2 Sam. 1:1-16
Two events mark the dawn of David's reign: the judgment of Israel and of Israel's prince on the mountains of Gilboa, and the victory over Amalek won by the man who will soon be king. Christ's reign will bear the same characteristics. His reign cannot be established except by judgment of the Antichrist and the apostate Jews, and by a victory rendering powerless the great enemy of God and of His Anointed and of men. Indeed, Satan will be bound for this very purpose: for the introduction of Christ's millennial reign (Rev. 19:19-20:3).
Scarcely is Amalek conquered than a messenger comes from Saul's camp "with his garments rent, and earth upon his head." He bore the outward marks of sympathy, mourning, and grief, and was bringing homage to the one he presumed was king. "And as soon as he came to David, he fell to the earth and did obeisance" (2 Sam. 1:2). Anyone but the man of God would have been influenced by these marks of deference, but simple communion with the Lord, along with the prudence of a serpent (Matt. 10:16) in matters of relations with the world, prevent him from falling into this snare. In a similar situation we ourselves might perhaps have had difficulty in deciphering the intentions of the enemy—but let us always guard against making hasty decisions. This is what David did. "Whence comest thou?" "Out of the camp of Israel am I escaped." "What has taken place? I pray thee, tell me." "How knowest thou that Saul and Jonathan his son are dead?" It is only at David's third question that the liar is unmasked. David, a spiritual man, already suspects the unlikelihood of this story: "I happened by chance to be upon mount Gilboa." What? by chance? —in the thick of battle? "Behold, Saul leaned on his spear; and, behold, the chariots and horsemen followed hard after him." Here the Word itself convicts this man of lying. Saul had leaned upon his sword and it was not the horsemen but the archers who had threatened him (1 Sam. 31:3-4). The remainder of his account is a bare-faced lie. Saul could not have asked the Amalekite to end his life, for the king's armorbearer did not kill himself until he had seen that Saul was dead (1 Sam. 31:5). "So I stood over him and put him to death" (2 Sam. 1:10).
This lying spirit emanates from that great enemy who could not understand the heart of Jesse's son. How could Satan, the wicked one, imagine that David was full of grace and love toward his enemies, that their defeat would fill his heart with unfeigned sorrow? But he was seeking above all to seduce David into receiving Saul's crown, the sign of his investiture with the kingdom, from his hand. His plot is foiled. Later, he will transport the Messiah, David's Son, to the top of a very high mountain, and there offer Him all the kingdoms of the world on condition that He render homage to him, and in this will suffer a new and supreme defeat.
When he learns of the fall of the royal family and of Israel, David immediately mourns. How touching is his attitude! "Then David took hold of his garments and rent them; and all the men that were with him did likewise. And they mourned, and wept, and fasted until even for Saul, and for Jonathan his son, and for the people of Jehovah, and for the house of Israel; because they were fallen by the sword" (2 Sam. 1:11-12). The man of God has forgotten everything: hatred, ambushes, persecutions, and the continual danger threatening his life; he remembers only one thing: that the Lord had entrusted His testimony to Saul and had anointed him, and that he had formerly led Israel to victory. He also mourns for Jonathan. And guilty as the people of God might be, he does not set himself apart from them as though he were not part of them, but weeps over their calamities.
What a solemn lesson for us! Judgment has already been pronounced and is ready to fall on Christendom which hates, despises, and often persecutes Christ's true witnesses. Do we have David's true feelings toward Christendom and her leaders? Do we mourn rather than rejoice? Are we distressed rather than condemnatory? Are our hearts afflicted at the thought that Satan is getting what he is expecting in the overthrow of that which bears Christ's name or professes to belong to Him? Such should always be the case. Tears shed over the ruin, and grace and pity toward those gone astray speak more to the hearts of the Lord's sheep who are mixed up in this state of things than do the most righteous criticisms. They also open the Lord's people's eyes to the necessity of seeking refuge with the Shepherd of Israel when the sword is already being raised for destruction.
The messenger silently witnesses this scene of affliction without understanding its meaning. He does not suspect the fate hanging over his head. Only then does David ask him his last question: "Whence art thou?" When Satan who can disguise himself as an angel of light seeks to tempt us, we must compel him to tell his origin and confess his real name. If we are with God, he will always in the end betray himself. This liar who had probably come to Gilboa only to spoil the dead had already let the name of his people slip from his mouth when he had reported Saul's supposed talk with himself. Now he cannot contradict himself. "I am the son of an Amalekite stranger" (2 Sam. 1:13). "How wast thou not afraid," David says to him, "to stretch forth thy hand to destroy Jehovah's anointed?...Thy mouth has testified against thee" (2 Sam. 1:14, 16).
No, there can be nothing in common between David and Amalek, and David will never accept the crown from this Amalekite's hand. If indeed our hearts must he full of mercy with regard to the necessities and tribulations of God's faithless people and of those who, rejected like Saul, still bear His testimony, they must, however, be without mercy for the instruments sent by Satan to tempt us; they must without any hesitation whatsoever call evil, evil and the enemy the enemy.