Sermons

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And Great Was the Fall
January 28, 2001
Series on the life of King David: "A Heart After God"
Pastor Dan Baumgartner

2 Samuel 11

Sigh. You know, we’ve lived with this character David for many weeks. I’ve read through substantial parts of six different books on David. We’ve seen him when he was nobody. We’ve seen him when he was somebody. We’ve seen glimpses of his heart, a heart that reflected something of God’s heart. We’ve seen him grow up, seen him develop as a leader, seen him unify a country and become king, we’ve seen him model kindness, put aside vindictiveness, pursue justice.

And I have to confess…one of my reactions to this story is pure disappointment. Just when I was starting to like David! Just when I thought he was somebody special…he goes and does this!

The story is pretty well known. We could probably summarize it easily. In fact, there are a few key points in this story when it reads like a literary masterpiece, where no modern day novelist could add any more drama…all expressed in just a few bare sentences.

The words of Bathsheba: “I am pregnant.”
The words of Nathan to David: “You are the man.”
The words of David: “I have sinned.”

Remember the story with me. David the King stays in Jerusalem instead of going out to lead his troops in battle. He is enthralled by the beauty of another man’s wife, has her brought to the palace, sleeps with her, and she becomes pregnant. As soon as she tells David, he begins to think of a way to cover it up.

He calls Bathsheba’s husband, Uriah the Hittite, home from the battle. David tries several very deceptive ways of getting Uriah to go home and sleep with Bathsheba, guessing that Uriah would then never imagine that the child to be born was anything but his own. But for one reason or another, Uriah refuses.

David then writes out a note for Joab, the general of the Israelite army, and sends it back to the front with Uriah. The note tells Joab to purposely put Uriah in such a position that he will be killed -- murder. Joab obeys, and Uriah (along with several others) is killed in battle.

Now David is free to marry Bathsheba, which he does. Enter the prophet of God, Nathan. God has left it to Nathan to tell David…that his sin is not hidden from the eyes of God. Nathan does this by telling David a story, and asking for a verdict. It’s a simple story, of a powerful and rich man who has everything…taking away the one thing that a poor man has.

David is incensed in hearing the story, his sense of justice swells up in his chest, and David the lawmaker, David the just judge, magnanimously pronounces that the rich man is to forfeit a huge price, and consider himself lucky because his deed was so calloused and wrong. After David has smugly declared the sentence, Nathan inserts those four terrible words: “You…are…the…man.”

Just when I was starting to like David, he goes and does this. On the one hand, we shouldn’t be too surprised, should we? For heavens sake, there is absolutely nothing new in this story. Not one single thing new. Have you heard it before? Just pick up the newspaper. It happens every day, particularly when we are talking about sexual impropriety, about adultery…about sin. Respected leaders fall right and left. Who do you want to talk about? Bill Clinton? Jesse Jackson? Jimmy Swaggert? Politicians? Sports heroes? Preachers? The list goes on and on. There is nothing new here. But it sure is disappointing, isn’t it? There sure is a lot of pain.

Since I graduated from seminary in 1996, I know of at least two schoolmates no longer in ministry because of affairs with staff members. Every time something else hits the newspapers, I get phone calls from a couple of friends who just coincidentally want to know how I’m doing, how I handle the stress of ministry, whether I have people to talk openly with, how Anne and I are doing. I appreciate those phone calls. But I hate reading the newspaper sometimes. And so I read about David, and part of me is disappointed…and the other part says “There is absolutely nothing new here.” Maybe you are like me, and you have lost part of the ability to be shocked.

What is it that David has done here? Well, technically, he has broken at least four out of the ten commandments…maybe more.He has violated the commands of the Torah. Murder? He has killed not only Uriah, but some others who were also at the battle. Adultery? He had an affair with someone else’s wife. Steal? He has certainly taken something that was not his to have. False testimony? David has lied through his teeth to try and cover up what he has done. Coveting the wife of your neighbor? Guilty.

But it is something very different from failing to live up to a code of ethics.

What is it that David has done here? Moved from one sinful act to another? Certainly. It’s interesting, isn’t it, that David’s sin starts out so small. A lustful look from the third story. That’s not so bad, right? But right before our eyes, we watch this progression move from lustful thoughts to abuse of power to adultery to lying to murdering to covering up. Sin is such an insidious thing. And such a gradual thing.

There’s a lot this story doesn’t tell us. But I have a hunch that David didn’t start out this story saying “Woohoo, the army’s gone and I’m feeling up to some adultery and murder…I’m going to really cause some pain around here.” No, it starts small and seemingly innocently.

I wonder if David thought to himself, “Well, yes, this is tempting…but I’m strong, I’m up to it…I’ll just stay here on the corner of the roof and watch for awhile…no harm in that.” I wonder if he ever thought, “Wow, I’m in way over my head. I’ve messed up, and I need to come clean right now.” Gradually, thought by thought and act by act, David’s sin went deeper and deeper. That’s the way sin is.

What is it that David has done here? Given in to sexual temptation? Used his position to demand sexual contact? Had an affair? Yes. And if that has been a part of your experience in some way, whether your own or a spouse or a parent…you know the pain and terrible memories. You know the absolute shattering and the pieces of your life or others laying around, and the anguish.

But what is it David has done here? Besides causing incredible pain in the lives of many, many people...David has broken his fundamental relationship in life…his relationship with Yahweh, with Almighty God.

