Sons of Encouragement

by Francine Rivers

  “If you won’t listen to your mother, perhaps you should listen to your friend.”

  “Later, perhaps.”

  Jonathan awakened abruptly from a sound sleep and heard Michal’s voice. “I don’t care if he’s asleep! I must see my brother! Now!”

  Jonathan sat up and rubbed his face. He had slept fitfully, awakened by strange dreams. Violence in the city. Philistines on the rampage. The walls breeched. Twice he had lunged up, grabbed his sword, and gone to the window, only to find Gibeah quiet.

  His servant stood in the doorway. “My lord, I’m sorry to awaken you. Your sister—”

  “I heard her. Tell her I will be with her in a moment.” He stripped off his tunic, splashed water on his face, and toweled dry. Donning a fresh tunic and robe, he went out to her.

  Michal paced, her face splotched from crying, her eyes wild. “Finally!”

  She reminded him of their father in one of his moods. “What’s going on?” It was then he noticed the bruise on her cheek.

  “Father hit me! You have to speak with him. He was so angry I thought he would kill me!” She sobbed. “He’s out of his mind! You have to help me!”

  He felt a sudden fear. “Where’s David?”

  “Gone!”

  He took her hands and made her sit. “Gone where, Michal?”

  “I don’t know where. Running for his life. He’s gone! And I’m left to face the king!” She cried like a frightened child and shrieked at him, “It’s all your fault, Jonathan!”

  “How is it my fault?”

  “My husband would still be home in bed with me if you’d stayed at the feast! Why did you leave?”

  “Mother asked for me.”

  She gulped air and used her shawl to wipe her eyes and nose. “She’s dying of a broken heart because Father took that girl Rizpah to his bed. He doesn’t care about her anymore.”

  Jonathan hadn’t been pleased when he heard about it. “Mother is still his queen, Michal, and the mother of his children.”

  She rose, frustrated. “I didn’t come to talk about her problems. After you left the celebration the evil spirit came upon Father again. You know how he is when that happens.”

  All too well.

  “He was sitting with his spear in his hand.”

  A kingly pose after a great victory.

  “One minute he seemed fine, and the next, he was hurling his spear at David! He drove it into the wall! David eluded him and came home. He thought Father’s advisors would calm him down, but when I heard what had happened I knew Father was determined to kill my husband. I told David if he didn’t leave Gibeah, he would be dead before morning. And I was right! He wasn’t gone more than a few minutes when Father’s men came. I told them David was ill. So they went back to the king, but Father sent them again with orders to bring David, sick or not! Aren’t you going to ask how David got away?” She clenched her hands. “I let him down from the window. Then I took one of my idols and laid it in our bed. I covered it with a garment and put some goat’s hair on its head.” She laughed wildly. “Wasn’t that clever of me? Wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Jonathan was revolted at the thought of his sister’s having idols in the house.

  “And then Father’s men came again. When they found David wasn’t there, they brought me to the king instead. And Father accused me of deceiving him and sending his enemy away so that he could escape. His enemy! Oh, Jonathan, I thought he was going to have me executed for treason!”

  Jonathan forced himself to speak calmly. “He would not kill his own daughter, Michal.”

  She grew angry. “You didn’t see his face. You didn’t look into his eyes. I told him David threatened to kill me if I didn’t help him get away.”

  Jonathan drew back and stared.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “What sort of wife betrays her husband with such a lie? David wouldn’t hurt a hair on your head!”

  “Father was ready to lop it off!”

  “How you talk! You’re here, Michal. Alive and well. No guards with you. Whatever storm you imagined has probably already passed.”

  She flew to her feet, her face contorted with anger. “You’re wrong! Sometimes I wonder if you even know our father. You’re so determined to see the good in everyone.”

  “And you’re even quicker to seek faults in everyone.”

  Her neck stiffened. “Maybe you’re wrong about David, too. Did that ever occur to you? Your fine friend didn’t stay around to protect his wife, did he? He left without a second thought. Did he stop to think what would happen to me?”

