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Again, we follow David into the valley of humiliation—a deep valley where grievous sin and its bitter fruits are fully seen. It is really wonderful to trace the checkered path of this remarkable man. No sooner has God’s hand of love restored his soul, again setting his feet on solid ground, than David is plunged into the depths of corruption. We have just seen God’s gracious correction of his error in reference to the house of God; now we behold him led captive in the chains of natural desire. Such is man—a poor, halting, stumbling creature, constantly needing the fullest exercise of divine grace and forbearance.

The history of even the most obscure believer will exhibit, though on a smaller scale, all the roughnesses, inequalities, and inconsistencies observable in David's life. Actually, this is what renders the narrative of his life and times so peculiarly, so touchingly interesting.

Our hearts have been assailed by the same power of unbelief as David when he fled for refuge to the king of Gath; or by mistaken notions in reference to the Lord's service, when David sought to build a house for God, before the time; or by emotions of self-complacency and pride, like David when he sought to number the people; or by the vile lusting of human nature, like David in the matter of Uriah the Hittite. Such a heart will find little interest in tracing the ways of David. But wherever there is a human heart there is also the susceptibility of what we have been enumerating, and, therefore, the grace that met David is certainly precious to every heart that knows its own plague.

This section of our history on the life and times of David is extensive, embracing many important principles of Christian experience and divine dealing. The facts of the case are no doubt familiar, but still, it will be profitable to look closely at them. David's sin led to Absalom's conspiracy.

And it came to pass, after the year was expired, at the time when kings go forth to battle, that David sent Joab, and his servants with him, and all Israel ; and they destroyed the children of Ammon, and besieged Rabbah. But David tarried still at Jerusalem (2 Sam. 11:1).

Instead of being at the head of his army, exercising himself in the hardships and fatigues of war, David was quietly reposing at home. This gave the enemy an advantage. The moment we absent ourselves from our post of duty, or retire from the place of conflict, we become weak. When we take off the harness, we will undoubtedly be pierced by Satan’s arrow.

While working for the Lord, no matter the work, our human nature is kept under pressure; but when at ease, it takes over, feeling the influence of external things. We should seriously ponder this. Satan will always find mischief for idle hearts, as well as idle hands. David certainly felt this. Had he fought with his army at Rabbah, his eye would not have rested on an object calculated to act on the corrupt principle within; but the very act of tarrying at home afforded an opening for the enemy.

It is well to always be on the watch, for we have a watchful enemy. "Be sober, be vigilant," says the apostle, "because your adversary, the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." Satan watches for opportunities, and when he finds a soul unoccupied with service, he will surely seek to impose evil. Therefore, it is safe, as well as healthful, to be diligently engaged in service—service flowing out of communion with God. When serving God, we are in an attitude of positive hostility to Satan; but if not, he will use us as instruments for his own ends. When David failed as the captain of the hosts of Israel , he became the slave of lust. Sad picture! Solemn, most solemn warning for our souls!

The believer is subject either to the Spirit, or the flesh; if we fail in the former, the latter will certainly predominate, and we become easy prey for the enemy. Thus it was with David. "At the time when kings go forth to battle" he was at rest in his house, and Satan presented a bait that proved too much for his poor heart. He fell—grievously and shamefully! Nor was his fall a mere mistake. No; he fell into a deep pit of moral evil, of vile corruption, and his fall utters the solemn admonition, "Keep under the body." As an old preacher said, “Our human nature must be judged, or we shall make shipwreck.”

Consider the fearful lengths to which David was carried in the commission of evil. Having sacrificed his character to indulge nature, he endeavors to make Uriah a cloak to screen him from public eyes—reputation maintained at all cost. He tries kindness, but in vain; he makes the wronged and dishonored Uriah drunk, but to no purpose; at last, he murders him by the sword of the children of Ammon. How dreadful!

Did David really think that it was over, now that Uriah was out of the way? Did he forget that the eyes of the Lord rested on him? It seems, on this occasion, that his conscience was hardened. In his conscience had been susceptible to conviction, he would have hesitated before adding the sin of murder to that of adultery; he would have mourned under the sharp reproof of Uriah, who said, "The ark, and Israel, and Judah, abide in tents; and my lord Joab and the servants of my lord are encamped in the open fields: shall I then go into my house?" What a rebuke to David! The Lord and His people were in open fields, fighting against the uncircumcised foes of Israel , but David was at home enjoying pleasure—indulging his desires.

