Scandalous Scripture: The Bible We Don't Read in Church Part 13: You’re Not David

Scandalous Scripture: The Bible We Don't Read in Church Part 13:  You’re Not David

David and Goliath may be one of the most familiar stories in the Bible—but David’s story does not end in 1 Samuel 17. 
David was a gifted musician, courageous warrior, and chosen king. He also deceived people, nearly acted violently out of anger, conducted brutal raids, committed adultery and murder, suffered devastating consequences within his family, and eventually watched thousands of Israelites die because of one of his decisions. 
So why does the church so often tell Christians to “be David”? 
In Part 13 of Scandalous Scripture, Pastor Gene Simco walks through the David we know—and the David we often skip. We’ll examine the real David and Goliath account, some important ancient manuscript evidence, David’s lesser-known failures and tragedies, what “a man after God’s own heart” actually means, and why David should never become a permission slip for sin. 
The Bible’s message is not ultimately David → you. 
It is David → Jesus. 
David could defeat Goliath, but David could not save David from David.  You don’t need to be David. You need David’s Son. 

Reader's Version

Scandalous Scripture, Part 13: You’re Not David 

Sermon by Gene Simco 

Reader’s Version 

A Man Acquainted With Real Suffering 

Men and women often argue about who has the greater pain tolerance. The truth is, we may never know. But another truth is that women have to go through a kind of pain that men can never really know or experience. For this reason, modern medicine has developed something called an epidural. 

My wife and I have one child. She is now twenty-one years old, but a little over twenty-one years ago, I was given one task during my wife’s labor: remember one word. One single word. 

Epidural. 

That was it. The doctors informed me that when I saw the pain really setting in, I was supposed to call for an epidural so that my wife could get some pain relief. One job. So I memorized the word. 

When my wife finally went into labor, everything looked like it was going pretty well. She was handling it remarkably well. She is a strong woman—vigorous, like the Hebrew women we saw back in Exodus—and she was even pacing around, getting ready. But then she hit a certain point where suddenly the pain leaked through her face. 

I decided that probably was not the right moment for a practical joke, so I immediately yelled, “Epidural! Epidural!” 

Fortunately, they got it to her in time. There comes a point in labor when an epidural can no longer be administered, so thankfully we did not miss the window. The childbirth went fine, but my wife assured me that even with the epidural, it was still quite painful. 

So ladies, we are here to help. But do not blame us for this. 

Blame Eve. 

Now, it has been said that only a woman who has gone through childbirth without an epidural can truly understand the suffering a man experiences when he has a cold. 

Indeed, this is me when I get sick. I get a cold and immediately start asking serious questions such as, “Do I have a will?” while Sophie calmly walks by and says, “Dibs on the guitars.” 

Today, however, we are going to look at a man who actually knew something about suffering—a man’s man, a warrior, a musician, and a king. 

David. 

Christians love saying, “Be a David.” 

Okay. 

But which chapter? 

If you mean 1 Samuel 17, we can talk. If you mean some of the chapters that come later, maybe not. 

And your boss is probably not Goliath. Your mortgage is not Goliath. Your difficult neighbor is not Goliath. If your boss really is about six-foot-nine and you brought a sling to work, HR probably needs to get involved. 

David may be the most famous biblical hero outside of Jesus, and that raises an important question: has the church turned David into something the Bible itself never gives us? 

A Quick Running Start 

Let’s get a quick running start from Parts 10 through 12. In Part 10, Judges kept overturning our definition of strength. God repeatedly used unexpected people so that God gets the glory. In Part 11, everyone did what was right in his own eyes; the problem became self-rule. Then in Part 12, Israel looked outward and said, “Give us a king like all the nations.” Saul looked right—tall, impressive, head and shoulders above everybody else—but God eventually told Samuel, “People look at outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” 

Then God chose David. That is where we stopped. Everybody thinks, Finally, a good king. 

Careful. Last week the warning was: do not choose leaders by the world’s measurements. Today we take the next step. Even when God really does choose somebody, do not turn that person into Jesus. 