  “You took care of yourself, didn’t you?”

  “I hate you! I hate you almost as much as I hate—”

  Jonathan gave her a hard shake. “Lower your voice!”

  Michal sagged, weeping, her head resting against his chest. “What am I going to do without him? I love him! I don’t want to be a widow.”

  Jonathan thought of David running for his life. “Where was he going?”

  She pushed away. “How would I know? To his family, I suppose. I don’t remember. Bethlehem.” She wilted onto a cushion and covered her face, her shoulders shaking with sobs. “Will you speak to Father for me? Please, Jonathan. I’m afraid of what he’ll do.”

  Jonathan wondered if his sister had exaggerated everything, for the king was in a good mood the next day. “You retired early last night, my son. Were you unwell?”

  “Mother summoned me. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes! Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Michal came to my house last night.”

  Saul scowled. “Your sister invents trouble. Speak no more of her.” He waved his hand, as though to slap the subject away. “What of your mother? Why did she call you away from the celebration?”

  He leaned close and spoke softly so the advisors would not hear. “She thinks it’s time I marry.”

  “Does she?” Saul’s brows rose. He considered the thought and then nodded. “Not a bad idea. We should find you a suitable young woman.”

  Jonathan knew what suitable would mean to his father: a bride to bring an alliance. “She must be from the tribe of Benjamin, Father. As the Law requires.”

  Saul’s expression changed. “It will have to wait.” He put his arm around Jonathan’s shoulder. “The Philistines plundered another village.” They reviewed the reports together.

  Jonathan pointed out his strategies. “With your permission, I’ll take David with me.”

  The king looked thunderous. “And share the glory?” He shook his head. “Not this time.”

  “It is not glory I seek, Father, but an end to this war. We can’t give the Philistines a single village or field. We must drive them out of the land or we will never have peace.”

  “Call out your men and go!” Saul turned his back. “I have other plans for David.”

  Weeks passed with some minor skirmishes, but Jonathan didn’t find the multitude of Philistines reported. Something was wrong.

  He returned to Gibeah and learned that his father had gone to Ramah. “Did Samuel call for him?”

  “No, my lord. The king sent men to Naioth in Ramah to summon David, but he was no longer with Samuel.”

  David had been with Samuel?

  “Twice more, the king sent men, but the Spirit of the Lord came upon them and they prophesied in Samuel’s presence. So the king went himself. And then the Spirit of the Lord came upon him as well and he prophesied.”

  Strange happenings indeed, but Jonathan grasped hope. Perhaps his father had repented!

  Let it be so, Lord! Let it be so!

  Jonathan rose early to read the Law, then went out to practice with his bow. David came out of the rocks and called to him. Jonathan ran to meet him.

  “What have I done, Jonathan? What is my crime?”

  Jonathan remembered Michal’s visit in the night. Perhaps he had dismissed her too quickly. “What are you talking about?”

  “How have I of
fended your father that he is so determined to kill me?”

  “That’s not true!” Jonathan grasped his arms. “You’re not going to die!”

  “The king tried to pin me to the wall with his spear. If not for Michal, I’d be dead. I hid at the stone pile. I could think of nothing else to do but go to Samuel and ask his help. The king sent three parties of men after me and then came himself.”

  “And made peace with Samuel. I heard. All is well. He prophesied. He has turned back to the Lord!” The king had not seen Samuel since the debacle at Gilgal. His father had loathed the very mention of Samuel’s name. All that must have changed!

  David shook his head, anguished. “I’m running for my life, Jonathan. You’re the only one I can trust, the only hope I have of finding out why the king is so determined to kill me!”