It’s hard to believe that David could be found reclining on his couch when the hosts of the Lord were warring with the enemy, or that he would expose a faithful servant to the assault of the enemy in order to save his own reputation. However, such is man—the best of men. When pride swells the heart, or lust dims the eye, who can limit human depravity? Who can define the fearful lengths to which even a David can go, when out of communion with God? Blessed for ever be the God of all grace, who has ever proved Himself equal to all the demands of His wayward children! Who but God could deal with even one saint for a single stage of his history? When we remember His perfect estimate of the odiousness of sin, His perfect grace toward the sinner must fill the soul with adoring gratitude!

However, no matter how He may deal with the sinner, the Lord must maintain His holiness. Hence, in David's case, we find Him denouncing the most solemn judgment on David’s house because of his sin. Nathan is sent in order to lead David’s conscience to the immediate presence of the holiness of God. This is the proper place for conscience to find itself; when not there, it will find various expedients, subterfuges, and various cloaks. When told of the success of his diabolical scheme in reference to Uriah, David said, "Thus shalt thou say to Joab, Let not this thing displease thee, for the sword devoreth one as well as another." In this way, he sought to hush up the whole matter—vainly imagining that, when Uriah was out of the way, all would be well.

But, ah, there was an Eye that could penetrate through all the covering that David's insensibility had casted over his heart and conscience. "The sword devoureth one as well as another," no doubt, and war has its vicissitudes; but this would not satisfy the holiness of God. No; the whole matter must be exposed—the dreadful evil in which Satan had entangled the feet of his victim must be disentangled, the holiness of God's house must be maintained at all cost, His name and truth fully vindicated, and His servant scourged in view of the whole congregation—yea, "in the sight of the sun." It might seem, in man's judgment, to be wiser to hide from public view the chastisement of one who stood so high, but such is not God's way. By the judgment which He executes in the midst of His people, God proves to every spectator that He has no fellowship with evil. Nothing wipes off the stain cast on the truth of God more than public judgment of the transgressor. The world and sin may go on for the present; but those who are associated with the name of the Lord, must keep themselves pure or else be judged.

However, David seemed insensible in this whole transaction. Even when Nathan's touching parable exposed the blackness of his conduct, David did not take it to himself, though roused to indignation at the selfish conduct. "And David's anger was greatly kindled against the man; and he said to Nathan, As the Lord liveth, the man that hath done this thing shall surely die." Thus, he unconsciously pronounce judgment on himself; not ye his own sin. Perhaps he would have proceeded to find and punish the offender; had not the prophet's word became the arrow of the Almighty, piercing David’s obtuse conscience. "Thou art the man."

When the sin was traced to its source, David stood as a conscience-smitten, broken-hearted sinner in the presence of God. He no longer makes an effort to screen himself, or maintain his reputation. "I have sinned against the Lord," is the acknowledgment that flows from his wounded spirit. His soul was subdued by the power of truth, and Psalm 51 was his penitential utterance, as he lay prostrate in the dust, in the deep sense of his own personal vileness before the Lord. "Have mercy upon me, O God, according to Thy loving-kindness; according to the multitude of Thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions." Here was David's well-known, oft-tried resource. He lays his heavy burden down beside the loving-kindness and tender mercy of God—the only place where his harassed spirit could find repose. He felt his sin was so heinous that nothing but the mercy of God could blot it out. There, however, he found a "vast abyss" that could "swallow up" all his evil, and give him profound peace in spite of his wretchedness.

Yes, David needed forgiveness, but even more he needed to be inwardly cleansed from the defiling power of sin itself. "Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin." The apostle says, "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." To be cleansed from unrighteousness is more than being forgiven of our sins; and David desired the latter, as well as the former. Both depend on the confession of our sins.

