It seems such a pity that most of modern-day humanity knows King David best for his sin with Bathsheba, mostly from a blasphemous Leonard Cohen song, unaware that the Bible describes David as “a man after God’s own heart.”
What I love about David is his raw honesty. We read it in the Psalms– a collection of prayers and songs– and we see it in the narrative supplied in 1 and 2 Samuel. We see in the Psalms how David pours his soul out to God on many occasions—from the fear of running from a maniacal king trying to kill him, or the broken bitter repentance he felt when God allowed the sin of adultery and murder to pierce his aloof soul. The narrative shows a bold, courageous, tempted, and repentant man who deeply knew and desperately needed his God.
What I see in the Psalms so often is a pattern: David takes his raw honesty, his doubts and fears and questions and discouragement and intense frustration about his situations to God. He is then reminded by the Spirit, of God’s goodness and majesty, which humbles him and leads him to worship. Finally, he arises with a renewed faith and peace that God loves him and has his whole life in his hands–from his personal safety and needs to vengeance over his enemies.
Today the kids and I read about a time when David had been gone from his current dwelling place, and while he was gone the enemy came and burned the city, spoiled the contents, and left with all of the wives and children of David and the 600 or so men who went with him. This story can be found in 1 Samuel 30.
It says there that “David and the people that were with him lifted up their voice and wept, until they had no more power to weep.” Later it says that “David was greatly distressed; for the people spake of stoning him, because the soul of all the people was grieved, every man for his sons and for his daughters: but David encouraged himself in the LORD his God.”
I told the children that God is a God who is touched by our infirmities. The Bible repeatedly states that Jesus is “near to the brokenhearted.” We see the omnipotent Christ weep at the tomb of a man He knew He would be raising from the dead in just a few minutes, but His heart broke for the suffering and grief of those mourning Lazarus’s loss. He pursues the lost lamb and then carries it gently home on His shoulders. He alone approached the demonic man who cut himself and dwelt among the tombs, restoring him to his right mind filling his heart. He positioned himself to speak to the Samaritan woman who had experienced so much sin so that He might give her “living water”. He forgave the deep, hurting, guilty heart of the woman caught in adultery.
When we experience grief—and there are so many sources of grief that consequently there are many ways to experience it, whether it be a death, separation, a loss of a job, a loss of what abuse has stolen from us—-we have an opportunity to experience the comfort of Jesus in a way we really cannot unless we are suffering. The Holy Spirit is referred to by Jesus as “the Comforter”. God desires our burdens and our hurts, and His comfort requires our complete honesty with Him. We cannot experience healing without honest, raw brokeness before the Lord. I believe this so strongly from personal experience that I am persuaded that this end—Jesus taking our griefs as His own and exchanging it with His presence—is the only remedy for grief.
I have rarely ever been so filled with the presence of the Lord as I have been when I have chosen to take my broken heart to Him in ugly, raw, unspeakable prayers. These are the prayers where I kneel feebly at my bedside or at my couch or at the church altar and I don’t care how long I am there. I don’t care who is or is not watching. I cannot lift my head. I usually cannot speak. But when I take my lament to the cross, I am there overwhelmed by the majesty and the immensity of the Jesus who died for me. I am overwhelmed in experiencing His healing love that He pours over and over and over my heart, which turns my tears of mourning to tears of joy. I am humbled that I have been delivered from so very much– so very very very much!— unworthy of all He has done. It is at that point that I can only say, “My Lord and My God.” He takes my tears with His nail-scarred hands and puts them in His bottle (Psalms 56:8-11), carries my burden off on His own shoulders, and sets me on my feet with a clean, joyful heart and a song on my lips, and at least for a time until a wave of grief returns, I am at beautiful, blessed peace.
How much Comfort have I left on the table because I choose to go to other things instead?
I told the kids that it is like taking a bath in a giant tub after being filthy from mud. Except instead of sitting in my own dirty water, the drain is open and I have an endless supply of clean, warm running water. Eventually the dirty water is replaced by clean, and I leave the tub far cleaner than when I entered. In grief that tub fills up with dirty water often. But when we go to the Lord, we get a rich supply of clean water, Him giving us clean water while taking the dirty water upon Himself.
My dearest loved one, the Great Physician Jesus said “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised . . .” (Luke 4:18). There is no sin, no experience, no shame, no person too broken, too far gone, too “bad”, too dirty, and no emotion too honest that is too much for Jesus.
Cry out to Him in your honest brokeness.
Love you all,
Sandra