David’s sin has done more than put a smudge on the “don’t do” list. It has radically changed who he is. David…and you and me…had been made with a fundamental need, an inherent wiring, a designed capacity and need for the Living God. The God who created him, the God who chose him, the God who blessed him, the God who loved him. The most fundamental condition of David being human is this: God is. And David’s sin says, “God is not.” If God is not…then I will do what I want, what I desire, what feels good. I will draw my own lines in my own life. And therefore sin, of course, is something far more than falling to sexual temptation. It is the condition of the heart which says “I am…and God is not.”

The outbreak of sin may be sexual infidelity. But it may be a spirit of vindictiveness, the move to get even with the person at the office who has wronged us. It may show itself in the piling up of material possessions, the need to get ourselves set financially, the ease with which we ignore people who are starving and homeless…most of the people in the world. It could show itself in racist jokes, it might appear in drawing emotional boundaries around ourselves and refusing to let anyone in, it may be in the need to find someone lower than us on the pecking order of business or society. It might be almost anything, but at it’s core is the heart that turns away from “God is…” and turns toward “I am.”

We are humans in the amazing situation of having been given freedom by God AND the freedom to live under God’s governance. And that choice means that sometimes God will draw lines where we don’t like them. And so God says to David, “Why? I have given you everything, I have loved you, I would do anything for you…why?”

David stands there in front of Nathan for the longest time. One of those pauses that lasts a lifetime. And just when I’m wondering what on earth might be redeeming about this story, how we will find any direction from this story about David’s “heart after God…” David speaks. The third short sentence that is so important. David says very simply to Nathan, but really to God: “I have sinned.”

David admits both his wrongdoing and his need. Thomas Merton once said “We cannot find God unless we know we need Him.” Every addiction recovery program, every Bible story, every repentant heart starts with an end to denial. I believe that God knows we will mess up. But I also believe that God longs for the heart that says, “I blew it.”

Years ago, when we were involved in youth ministry, a high school girl named Carol, from a tough background, gave her life to Christ. Hers was a heart-warming story…God had really taken hold of her, and begun to heal her. It came time for the youth ministry banquet fundraiser, and we thought it would be a great thing for Carol to share her story. So it was all arranged, and she wrote it out and rehearsed it many times. It was going to be a very important moment for her. Well, the banquet started to go long, much longer than planned. The person in charge was a man named Mark, who was actually a mentor of mine. And Mark made the decision to just end it without Carol sharing her story. She was absolutely crushed.

I was livid. I ran over to Mark…and I practically grabbed him around the throat. I don’t get mad too often, but I was practically shaking, and I managed to sputter out, “Don’t you realize that everything that was said about our ministry to kids at this banquet…becomes a bunch of meaningless talk when we treat somebody like this?! …I can’t believe you did that!”

I’ll never forget that moment. Me, standing there glaring at Mark. Mark, processing in his mind what had happened. It was one of those moments when time sort of freezes. And then Mark looked right at me, and he had tears in his eyes, and he just said, “I blew it. I blew it. What can I do?” And all of the anger drained out of me, and I saw his heart broken from what had happened, and I realized how much he cared. I could have kissed him right there. I believe that is the heart that God wants.

That’s the first part of the story, and by and large we believe it. We’ve seen and lived and hurt over sin and its consequences…we believe it…which takes us to the part of the story we don’t really believe. After David admits his sin, God speaks again through Nathan: “The Lord has taken away your sin.” . . .

THAT is inconceivable to us. The thought that the gospel story might break out of this dark night. To consider that the very God who had been tossed out of relationship with David stands next to him ready to move towards a future. That is hard for us to believe. It’s hard for us to believe when WE have taken over our own lives, and messed them up so very badly…that God would ever have anything to do with us again. BUT if we won’t believe it…then we might just as well take this whole book ( the Bible) and throw it away.

When we start looking for stories where people are at the very border of death and darkness, and God’s hand of grace sweeps across and calls them back to relationship…you look in this book. And you find Moses, the murderer. Peter, the denier. Paul the persecutor and murderer of God’s people. Story after story which Jesus told, the prodigal son, the great banquet, the good shepherd, story after story of sin being outdone by grace. The gospel breaks out all over the place. We’ll see Jesus pausing with the woman caught in adultery, and extending grace, and thereby (as Philip Yancey says) replacing the categories of reference in that story from “righteous people” and “guilty people” … to “sinners who admit” and “sinners who deny.”

It’s hard to believe that there could be news so good as this gospel grace. It’s news that does not deny that sin has consequences and causes pain…but that also asserts that grace restores the primary relationship we were designed for. Sometimes it’s hard to even get your mind around.

I’ve been reading authors lately who have imagined grace to be so extreme and extravagant that part of me says, “No, you’ve gone too far.” Ray Anderson wrote a book called, “Judas Come Home, All is Forgiven,” presenting an imaginary conversation at heaven’s gates between Judas the Betrayer of Christ, and Jesus himself. Grace.

Lewis Smedes writes about forgiveness, and the real life situation of brutal mass murderers who meet Christ in prison, and he wonders out loud if grace applies even there. I don’t know. But I do know that every time I try to put limits on God’s grace in my own life, I find that it is always far bigger than I had ever imagined. And I do know that every time I read the gospel story of a God who would go as far as dying on a cross to call unfaithful, sinful people back…I am overwhelmed. I am surprised.

Just when I thought I was really starting to like David, he goes and does this. It makes me unsure that I can like him. I’m glad for David’s sake…and for my sake…and for yours…that God does not share my uncertainty.