David and Goliath — The Story We Think We Know 

Everybody knows David and Goliath, so we do not need to spend half the chapter retelling the children’s Bible version. Remember, this is the Bible we do not usually read in church. But before we get into that part of David’s story, we need to correct a few things about the story everybody thinks they already know. 

David’s three oldest brothers—Eliab, Abinadab, and Shammah—are on the front lines with Saul fighting the Philistines. The two armies are positioned across from one another with a valley between them, and David is going back and forth between Saul and his father’s sheep. Jesse sends David to the camp with provisions: roasted grain and loaves for his brothers, along with cheeses for their commander. 

When David arrives, the Philistine champion Goliath is coming out and taunting Israel. His challenge is basically this: send somebody out to represent you and fight me. If I win, Israel serves the Philistines. If your man wins, the Philistines serve Israel. 

Nobody wants the job. 

David hears about a promise Saul has made. The man who defeats Goliath will receive great wealth, marry the king’s daughter, and his father’s household will be made free from certain obligations in Israel. So David keeps asking, essentially, “What exactly happens to the guy who kills this Philistine?” His oldest brother Eliab hears him and gets angry, accusing David of coming down with bad motives, almost as though David is just there for the show—or perhaps for what he can get out of it. 

Eventually David gets an audience with Saul. Remember, David and Saul already know each other from chapter 16. That is going to become important in a moment. Saul doubts him: David is still young, while Goliath has been fighting since his youth. 

David answers by telling Saul what has happened while he has been shepherding. When a lion or a bear came after the sheep, David went after it, rescued the sheep, and killed the predator when it turned on him. The same God who delivered David from the lion and the bear, he says, will deliver him from this Philistine. 

Saul is convinced enough to let him go. He puts his own armor on David. Considering Saul’s size, it is easy to imagine that this was not exactly a custom fit, but David’s stated reason for taking it off is that he has not tested it and is not used to fighting in it. So David goes out without Saul’s armor or weapons, carrying his staff, his sling, and five smooth stones from the streambed. 

He only needs one. 

The stone finds its way into Goliath’s forehead. Goliath goes down. David runs over, grabs Goliath’s own sword, kills him with it, and cuts off his head. 

That is basically the David and Goliath story we already know. 

Except for one detail. 

The Bible We Usually Don’t Read: Goliath Probably Wasn’t Almost Ten Feet Tall 

We have actually covered this before outside of this series, so if this is new to you, I have a much deeper treatment in my message and book The Rest of the Story: The Bible Unredacted. We have spent a lot of time as a church talking about the different textual traditions behind our Bibles and why they matter. 

One of the important things we have learned is that the Bible of the early Greek-speaking church was in Greek. The Old Testament they overwhelmingly encountered was the Septuagint, often abbreviated LXX, and the New Testament itself was written in Greek. The apostles repeatedly quote the Old Testament in Greek forms that align with this tradition. The Septuagint is also centuries older than the medieval Masoretic manuscripts that became the primary Hebrew base for most later Protestant Old Testaments. 

That does not mean Hebrew disappeared from the story or that every Jew and Christian everywhere used exactly one identical Greek Bible. This is a broad overview. But if you walked into the Greek-speaking early church, you were not opening the medieval Masoretic Text. You were hearing the Scriptures in Greek. 

This became a real issue as Christianity and Judaism separated. Christians were reading passages like Isaiah 7, Psalm 22, and others through a text they believed pointed clearly toward Jesus. Early Christian writers such as Justin Martyr complained that Jewish teachers were rejecting the Greek Scriptures and even accused Jewish scribes of removing or altering passages Christians understood as pointing toward Christ. Christians and Jews were already arguing about textual differences long before modern textual criticism became a thing. We went through that history at length in The Rest of the Story: The Bible Unredacted. 

And this is where Goliath gets interesting. 

