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The Necessary Parts of
1 Samuel IX., XI., XIV., XV.
W E have now come to the fourth volume of the Old Testament story. We have gone through the events of Genesis, then the remaining Pentateuch history as it centred around the life of Moses; then came the wild rough days of the reign of the Judges and now we are to follow the fortunes of Israel in the days of the Prophets and Kings. I wonder if you have by this time found out the use of learning all this ancient history. Is it of any more use than the learning of American or English history? Do you think God was more behind the Jewish history than behind these? I do not. I think God is equally behind all history. As much behind the Norman Conquest and the Spanish Armada and the American Revolution as behind any historical event in Old Testament story. The only difference that I can see is that God showed Himself in the one history, that He might teach men to look for Him in the other histories. The Israelite history had inspired historians, not always very wise or very clever, but with a deep insight into the ways of God, whereas the modern history is often told only by mere essayists and newspaper writers, and secular historians, who only tell of the incidental and outward appearances and occurrences, and have not learned the deep insight which sees God behind all. If our study of God working behind the scenes of Jewish history teaches us to look for Him also behind the scenes of all other history, I think it will have been worth doing.
We begin at the ninth chapter of 1 Samuel, when our last book—the "Story of the Judges"—closes. That story told us, how in the days of Samuel, the "last of the Judges," Israel had demanded of God a king. And you remember how in the last scene of that story, the curtain fell on the old prophet quietly returning to Ramah, waiting on the hill of God till the king should come.
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About ten years have passed, ten waiting years, when the curtain rises again on a very ordinary scene. A drove of asses gone astray on the mountains and a young farmer's son with his dark Edomite servant setting off to find them. A goodly youth was this young farmer's son, "among the children of Israel there was not a goodlier person." But except for his fine appearance there seemed nothing especially to notice in him or his story here. It seems quite an ordinary story. He consulted with his servant whether they should climb the hill to Ramah. He talked to the girls going to the village well. He heard of a prophet holding a religious ceremony in the village, and he thought perhaps this prophet might be able by some magical power to tell him about the asses. Does it not seem just like an ordinary newspaper account of ordinary chance things happening? It chanced that the asses went astray one day and that Saul and not another went off to seek them. It chanced that on that day the people of Ramah many miles away invited Samuel to offer sacrifice. It chanced that Saul took that very direction, that he met the girls at the well, that he took their advice and went up to Ramah, little dreaming who was before him—little dreaming that God was sending him, and that the unknown "seer" on the hill was Israel's great prophet, looking out with his dim, old eyes for the king who should be.
God was behind all those chances. One wonders if He is behind all chances, such curious things happen to us sometimes "by chance." By chance we went by this or that tram or train. By chance we met this or that person—and sometimes we find that our whole after life was affected by that chance. A girl meets a friend who changes her whole life course, a man meets a girl who afterwards becomes his wife. Does anything happen by chance? I don't know. All this life of ours is solemn and mysterious and wonderful, and God is behind and over it all.
Now picture to yourself that scene at the gate of the little town—Saul coming carelessly up the hill seeking his asses, and the old prophet watching him with an admiration and wonder and growing excitement as the feeling deepened in his heart that this splendid young countryman is the coming king. I think he fell in love with him right straight away. I think in spite of all Saul's faults the old man loved him tenderly all his days, more than he ever loved David. We read afterwards how he watched over him, and prayed for him, and mourned for him when he went wrong. It is very touching this tenderness of Samuel for the man who was coming to remove him from being chief in Israel. And the thought of all that makes us watch with deeper interest the first meeting of the two.
What a wonderful day that was for Saul when he learned for the first time that God had a life plan for him, a great, glorious, beautiful life plan—when Samuel talked alone with him of the great future, and anointed him king in the name of the Lord—when the wondering youth returned to his farm keeping the great secret hidden in his heart. And more wonderful still when he met the band of young prophets singing to Jehovah, and immediately the Spirit of the Lord came upon Saul, and God gave him another heart. God gave him another heart! What do you understand by that? Surely that was to make him nobler and fuller for his great life work. Already his heart was full of wonder and excitement, but now all in a moment there came on him a new feeling, a consciousness of thoughts and desires altogether different, higher, grander, nobler. Does God do all this in our day? Yes, just the same—to the young girl kneeling at her first Communion, to the young college student on his ordination day—to the man suddenly converted from a life of sin—to the young husband and wife on the day of their marriage—new hopes and thoughts and desires for good come to prepare them for their future life work. Often they disappoint God in spite of it as Saul did. But that does not make God's help less real.
Chapter x. 17, etc. Now a few months afterwards we have a brilliant picture on the plains at Mizpeh. Samuel's message has gone out through the land, and all the warriors of Israel have come together, and the plain is dotted over with tents, and bright with the standards of the tribes, and all the people are keenly excited, for they all come for the election of their king. They do not know who it is to be. They gather around the prophet and hear God's word, and with solemn sense of God's presence they begin the ceremony of drawing lots.
