Just as there’s some weird and bizarre stuff in the Bible, so there’s also a lot of incredibly uplifting and encouraging stuff. A passage I’ve come to appreciate—brought on by a positive Covid test that resulted in a last-minute preaching assignment—is 2 Samuel 7. This chapter contains an interaction between David and God known as the Davidic covenant—where God initiates and establishes an eternal partnership with David and commits to the preeminence of his line long-term.
After the king was settled in his palace and the Lord had given him rest from all his enemies around him, he said to Nathan the prophet, “Here I am, living in a house of cedar, while the ark of God remains in a tent.”
Nathan replied to the king, “Whatever you have in mind, go ahead and do it, for the Lord is with you.”
But that night the word of the Lord came to Nathan, saying:
“Go and tell my servant David, ‘This is what the Lord says: Are you the one to build me a house to dwell in? I have not dwelt in a house from the day I brought the Israelites up out of Egypt to this day. I have been moving from place to place with a tent as my dwelling. Wherever I have moved with all the Israelites, did I ever say to any of their rulers whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, “Why have you not built me a house of cedar?”’
“Now then, tell my servant David, ‘This is what the Lord Almighty says: I took you from the pasture, from tending the flock, and appointed you ruler over my people Israel. I have been with you wherever you have gone, and I have cut off all your enemies from before you. Now I will make your name great, like the names of the greatest men on earth. And I will provide a place for my people Israel and will plant them so that they can have a home of their own and no longer be disturbed. Wicked people will not oppress them anymore, as they did at the beginning and have done ever since the time I appointed leaders over my people Israel. I will also give you rest from all your enemies.
“‘The Lord declares to you that the Lord himself will establish a house for you: When your days are over and you rest with your ancestors, I will raise up your offspring to succeed you, your own flesh and blood, and I will establish his kingdom. He is the one who will build a house for my Name, and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever. I will be his father, and he will be my son. When he does wrong, I will punish him with a rod wielded by men, with floggings inflicted by human hands. But my love will never be taken away from him, as I took it away from Saul, whom I removed from before you. Your house and your kingdom will endure forever before me; your throne will be established forever.’”
Nathan reported to David all the words of this entire revelation. (2 Samuel 7:1-17)
David is now king of Israel. Saul’s last remaining son who’d have been eligible for the monarchy has died. The kingdom, which had been somewhat fractured because of Saul’s pursuit of, and attempts to kill, David had come together. The ark of the covenant had been transported to Jerusalem. David had built for himself a swanky palace and settled in nicely. In contrast to much of his life, it was a season of relative peace and tranquility.
So while thinking and reflecting one day, the thought occurred to David that he’s living in these palatial surroundings while the ark of the covenant is functionally housed in a tent. This doesn’t seem right. It feels inappropriate and out of line. So he called in Nathan—a man we know as the guy who confronted and denounced him in the wake of his affair with Bathsheba but who was probably David’s closest confidant and spiritual advisor—and ran this idea past him. And Nathan said, “Give it a shot! Do whatever you want, for the Lord is with you.”
It’s clear from what plays out in the next few hours that Nathan wasn’t speaking on behalf of God—he was merely replying off the top of his head. For when he opened himself up and specifically sought the Lord’s counsel on the matter, the Lord said, “No—this isn’t something I want David to do.” So, Nathan quickly went and put things in order. As soon as the Lord let him know his previous off-the-cuff response was off the mark, he went to David and got things squared away.
For Nathan to backpedal and about-face the way he did undoubtedly had to be a bit of a shock and surprise to David. But what’s really interesting is the word the Lord gave Nathan to share with David—a word that involves a fascinating and intriguing play on the word ‘house’. David wants to build God a house, but God essentially said, “I don’t need a house. I’ve never lived in a house. For as long as we’ve been in relationship, I’ve lived in a mobile housing that could move with you as you moved. And I’m perfectly comfortable with that—in fact, that’s essentially the point! I’m not a God that needs a physical location to be validated. I don’t need a palatial housing to be legitimized. I’m a God that delights in dwelling in your midst. I’m a God that’s portable—that can go where you go. That’s the kind of God we have … a mobile, portable God—a God who moves with us as we move … goes where we go … longs to dwells where we dwell … a God who, at the fullness of time, stepped into our world, became incarnate, was born in a stable, and took on flesh and blood in the person of Jesus.