  Jonathan felt how David trembled from exhaustion and fear. Was everyone going mad? “Rest. Here. Eat some grain.” He took the pouch from his belt. “Drink.” He gave him the skin of water. “All this is a misunderstanding. Look, my father always tells me everything he’s going to do, even the little things. I know my father wouldn’t hide something like this from me. It just isn’t so! You know how he is sometimes. His moods pass. A spear thrown in a fit of temper doesn’t mean the king is plotting to murder you. Why would he do such a thing? Your victories rally the armies of God.” But a niggling worry took hold of him even as he spoke. Let it not be so, Lord. “No! It’s not true!” He refused to believe it.

  “Jonathan, your father knows perfectly well about our friendship, so he has said to himself, ‘I won’t tell Jonathan—why should I hurt him?’ But I swear to you that I am only a step away from death! I swear it by the Lord and by your own soul!”

  David’s fear was real, and he must be proven wrong. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”

  David looked around, a hunted look on his face. “Look, tomorrow we celebrate the new moon festival. I’ve always eaten with the king on this occasion, but tomorrow I’ll hide in the field and stay there until the evening of the third day. If your father asks where I am, tell him I asked permission to go home to Bethlehem for an annual family sacrifice. If he says, ‘Fine!’ you will know all is well. But if he is angry and loses his temper, you will know he is determined to kill me.” His voice broke with pent-up emotion. “Show me this loyalty as my sworn friend—for we made a solemn pact before the Lord—or kill me yourself if I have sinned against your father. But please don’t betray me to him!”

  “Never!” Jonathan exclaimed. “You know that if I had the slightest notion my father was planning to kill you, I would tell you at once.” Surely David was wrong. Surely Michal had exaggerated. His father had seemed himself the next morning he spoke with him.

  But why did he send me away?

  And the reports were incorrect. All that wasted time.

  Or was it?

  “How will I know whether or not your father is angry?”

  “Come out to the field with me.”

  They walked across the hills together. They had spent many hours out here practicing with bow and spear, running races.

  “Do you believe me, Jonathan?”

  “I don’t know what to believe.” He turned to David. “But I can tell you this. I promise by the Lord, the God of Israel, that by this time tomorrow, or the next day at the latest, I will talk to my father and let you know at once how he feels about you. If he speaks favorably about you, I will let you know. But if he is angry and wants you killed, may the Lord strike me and even kill me if I don’t warn you so you can escape and live.” He clasped David’s hand. “May the Lord be with you as He used to be with my father.”

  Jonathan knew David had no ambitions to take the throne, but he was not so certain about David’s relatives. What if they were as ambitious for David as Kish and Abner had been for Saul? David’s relatives—Joab, Abishai, and Asahel—were known to be cunning warriors. And they would urge David to follow the ways of the surrounding nations.

  “And may you treat me with the faithful love of the Lord as long as I live. But if I die, treat my family with this faithful love, even when the Lord destroys all your enemies from the face of the earth.”

  “I will never break my covenant with you, Jonathan. I am your friend until my last breath!”

  “And I yours.” Jonathan felt something else, something far bigger than he could understand, at play here. Only one thing did he hold tight. His father might suffer from fits of rage, but he was not David’s enemy. However, there might be several enemies in the ranks of his father’s advisors. Snakes coiled and ready to strike. “May the Lord destroy all your enemies, no matter who they are.”

  Jonathan tried to think of where the safest place would be for David to hide until he could set his mind at ease about Saul. “As you said, tomorrow we celebrate the new moon festival. You will be missed when your place at the table is empty.” Jonathan would make certain the seating arrangements were unchanged. David was irreplaceable. “The day after tomorrow, toward evening, go to the place where you hid before, and wait there by the stone pile. I will come out and shoot three arrows to the side of the stone pile as though I were shooting at a target. Then I will send a boy to bring the arrows back. If you hear me tell him, ‘They’re on this side,’ then you will know, as surely as the Lord lives, that all is well, and there is no trouble. But if I tell him, ‘Go farther—the arrows are still ahead of you,’ then it will mean that you must leave immediately, for the Lord is sending you away.”

  David thanked him. They embraced and turned their separate ways.

