We’re going to think this morning about the failure of David’s success. That sounds paradoxical because it is. In David’s success were the seeds of his failure. Let me show you what I mean.

 

David was probably in his early 50’s at the time of our story. He had been king for 20 years. He was famous, a poet-songwriter, warrior, politician, civic and religious leader. David was riding high. Really, what was there left for David to do? He had united the northern and southern kingdoms, he had moved the religious and political center of life to Jerusalem and he had many military victories under his belt. Well, maybe that’s just it. It was TOO MUCH success. Years ago, Neil Sadaka wrote a song entitled, “I Miss The Hungry Years.” It was a song about a love between a man and a woman, but it could apply to our David’s relationship with God. After success, we grow fat and lazy spiritually. We tend to coast. Looking back, we miss the hungry years, those times when things did not come so easily. That is, the years when there was still some battle to fight, some edge to our existence, when we survived on sacrifice, commitment and trust.

 

Famous psychoanalyst Carl Jung talked often about patients over 40 who complained of lacking a meaningful faith, suggesting a vacuum inside the soul. Commenting on this, pastoral care theologian Wayne Oates also noticed that people in that age group came to him, often complaining of boredom with life.

 

George Gaston III wrote about several things that happen in midlife. (By the way, you are either headed toward “midlife” or you love and care about someone who is, so listen up!). First, Gaston said, we grieve the quick passage of the years. Time goes by too quickly and there is nothing we can do to slow it. Second, he says, we grieve what happens to our bodies. It’s called gravity. As one man said, “I taper one way and my shirt tapers the other!” Another man lamented his receding hairline and said, “I’ve stopped using “Head and Shoulders” and started using “Mop and Glow.” Then, Gaston says, as we approach midlife, we have goal issues. We either grieve because we’ve NOT achieved them, so we feel the pressure of deadlines. Or, we grieve because we have reached them and they have not brought the fulfillment we thought would come. We’re…bored. But here’s the clincher. Gaston says our sinful nature fears and clutches and grasps rather than trusting in the Lord to be the same when everything else around us is changing. And when we fear and grab, we start making mistakes and begin making foolish choices.

 

Speaking of foolish choices, enter King David. Let’s review David’s fall into sin. When spring came that year, David didn’t go out into battle, leading his army. He stayed at home. Boredom? Remember the saying? Idle hands are the devil’s workshop. He saw Bathsheba, desired her and took her, committing adultery. And to cover up his sin, David had Uriah set up in the battle field to be killed even though Uriah, Bathsheba’s husband, was one of David’s most loyal and valiant supporters and warriors. Yet David had him killed! And many other human beings died that day, too, just to cover up King David’s sins. Sin is always social, isn’t it? Sin always has collateral damage. And it’s always selfish. I want my way, even if others are hurt by it. And by the way, this is one of the ways I know scripture is God’s Word, and is truth. It never glosses over its heroes’ faults and sins. It just tells it like it is. This, friends, is the ugly side of David. We all have an ugly side, don’t we?

 

So here is David. He could slay lions and bears when those animals preyed on helpless  sheep. He could slay Goliath the giant. He could hide successfully from Saul in the caves. He could defeat political and military enemies. But he finally met an enemy he couldn’t  defeat. Himself and his own lusts. Parker Palmer, in Let Your Life Speak, writes, “It is so much easier to deal with the external world, to spend our lives manipulating material and institutions and other people instead of dealing with our own souls. We like to talk about the outer world as if it were infinitely complex and demanding, but it is a cakewalk compared to the labyrinth of our inner lives!”

 

If you want a shock, notice the difference between how David views his own sin and the way God looks at it: vv. 25, 27. David, upon hearing of Uriah’s death, glibly says, “Oh, well, that’s war, don’t let it trouble you…this one dies, that one dies…it’s no big deal.” But the narrator says, “The thing David did displeased the LORD.” How could David have become so callous, so hard? Charles Spurgeon said, “If David had prayed as much in the palace as he had in the caves, he would not have fallen into sin.”

 

But that’s just part of the story. Many Bible scholars believe that it was almost a year later when the prophet Nathan came to the king and told King David a story: There were two men. One was rich and arrogant. He had more livestock than he could count. The other was poor and helpless. He was so poor, he had only one animal, a pet lamb. One day the rich man needed to put on “a feed” for a guest. The rich farmer decided, “I don’t want to slaughter one of my own livestock. I’ll just take that poor man’s sheep.” David, caught up in this story, unaware that the story was about him, said, “This man deserves to die!” But now Nathan points his bony, long finger at the king and declares in v. 7, (I love the King James translation) “Thou are the man!” In Hebrew, it’s two terse, tight words, “You the-man.”  

 

This story reveals several things about sin. There is no white collar sin and blue collar sin. Sin is sin. There aren’t degrees of sin. No little sins. Sin kills our relationship with God and with others—and it causes us to lose touch with ourselves.

 

And did you catch the genius of Nathan’s story? What kind of animal did he use in his story? Why a lamb? Why not a beagle or duck or pet pig? You see, the story was particularly stinging because David used to protect lambs! Remember his brag to King Saul, making his case about why he—David—could face the giant? “I’ve rescued many a lamb from predators” (1 Sam. 17:34). Now David is the predator! He’s the bully, more like Goliath than the David of old. Do you ever ask yourself, “What happened? How did I get to be this way? How did I turn in to this person?”

 

David had forgotten that with bigger blessings come bigger responsibilities. With more power comes more duty to use it wisely, humbly, to bless and help others who are weak and vulnerable. If you are a person with financial resources, or with authority over others, you are to use your blessings and power to help others, not to exploit them. Almost 1000 years after David live, Jesus, the Son of David, the Good Shepherd, would teach and live this, saying the greatest among us will be servant of all (Matt. 20:27; Mark 10:44).

 

King David did repent (see 12:13). And also, read Psalm 51, his prayer of confession. Yes, healing came, but at a price. The scars remained. A little girl pointed to her mother’s arm and asked,  “What is that, Mommy?” “It’s a scar,” Mom replied. “What’s a scar, Mommy?” “Oh, it’s where there used to be big ou-ee, a big hurt.” The girl frowned and asked, “Does it still hurt?” Her mother answered, “Not anymore. The scar is a reminder that I’ve been healed.  The scar is where the angel kissed me.” Yes, we all have spiritual scars. Reminders of painful experiences and failures. But it’s a scar, remember, not an open wound. A scar means there’s been healing. A scar is where an angel kissed you.