Most modern readers know the reading preserved in the later Masoretic tradition: Goliath was six cubits and a span, usually calculated at roughly nine feet nine inches. 

But our oldest Hebrew manuscript evidence from the Dead Sea Scrolls says something different. 4QSamᵃ reads four cubits and a span. The ancient Greek Septuagint gives the same reading, and Josephus, the first-century Jewish historian, agrees. That puts Goliath at roughly six feet nine inches. J. Daniel Hays lays out the textual evidence in detail and argues that this shorter reading is the earlier one. 

Still a pretty tall guy. Still intimidating. 

But now think basketball player, not some nearly ten-foot superhuman. 

And suddenly the story becomes even more interesting—especially after Part 12. 

Remember Saul. Scripture repeatedly emphasizes that he is taller than everybody else in Israel. He stands head and shoulders above them. So when this unusually tall Philistine warrior walks out and challenges Israel, who visually looks like the obvious man to answer him? 

Saul. 

He may very well have been somewhere in the same general physical category. Israel had asked for the impressive warrior-king. They wanted the guy who looked like the kings of the nations. 

Then the giant warrior walks out— 

and their impressive warrior-king is hiding with everybody else. 

That is one of the real scandals in the story. 

Why Did Goliath Get Taller? 

So why does the later Masoretic tradition make Goliath taller? We do not know. It could simply be a copying error. Numbers are easy things to alter in textual transmission. 

But there is another interesting possibility. This is speculation—we cannot prove motive—but think about what the change does to the story. If Goliath becomes almost ten feet tall, Saul looks a little less cowardly and David looks like an even greater hero. The larger Goliath becomes, the more spectacular David becomes. 

For Jewish readers who do not recognize Jesus as the Messiah and the final King, David remains one of the great heroes of the story. Could magnifying Goliath have helped magnify David? Again, we cannot prove that this is why the number changed. But it certainly has that effect. 

And before Christians point a finger at anybody else, remember last week. 

Are we doing the same thing? 

Israel looked at Saul and became impressed by appearances. Now we can take David, make him larger and larger in our imagination, build the whole story around his courage and his greatness, and slowly eliminate Jesus from the story. 

That is exactly the trap we are going to challenge later. 

David is important. David is courageous. David really is chosen by God. David really does defeat Goliath. 

But David is not the final hero. 

Jesus is. 

Further Reading 

For a fuller treatment of the Septuagint, Masoretic Text, early Christian Bible, Justin Martyr, the ancient codices, and why these textual differences matter, see my earlier C3 message, The Rest of the Story: The Bible Unredacted. The Rest of the Story: The Bible Unredacted — C3 Church 

The argument is developed much more extensively in my book of the same name, including the historical and textual evidence behind the early church’s Scriptures. The Rest of the Story: The Bible Unredacted — Gene Simco 

For the specific textual question of Goliath’s height, see J. Daniel Hays, “Reconsidering the Height of Goliath,” Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 48.4. Reconsidering the Height of Goliath 

David Is Not a Helpless Little Kid 

We have to remember something else about the David and Goliath account: David is not a helpless little kid. Do not picture a tiny child who has never fought anyone, randomly picking up a rock, throwing it in Goliath’s general direction, and getting lucky. First Samuel 16 has already given us David’s résumé. He is a skilled musician, a mighty man of valor, a warrior, prudent in speech, impressive in appearance, and, most importantly, the LORD is with him. David then tells Saul about the lion and the bear. He has fought before. He has killed before. He has demonstrated courage under pressure. A sling in trained hands is not a child’s toy. 

I spent years training martial arts, so imagine watching someone who has trained for years submit an untrained opponent and then preaching, “See! Anybody can do that.” No. Try it and let me know how the emergency room goes. Skill matters. Training matters. David is unusually gifted and courageous, and God has already anointed him. So even before we get to the theology, you’re probably not David anyway. 