It is a more difficult to confess sin, than to ask for forgiveness. Confessing our sins before God is more humbling than asking for pardon. It is easy to ask the Lord for pardon; but such is in vain unless we confess our sins. Then, simple faith causes us to know that our sins are forgiven. The word is, "If we confess"; David confessed his sin.

I acknowledge my transgressions; and my sin is ever before me. Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in Thy sight; that Thou mightest be justified when Thou speakest, and be clear when Thou judgest.

This was true conviction. There was no attempt at palliation; no blaming of circumstances; no blaming of others. It is simply "I" and "Thee"; I a sinner, and Thou the God of truth. "Let God be true, and every man a liar." The secret of true restoration consists in taking our real place as sinners in the light of God’s truth. This is the apostle's teaching in Romans 3. The truth of God is set up as the great standard by which man's condition is tested.

The effect of this is to bring the sinner down to the very bottom of his moral and practical condition in the sight of God; it strips him of everything, and lays his innermost soul bare before a holiness that will not tolerate the least speck of sin in its presence. But what do we find when brought down to the dust of self-abasement and genuine confession? In the solitariness and sovereignty of His grace, we find God—working out a perfect righteousness for the guilty and silenced sinner.

Here we find truth and grace, presented to us in this most important section of inspiration. Truth breaks the heart, grace binds it up. Truth stops the mouth, grace opens it. Truth stops it, so that it no longer boasts of human merit; grace opens it, so that it shows forth the praise and honor of the God of all grace.

In spirit, David traveled through the truth later set forth in Romans 3. He, too, was led down to the profound depths of his nature. "Behold," he says, "I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me." Here he looks down to the lowest point of depression.

Observe the contrast: "Behold, Thou desirest truth in the inward parts." God demands truth. What else could David do except confess the truth concerning himself? What could meet the need of such men?—nothing but the precious blood of Christ. "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." In other words, David throws himself as a helpless sinner into the arms of redeeming love. God alone can purge a sinner, making him fit for God’s presence. "Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which Thou hast broken may rejoice."

God must do it all—purge his conscience, open his ear to the notes of joy and gladness, open his mouth to confess transgressors of God’s ways of love and mercy, create a clean heart within him—restoring to David the joy of His salvation, upholding him by His free Spirit, delivering him from blood-guiltiness. In short, when Nathan's words fell with divine power on David's heart, he cast the crushing weight of his burden on God’s infinite grace, (exercised through the precious blood of atonement) and thus was made to humbly rejoice in a perfect settlement of the question which his sin had raised between his conscience and God. Grace gained a glorious triumph; and David retired from the field, scarred and sorely wounded, yet with a deepened experience of what God was, and what grace had done for his soul.

Still, in due time, David's sin produced its own bitter fruits. This is always so. Grace does not limit the solemn words of the apostle, "Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." Grace may pardon the individual, but the results of sin will assuredly appear—even though the sinner may enjoy the deepest and sweetest experiences of divine love and restoring grace. This was abundantly exemplified in David. He was, as we know, fully, blessedly, divinely pardoned, washed, and restored; nevertheless he had to harken to the solemn denunciation, "Now, therefore, the sword shall never depart from thy house; because thou hast despised Me, and hast taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be thy wife."

Observe, "Thou hast despised Me." David sought to hide his sin from public view by getting Uriah out of the way, forgetting the all-seeing eye of Jehovah, and also forgetting the honor of His holy name. Had he remembered the Lord at the moment when human nature was causing her voice within him, he would not have fallen into the snare. The sense of God's presence is the great preservative from evil; but how often are we more influenced by the presence of our fellow-man than we are by the presence of God. "I have set the Lord always before me; because He is on my right hand, I shall not be moved." If we fail to realize God's presence, we will be made to feel it as a judgment.

"The sword shall never depart from thy house." Contrast this with the glorious promises made to David in 2 Samuel 7, and yet it is the same voice that falls on the ear in the denunciation and in the promise, though in a different tone. In the latter, grace; in the former, holiness is heard. "Because by this deed thou hast given great occasion to the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme, the child that is born unto thee shall surely die." The death of the child, however, was only the first sound of the tornado of judgment about to burst on David's house. He could fast, pray, humble himself, and lie prostrate in the dust, but the child must die; judgment must take its course, the consuming fire burns up every particle of the material in its path.

