WHO WOULD I DIE FOR AND SO WHAT?
I want to say that human love is not only a gift from
God but that it carries within it the promise of the future because it
tells us something about the heart of God. And those who have the heart
of the Dragon-slayer can't bear to see people out there lost and alone.
Moses couldn't bear to think that Israel would die even though he and
his family would live on (see Exodus 32:30-32). And there was Paul who
said he would gladly be cut off from the Christ if he thought it would
save some of his own people (see Romans 9:2-3).
The love of David for Jonathan, son of Saul, is well known to Bible readers, but David's deep feeling for Saul is not given the notice it calls for. The poet, Robert Browning, helps redress the balance. [Google his extended poem: Saul.] Using the biblical text and his own depth of insight he gives us a lesson we need to hear again and again. The existence, depth and selflessness of human love at its best say something the whole creation needs to hear because it reflects the heart of the one ransoming Christ.
As Browning imagines it, Saul sent for David and he's
met by Abner who tells him the king is in a dreadful state and that he
and the men haven't eaten a bite since he went into his tent. Nor would
they eat or drink until David came back out to say the king was alive
and well. He has been three days in the black tent in the middle of the
camp—in complete silence. The troops know a struggle is going on between
Saul and the Spirit of God.
David first prays and then enters, creeping in on his
knees, praying as he goes, into the great darkness. He speaks into that
darkness, "I'm David, your servant." Not a word or a sound, only deep
darkness. Then his eyes make out something even darker, an upright—the
center beam of the tent and then, blackest of all, he makes out the huge
figure of Saul. A beam of sunlight suddenly gives some light and David
sees him there, propped up against the central beam with his arms draped
over the cross beam—like one crucified, covered in sweat, head
drooping, like a king-serpent, cut off from his own kind while he's
waiting for a transformation.
David begins to play the kind of music he plays for his
sheep—the kind that calms them; then music that charms the birds and
other animals, even crickets. Then he played happy music, the kind they
play at harvest when friends enjoy one another and expand each others
hearts and then came the kind of music they play as they bear a man to
his grave. The kind that goes along with the praise they proclaim as
they walk saying, "the land has none left such as he on the bier". Then
there was wedding music and music that men do hard work by when they
have to get their shoulders under huge stones when building. And more,
there was the praise music as when men go to worship, led by the
Levitical singers,
up to the altar in glory enthroned.
But I stopped here:
for here in the darkness Saul groaned.
For a moment David's silent, listening, then the tent
shakes "for mighty Saul shuddered", but after that only his head moved.
David begins to play again, speaking of the joys of human life, the
rock-climbing, swimming, bear-hunting. He sings of love of family and
the joys of it, the love of boyhood friends and then of the king's
coming to glory and being monarch of the nation. And at that point,
carried away by the beauty and truth of it all, and anxious for Saul to
drink it in and end his night, he calls out the king's name—Saul! and
then stopped.
The whole tent is brighter with the singing but the figure
in the center is like a dark mountain that's the last thing in the
valley to be hit by the rising sun's light. But not so dark that David
can't make out the scars the king bears; scars he received in the
nation's defence. Saul gives a long shudder, then goes silent. But now
he's aware of where and who he is. He has heard all the words and in
great sadness:
He said, "It is good;" still he drinks not:
he lets me praise life,
Gives assent, yet would die for his own part.
David understands that the king knows something he
doesn't know. All David has sung, while it's true, and lovely and
joyous—it's not enough. There's got to be more. Life's joys aren't
enough to take the sting out of living much less out of dying.
He imagines himself lying in a little rock fissure while
he's out tending his sheep. The rocks on each side hem in his view of
the sky and narrow it down to only a sliver while high above him flies
an eagle. What can he see? From that height, what can he see? Much more
than David. He as a shepherd boy knows so little of life, and there's so
much more so with that in mind he takes up his harp and begins to sing
again.
He tells the king he's right not to put too much stock
in life as it is on the physical level; "it's good" but it's not enough,
and people grow tired of it and feel empty. But this life and the
praise the king will get in future years from a grateful nation is
God-given! God gave it!
