Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 450
“And it came to pass, after the year was expired, at the time when kings go forth to battle, that Da vid sent Joab and his servants with him and all Israel. And they destroyed the children of Amnion and besieged Rabbah. But David tarried still at Jerusalem.” 2 Samuel 11:1.
THE last sentence informs us of a circumstance so significant that the Holy Spirit has recorded it twice. In the parallel passage in the Chronicles, you will find a repetition of the statement that, “David tarried at Jerusalem.” It had, up to now, been his custom to march at the head of his troops. The king of Israel was the commander-in-chief of the Lord’s hosts, and by personal deeds of prowess excited the national spirit. But on this occasion, you perceive, he delegates his power to Joab and seeks inglorious ease.
We are informed that the season had arrived when kings go forth to battle—probably the spring, when horses could be maintained by forage and when, if a long siege should be necessary, the armies might sit down before a city with the prospect of advancing summer and ripening harvests. It was a great occasion. For otherwise, how is it that he sent all Israel with Joab? A great war had been provoked and most important interests were at stake. This makes it the less excusable on the part of the king, that he should, when his presence was especially necessary, absent himself from his proper post.
Nor do we think that State affairs needed his presence in Jerusalem. No rebellions were hatching. The whole land was quiet and all the tribes voluntarily submitted themselves to his sway. It does not seem, from the context, that David was at all occupied with State cares. For you find that he rises from his bed at eventide. Contrary to the hardier custom to which he had accustomed himself in his earlier days, after his noontide meal he laid himself down and slept till the sun was setting. And when he arose, it was not to succor the poor, or to dispense justice, but to take a stroll on the housetop.
And then, being idle, having put his armor off, the arrow smote him—having nothing good to do, the enemy found his awful work. For the Tempter planted straight before his eyes a fair temptation, into which he rushed as a bird to the snare, or as a bullock to the slaughter. Happy would it have been for king David had he been in battle. He would not then have known this temptation. Probably if the temptation had presented itself, he would have been so occupied with martial cares that he would not have fallen a victim.
Idleness was the mother of the mischief and if you trace it to its source, the foul iniquity that has made the name of David a special mark for all the Lord’s enemies, you will find it had much to do with his not going out to battle when the country required it—when the season commanded it and when no affairs of State justified his absence.
You will readily perceive the subject of my address. First, to the individual Christian. And secondly, to the Church, as God shall help me. I will utter warnings against that deadly lethargy which is so apt to steal over us, putting us into a position to be readily assailable by temptation, yes, and to be easily overcome by it, too.
I. To you, BROTHER IN CHRIST, I SPEAK PERSONALLY.
1. Let me direct your special attention to the season at which this temptation to idleness came upon David. Brethren, David never refused to go forth to battle while he was harassed by his adversary Saul. So long as he is hunted like a partridge upon the mountains, David’s character is spotless and his zeal is unrivalled. In his religion there was an intensity of energy, so long as in his life there was an intensity of adversity.
But now an hour of trial is at hand, Saul is dead and the last of his race sits as a humble pensioner at David’s table. The son of Jesse is no more obliged to frequent the tracks of the wild goats, or to hide himself among the glooms of
Engedi. His great adversary has long ago fallen by the arrows of the Philistines upon the mountains of Gilboa. But a stealthier foe is lurking in ambush—woe to you, David, if he overcomes you!
Ah, Christian, it is a dangerous time to you when temptation has ceased to harass you, when Satan has left you in peace, and when you have placed your foot on your adversary’s neck. When the storm has hushed itself to sleep, when a dead calm takes the place of the awful hurricane, it is then you have need to look well to it, for then your soul may lose its former strength and watchfulness and you may decline into indifference and Laodicean lukewarmness. While the devil assails you on the right hand and on the left, you will hardly be able to rest upon the couch of carnal security.
The dog of Hell, by barking in your ears, keeps you awake. But when he shall cease his howling, your eyelids will grow heavy, unless Divine Grace prevents it. When you are no more driven to your knees by furious assaults from Hell, you may experience the still more terrible trials of the enchanted ground and you will have good cause to cry out, “Lord let me not sleep as do others, but let me watch and be sober.” Yet again, David at this time had obtained the crown and it was sitting softly and securely upon his head.