More importantly, what does the story itself actually say? In 1 Samuel 17:47 David tells us, “The battle is the LORD’s.” That is considerably different from, Believe in yourself and defeat your personal giants. The story is not primarily five stones for five obstacles, how to defeat your mortgage, or how to overcome your difficult boss. Israel is helpless. An enemy stands against them. God’s chosen and anointed representative steps forward on their behalf and wins the battle they cannot win. 

That should already start sounding a lot more like the Gospel. 

Why Doesn’t Saul Recognize David? 

There is another strange part of the story that most churches try to explain in all sorts of creative ways: after David kills Goliath, why does Saul suddenly seem not to recognize him? 

First Samuel 16 already has Saul knowing David and communicating with Jesse. David plays for Saul when he is tormented, Saul grows very fond of him, and David becomes his armor bearer. Then in chapter 17 David personally speaks with Saul before facing Goliath. Yet after the battle, the longer form of chapter 17 suddenly has Saul asking Abner, “Whose son is this young man?” Abner does not seem to know, and Saul eventually asks David himself. But they already know David, and Saul has already communicated with Jesse. 

Once again, knowing something about the Bible of the early church helps. The older Greek form of Samuel is shorter through this portion of chapters 17 and 18, and the scene in which Saul suddenly asks whose son David is—1 Samuel 17:55 through the beginning of chapter 18—is absent. In other words, the apparent contradiction is created by material found in the longer textual form of the story. 

This is why I think getting closer to the older text often solves these problems more cleanly than inventing a psychological explanation. Maybe Saul somehow remembered David but forgot Jesse. Maybe David looked different after the battle. Maybe Saul was suddenly interested only in his family lineage. You can keep inventing explanations if you want, but the older Greek does not create the problem in the first place. 

Sometimes Saul did not suddenly develop amnesia. Sometimes the problem is textual. 

We dealt with this more extensively in The Rest of the Story: The Bible Unredacted, because understanding how the Scriptures were transmitted helps us recognize what is actually happening when two passages appear not to fit together. 

Before We Make David the Villain 

We are about to keep reading beyond Goliath, and David’s life is going to become much more complicated. But before we turn him into the villain, David really does beautiful things. He trusts God. He worships. He writes Psalms. He loves Jonathan. Twice, in 1 Samuel 24 and 26, he has the opportunity to kill Saul and seize the throne through violence, and twice he refuses to kill the LORD’s anointed. That is genuine faith, genuine restraint, and genuine submission. David really is somebody God uses, which is precisely why everything that follows matters. 

Being used by God does not make somebody flawless. 

David and Jonathan — And No, Not That Way 

Since we mentioned Jonathan, this is a good place to deal with another modern claim that occasionally gets attached to David’s story. Jonathan is Saul’s son, and Scripture describes an extraordinarily close relationship between him and David. Some people have tried to make that relationship sexual or homosexual, but that simply is not what the text gives us. 

The Greek describes Jonathan’s ψυχή, his soul or life, as being bound to David’s, and says Jonathan ἠγάπησεν David—he loved him—as his own soul. Immediately afterward Jonathan and David enter a διαθήκη, a covenant. That is the framework the story itself gives us: deep love, loyalty, covenant, and friendship. Jonathan then risks his own position and eventually his life to protect David from Saul. He knows David will become king, even though Jonathan himself is the king’s son, and he asks David to continue that covenant faithfulness toward his family after he is gone. David later does exactly that with Jonathan’s son Mephibosheth. The relationship is repeatedly framed as covenant loyalty and extraordinary friendship. 

People sometimes point to David’s lament after Jonathan dies: “Your love to me was extraordinary, surpassing the love of women.” But David is mourning the man who protected him from his own father, surrendered his own claim to the throne, entered covenant with him, and repeatedly risked himself for David’s life. Deep affection between men did not automatically carry the sexual meaning modern Western readers sometimes force onto it, and neither did the affectionate greetings and farewells that were completely normal in that world. 

But there is an even more basic problem with using David and Jonathan to establish Christian sexual ethics: this entire sermon is about all the things David did that Christians should not imitate. We are about to watch David lie, kill, abuse power, commit adultery, and arrange a murder. David is not our moral standard. 

