9.25.11--Learning a Hard Lesson from David (Sermon on 2 Samuel 12:1-23)

In H.G. Well’s classic, The Time Machine, a genius scientist does the seemingly impossible—he invents a machine capable of moving forward and backward through time. Now, I must admit to you that I watched the 2002 movie that was only loosely based on the book years before I actually got around to reading the literally timeless novel, and, honestly, there are parts of the story line that I like better in the film adaption.

The main change in the storyline between the novel and film is the protagonist’s reasoning behind building his time machine. In the book, he builds it solely out of scientific drive and curiosity. In the movie, he builds it in hope of reuniting with his love, who died years before on the day he proposed to her.

Isn’t it interesting how much of our cultural imagination is wrapped up in mastering time? Throughout the media mediums are stories and musings that focus on people trying to go back in time to change something from their past, or trying to go to the future to see how things work out for them if they follow a certain path. We want to have control of every aspect of our lives, and we want to know that we made the best possible decision that we could in every instance.

In The Time Machine, though, the protagonist learns that no matter what he does to try to change the past, no matter how many times he saves his fiancé from the doom awaiting her in the future, it only prolongs the inevitable. Every time she is rescued from one fate, she falls into the hands of another fatal accident.

Even with a time machine, he cannot change the past.

In our chapter from The Story this week, we read the profound story of David and Bathsheba. David commits a horrible sin in the sight of God when he forcefully takes another man’s wife into his bed and impregnates her. Then, to try to cover up this atrocious act, he has Bathsheba’s husband, Uriah, sent home from the battle front, that he might enjoy the company of his wife and in doing so cover up David’s dastardly deed. When Uriah refuses to indulge in the comforts of home when the rest of the army is still warring away, David sends him to his death so as not to face the wrath of an angry and vengeful husband. Then he takes Bathsheba into his own home and marries her.

King David, our hero from last week, the man who is said to have the heart of God, screws up horribly. His sin is heinous, and yet it seems like he is going to get away with it.

Then enters Nathan, the prophet of God. Nathan calls David out and informs him that the LORD is not at all happy with what has transgressed. David recognizes his sin, and repents for it, humbly begging God for forgiveness. David is forgiven, but the baby gets sick. For seven days, David mourns as the baby struggles to hold on to life. But, like many babies of that time, he is unable to overcome whatever sickness afflicted him, and he dies. It is a sad, terrible thing, and the kingdom mourns with her king.

I can’t stop thinking about David’s response first to the baby’s sickness and then to the baby’s death. Scripture holds that when David heard of the babies condition, “David pleaded with God for the child. He fasted and went into his house and spent the nights lying on the ground. The elders of his household stood beside him to get him up from the ground, but he refused, and he would not eat any food with them.”

David is touched to his soul by his child’s suffering, and cannot bear to know that he is afflicted so. He will not eat, drink, or engage in any courtly activity, but spends seven days in prayer and mourning, begging God to show mercy to the child. His entire being is focused on this one task, and he is a broken man.

But after the child passes, after seven days of fasting and praying and mourning, David reacts in a very strange way. Listen again to the account from 2 Sam 12:

On the seventh day the child died. David’s servants were afraid to tell him that the child was dead, for they thought, “While the child was still living, we spoke to David but he would not listen to us. How can we tell him the child is dead? He may do something desperate.”

David noticed that his servants were whispering among themselves and he realized the child was dead. “Is the child dead?” he asked.

             “Yes,” they replied, “he is dead.”

Then David got up from the ground. After he had washed, put on lotions and changed his clothes, he went into the house of the LORD and worshiped. Then he went to his own house, and at his request they served him food, and he ate.

His servants asked him, “Why are you acting this way? While the child was alive, you fasted and wept, but now that the child is dead, you get up and eat!”

He answered, “While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, ‘Who knows? The LORD may be gracious to me and let the child live.’ But now that he is dead, why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.”

David gets up and worships the LORD. He eats. He bathes. He has learned a lesson that slips by so many of us—myself included—when it comes to the suffering and passing of our loved ones: While the child was suffering, he focused his entire being into prayer that God would end the suffering and allow the child to live; when the baby died, there was nothing more to do, and dwelling upon it would not honor the child nor bring the child back. 

Friends, I think that this is one of the healthiest and hardest lessons to learn in life. When we lose a loved one, our immediate reaction is one of sorrow, one of loss, one of mourning. We miss the one we’ve lost, we want to know why he or she was taken, we want to see them one more time. We cannot go on like everything is normal, because life is not normal anymore.

But the truth that David reminds us of is that this is not the end of our relationship with our loved one that has passed. We will see them again. They cannot come back to us, but when we join the ranks of the saints in Heaven, we will be greeted by the multitude of friends and family that have gone before us. We will fellowship with them and worship with them and rejoice in God eternally with them.

We cannot change the past. We cannot bring them back. But when our time comes, we will be reunited with them.

And we are not called to try to go back to life as usual. We can’t. When you lose someone close to you, it leaves a gap in your life, a hole in your heart. It is not possible to go back to the way things were, because things are not the same. But we can try to honor that loved one with our lives, with how we present ourselves and how we preserve their memory and their name.

It is a hard lesson to learn, but one that can give us hope when we need it the most.

I found out this week that my great aunt, Aunt Florene, was just diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Out of my extended family, she is one of my favorite people, and I love her dearly. I can remember every Christmas going over to her house for a potluck lunch with family members I may or may not know. I loved that time with family, and honestly it is one of the things that I miss the most about being up here for the holidays. Along with her day job, she works as a caterer from time to time on different events, and she catered Jess’ and my wedding. Her gift of food and fellowship was one of the dearest we received that day. Aunt Florene has been a great source of love and support for me. It is horrible to think of her being in so much pain, and to think of her time here on earth slowly ticking away.

I pray that God will send her healing and peace, and I pray that she gets better and soon. But when it comes time for God to call her home, I pray that I will be able to honor her memory in a fitting way, in a way that brings glory to God and in a way that would make her smile. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do this, but I will try.

So may we learn that we cannot turn back time, we cannot change the past. May we strive to apply the lesson of David and learn how to honor those who pass from this life to the next. May God grant us the strength needed for this, and may God help us find comfort and hope in the truth that we will see our loved ones again when we enter into life eternal.

Let us pray.