The sword of man "devours one as well as another"; but the sword of God falls on the head of the offender. Things must be made manifest; the stream may flow for a time under ground, but sooner or later it will break out. We may go on for years in a course of secret evil, in the cultivation of some unholy principle, in the indulgence of some unholy lust, in the gratification of some unholy temper or feeling, but the smoldering flame must ultimately break forth, revealing the real character of our actions. This is a truly solemnizing reflection. We cannot hide things from God, nor cause Him to think that our wrong ways are all right. We may try to reason ourselves into such thinking; we may persuade our hearts by plausible arguments that such and such things are right, good, or lawful; but "God is not mocked: whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap."

Yet, grace shines forth in every scene of David's remarkable career. Bathsheba becomes the mother of Solomon, who occupied the throne of Israel in its most glorious period. Christ came through this privileged line! This is truly divine! It is totally worthy of God. Under the hand of God, the darkest scene in David's life became the means of richest blessings—divine grace is reflected on a dark background. This principle characterizes all the ways of God with His people. Yes, He judges their evil, but pardons their sin, making their failures (after humiliation and self-judgment) the channel through which grace flows to them. Blessed forever be the God of all grace, who pardons our sins, restores our souls, bears with our many infirmities, and finally provides a way for us to triumph through Him that loves us!

How David must have felt, as his eye rested on his son, Solomon, "the man of rest" his Jedidiah, "the beloved of the Lord"!—remembering his own humiliating fall and God's adorable grace. Isn’t it that way with us? What is our history day by day, but a history of failures and restorations, of ups and downs? Thank God for the assurance that "Grace all the work shall crown through everlasting days."

At the close of 2 Samuel 12, we find David in his proper place—in conflict with the enemy.

And David gathered all the people together, and went to Rabbah, and fought against it and took it . . . And he brought forth the people that were therein, and put them under saws, and under harrows of iron, and under axes of iron, and made them pass through the brick-kiln; and thus did he to all the cities of the children of Ammon. So David and all the people returned to Jerusalem .

And now begins the heavy tale of David's woes, the fulfillment of the prophet's denunciation that the sword should never depart from his house. 2 Samuel 13 records two of the most diabolical acts that ever stained a family circle. Amnon, the son of David, offers dishonor to the sister of Absalom, and Absalom murders Amnon, then flees to Geshur where he remains three years. David allows him to return, contrary to the positive command of the law. He should have remained in a city of refuge; but as a murderer he is received back on natural grounds—no confession, no judgment, no atonement.

"The king kissed Absalom." Yes, the king kissed the murderer, instead of allowing the law of the God of Israel to take its course. What then? "It came to pass after this, that Absalom prepared chariots and horses, and fifty men to run before him." This was the next step. David's inordinate tenderness only paved the way for Absalom's open rebellion. Terrible warning! Deal tenderly with evil, and it will certainly rise to a head, crushing you in the end. On the other hand, meet evil in the name of the Lord, and victory is sure. It may be trying at first, but the end is always peaceful.

But observe how Absalom works. He begins by creating a want in the hearts of the men of Israel .

And Absalom rose up early, and stood beside the way of the gate: and it was so, that when any man that had a controversy came to the king for judgement, then Absalom called unto him, and said, Of what city art thou? . . . See thy matters are good and right; but there is no man deputed of the king to hear thee. Absalom said, moreover, Oh, that I were made judge in the land, that every man which hath any suit or cause might come unto me, and I would do him justice. And it was so that when any man came nigh to him to do him obeisance, he put forth his hand and kissed him . . . So Absalom stole the hearts of the men of Israel .

The enemy's way is first to create a want, to produce a blank, and then proceed to fill it up with something, or some one, of his own choosing. Those whose hearts were fully satisfied with David had no room for Absalom.

This is a fine principle when applied to our hearts in reference to Christ. If we are filled with Him we have no room for anything else. It is only when Satan succeeds in creating a want in our hearts that he introduces something of his own. When we can say in truth, "The Lord is my portion," we are safe from the influence of Satan's attractive baits. The Lord keep us in the happy and holy enjoyment of Himself, that we may be able to say with one of old, "I try to lay up all my good things in Christ, and then a little of the creature goes a long way."

