He rejects both giants. He leaves cowering and unbelieving Israel behind him. And begins to run straight towards Goliath. He pauses just long enough to deliver a very powerful sermon to Goliath, just long enough to say, “I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel…and the whole world will know that there is a god in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord’s…” It’s the last sermon Goliath will ever hear, before one of the five smooth stones whistles through the air and topples the giant.

It seems to me that we are often in David’s situation. Who am I? And what is more real? The giants in my life? Or the living God? Dare we believe that in Jesus Christ, God’s love for us was laid bare? Dare we trust that in Jesus Christ, God’s love is proven to be so very, very deep? And dare we possibly imagine that this love would be given…to us?

And if we can…then would we run alongside David, shouting out with him the words of Psalm 27:

“The Lord is my light and my salvation -- whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life -- of whom shall I be afraid?”

Amen.