So his servant put her out and bolted the door after her. She was wearing an ornate robe, for this was the kind of garment the virgin daughters of the king wore. Tamar put ashes on her head and tore the ornate robe she was wearing. She put her hands on her head and went away, weeping aloud as she went.
2 Samuel 13:18-19 (NIV)

One of the most profound lessons God has taught me along my life journey is about women. As a child I spent most of my time around my mother and sister. As the father of two daughters, I’ve spent most my adult life in a house filled with estrogen overload. But, I’ve observed, I’ve learned, and along the journey I’ve gained an appreciation and admiration for women that has changed me.

Today’s chapter is one of the darkest in the entire Great Story. There are no miracles, no great victories, no soaring songs of praise. It’s a chapter of lust, manipulation, violence, silence, and vengeance. After Nathan’s prophetic pronouncement that “calamity” and “the sword” will never leave David’s house, the narrator hits the fast forward button to present the ripples of David’s sin spreading through his own household.

I have read the story of Amnon and Absalom countless times along my life journey. It is a well-crafted episode that details the utter breakdown of a dysfunctional family system. But as I read the events again in the quiet this morning, my heart focused on the victim — the girl — Tamar.

David had numerous wives, and children with those wives. His wife Maachah must have been gorgeous, because the text tells us that both of her children by David won the DNA lottery. Of Absalom, the text says “In all Israel there was not a man so highly praised for his handsome appearance as Absalom.” Of Tamar, the first thing we are told is that she was beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that her own half-brother Amnon allowed himself to get sick with lust for her.

Amon conspires to get Tamar alone.
He rapes her.
Then he discards her and has her thrown out of his room in disgrace.

I noticed as I read this morning something to which I’ve never paid much attention. The narrator tells us that the beautiful Tamar was wearing an “ornate robe.” The Hebrew term is ketonet passim and it appears only one other place in the Great Story — the legendary coat of many colors worn by Joseph. This kind of detail is not haphazardly provided by the narrator. Tamar was not only beautiful, she was highly favored. Tamar was an exceptional young lady.

I put my proverbial “Girl Dad” cap on this morning and spent some time in the quiet sitting with Tamar as I would sit with my own daughter. I mulled over the story and the events of the chapter as if I was hearing them from my beautiful, exceptional daughter’s own mouth — through her own tears.

She does everything correctly. She did nothing wrong.

She is obedient.
She is kind.
She speaks wisely.
She resists.
She pleads.
She says what is true.

Nevertheless, she is raped, disgraced, and discarded by her own half-brother. Amnon is the eldest son. He is the heir apparrent to the throne. He retains his standing, power, and authority within the family system.

Tamar is left “desolate.” The Hebrew word (shomemah) the narrator uses is also carefully chosen. It is a word often used to describe cities that had been reduced to rubble by besieging empires. It poetically paints the beautiful and exceptional young lady as devastated, ruined, abandoned, and emotionally vacant.

A royal virgin daughter represented political value as well as family honor. The assault destroyed potential marriage prospects, family standing, and personal dignity. Tamar’s grief deeply reflects all three losses. She retreats into the care of her brother Absalom. She then disappears from the story. We never hear of her or from her again.

And, as I sat with Tamar in my heart this morning and listened to her share her story with me, my father’s heart broke. I’ve been surrounded by women my entire life. Tragically, almost every woman in my life has a #metoo story. I’ve heard them. I know them.

Which is what makes the silence all the more abhorrent to me.

Everyone remains silent.

David.
Absalom.
The servants.
Jonadab.

Everyone who could have interrupted evil either enables it, ignores it, or delays justice. One man’s lust certainly destroys a family. But the family’s silence allows destruction to spread. Evil grows in the soil of passivity.

David’s failures begin to compound in the wake of the Bathsheba affair. His greatest failure here is that he knows something terrible has happened and does nothing. As a Girl Dad, I can tell you without question that his silence and passivity violated his daughter a second time.

Every man in today’s chapter is driven by a different unhealthy force:

Amnon is ruled by appetite.
Jonadab by cleverness.
David by passivity.
Absalom by bitterness.

Only Tamar is consistently guided by wisdom, truth, and integrity. She cannot prevent the evil done to her, but she refuses to call evil good or surrender her moral clarity. She should be honored for her truthful resistance in the face of overwhelming power.

The lesson is not just to avoid Amnon’s unbridled lust. It is also to resist becoming a Jonadab, a David, or an Absalom. When desire outruns character, cleverness outruns conscience, anger outruns justice, or silence outruns courage, destruction surely follows.

As I sit with Tamar in the quiet this morning, a prayer welled-up in this Girl Dad’s heart…

“Lord, give me the courage to act when righteousness requires it, the wisdom to love rather than possess, and the grace to entrust justice to You before bitterness writes the next chapter.”

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