So even if somebody could somehow establish another sin in David’s life, what exactly would that prove? 

It would prove that David sinned. 

We already knew that. 

The Christian question is not simply, What did David do? The Christian question is, What does Jesus command His people to do? 

Keep Reading 

Once Goliath falls, David’s life does not turn into the clean motivational story we often make it. First Samuel 18 through 20 gives us Saul repeatedly trying to kill David while Jonathan, Saul’s own son, protects him. In chapter 21 David ends up in Gath with King Achish and realizes he is in serious danger, so he pretends to be insane—scratching on the doors and allowing saliva to run down his beard. Achish essentially responds, “Do I not already have enough crazy people around here?” Not usually something you see on the David motivational poster. 

Then the story becomes much darker. David goes to Ahimelech the priest and misleads him, claiming that he is on secret business for Saul when he is actually running from him. Ahimelech helps David, giving him food and Goliath’s sword, but Doeg the Edomite sees what happens and later reports it to Saul. Saul summons the priests and orders them killed. His own guards refuse to slaughter the priests of the LORD, but Doeg does not. He kills eighty-five priests who wore the linen ephod, and Saul then has Nob, the city of the priests, put to the sword. The text specifically includes men and women, children and nursing infants, along with their livestock. Abiathar, one of Ahimelech’s sons, escapes and runs to David. Scripture gives us the number of priests killed—eighty-five—but it never gives us a final total for everybody else killed at Nob, so the actual death toll is considerably higher but unknown. 

David himself recognizes his part in what happened. When Abiathar reaches him, David says that he knew Doeg would report him and admits, “I have caused the death of all your father’s family.” Saul gave the order and Doeg carried it out, but David knows that his deception helped place the priests in that position. David’s decisions already have bodies attached to them. 

Then we get another striking contrast. In chapters 24 and 26 David repeatedly refuses to kill Saul, even though Saul is actively hunting him. But in chapter 25, Nabal insults David, and David’s immediate reaction is essentially, “Everybody grab your swords.” He intends to wipe out the males of Nabal’s household until Abigail intervenes. She meets David, speaks wisely to him, and prevents him from spilling blood that David himself later recognizes would have weighed on his conscience. 

Abigail returns home and tells Nabal what happened. The text says that his heart died within him and he became like stone; about ten days later the LORD strikes him and he dies. Scripture does not diagnose the event as a stroke or heart attack, although it clearly describes some devastating physical collapse. And then, yes, David marries Abigail anyway. 

So David can trust God with Saul’s life and nearly slaughter a household because another man insults him. People are complicated, even faithful people. 

David’s Raiding Parties 

Then we arrive at 1 Samuel 27, and this is the Bible we usually skip. David goes back among the Philistines and lives under Achish, who gives him the town of Ziklag. David and his men live there for a year and four months, and during that time they repeatedly raid the Geshurites, the Girzites, and the Amalekites. 

First Samuel 27:8–10 tells us that David did not leave anyone alive in the places he attacked. He took the sheep, goats, cattle, donkeys, camels, and clothing and returned to Achish. When Achish asked where David had been raiding, David lied about it, claiming that he had attacked areas associated with Judah and its allies. The reason for killing everyone becomes explicit in the verses that follow: David does not want anyone surviving and returning to Gath to expose what he is really doing. Achish believes the deception and concludes that David has made himself hated by Israel and will therefore remain his servant permanently. 

The text then says that this was David’s practice during the entire time he lived in Philistine territory. That matters. This is not one moment where David loses his temper. This is a repeated pattern involving raids, killing, plunder, eliminating witnesses, and deliberate deception. 

The text explicitly says that David left neither man nor woman alive. It does not separately state, “David killed the children,” so we should distinguish the wording of the text from the obvious inference. But these are repeated attacks on inhabited communities. Are we really supposed to imagine that all of those towns contained men and women but somehow no children? That is highly doubtful. It is entirely reasonable to conclude that children were almost certainly among those killed as well. 