However, Absalom stole the hearts of the men of Israel . He came in by flatteries, and usurped David's place in their thoughts and affections. He was a comely person, well adapted to captivate the multitude. "In all Israel there was none to be so much praised as Absalom for his beauty: from the sole of his foot even to the crown of his head there was no blemish in him." But his beauty and flattery had no effect on those who were near to the person of David. When the messenger came, saying, "The hearts of the men of Israel are after Absalom," it became obvious who were for David.

And David said unto all his servants that were with him at Jerusalem, Arise, and let us flee . . . And the king's servants said unto the king, Behold, thy servants are ready to do whatsoever my lord the king shall appoint . . . And the king went forth, and all the people after him, and tarried in a place that was far off. And all his servants passed on beside him, and all the Cherethites, and all the Pelethites, and all the Gittites, six hundred men which came after him from Gath , passed on before the king . . . And all the country wept with a loud voice, and all the people passed over; the king also himself passed over the brook Kidron, and all the people passed over, toward the way of the wilderness.

There were many hearts who loved David too well to be drawn away by the ensnaring influence of Absalom. Those who had been with David in the days of his exile were near him now in this, his day of deep sorrow.

And David went up by the ascent of Mount Olivet , and wept as he went up, and had his head covered; and he went barefoot; and all the people that were with him covered every man his head, and they went up, weeping as they went up.

This is a deeply touching scene. David's grace shines out more during this conspiracy than at any period of his life. And not only does David's grace appear, but the genuine devotedness of his people is also revealed. When we behold a loving band of followers thronging around the weeping, barefooted David, our hearts are more deeply touched than when we see them thronging around his throne. We are thoroughly convinced that his person, not his office, was the center of attraction. David had nothing to offer his followers now, except fellowship in his rejection; yet, those who knew him were bound to him. They could weep with him, as well as conquer with him. Hear the language of a genuine lover of David: "And Ittai answered the king, and said, As the Lord liveth, and as my lord the king liveth, surely in what place my lord the king shall be, whether in death or life, even there also will thy servant be." Life or death; he would be in companionship with David.

In looking through these chapters, there is nothing as striking as David's beautiful subjection of spirit. When Zadok brought the Ark in his weeping train, he says,

Carry back the ark of God into the city; if I shall find favour in the eyes of the Lord, He will bring me again, and show me both it, and His habitation; but if He thus say, I have no delight in thee, behold, here am I, let Him do to me as seemeth good unto Him.

When the insulting Benjamite, Shimei, came forth to curse and cast stones at him, and Abishai desired permission to take off his head, his answer is, "What have I to do with you, ye sons of Zeruiah? So let him curse, because the Lord hath said unto him, Curse David. Who shall then say, Wherefore, hast thou done so?" In short, he meekly bows his head to the dispensation of God. No doubt, he felt that he was only reaping the fruit of his sin, and he accepted it. With a subdued and reverent spirit, he saw God in every circumstance. To him it was not Shimei, but the Lord. Abishai saw only the man, and desired to deal with him accordingly; like Peter later on, when he sought to defend his beloved Master from the band of accusers sent to arrest Him. Both Peter and Abishai were living on the surface, looking at secondary causes. The Lord Jesus was living in profound subjection to the Father. "The cup which My Father hath given Me, shall I not drink it?" This gave Him power over anything. He looked beyond the instrument to God—beyond the cup to the hand which had filled it. It mattered not whether it was Judas, Herod, Caiaphas, or Pilate; He could say, "the cup which My Father hath given Me to drink."

In a measure, this, too, was David lifted above subordinate agents. He looked right up to God, and with unshod feet, and covered head, he bowed before Him. "The Lord hath said unto him, Curse David." This was enough.

There are few things in which we fail more than in apprehending the presence of God—His dealing with our souls in every circumstance of daily life. Being constantly ensnared by secondary causes, Satan gains victory over us. What a holy atmosphere would surround us, if only we were more alive to the fact that there is not an event that happens to us in which the voice of God may not be heard, and the hand of God seen! Men and material things would then be received as agents and instruments in our Father's hand; so many ingredients in our Father's cup.

