One of the more fascinating lives in the Bible is that of King David. It’s a story with lots of intrigue and numerous plot twists and unexpected turns of events. It begins when David, as an ordinary shepherd boy and the youngest of eight sons, is selected and anointed as the future king of Israel by the prophet Samuel. There’s the unbelievable account of how, as a teenager, he stepped up and conquered the giant Goliath when the rest of the Hebrew army was terrified and frightened into inactivity. We recall the story of how, during those years when he was on the run from the king, the Lord seemingly delivered Saul into his hands when he and his men were hiding in a cave, but David refused to exact vengeance and, instead, snipped off a piece of Saul’s robe and used it to expose his treachery. And, of course, there’s his classic, well-known failure—his affair with Bathsheba and his subsequent maneuvering that left her husband dead on the battlefield … a charade he kept on spinning until confronted by the prophet Nathan.
But there’s a much less high-profile episode from his life that has come to mean a great deal to me in recent days—an account that sets a clear example and places a compelling calling before those of us that consider ourselves followers of Jesus. It’s found in 2 Samuel 9.
David asked, “Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness for Jonathan’s sake?” (2 Samuel 9:1 – NIV) David is now king. Both Saul and Jonathan died in battle which brought about his ascent to the throne. Jonathan, as most of us know, was David’s best friend. The two of them, even though by all accounts they should have been adversaries and rivals, were tremendously close. The camaraderie and connection they shared was special—so much so that, in 1 Samuel 20, not only did Jonathan tip David off as to his father’s evil intentions, but the two made a pact and David promised to not kill his immediate family when he someday assumed the throne. Jonathan recognized the anointing on David’s life and, instead of chafing against it, embraced it. Further, in the escapade when David snipped off a corner of Saul’s robe—an incident recorded in 1 Samuel 24—Saul, when confronted by David acknowledges his scheming gamesmanship, confesses his skullduggery, and asks David not to do to his descendants what he’d spent many years trying to do to him. And David agrees—he says, “I’ll make that commitment to you.”
Now there was a servant of Saul’s household named Ziba. They summoned him to appear before David, and the king said to him, “Are you Ziba?” “At your service,” he replied. The king asked, “Is there no one still alive from the house of Saul to whom I can show God’s kindness? Ziba answered the king, “There is still a son of Jonathan; he is lame in both feet.”“Where is he?” the king asked. Ziba answered, “He is at the house of Makir son of Ammiel in Lo Debar.” (2 Samuel 9:2-4 – NIV). Saul’s servant Ziba had become David’s servant now that he’d become king. David summoned him and asked him a question he didn’t know what to do with: “Is there no one alive from the house of Saul to whom I can show God’s kindness?” The reason he doesn’t know what to do with this question is because he didn’t know of the earlier promises the new king had made with both Jonathan and Saul. All he knew is what typically went on—that a new king, in order to secure his kingship, would execute every family member of his predecessor. He assumed this question on David’s part was not genuine and heartfelt but, rather, a front to find out if there was some immediate relative out there who might someday rise up and make a claim to the throne. Standard practice in that day was to proactively eliminate that possibility—make a preemptive strike against any remaining family members … just kill ‘em all so this distraction and disturbance would never manifest.
Ziba reluctantly answers, “Yes—there’s one. His name is Mephibosheth. He’s crippled and lives in the house of Makir son of Ammiel in Lo Debar.” For Mephibosheth to be living in the house of Makir suggested he was in hiding … that he knew how the game worked and what typically happened to the immediate family members of departed kings. As the grandson of the previous king, he could have easily been viewed as a rival or adversary by David. So Ziba, in answering David’s question, is in essence saying, “He’s not a threat to you. He’s crippled. He doesn’t even have his own house or property. He’s living as part of someone else’s household in a place way out off the beaten path at the edge of civilization. Don’t worry about him—he’s not a threat or danger to you. He’s not going to someday rise up … or lead an insurrection … or challenge your authority. You can relax and not concern yourself with him.”
But David sent for him: So King David had him brought from Lo Debar, from the house of Makir son of Ammiel. (2 Samuel 9:5 – NIV). Imagine the dread and anxiety this held for Mephibosheth. He’s trying to fly under the radar, go through life undetected, and deal with his limitations as best he can. His goal in life is to simply survive and make it from one day to the next without bringing attention to himself. But one day a messenger arrives saying, “King David would like to see you.” I don’t think we can begin to comprehend the absolute angst this held for Mephibosheth—the panic, trepidation, and fear that swept over him.