That becomes especially shocking when we consider the things Christians rightly protest in our own world. We react with horror when civilians and children are slaughtered in war, and we should. We cannot suddenly turn that moral concern off because the warrior in the story happens to be David. 

This is the giant killer, the Psalm writer, and the man God chose. It is also David participating in repeated killing and deliberate deception. The church has often taken one chapter of his life and turned him into a superhero, but once we keep reading, simplistic hero worship becomes very difficult. 

David Becomes King 

From here, the story moves quickly toward David’s kingship. First Samuel 31 records Saul’s death, and 2 Samuel 1 opens with David mourning Saul and Jonathan in what is often called the Song of the Bow. David does not celebrate the death of the man who spent years trying to kill him. He laments both Saul and Jonathan and honors what was good in them. 

Second Samuel 2 through 5 then gives us the long road to the throne. David is first made king over Judah in Hebron, while the house of Saul continues under Ish-bosheth. After years of conflict, David is finally recognized as king over all Israel. He captures Jerusalem, establishes it as his capital, and his position becomes increasingly secure. 

But even here, David is already doing something Israel’s kings were warned not to do. Deuteronomy 17 specifically warned that the king must not multiply wives for himself, yet David steadily accumulates wives and concubines. The man God chose is already capable of ignoring instructions that were written specifically for men in his position. 

That becomes important in the very next major story. 

Uzzah, the Ark, and Following the Instructions 

Second Samuel 6 and 1 Chronicles 13 and 15 give us parallel accounts of David bringing the Ark of God into Jerusalem. On the surface, everything about David’s plan looks good. He wants the Ark near the center of Israel’s life. The people are enthusiastic. There is music, celebration, leadership, a crowd, and even a brand-new cart. 

Then everything goes wrong. 

As the Ark is being transported, the oxen stumble and Uzzah reaches out to steady it. He touches the Ark, and the anger of the LORD bursts out against him. Uzzah dies there beside the Ark. 

If we read only that moment, it can sound arbitrary. Uzzah appears to be trying to help. But Chronicles gives us the explanation. The problem did not begin when Uzzah reached out his hand. The problem began earlier, when David organized the whole thing without following the instructions God had already given for carrying the Ark. It was not supposed to be hauled around on a cart as though it were ordinary cargo. The Levites were supposed to carry it in the prescribed way. 

When David attempts the move again, he finally understands what went wrong. In 1 Chronicles 15:13 he tells the Levites, “Because you Levites did not carry the Ark the first time, the anger of the LORD our God burst out against us. We failed to ask God how to move it properly.” 

That is the problem. They did not seek God according to the prescribed way the Ark was supposed to be handled. The second time, the Levites carry it properly, using the poles according to God’s command. 

If you remember Part 11 and the furniture illustration, here we are again. They had enthusiasm. They had music. They had a crowd. They had leadership. They even had a brand-new cart. What they did not have was obedience to the instructions. 

There is another irony hiding in the story. A new cart is exactly how the Philistines had transported the Ark earlier. What worked for the nations was not automatically the pattern God gave Israel. David’s intentions were good, but good intentions do not make disobedience obedience. 

Eventually David does bring the Ark into Jerusalem correctly, and that produces another famous scene. David celebrates before the LORD, while Michal, Saul’s daughter and David’s wife, watches from a window and despises him. She mocks David afterward for what she sees as humiliating behavior. The chapter closes with the statement that Michal had no child to the day of her death. 

God Builds David a House 

Then we arrive at 2 Samuel 7. David is settled in his palace and begins thinking about the fact that he lives in a beautiful house while the Ark of God remains in a tent. He tells the prophet Nathan what he wants to do, and Nathan initially thinks it is a good idea. Nathan tells David, essentially, “Go ahead. The LORD is with you.” 

But that night God speaks to Nathan and turns David’s entire idea around. 

David wants to build God a house. 