Thus our minds would be solemnized, our spirits calmed, our hearts subdued; we wouldn’t say with Abishai, "Why should this dead dog curse my lord the king let me go over, I pray thee, and take off his head." Nor would we draw the sword, like Peter. How the sound of Peter's sword must have grated on his Master's ear, and offended His spirit! And how Abishai's words must have grieved the meek and submitting David! Could David defend himself while God was dealing with his soul so solemn and impressive? No; and he would not take himself out of the hands of the Lord. He was His, for life or death—as a king or an exile. Blessed subjection!

But, as we’ve seen, the record of this conspiracy not only exhibits David's subjection to God, but also the devotedness of his friends to his person. His mighty men are seen thronging around him on his right hand and his left, sharing with him the insults and execrations of Shimei. They were with him in the hold, on the throne, in the field, and now they are with him in his humiliation.

Shobi and Barzillai come forth to minister to David and his men with princely liberality. In short, the thoughts of many hearts are revealed in the season of David's sorrow. It was obvious who loved David for his own sake; and, no doubt, he returned to his house and throne with a fuller and deeper confidence in the genuine affection of those around him.

However, there is one character introduced that we must consider—Mephibosheth, the son of Jonathan.

Hardly had David taken his seat on the throne, when he spoke those memorably gracious words, "Is there yet any that is left of the house of Saul, that I may show the kindness of God unto him?" "The house of Saul!" "The kindness of God!" What words! Saul had been his most implacable enemy; yet, the brilliancy of his position and the fullness of divine grace enabled David to sink into oblivion the acts of the past—manifesting not merely the kindness of David, but the kindness of God.

The kindness of God is marked by this special characteristic, exercised toward His enemies. "If, while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son," etc. Such kindness David desired to show to a member of the house of Saul.

Now, when Mephibosheth the son of Jonathan, the son of Saul, was come unto David, he fell on his face, and did reverence . . . And David said unto him, Fear not, for I will surely show thee kindness . . . and thou shalt eat bread at my table continually. And he bowed himself, and said, What is thy servant, that thou shouldest look on such a dead dog as I am?

Here, then, is a lovely specimen of the kindness of God, and here, too, we are presented with Mephibosheth's devotedness to David. Though having no more claim on him than an enemy, or a dead dog, yet he is accepted in grace, and set down at the king's table.

But Mephibosheth’s faithless servant, promoting his own ends, misrepresented him to the king. The opening verses of chapter 16 furnish an account of Ziba's actions. By pretending kindness to David, he blackens the character of Mephibosheth, hoping to get possession of his lands. In order to deceive and malign, he takes advantage of his master's weakness of body. What a picture!

But the truth came to light, and the wronged one was fully vindicated. On David's return, when all the trouble was over, and Absalom was gone from the scene, "Mephibosheth, the son of Saul, came down to meet the king, and had neither dressed his feet, nor trimmed his beard, nor washed his clothes, from the day the king departed until he came again in peace."

While David was away, Mephibosheth mourned—a true picture of what a saint ought to be today, waiting for the Master’s return. Fellowship with an absent Lord should impart to the Christian character a feeling of thorough separation. The question is not what a Christian may, or may not do. No; an affectionate heart knows the course to be adopted by those looking for the king's return. What spring of action does the absence of Jesus furnish! "If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above." Why does a spiritual man abstain from things he might enjoy?—Jesus is absent. This is the highest motive.

Surely, none of us want the rules of a cold and barren formalism to regulate our ways; but rather a fervent affection for the person of Christ, desiring His speedy return. We, like Mephibosheth, have experienced the kindness of God—precious kindness! We have been taken up from the depths of our ruin, and set among the princes of God's people. Should we not, therefore, love our Master? Should we not desire to see His face? Should we not regulate our present conduct by constant reference to Him? How we need to be more like Mephibosheth. But we are too quick to minister to our odious nature—too ready to walk in the unchecked enjoyment of this life—its riches, honors, comforts, refinements, and elegancies. We imagine that we can do all these things without forfeiting our title to the name and privileges of Christians. Vain, detestable selfishness!

