We enter now on a portion of David's history sensibly different from what we have already had, which closed with the efforts of Jonathan to restore matters and to attach Saul to him at least openly. Jonathan himself was convinced that this was vain; and as he went unto the city, David more and more is found in the desert, in the place of the pilgrim and the stranger, yea, of the outcast—increasingly the object of the jealousy and hatred of King Saul. This it is that leads him into a path where his history becomes more definitely typical. Here above all the Spirit of Christ has the work of foreshadowing the life of our Lord Jesus as rejected of men; and now were occasions given too for those wonderful compositions, the Psalms, or for very many of them at least, in which that Spirit anticipates the feelings, ways, and earthly glory of Christ.
The present occasion, however, calls for an observation often applicable to circumstances which called out those outpourings of the heart in trial. Who can rightly glory in man? None who understands but what can see the vast gap between David and Christ; and this we may the more remark (though it may be quite as particularly on more than one occasion), as this is the opening scene. We shall find it almost to the last. If God was going to put forth His power, and to establish David at the head of Israel, He would make it most evident both to David and every one else who has an ear to hear that it was of His pure grace. Man deserved it not in any sort. The time was not yet come for one whose ways were the expression of God Himself—whose ways brought glory to the Father at every step. David was beloved, and great were the things in store for him; yet he was but a man, and a sinful man. Grace might make him a type, but he was only a type.
So on this striking occasion, where grace asserts itself in a decisive manner (and the Lord Jesus Himself refers to it, and draws out the analogy between the position of David and Himself when growingly rejected in Israel), it is impossible to overlook that David is introduced to us with a story in his mouth which was far from true. But the priest was struck by the circumstances with a great anxiety; for he too had little understanding of the mind of God. He was troubled about David. He suspected that something was wrong. But God moves above all clouds; and this is the only just ground of confidence.
Thus, whether we look at David or consider the priest, there was no ground for boasting. Nevertheless, in these very circumstances there was that which Christ turns to everlasting profit. Very likely we might have passed by this story without edification; we might have seen in it nothing to guide our souls in a dark day. But Jesus is the light, and in His light alone can we see light; and so He for us draws out of the precious Word of God this astonishing fact (for truly it is so), that the rejection of the beloved of God in the midst of God's own people profanes what was most hallowed. How could anything needed by David be viewed any longer as holy in the eyes of God where David was rejected, the anointed of Jehovah?
Therefore had priests’ bread become for his wants nothing more than common bread. Did he want? From that store must he be supplied as much as from any other. Ceremonial restrictions of the law are all well enough where things go truly according to the law; but what of Him who is the central object to which all its ordinances turn, if He be cast out for God's sake, and He and His be thus in want? Would God sustain those forms against the man of his own heart? Impossible! And therefore the priest gives him the hallowed bread; for there was no bread there except the show-bread taken from before Jehovah to be the food of the priests.
But here, as everywhere, how ineffably superior is the Lord Jesus, holy, harmless, and undefiled. We do find in His history that the restrictions of the law and its regulations lose their force as He passes on rejected to the cross. It is beautifully brought out in the case of the Samaritan leper; not that strictly speaking he could be supposed to be under the law as a Jew was, but that his case made plain the supremacy of the person of the Lord Jesus and of the power of God that wrought by Him. It was proved then as against all such demands, whereas a Jew must wait till the cross proved it for him. The Samaritan, ignorant as he was, was the more open to learn the glory of the Lord Jesus; and he learned it first of all, as we all must if we learn it aright, by his abject need supplied in divine grace. We ought to begin there. We are mere theorists if we do not, and it is dangerous for the soul where the conscience awakened to its wants before God is not the hinge of first approach to God. But then ought we to remain always there, always at the door? Certainly not. A door is to enter in by, and it is both impossible and wrong to limit the God of all grace to the supply of our first wants as sinners even though essential for the soul. Let those supplies too be ever so rich and blessed there is God Himself to know in Christ and to enjoy. This was what, substantially at least, the Lord Jesus was showing, the faith that came back to Him instead of going on to the priests. Thus, while He left those that were under the law in their place for the moment, He did assert in principle, where it could be and in answer to faith, that very grace which was afterward to shine perfectly when the cross had made it a righteous thing for all.
After this another scene opens; for David, having now received the bread once hallowed for himself and his company, asks for more—for all that he wanted. He could be bold in this; for all that he wanted was for God's glory. The sword of Goliath was not so much in view of any personal consideration. He had brought neither weapons nor munitions of war. The priest's answer was, “The sword of Goliath the Philistine, whom thou slewest in the valley of Elah, behold, it is here.” A strange place, perhaps we might think, to find it; but not so in truth. As David said, “There is none like that: give it me.” It was the emblem of a great day for Israel, a great defeat for the Philistine; but it was the sword which death supplied in order to victory. Was it the power or skill of David that was in the truest sense the means of victory? Was it not his faith that overcame, as it alone overcomes the world now? To conquer thus, the weapon taken out of death must be wielded by the Spirit in the power of life in Christ. It is useless otherwise, as Goliath proved.
But a day of honor may be followed at once by one of shame, and none is exempt from the need of dependence on God or His guidance. How humiliating to see David fleeing “that day” for fear of Saul to Achish the king of Gath! Even the memorial of God's early use of him, here recalled by the lips of the Philistines, awakens not trust in Him, but the more terror of Achish. “And he changed his behavior before them, and feigned himself mad in their hands, and scrabbled on the doors of the gate, and let his spittle fall down upon his beard. Then said Achish unto his servants, Lo, ye see the man is mad: wherefore then have ye brought him to me? Have I need of mad men, that ye have brought this fellow to play the mad man in my presence? shall this fellow come into my house?” But grace knows how to turn to its own account the low estate of the believer; as we may learn in what follows.