First all the tribes assemble, and the lot falls on the tribe of Benjamin, and the people solemnly feel that God is guiding them. Then the other tribes stand back and watch the families of Benjamin assemble. The family of Matri is chosen. Then the excitement grows deeper as the lot drawing goes on till at last the rumour spreads rapidly through the camp that Saul the son of Kish is marked out by the lot as God's chosen King of Israel. "Who is this Saul?" "What is he like?" Of course every one was full of curiosity. But he had hidden himself, too modest perhaps, or perhaps too much afraid of this great responsibility. At last they found him. It was a thrilling moment when Samuel led him forth. I want you to use your imagination and let your eyes rest on him, as he first appears before the people on his Coronation Day at Mizpeh—this handsome, athletic young giant in the full pride of his youth and strength. In stately presence he stood before them every inch a king. "Amongst the children of Israel, there was not a goodlier person, from his shoulders upward he was taller than any of the people." No wonder the desire of Israel should be upon him in these rude, heroic days, when strength of limb and splendid appearances were the great passport to success. No wonder the crowd burst into enthusiasm when they saw him, and shouted together in loud, glad acclaim, "God save the King!" How the heart of Saul would stir within him at the cry. Ah! it was a grand start in life that God had given that young king. Alas that he did not use it well!
Chapter xi. Again the scene changes. We are in Gibeah of Saul, the young king's native village, and we find the king back at the plough-tail again! These are wild, desolate times for Israel. No time for palaces and crowns and royal splendour with the fierce tribes of Ammon and Amalek and Philistia closing in around them, and holding the chief fortresses in the land. Like Shamgar and Gideon in the judges' days, like Cincinnatus at Rome working on his farm, like King Alfred in England in the shepherd's hut, the king of Israel is at the plough-tail biding his time.
And now his time is come. It is evening, and he is driving back his team of oxen when suddenly he is startled by the deep wailing of a crowd, "What means it?" he asked. And the people tell him, "The Ammonites have surrounded our friends in Jabesh, there is no escape. They are about to put out the right eyes of the men." Then "the Spirit of God came upon Saul, and his anger was kindled greatly." Don't you like that expression? All fierce, righteous indignation for the sake of others is the work of God's spirit. The schoolboy who for the sake of some smaller boy thrashes the bully of the school is doing God's work. It is only selfish anger and fighting for slights done to yourself that are sin. In a moment Saul has struck down the bullocks of his team, and is cutting their bleeding-flesh in little pieces before the people. "Take these pieces North and South and East and West to every village and every town. Tell them, if you are not at the trysting-place with the king when he starts for Jabesh thus shall it be done to your cattle too." Is not it a stirring picture—the fierce anger of the young king and the new hope of the downtrodden people—the messengers with the bleeding flesh, speeding over the hills of Benjamin like the runners of Roderick Dhu with the fiery cross in the Lady of the Lake, a picture of righteous wrath and unselfish help, that was good for them all.
Of course they swept the Ammonites before them. There is no such stimulus to victory as rage about another's wrong. And it is a beautiful conclusion to the victory, that, when the army wanted to kill the men who had despised him at his coronation, Saul nobly replied, "Not a single man of them shall die, for God has been to‑day fighting for Israel!"
The scene changes again—and again—and again. But we cannot follow all the changing fortunes of Israel. You see Israel was like England in the times of the Danes, or like Spain in the Moorish days with the enemy holding the fastnesses all through the land. Moab and Ammon oppressed them on the east, Edom and Amalek on the south, and, in the very heart of the land, the big, stupid Philistines whom Samson used to fight and mock, and ridicule. There was no lack of wars, and of romantic adventures like that of Jonathan and his armour-bearer scaling the tower (ch. xiv.). But we have to get the whole life of Saul into two chapters, and we are concerned with Saul's character and the lessons of his life more than with the fights and skirmishes of the tribes.
Up to this time it looks as if all were going well with him. God had called him to a high position, given him great opportunities, splendid endowments, attractive gifts of body and mind, and over all the great gift of His Holy Spirit to lift up and ennoble his life. With such a start one would think he could not go wrong. Yet the Bible seems to teach us that something else is needed, something down deep in the inner nature of the man himself. God wants greatly to bless us, but He must leave our wills free. He cannot just pull strings to make us act like marionettes upon the stage. Our great dignity is that we have at the centre of our being our power to decide, so that the man with the grand start in life can lose it, and the poor struggler with very few advantages can rise to a noble life with the help of God which is around him. That is where Saul's life touches our own. That is what makes his story so solemn and sad. For he was just like many of ourselves, not a monster, but an ordinary, middling sort of man. I don't think he really cared very much about God, or longed above everything else to please Him, and to be good. And all the advantages and opportunities, and gifts and endowment that God gave him could not make up for that. What a man feels and desires with regard to God is the one important thing. Up to this Saul had shown up well. But that does not always mean that things are right within. When no sharp test comes—when there is happiness and comfort, and freedom from temptation—many people show up well; but the testing is bound to come some time.