God says, in effect, I am going to build you a house. 

Not a building—a dynasty. A descendant. A throne. A kingdom. God promises that David’s line will continue and that his kingdom will ultimately be established. This is why David becomes so important to the rest of Scripture. David matters not because David is perfect, but because God makes a promise through David that points beyond David. 

And this is also the right place to bring in something Chronicles tells us later. David genuinely wants to build the Temple, but he will not be the one allowed to do it. In 1 Chronicles 22, David explains to Solomon that the LORD had told him, “You have killed many men in the battles you have fought. And since you have shed so much blood in my sight, you will not be the one to build a Temple to honor my name.” Instead, Solomon—the son whose name is associated with peace—will build it. First Chronicles 28 repeats the same point: David is a warrior and has shed much blood, so he will not build the Temple. 

We should not overstate this and pretend every war David ever fought was sinful. The point is still striking. The warrior résumé Christians love to celebrate is not presented as an unqualified virtue. David has become a man whose life is saturated with bloodshed, and God tells him that someone else will build His house. 

Even David does not get to decide what David is qualified to do. 

Hold on to the promise of 2 Samuel 7, though, because David is about to do something horrifying. 

Bathsheba, Uriah, and Nathan 

This is the part of David’s life we normally do read in church, so we can move through it more quickly. But we should not soften it by reducing the story to, “David had an affair.” 

David is king. Bathsheba is Uriah’s wife. David takes her, and she becomes pregnant. Then David begins managing the problem. He brings Uriah home from battle and tries to get him to go home to his wife so that the pregnancy can be covered. Uriah refuses to enjoy the comforts of home while the Ark, Israel, Judah, and his fellow soldiers remain in the field. 

So David escalates. 

Uriah returns to battle carrying the instructions for his own death. David orders Joab to place Uriah where the fighting is fiercest and then pull back from him. Uriah is killed. David then takes Bathsheba as his wife. 

Now we have adultery, deception, abuse of power, and murder. This is the man who killed Goliath. 

Nathan the prophet eventually comes to David and tells him a story about a rich man who steals a poor man’s beloved lamb. David becomes furious at the injustice. Then Nathan turns the story around and says, “You are the man.” 

Part 11 walks back into the room. We are often excellent at seeing somebody else’s sin. 

But David does something important. He says, “I have sinned against the LORD.” There is no long defense. He does not blame Bathsheba. He does not blame Joab. He does not launch a public-relations campaign. Psalm 51 gives us the heart of that repentance: “Create in me a clean heart, O God.” 

We should not make David a monster either. He can repent. He can be corrected. That matters. 

But forgiveness does not mean nothing happened. 

The consequences are devastating. 

The House Begins to Collapse 

The child born from David and Bathsheba’s adultery dies, and then the tragedy begins spreading through David’s family. In 2 Samuel 13, David’s son Amnon rapes his half-sister Tamar. David is furious when he hears about it, but he does not deal adequately with Amnon. Absalom, Tamar’s full brother, waits and eventually murders Amnon. 

Now David’s children are destroying one another. 

The relationship between David and Absalom remains badly broken. There is an incomplete reconciliation, but the deeper problem is never truly healed. Eventually Absalom begins stealing the hearts of the people and launches a rebellion against his own father. David, the great warrior-king, is forced to flee Jerusalem. 

Then Nathan’s earlier judgment comes back with terrible force. Absalom publicly sleeps with David’s concubines where Israel can see it, humiliating his father and publicly claiming the royal household for himself. What David had tried to hide with Bathsheba is now answered by public humiliation within his own family. 

Later Absalom is killed, and David collapses in grief: “O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom!” The story is brutal because David is not mourning an abstract rebel. He is mourning his son. 

After that comes yet another rebellion under Sheba in 2 Samuel 20. Then 2 Samuel 21 takes us back to the Gibeonites, whom we first met in Joshua. Seven male descendants of Saul are handed over and executed, and Rizpah’s grief becomes one of the bleakest scenes in this already bleak stretch of the story as she guards the bodies. 