  Michal’s words came back to Jonathan, strident with warning. Could he be mistaken about his friend? No. He couldn’t be wrong about David. He knew him as well as he knew himself. But he could not forget about Samuel’s prophecy. God had torn the kingdom from Saul and given it to another. And not long after that proclamation, Samuel had gone to Bethlehem. Saul had sent men to question him, and Samuel had said he had gone to sacrifice. But why there? And now, with this trouble between his father and David, his friend had run to Samuel.

  Is David the one, Lord? Or am I to be king after my father? If Samuel had anointed David in Bethlehem, it would explain his father’s wild behavior. But Samuel had said he had gone to sacrifice. Would a prophet lie?

  The tribe of Judah might still covet the crown.

  Jonathan turned back. “David!” When his friend turned, he called out to him. “And may the Lord make us keep our promises to each other, for He has witnessed them.” As long as they were true friends, all might be well, no matter what happened.

  “Forever!” David raised his hand.

  Jonathan smiled and waved. David’s word was enough. It was his bond.

  When the new moon festival came, Jonathan sat in his usual place opposite his father. Saul held a spear in his hand. Abner sat beside the king and they whispered together several times. Both commanded a full view of the entire room and entrance, and their relatives sat in the best positions to guard Saul.

  The king looked at David’s empty seat. Irritation flickered, but he said nothing about his absence. Jonathan relaxed and ate. David’s worries were unnecessary. Jonathan could hardly wait to tell him. Still, he should wait until tomorrow and see if the king said anything about David on the second day.

  And the king did ask. “Why hasn’t the son of Jesse been here for the meal either yesterday or today?” Something in his father’s face made the sweat break out on the back of Jonathan’s neck when his father raised the question.

  No. David cannot be right. Michal exaggerated. Father would not plot murder. He could not!

  The room fell silent. Jonathan looked around at his relatives. “David earnestly asked me if he could go to Bethlehem.” He looked into his father’s eyes. Don’t let it be true! “He said, ‘Please let me go, for we are having a family sacrifice. My brother demanded that I be there. So please let me get away to see my brothers.’ That’s why he isn’t here at the king’s table.”


  Saul’s eyes went black with malevolence. “You stupid son of a whore!”

  Shocked, Jonathan stared speechless. And then a rush of anger spilled into his blood. His mother, a whore?

  “Do you think I don’t know that you want him to be king in your place, shaming yourself and your mother?” Face florid, hands clenched white, Saul glared, a muscle twitching near his right eye.

  It’s true! Everything David said is true! God, help us all!

  “As long as that son of Jesse is alive, you’ll never be king.”

  “It is not my kingship that worries you.”

  “Now go and get him so I can kill him!”

  Jonathan came to his feet. “But why should he be put to death? What has he done?”

  Screaming in rage, Saul hurled the spear at Jonathan with all his might.

  Jonathan barely avoided being pinned to the wall. Men scrambled. Servants fled. Relatives shouted. Stunned and furious, Jonathan rushed to the doorway. “Your struggle is not with David or me, Father. It is with the Lord our God!” He strode from the room, grinding his teeth in anger.

  Storming into his house, he ordered the servants out, closed all the doors, and gave vent to his wrath. Holding his head, he screamed in frustration. Am I becoming like my father? Lord, don’t let me become a captive of fear! He longed to leave Gibeah. He wanted to get as far away from Saul as he could. How could he have been so wrong? Was it possible to spend so much time with a man and not know what went on in his mind?

  What do I do now? What is right?

  He moved near the lamp and took the Law from beneath his tunic.

  God, help me. What am I to do?

  “Be holy as I am holy. . . .”

  How, Lord? How could he get past words like honor your father . . . ?

  How do I honor a man who plots murder, who grasps hold of power like a child holds on to a toy, who ignores the needs of his people to satisfy his own lusts for power and possessions. What happened to the father I knew, the man who didn’t want to be king?