The first evil recorded of him (ch. xiii.) is not very easy to understand. We do not really know in what his sin consisted. We are told that Saul and his men were out on the battlefield waiting for Samuel to come and offer sacrifices, and bless the army. That because Samuel did not come in time, Saul offered the sacrifice himself. The wrong seems to have been in the spirit of the act, not merely in usurping the priestly office. David offered sacrifices without any blame. Judging from the whole story one feels that Saul must have acted irreverently or disobeyed some definite command (see v. 13). Imagine a King in our day in like circumstances, after waiting vainly for a clergyman, rising up at last in irreverent impatience to consecrate the Holy Communion himself, as a matter of form to be gone through, or a superstitious rite that might bring good luck to the army. If Saul did anything like this it would indicate a very wrong attitude towards God. And as you watch Samuel's fierce anger and solemn denunciation of the act, you must see that this act was in some way a clear proof of Saul's wilfulness and disobedience.
Chapter xiv. tells an incident that puts Saul back into the ignorant superstition of Jephthah's time. To ensure victory he makes a vow to kill whoever shall taste of food, and because Jonathan, who did not know this, tasted some honey he wanted to kill him. It looks a little like the beginning of that half insane spirit of his later life.
Chapter xv. tells of his next open disobedience. It is difficult to speak of it briefly, since it tells of a thing that puzzles us, the destruction of a whole tribe, commanded it is said by God. We have already more than once considered this difficulty before. You remember that God's teaching of the world was gradual, as men could bear it. Stern, righteous men inspired to hate and loathe the horrible abominations around them declared the will of God as far as they could see it. It does not follow that they were always right. Perhaps God did desire the destruction of the Amalekites. They were very impure, wicked people. Perhaps you will say that they were very ignorant, too, and that it was hard that they should be cut off in their ignorance and sin. If so, remember that they lived still after death, and were still in the hands of God in that new life, and that the judge of all the earth will do right, there as well as here. Don't forget that the men of the old world were as children in the great gradual school of God, that it was only at the coming of our Lord that the full light came. Therefore if we want to judge of any Old Testament command, we must always bring it to the light of our Lord's fuller teaching in the Gospels.
But at any rate Saul and the people believed that the destruction of wicked Amalek was God's will for them. And they knew that they were forbidden to win booty for themselves. They were God's crusaders, consecrated to an awful mission of judgment to sweep away the abominations polluting the earth. But they must not make profit out of it. That would spoil the grandeur and holiness of their terrible task. They must not touch the spoil. This was the command that Saul deliberately broke. He spared the king and the best of the cattle. Not for mercy, for he had destroyed all the refuse and useless, and had killed the common people, young and old.
He was evidently pleased with himself, and set up for
himself a monument at Carmel (xv. 12). But one day on
the homeward march his heart grew suddenly troubled, as
the grim old prophet Samuel appeared suddenly in the
camp. Nervously, with suspicious haste, he hurries to
tell
"I have obeyed the commandment of the Lord."
But he trembles at the sternness of the face before him. "What meaneth then this bleating of sheep, and lowing of oxen in mine ears?"
"Oh! the people have done that, to sacrifice unto the Lord." Then the king stands silent. He knows well what is coming from that stern, upright judge, who never sought even a shoe latchet for himself. Like a lightning flash the quick judgment fell.
"Behold! to obey is better than sacrifice and to hearken than the fat of rams. Because thou hast rejected the word of the Lord, He hath also rejected thee from being king."
Ah! things had got very bad since that day, perhaps twenty years ago, when he had presented that splendid young king to the people at Mizpeh. Probably in many other ways not recorded he had seen the wrong attitude of the heart of Saul. Now he was so utterly grieved and disappointed, that he went away and refused to see Saul any more till the day of his death—till the day when his spirit came back from Hades to confirm the king's doom. Do you think Samuel was too stern? Ah! look at him, that dear old man returning to his lonely house at Ramah, more miserable about it all than Saul himself. He could not forget him, nor the early days, nor the noble qualities that he once possessed. Continually the cry of intercession went up from the hill of Ramah for that wayward king whom he so dearly loved (xv. 34, 35). Don't you think it must be a faint reflection of the pain in God's heart when any of us goes from Him into evil.
[At beginning or end of this lesson read I Samuel, parts of chap. ix., xi., xiv., xv. ]
Why should this study of Jewish history be of any more value than that of any other history?
How did Saul first meet Samuel?
Describe his election and coronation.
Tell some of his acts of disobedience.
What is your opinion about the slaughter of the Amalekites?