Instead of David building a house for God, what God wanted was to build was a house through David—a spiritual house … an everlasting and enduring kingdom made up of people from every tribe, tongue, and nation that would remain throughout the generations. And to seal the deal, He made a covenant with David—in fact, that’s a recurring pattern with God. In Genesis 15 he made a covenant with Abraham. In Exodus there’s the Mosaic covenant God established with the people of Israel at Mt. Sinai after leading them out of Egyptian slavery. There are a number of covenants throughout the Old Testament—Noah, some of the prophets, and so forth. And in this chapter, although the word covenant is never mentioned, God establishes a covenant with David and promises a descendant of his will reign on the throne over the people of God forever and ever—a covenant that anticipated and foresaw the person of Jesus … a covenant that envelops and encompasses the likes of you and me.
David had something very lofty and exalted in mind that he wanted to do, but God had something loftier and more exalted in his mind he was seeking to accomplish. And even though a Temple was eventually built by David’s son Solomon, there’s a sense in which its construction reduced God to the level of the pagan gods of the surrounding nations … as gone was the understanding of God’s mobility and portability—a characteristic that distinguished Israel’s God from those of the neighboring nations. Just as years earlier Israel had wanted a king because all the surrounding nations had kings, so now they wanted a God comparable to the gods of the surrounding nations. They wanted a god with a location. Gone was the tent—the visual reminder that Israel’s God was a mobile deity who could pick up and move. That’s why the curtain to the Holy of Holies being split at the moment Jesus died is such a big deal. It’s basically God’s way of saying, “This season of me being housed in a central location is over. Something new is in place now, and I can’t be contained in a small room. I’m out and about … on the loose in the world … going to neighborhoods, places, and situations where my people are.”
When God established this covenant with David, I don’t think he fully understood and comprehended the implications. I don’t think Nathan did either. Nor did the author of the book of 2 Samuel. None of the three of them knew what having someone from David’s line on the throne over God’s people forever and ever would look like. There’s stuff going on here that is way beyond what they can fathom—the Lord redefined and amplified these words in an amazing way. But that, I believe, is part of what it means for the writers of Scripture to be inspired by the Holy Spirit. While they wrote in their own words—shaped by the norms and customs of their culture, reflective of their own personality, and stamped by the understanding of the world in which they lived—they also wrote more than they knew so that years down the line stuff would play out that would give their words a level of meaning and significance they never imagined or expected.
But for a minute, lets revisit David’s longing to build a house for God. I don’t think it was a wrong or inappropriate desire on his part. It perhaps had some consequences attached to it that he didn’t fully anticipate or understand, but I don’t think God was against it because he thought David was trying to pull a fast one on him or do something manipulative or crooked. What David wanted to do was, in many ways, praiseworthy and commendable. He saw the disconnect between the abundance in which he lived and the place that housed this relic that his people associated with the presence of God, and he wanted to address that discrepancy and shore that up. But God said, “No! That’s not for you to do. I want you to let go of that desire.”
Had that been me—had that been most of us—we’d have probably been upset with God because he said “no”. We might’ve become pouty, or sullen, or grumpy. Because none of us likes to be told “No!” We’re Americans—it’s about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Life is about doing what we want, when we want, and the way we want. And “no” is at odds with that. “No” is restrictive. “No” is limiting. “No” is confining. We all have our goals, hopes, dreams, and ambitions. And if somebody comes along and says “no”, we don’t like it. Again—it’s not as if David was pushing the envelope morally or wanting to do something that was ethically questionable. His desire and heart was as noble as could be. It was a laudable and commendable thing he sought. But God said “no.”
