Before They Confess, I Will Forgive

After reciting a list of the spiritual highs and lows in the experience of the Israelites, the apostle Paul says in 1 Corinthians 10:11: “These things happened to them as examples and were written down as warnings for us . . . .” 

That passage came to mind recently while I was preparing a sermon about the biblical hero David.

David appears on the scene when Saul, Israel’s first king, is in a downward spiral—socially, mentally, spiritually. Change is essential. And God has the perfect replacement in mind.

In fact, the prophet Samuel goes to King Saul to tell him how badly he has blown it, and that his kingship is doomed. Which means he will be the first and last of his lineage to be king. Not words of encouragement, by any standard. 

Then Samuel adds that “the Lord has sought out a man after his own heart and appointed him ruler of his people” (1 Samuel 13:14). This ringing endorsement—and, remember, it’s from God himself—couldn’t be stronger.  

Certainly, right from the start, David’s life has its challenges. But the early story leaps from success to success with such dizzying speed that any challenges quickly cease to be front and center. 

Although David isn’t important enough in the eyes of his father and brothers to be called away from his shepherd duties to attend an impromptu feast when the prophet Samuel turns up in Bethlehem unexpectedly, he nevertheless gets there eventually—and ends up being anointed the next king.

And David certainly wouldn’t have seemed a prime candidate to do battle with the Philistine giant Goliath. But he wins the showdown with ease, becoming a hero throughout the entire kingdom. 

And Saul’s jealousy and hatred certainly make David’s life difficult. But his response to such adversity is admirable. So reading about the first years of David’s public life is definitely inspirational. Truly impressive. Essentially what we would expect from a man after God’s own heart.

Enter Bathsheba. 

You know the story. Beautiful woman bathing in her backyard. David, peeping-Tom-style, sees her from the roof of his palace. Is smitten by her beauty. Sends a message for her to come see him. And things go downhill from there. 

But it gets worse. After a few weeks she sends word that their liaison has been more productive than either of them would have preferred—because her husband, Uriah, one of David’s top-30 fighting men, is at the battle front of David’s war with the Amonnites. 

Mild panic sets in. 

But David’s shrewd. A natural-born problem solver. If he can get Uriah back home for a rendezvous with Bathsheba, the tracks of his illicit relationship might be covered. At least enough. After all, some babies are born a bit premature. 

But Uriah, a man of inconveniently high principles, doesn’t choose to allow himself marital privileges that his fellow soldiers on the battlefield are having to forgo. 

Time for Plan B. 

When you’re the king, your generals do what you command. So David writes a letter telling his general to ensure that Uriah dies in battle. He seals it and gives it to Uriah to deliver when he gets back to the battle front. 

Exit Uriah. Permanently. 

David mourns the death of one of his top soldiers. And Bathsheba mourns the death of her husband. Then Bathsheba races to the palace, where she and David are married. Despicable series of events, for sure. Certainly not what we’d expect from a man after God’s own heart. 

David sighs deeply. It seems to have worked. Tracks covered. All is well. Whew! But not so fast. 

Enter Nathan the prophet.

A natural story teller, Nathan relates a real tear-jerker and blood-boiler about a rich man who eats a poor family’s pet lamb—when he has huge flocks from which he could have gotten his lamb chops. 

David is incensed. “That man must die!” He blurts out, no doubt thinking of just what execution method he’ll use when he finds out who the guilty party is.

“You. Are. The. Man.” Nathan says it quietly. Making sure the message sinks in. 

David is stunned. He didn’t see it coming. But in a manner that one would expect from a man-after-God’s-own-heart, he declares his guilt. Immediately. Unequivocally. No excuses. No pleas for mercy. Just a heartfelt, unqualified confession. “I have sinned against the Lord.”

We interrupt this story for a brief sidebar—not about David, but about God.

No sooner is David’s confession out of his mouth than Nathan replies: “The Lord has taken away your sin.” In other words: You. Are. Forgiven. 

Nathan continues: “You are not going to die.” In essence, Nathan is saying: Remember the sentence you pronounced on the perpetrator of the crime I described in my story? Well, God is not going to treat you the way you feel such despicable behavior deserves to be handled. God is forgiving you. 

David is experiencing the kind of treatment God would later describe in Isaiah 65:24: “Before they call, I will answer; while they are still speaking, I will hear.” 

And this applies not just to requests we may make to God, but it also applies to our confessions. God is in a perpetual posture of forgiveness. He doesn’t say that, after he has reviewed our situation thoroughly, he will discuss it with his advisory team and, perhaps, will be able to show a bit of mercy. No, even before we confess, God has already forgiven. 

God has prequalified us for forgiveness. That’s what the life, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus is all about. That’s what Israel’s deliverance from slavery in Egypt was all about. God takes the initiative. Then we respond. And when we respond, God’s reply to our response makes the speed of light seem slow. 

But back to David.

Having received forgiveness so readily, David shakes his head in wonder and says, “Wow! This is great news! If heinous sins can be forgiven that readily and that quickly, I’m going to spend a lot more time on the palace roof looking for beautiful women who are bathing in their backyard. This is too good to be true!

But that’s not what happens. The story ends differently.

In essence, Nathan says that forgiveness won’t stop the avalanche that David’s own behavior has unleashed. The child conceived through the illicit liaison will die. And it’s not hard to imagine that the poor infant’s in-utero experience was greatly fraught—what with Bathsheba emotions on such a roller-coaster. And all the stress and strains of a murder cover-up.

And it’s not hard to imagine that David, to a great degree, lost respect from the public and from even his own sons and daughters. Word gets out even when there are no sensational tabloids for sale at the local market. The strife and turmoil that continued to dog David may have made Saul’s relentless pursuit of him seem like mere child’s play. 

The fact that God had once declared David a man after his own heart, and the fact that God so readily forgave him when he confessed his sin/crime, doesn’t change the fact that after his sin against Bathsheba, Uriah, God and a whole lot of others, much of the rest of David’s life can be described as nothing short of tragic. 

Maybe the lesson and the warning that the apostle Paul would point us to in this story is that God’s forgiveness is given quickly and fully. But forgiveness doesn’t automatically remove the results that bad behavior has set in motion. As David found: Forgiveness is wonderful. It’s liberating. But “the way of the transgressor is [still] hard” (Proverbs 13:15)