And you can see it in the way he reacts when he reaches the king’s presence. When Mephibosheth son of Jonathan, the son of Saul, came to David, he bowed down to pay him honor (2 Samuel 9:6a – NIV). Yes, he’s paying the king honor and showing deference, but he’s also shaking in his boots. He knows he could be facing the end … that the king could say “kill him” and there’s nothing he can do. He knows by all accounts he deserves to die—that his tie to David’s predecessor is such that no one will raise a question or cast doubt on matters if he ends up dead. There won’t be a congressional investigation launched or a special prosecutor appointed to look into things. My guess is he’s not merely being polite, but he’s groveling … begging for mercy … falling all over himself in hopes he can some way, somehow, make it out alive.
So—listen to what happens: David said, “Mephibosheth!” “At your service,” he replied. “Don’t be afraid,” David said to him, “for I will surely show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan. I will restore to you all the land that belonged to your grandfather Saul, and you will always eat at my table.” Mephibosheth bowed down and said, “What is your servant, that you should notice a dead dog like me?” (2 Samuel 9:6b-8). I feel certain Mephibosheth’s initial response was, “What!?! Did I hear that right? I must be dreaming!” There’s no way he ever thought he’d hear these words coming from the king’s lips. Maybe in fantasyland or some fool’s paradise dream he could imagine it. But in real life? No way!
David said, “Don’t be afraid!” and followed up by making good on the promise he’d made with Mephibosheth’s father Jonathan and grandfather Saul—a promise probably no one else on the planet was aware of … a promise that, had he welched on it, there’d have been no repercussions for doing so. He also restored to Mephibosheth the land that belonged to his grandfather Saul … land he undoubtedly was aware of—known he was entitled to—but land he wasn’t about to come out of the woodwork to claim because of the fear that identifying himself would result in his execution. David didn’t hold on to it but gave it generously and freely. On top of that, David said Mephibosheth was always welcome at his table—i.e., a gesture that went far beyond giving him what was rightfully his. He gave him a relationship of honor—the gift of closeness and access. The vastness of the king’s provision was something he could now enjoy. The enormousness of the king’s wealth was something he could now experience on a regular basis. Mephibosheth was no longer an outcast … a fugitive or expatriate … a vagabond whose life was reduced to trying to stay off the grid and remain undetected … an undeserving good-for-nothing who referred to himself as a “dead dog.” He became family and was now part of the household. And the bounty that came w/ being a part of the king’s family was now his to enjoy.
Even more … Then the king summoned Ziba, Saul’s steward, and said to him, “I have given your master’s grandson everything that belonged to Saul and his family. You and your sons and your servants are to farm the land for him and bring in the crops, so that your master’s grandson may be provided for. And Mephibosheth, grandson of your master, will always eat at my table.” (Now Ziba had fifteen sons and twenty servants.) (2 Samuel 9:9-10 – NIV). This man who had capably and admirably served Mephibosheth’s grandfather and David’s predecessor on the throne … he and his team—his sons and servants—were assigned to manage and supervise the land for Mephibosheth … to farm it, tend to the flocks, and take care of any issues that might crop up. This crippled grandson of the previous king—this young man who didn’t have any property to call his own, and whose life was reduced to hiding out in an obscure location so as not to be detected—was the recipient of a bounty beyond anything he could imagine. Not only was his life spared, but he was granted a relationship with the king and afforded a measure of blessing that went far beyond anything he could possibly fathom.
Then Ziba said to the king, “Your servant will do whatever my lord the king commands his servant to do.” So Mephibosheth ate at David’s table like one of the king’s sons. Mephibosheth had a young son named Mika, and all the members of Ziba’s household were servants of Mephibosheth. And Mephibosheth lived in Jerusalem, because he always ate at the king’s table; he was lame in both feet. (2 Samuel 9:11-13 – NIV). It’s very clear that this “welcome to the family and come sit at my table” deal wasn’t a one-time gesture on David’s part. This was a permanent arrangement—a long-haul plan. For the rest of his natural life, Mephibosheth lived this blissful, blessed life … not because of anything he’d done, but because of the goodness and generosity of the king. This guy who was deserving of death received a bounty beyond belief. This disabled, handicapped man who saw himself as a “dead dog” became the recipient of an inexhaustible and vast provision. This guy who was happy just existing from day to day and whose loftiest ambition in life was to not do anything to attract the attention of the king became the beneficiary of a supply that was vaster and more all-inclusive than he could ever get his mind around.