And as he sings, Saul moves, fixes his hair, adjusts his
turban, wipes off the sweat with his robe, fixes his tunic and stands
erect; looking now like the old Saul "ere error had bent". Then, weak,
with his back against the central post he slides down to sit on the
ground right close to David, his huge knees hemming the boy in; as the
roots of a massive tree hem in a lamb that's sleeping there between
them. And then, without a word, slowly, the king lifts a hand and puts
it on the boy's head with "kind power" and pushes it back so he can look
long in his face; the face of one that cares for him. David's heart is
bursting with love for the man.
He hears himself say he would give anything, anything if
he could make the king well, if he could give him not just longer
life—but new life! If love could do it, love would. The thought of that
startled him.
Shocked into silence by the new and daring thought, he
reflects on creation, admitting it's more than he can fathom, it far
outreaches all his wisdom and exposes all his limitations. And what of
God's love and his? He thinks of his own love for Saul, Saul the bent
king. Thinks how gladly he'd do whatever it took to make him right. And
in this, does the creature do better than the Creator? Does he compare
himself with God and out-shine God?
It's true that he doesn't have God's
power to complete his desire, but does he think he has out-willed God? Does he will Saul good more than God does? Does God have more power but less will than David to do good? No, God out-wills him as well as out-powers him.
Should David then in all the lesser matters trust God
and when it comes to what matters most "distrust"? Is it too good to be
true? Should he, having seen so much, go "thus far and no farther?"
Would God make Saul and not love him? And if he loved him, would he not
redeem him? David would! Could God be less than David in loving? Perish
the thought! When the truth sinks in, he begins to weep. His own
weakness doesn't prevent him from willing Saul's redemption though his
weakness depresses him.
Still, it suddenly dawns on him, "'tis not what
man does which exalts him, but what man would do!" So David's service is perfect; weakness doesn't change his purpose so he asks God to speak this new truth through him.
Could I wrestle to raise him from sorrow,
grow poor to enrich,
To fill up his life, starve my own out, I
would—knowing which,
I know that my service is perfect. Oh,
speak through me now!
Would I suffer for him that I love? So
wouldst thou—so wilt thou!
Knowing then that God feels as he feels, David longs for
the incarnation of that purpose and power; he longs to see it fleshed out. The boy enters into a new
truth about God: that God in his holy love longs for the redemption even
of his enemies and will do whatever it takes to give his enemies new
life.
'Tis the weakness in strength, that I cry
for! my flesh, that I seek
In the Godhead! I seek and find it, O
Saul, it shall be
A Face like my face that receives thee; a
Man like to me,
Thou shalt love and be loved by, for ever;
a Hand like this hand
Shall throw open the gates of new life to
thee! See the Christ stand!
All this came to David with stunning power and since it
was so broad a revelation, involving the Creator of all things whose
character makes his work of redemption inevitable, David feels that the
whole of creation must have been affected.
He stumbles his way home in the night as it gets toward
morning and feels there's a host of creatures as well as a universe
watching him, like a nation famished for news on how the war is going.
As he walks home creatures, awe-stricken
at the revelation, flowers staring in awed astonishment, winds
whispering their amazement and brooks quietly murmuring in hushed voice—all,
joining together in responding to the "new law" (which was really an old
law) given to David, "E'en so, it is so!"
I'm saying that human love is a prophet and a seer. Its
very being in the world speaks of an ultimate Lover. I'm aware this is
no argument that'd satisfy an atheist; I'm not offering arguments now
I'm proclaiming Browning's truth that honorable love between us, that
would drive us to give all we have, and more if we had it, to get new
life for another—even the fallen among us—that love says there's another
love that makes sense of our human loves. That enriches them in ways we
ourselves are unable to do.
It's a serious question, perhaps without an adequate
answer from us: how does it come that such evil exists in this world?
But it's a glorious question when we ask: how does it come that such
profound love is in the world?
Isn't your love for each other a wondrous thing? Aren't
there those you'd cheerfully die for? Give all you have for?
Does God
love less? Isn't it lovely of God to give us such a lovely thing as holy
human love to tell us of his own unfathomable love for us all? And
isn't it thrilling to meet people like that who are followers of the
Dragonslayer! If you listen hard, really hard in the silence, from a
great distance you could almost swear there's the sound of grinding
teeth and a dragonish screech of anguish in the still air.
Many thanks to brother Ed Healy, for allowing me to post from his website, the abiding word.com.