If Ziba's account of Mephibosheth were true, then how could the latter reply to David, "Wherefore wentest thou not with me, Mephibosheth?" But he was able to answer,

My lord, O king, my servant deceived me; for thy servant said, I will saddle me an ass, that I may ride thereon, and go to the king; because thy servant is lame. And he hath slandered thy servant unto my lord the king; but my lord the king is an angel of God; do, therefore, what is good in thine eyes. For all of my father's house were but dead men before my lord the king; yet didst thou set thy servant among them that did eat at thine own table. What right, therefore, have I yet to cry any more unto the king?

This was simple integrity of heart. Unaffected devotedness develops itself.

The contrast between Ziba and Mephibosheth is truly striking. Ziba was seeking inheritance; Mephibosheth desired only to be near the king. Hence, when David said, "Why speakest thou any more of thy matters? I have said, Thou and Ziba divide the land," Mephibosheth at once proved the direction in which his thoughts and desires were flowing; "Yea," he said, "let him take all, forasmuch as my lord the king is come again in peace unto his own house." His heart was focused on David, not the "matters." How could he partner with Ziba? How could he divide land with such person? The king had returned; this was enough for him. To be near David was far better than all the inheritance of the house of Saul. "Let him take all." Nearness to the person of King David so filled, so satisfied the heart of Mephibosheth, that without any difficulty, he could give up everything Ziba so diligently deceived and the slandered to possess.

The same is true with those of us who love the name and person of the Son of God. The prospect of His return should deaden our affections for the things of this world—as gazing intently at any special object turns one away from everything else.

By realizing the power of our blessed hope, we are able to walk above and apart from the world. Satan is well aware of this, so he labors hard to reduce our hope to the level of speculative doctrine—a peculiar tenet, possessing little or no practical power to attract the heart. Sadly, Satan seems to be succeeding today in disconnecting many souls from thinking about and looking forward to the second coming of Christ.

There is only one remedy for all this evil—a genuine love of and longing for the return of Jesus. It’s a fixed principle; as affection dies, the spirit of controversy prevails.

All this is simply and strikingly illustrated in the narrative of Mephibosheth. He felt that he owed everything to David; that he had been saved from ruin, and raised to dignity. Hence, when David's place was occupied by a usurper, Mephibosheth's whole appearance and manner proved that he had no sympathy with the existing state of things; he was separated from all of it, desiring only the return of him whose kindness had made him all he was. His interests, destinies, and hopes, were bound up with David, and nothing but his return could make him happy.

Oh, that it were thus with us!—that we were true Christians; strangers and pilgrims in the midst of scenes ruled by Satan. The time is coming when our beloved King will return, amid the affectionate acclamations of His people, when the usurper shall be hurled from his throne, and every enemy crushed beneath the footstool of our glorious Immanuel. The Absaloms, the Ahithophels, the Shimeis, shall find their proper place; and, on the other hand, all who, like Mephibosheth, have mourned the absent David, shall have all the desires of their longing hearts abundantly satisfied. "How long, O Lord?" May this be our cry, as we eagerly look for the earliest sound of His chariot wheels. The way is long, rough, and painful; the night dark and depressing; but the word is, "Be patient, brethren." "He that shall come will come, and will not tarry. Now the just shall live by faith; but if any man draw back, My soul shall have no pleasure in him."

We now end our consideration of Absalom's conspiracy. He met the end his deeds merited, though a father's heart might grieve and a father's tears flow for him. Moreover, his history may justly be viewed as a type of that great prophetic character, who, as Daniel informs us, "shall obtain the kingdom by flatteries." However, this and many other points of interest, we leave to your further study of the sacred text, praying the Lord will refresh and edify you, in this day of darkness and confusion. Never was there a time when Christians needed to give themselves more to the prayerful study of Scripture, because conflicting opinions and judgments, strange notions and baseless theories abound. Blessed be God, His Word is before us in all its lucid simplicity, and in it we have the eternal fountain of truth, the immutable standard by which everything must be judged. Therefore, all we need is a mind that is subject to its teaching. "If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light."