Then David and all the men with him took hold of their clothes and tore them. They mourned and wept and fasted till evening for Saul and his son Jonathan, and for the army of the Lord and for the nation of Israel, because they had fallen by the sword.
2 Samuel 1:11-12 (NIV)

I once found myself asked to join a team project. In my first meeting with the team, I ran afoul of the team leader who took offense to an observation and suggestion I made. After the meeting, they accused me of having a critical spirit. I was reprimanded and immediately dismissed from the team. It was surreal.

Still part of the organization, I quietly watched the team leader, the team, and their project struggle over a long period of time. The whole thing eventually, quietly lost steam. It never succeeded to meet its goals. Over time, I observed the team leader helm other projects with similarly unsuccessful ends.

I confess that my reprimand and dismissal from the team initially stung my ego. I’ve never had that happen to me. I’d never before been accused of having a critical spirit. And, it felt a bit humiliating to be asked to be on a team and then asked to leave after my first meeting. In retrospect, however, I think it was likely a merciful end to what might have been a much longer, and more painful experience.

This came to mind this morning as I read the opening chapter of 2 Samuel, which picks up David’s story with him learning of the death of Saul and Jonathan. David is living in enemy territory among the Philistines. Even though Samuel anointed David as God’s man to become King, he’s been living on the run for almost 20 years. Mad King Saul had wrongfully accused David, had attempted to murder him multiple times, and had put such a price on David’s head that he was forced to live as an outcast in the wilderness.

In today’s chapter, David learns of the death of his nemesis, Saul, and his best friend, Jonathan. David’s response is telling. There’s no gloating over his enemy’s downfall. There’s no retelling of all the evil and injury Saul had perpetrated against David for two decades. There’s no cheering about David’s chance to finally become king.

David mourns. He weeps. He writes a song of lament for the entire Kingdom to learn as an everlasting memorial to Saul and Jonathan. And, as I read I heard an echo of Jesus’ words:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven.”
Matthew 5:43-45a (NIV)

And, in the quiet this morning, I find the chapter asking me one uncomfortable question: How do I respond when my enemy falls?

When someone who wounded me finally seems to get what they had coming.

When the difficult boss is fired…
When the rival fails…
When the critic is embarrassed…
When the person who hurt me finally suffers…

What rises in my heart?

Relief?
Vindication?
Satisfaction?

David offers another way. He teaches me that grief is not approval. Mourning Saul does not erase Saul’s sins. David doesn’t pretend Saul was a better man than he was. Instead, he refuses to let another person’s failures deform his own heart.

I find in this the quiet marks of spiritual maturity. I can’t always control what others become, but I can choose who I become in response to them.

David spent years refusing to seize the throne by violence. Now, when the throne finally lies within reach, he refuses to step over Saul’s body to claim it. He waits for God’s timing, even in the moment when ambition could most easily disguise itself as destiny. And that whispers an important truth in my soul

The kingdom of God is never inherited by celebrating another person’s downfall. It is received with humility, patience, and a heart that has learned to mourn even what once opposed it.

And this brings my thoughts back to my surreal experience with a team and its leader many years ago. The team’s ultimate failure was a sad thing for the organization. The team leader? They were in the process of becoming just like I perpetually am. Instead of gloating in their failure to salve my bruised ego, I think the better response is hope that the experience helped everyone involved to learn , to grow, and to mature towads the people God is calling us to be.

Comments are welcome.

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