When Ish-Bosheth son of Saul heard that Abner had died in Hebron, he lost courage, and all Israel became alarmed.
2 Samuel 4:1 (NIV)

It was, perhaps, the most unexpected and stressful moment Wendy and I experienced.

For months we had been seeking God’s guidance and direction regarding our home. With both of us working from home and entering a new season in life, our current house was no longer functioning well for us in daily needs. We spent a lot of time and money trying to find a way to alter the house to make it work for us, but it was a dead end. Then God opened a door for us to take a step of faith and build the house that would be what we needed. We purchased the land. We hired the contractor. We helped create the design. We were filled with excitement the day the earth movers showed up on the property to begin digging.

Then the phone rang.

Our company’s largest and longest-tenured client was unexpectedly pulling the plug on our 23-year relationship. A majority of our company’s revenues and a giant chunk of our personal income was simply vaporizing into thin air.

I immediately called our contractor and told him not to start digging. I explained the situation and asked him to give us the weekend to pray. I’m not understating it when I say that I felt panic rise up within me.

That moment came to mind this morning when I placed myself into the sandals of Saul’s son, Ish-bosheth. The truth of the matter is that it was General Abner who led 11 of Israel’s 12 tribes to accept Ish-bosheth as an heir to Saul’s throne. Everyone knew it was Abner who was the power behind the throne. He was the seasoned leader. He was the accomplished and heralded warrior. He controlled the military and held the reins of power. Ish-bosheth was a puppet and a prop.

Today’s chapter begins with Ish-bosheth receiving his own unexpected phone call. Abner was dead. The text says that Ish-bosheth “lost courage” The Hebrew literally translates: “his hands dropped.” Hands were a Hebrew metaphor of strength, agency, and courage. With Abner dead, his ability to rule simply vaporizes into thin air. What’s more — the entire nation knew this too.

One of the things that I’ve observed in human behavior is that when panic sets in, people grasp for security and stability. And that’s exactly what happens next in the chapter.

A nurse flees with the only remaining heir of the house of Saul, Jonathan’s son, Mephibosheth.

Two Benjamites see the handwriting on the wall. David is the likely succesor. He’s been waiting for the throne for decades. He’s the most powerful warrior and political figure left standing. They see an opportunity to secure their own future with the man who is already King of Judah and is likely to be the next King of all Israel. So, they slip into Ish-bosheth’s house in the middle of the day. They murder the King in his sleep, cut off his head, and take the head to David.

Their assassination was not unusual. It follows a tragically common Ancient Near Eastern pattern. Royal succession was dangerous. When dynasties weakened, military officers frequently murdered weak kings in hopes of gaining favor with the next regime. To the assassins Baanah and Rekab, this was simply political realism.

But there’s something fascinating simmering beneath the surface of the text. The murder occurs:

during rest
inside a man’s own home
against a defenseless man taking a nap

Everything about it violates God’s covenant ideals. Instead of courageous battle, it is cowardly violence. It quietly screams in contrast to David sparing Saul in the cave. That contrast helps me connect to David’s response to the assassins.

To David, the death of Ish-bosheth was unjustified murder plain-and-simple. Just as he punished the Amalekite for bringing him Saul’s crown. Just as he wanted nothing to do with Joab’s murderous revenge of Abner, David rewards the assassins with their own execution.

David refuses to build his kingdom on murder and assassination.

And, in the quiet this morning, I find David’s response a contrast to everyone else’s panic.

Everyone in Saul’s house is frantic. The nurse runs. Ish-Bosheth loses his nerve. The captains scheme. The assassins plot their own path to personal security. Everyone is trying to control the future because they fear what tomorrow will bring.

David alone remains strangely calm.

After years on the run in the wilderness learning that he can depend on God’s faithfulness to protect and provide, David no longer believes he has to manufacture God’s promises.

Fear always reaches for shortcuts. Faith can afford to wait.

When God has spoken, I don’t have to seize what only He can give. The kingdom that comes by grasping always ends up smaller than the one that comes by trusting.

As for Wendy and me. Our weekend of choosing to channel our panic into prayer ended with us feeling led to trust where God had clearly been leading us. We told the contractor to proceed. We would trust that God would both protect and provide despite a desperately uncertain future.

Guess what? He did.

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