Which means … for one thing, it means when God says “no” to us, it doesn’t necessarily mean He’s agitated or upset—that He’s trying to discipline or punish us. Nor does it mean He’s a cosmic buzzkill who gets a kick out of toying with our lives and playing games with our well-being. Sometimes the “no” of God can mean nothing more than redirection—that He wants us to shift our focus, alter our priorities, or modify our approach in some way. It may mean the timing is not right—after all, the right thing at the wrong time is the wrong thing. Perhaps it means God has something different … or better … or more significant in store for us. But had David assumed God’s “no” was a sign of annoyance and dissatisfaction, he could have entered into a season of unhealthy self-reflection and false guilt: “What have I done wrong, God? Where did I veer off course? Did I do something that offended you? Show me where I messed up to where you’re not willing for me to do this?” It is very easy for us to conclude that God’s “no” is a sign that we’ve fallen short or disappointed him in some way.
Which makes what David does and how he responds so incredibly instructive.
Then King David went in and sat before the Lord, and he said:
“Who am I, Sovereign Lord, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far? And as if this were not enough in your sight, Sovereign Lord, you have also spoken about the future of the house of your servant—and this decree, Sovereign Lord, is for a mere human![
“What more can David say to you? For you know your servant, Sovereign Lord. For the sake of your word and according to your will, you have done this great thing and made it known to your servant.
“How great you are, Sovereign Lord! There is no one like you, and there is no God but you, as we have heard with our own ears. And who is like your people Israel—the one nation on earth that God went out to redeem as a people for himself, and to make a name for himself, and to perform great and awesome wonders by driving out nations and their gods from before your people, whom you redeemed from Egypt? You have established your people Israel as your very own forever, and you, Lord, have become their God.
“And now, Lord God, keep forever the promise you have made concerning your servant and his house. Do as you promised, so that your name will be great forever. Then people will say, ‘The Lord Almighty is God over Israel!’ And the house of your servant David will be established in your sight.
“Lord Almighty, God of Israel, you have revealed this to your servant, saying, ‘I will build a house for you.’ So your servant has found courage to pray this prayer to you. Sovereign Lord, you are God! Your covenant is trustworthy, and you have promised these good things to your servant. Now be pleased to bless the house of your servant, that it may continue forever in your sight; for you, Sovereign Lord, have spoken, and with your blessing the house of your servant will be blessed forever.” (2 Samuel 7:18-29)
David has just been told “no” by God, and what does He do? He sits in the presence of God like a child where he meditates … and thinks … and then launches into a prayer that is absolutely beautiful. He praises God for the guidance and direction He’s exercised in his life—how He took this eighth and least significant son from an insignificant family … not exactly someone you’d label as having “royal potential”—and helped him become the leader of God’s people. He declares His sovereignty, revels in His kindness, and affirms His trust in His purposes. He humbly and simply acknowledges God’s incredible righteousness and goodness. He affirms the decency and seemliness of His character. He expresses His gratitude and voices His confidence in God. He doesn’t in any way mope … or brood … or become petulant. He doesn’t pout or stew over the fact that God said “no” to him. He affirms God’s supremacy and leadership in His life—in fact, He says the words “Your servant” numerous times in the course of this prayer. It is very clear that God’s “no” hasn’t diminished or weakened David’s relationship with his Heavenly Father. The relationship is still very much one of assurance, trust, and confidence.
And that challenges me to assess and evaluate my own life. In fact, that may be the primary point of application from this story as it relates to your life and mine. When God says “no” to some aspiration or ambition we have for reasons that we don’t understand or that He chooses not to divulge—even when it’s something worthy or honorable, or something that shouldn’t be objectionable … when it’s something that, in some ways, is admirable and commendable and ought to be acceptable and respectable in His eyes—how do we respond? Do we respond with annoyance, irritation, and frustration? Or do we respond by affirming His goodness, decency, and character?
Part of what I think it means to be spiritually mature followers of Jesus is that our view of, or relationship with, God doesn’t change when He says “no” to us—when He pushes back on what we want to do or does something we don’t like. We still trust Him implicitly. We still see His hand of blessing and mercy in our life and thank Him for His kindness and generosity towards us. It means we, like David, don’t let the disenchantments or letdowns of life cause us to question the depth of His affection, love, and fondness towards us.
My hope and my prayer is that our connection with God isn’t so delicate and fragile to where if He says “no” to us, it wounds our spirit and our relationship with Him is compromised in some way. I hope, like David, we can still sit in His presence … bask in His goodness … relate to Him with humility … and celebrate the wonder, amazement, and awe of who He is.