As I think about that, there’s a word that summarizes what this is all about … a word we in the church use with amazing frequency but may not fully grasp or comprehend what it means. The word? Grace. 2 Samuel 9 is perhaps the best picture of grace the Bible has to offer. Think of it: A guy who by all accounts deserved to die but whose life was not only spared but is afforded an intimate and personal relationship with a king from whom he was estranged because of said king’s compassion and kindness—that’s grace! A guy who is handicapped, crippled, and irreparably marred but becomes the recipient of a provision so immense and extensive he can’t fully take it in—that’s grace! A guy who thinks of himself as a “dead dog” and whose loftiest ambition in life was to be unnoticed but, instead, becomes a valued member of the king’s family—one who’s always welcome at the table and attended to by servants—that’s grace! Grace is bigger, deeper, and vaster—more brilliant, glorious, and magnificent—than anything we can fathom. We can’t find words that express its totality. We can’t paint a picture that captures its immensity. All we can do is experience it. Praise God—grace is something we can experience!
As followers of Jesus, we are the recipients of grace. Mephibosheth’s story is our story! We are the blessed beneficiaries of an extraordinary grace—in fact, the only way we come into relationship with Jesus is on the basis of grace. There is no other way! As people who are called emulate Jesus’ example and reflect His priorities, we are called to be the conveyors and agents of grace to the world. We are to err on the side of grace! Grace is not something we eventually get around to; it’s to be the thing with which we lead.
What really bothers me is, if you were to ask the average person on the street what adjectives describe the church of Jesus Christ, I don’t think the first words out of their mouths would be “gracious” or “grace-filled.” We’d probably hear words like intolerant … condescending … fault-finding … hyper-critical … judgmental. The public at large does not see us Christ-followers as purveyors of grace. They see us as the dispensers of anything but.
Granted—many times the whole group is characterized by the misguided and confused actions of a select few on the fringe. I also understand that, as followers of Jesus, there are occasions when we need to make a stand on principle. There are places we need to draw a line in the sand and say, “This is right, and this isn’t!” We realize that we, and all of humanity, are someday going to stand before a righteous and holy judge. And if we aren’t willing to make a stand and point out the guidelines and standards of God, who will?
But the problem is that many of us do that in a way that is, frankly, annoying and irritating. Our attitude is such that people come away thinking we’re much more interested in proving that we are right than we are proving that God is love. The lingering impression that sticks in their minds is we’re a bunch of stuck-up, superior, self-righteous fault-finders. We come off not as accepting, loving, compassionate conduits of grace, but as arrogant, smug, pompous, holier-than-thous.
At the core of being a follower of Jesus is the awareness that I, as a recipient and beneficiary of grace, have a responsibility to be a channel and conduit of that same grace. And that’s what I lead with. That’s my default posture … my attitudinal predisposition … my inherent inclination. I don’t lead with scrutiny, or inspection, or judgment. I lead with grace! Because I believe God has never encountered a life so void of value that it’s beyond the reach of his transforming touch, I default towards grace.
Does doing so open us up and make us vulnerable and susceptible to exploitation? Perhaps. Does adopting this attitude and taking this approach become really chaotic and get really messy at times? Yep. Are there people out there who are going to spurn it, turn up their nose at it and/or try to take advantage of it? In all likelihood. Will there be times when I’ll be uncomfortable … or feel awkward … or be misunderstood? Undoubtedly. But none of this changes or alters our fundamental calling. We are to be purveyors and channels of grace.
Hurting, crippled, and damaged people are not going to be influenced by the soundness of our logic, or the apparent rightness of our convictions, or the solidity of our moral arguments. They’re going to be influenced by the character and substance of the grace we display. There are a lot of Mephibosheths out there. His story is our story! Just as the grace King David displayed towards him changed his life and altered his destiny, the call upon us is to be vehicles of grace—to lead with grace—in the belief it can change the lives of people in our day as well.