So all the men of Israel deserted David to follow Sheba son of Bikri. But the men of Judah stayed by their king all the way from the Jordan to Jerusalem.
2 Samuel 20:2 (NIV)

Wendy and I were discussing our daily perusal of the news the other morning. We had a fascinating conversation about the shifts we’ve witnessed along the political landscape in the past decade. With both major political parties in the U.S. there have been significant changes. It’s more fractured than I’ve ever seen it in my lifetime, and when there are fractures, there are always those who will exploit the cracks for personal and political gain.

Casual readers can easily miss something that the author of Samuel has been slowly introducing into the story. David famously united the tribes of Israel into one nation, but it hasn’t changed the political fault lines that already existed.

Judah was the largest tribe in both geography and population. In any geo-political situation that can create conflicts. There’s political strength, and power, in size and numbers. And David is a son of Judah. He ruled as king of Judah for years before he united the other tribes under his reign. It had already been established that Judah could (and would) operate as its own independent nation.

Over the past few chapters, the narrator has been deliberate in quietly and repeatedly reminding me that it is the “men of Judah” who are faithful to David and backing his restoration to the throne — and it is the “men of Israel” who largely followed Absalom. In today’s chapter, they quickly follow a political upstart named Sheba — which is another detail worth noticing.

Sheba is from the tribe of Benjamin. That’s King Saul’s tribe. Which means the old Saul-versus-David political rivalry still hasn’t completely disappeared. Remember Shimei who cursed David while he was on the run from Absalom a few chapters ago? Also Benjaminite.

The northern tribes had supported Saul’s house after Saul’s death. David eventually unified them, but political memories die slowly. So Sheba isn’t merely some random loudmouth who found a trumpet. He’s exploiting several existing resentments:

Benjamin vs. Judah.
North (Israel) vs. South (Judah).
Saul’s house vs. David’s house.

Absalom didn’t create the fractures. He exposed them. And Sheba immediately crawls into the cracks. Israel’s political division has been there all along. Sheba merely exploits what Absalom had successfully laid bare.

Judah and Israel had just finished arguing:

The northern tribes yelled: “We have ten shares in the king!”

The men of Judah countered: “But he’s our relative!”

Then Sheba appears and essentially says, “If you’re already angry with Judah, why follow their king?” Suddenly an argument becomes a rebellion. And a spiritual principle is exposed along with it: What I refuse to reconcile becomes territory someone—or something—can exploit.

Resentment works this way.
Bitterness works this way.
Unresolved family conflict works this way.
Church division works this way.
Political tribalism certainly works this way.

The fracture usually exists before the opportunist arrives.

And I think that’s where the wise woman of Abel becomes the spiritual hero of the chapter. Joab is trying to destroy her entire city just to get the rebel Sheba. She arranges to simply surrender the wanted man and saves her entire town. She belongs to a fascinating biblical tradition of women whose wisdom changes the trajectory of events: Abigail in 1 Samuel 25, the wise woman of Tekoa in 2 Samuel 14, and now this woman.

And notice the contrast. The powerful men keep solving problems with swords. She solves one with words. Joab’s instinct is siege, destruction, and overwhelming force. Her instinct is discernment: “What exactly is the problem we’re trying to solve?” That’s an extraordinarily excellent leadership question.

She asks Joab: “Why do you want to swallow up the Lord’s inheritance?” The city isn’t merely property — it isn’t enemy territory. These are God’s people. Her argument effectively reframes the entire situation. Joab sees a rebel hiding behind a wall. She sees thousands of innocent lives surrounding one guilty man.

Everyone else keeps widening cracks. She closes one. She doesn’t ask “Whose side are you on?” She asks, “What actually needs to happen so people don’t have to die?”

That’s wisdom.

She refuses Joab’s binary (Either I get Sheba or I destroy your city) and finds another way. In in the quiet this morning, that’s the invitation I find tucked into this violent little chapter.

I want to be the person who sees and addresses a crack before it becomes a canyon. I want to be the person who recognizes when an old resentment is being exploited. I want to be a person who refuses to sacrifice an entire relationship, family, congregation, organization, or community merely because one issue needs to be addressed. I want to be the person willing to climb the wall and ask, “Can we talk about this?”

Along my life journey, I’ve observed that there will always be Shebas blowing trumpets. There will always be Joabs reaching for swords. The news I read daily is full of them. But the world, and especially God’s people, desperately need wise women and wise men who know when to climb the wall and start a conversation.

It’s the beauty of today’s entire chapter. The king can’t keep his kingdom together. The general nearly destroys a city trying to save the kingdom. But an unnamed woman with no army, no office, no title, and no apparent authority saves the city with wisdom – hers is an example I want to follow.

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