This is not David killed Goliath and lived happily ever after. Goliath was one chapter. David still had to live with David. 

David, Jesus, and the Mount of Olives 

There is a beautiful and painful connection hidden inside David’s flight from Absalom. As David leaves Jerusalem in 2 Samuel 15, the people cross the Kidron Valley, and David goes up the Mount of Olives weeping. His head is covered, he is barefoot, and the people with him are also weeping. While David is making that climb, he receives another devastating piece of news: Ahithophel, one of his trusted counselors, has joined Absalom’s conspiracy. 

Ahithophel’s story ends strangely. When his counsel is rejected, he goes home, puts his affairs in order, and hangs himself. 

Then centuries later, another rejected King leaves Jerusalem. 

Jesus crosses the same Kidron Valley and goes toward the garden at the Mount of Olives. Judas, one of the men closest to Him, knows the place and brings the group that arrests Him there. Judas also eventually hangs himself. John even places the Kidron crossing directly into the passion narrative, and the Gospel tradition locates the garden scene at the Mount of Olives. 

The parallels are difficult to miss: a rejected king leaves Jerusalem, crosses the Kidron, goes toward the Mount of Olives in sorrow, and suffers betrayal from someone close to him. The betrayer later hangs himself. 

But the reversal is even more important. 

David is fleeing Jerusalem while consequences tied to his own sin and the collapse of his house are unfolding around him. Jesus is not fleeing the consequences of His own sin. He has none. Jesus walks knowingly toward betrayal, arrest, and death in order to bear the consequences of ours. 

David goes up the Mount of Olives weeping because his kingdom is breaking apart. 

Jesus goes toward the Mount of Olives knowing exactly what it will cost Him to establish His. 

That is another reason we should never stop the story at David. 

The Census and the Shepherd’s Failure 

Near the end of 2 Samuel, we come to one final major scandal in David’s reign. In 2 Samuel 24, David orders a census. The problem is not that counting people is inherently sinful; Israel had taken censuses before. The problem here is bound up with David’s pride and with measuring the strength of the kingdom as though its security rests in the numbers he can count. 

Even Joab—hardly our moral compass—thinks this is a terrible idea. 

David insists anyway. 

Afterward David recognizes that he has sinned, but once again repentance does not mean there are no consequences. Judgment follows, and seventy thousand Israelites die. 

Then David says something that brings his entire story into focus: “I am the one who has sinned and done wrong! But these people are as innocent as sheep—what have they done?” 

David began his life as a shepherd. Now the shepherd-king’s own sin has brought death upon the sheep. 

Keep that image. 

We are going to need it when we get to Jesus. 

So Why Do We Keep Saying, “Be David”? 

Now that we have actually read David, the question becomes unavoidable. David is a shepherd, musician, poet, warrior, commander, king, worshiper, courageous, and remarkably faithful in some moments. But he is also a deceiver, a violent raider, a polygamist, an adulterer, a murderer, a catastrophic father at critical moments, a king whose household tears itself apart, a king whose census ends with seventy thousand people dead, and a man told that he has shed too much blood to build God’s Temple. 

And Christians still say, “Be David.” 

Why? 

You’re Not David — And You Don’t Want to Be 

Here is where I can probably relate to parts of David’s résumé more than some people can. Throughout this series I have told pieces of my own story. I was never necessarily great at school, but I was raised as a classically trained musician. Later I moved into rock and roll, had some minor success, and had opportunities to play with some fairly well-known people. I reached a reasonably high level in that world. 

I also spent years in martial arts. I trained, taught, fought, worked in MMA, and eventually became a published author on the subject. So in two very different fields—music and fighting—I reached at least some level of prominence. 

David was a musician; I spent years as a musician. David was experienced as a warrior; I spent years training martial arts and teaching people how to fight. Music and combat both require discipline. You repeat things thousands of times until everybody watching assumes it just came naturally. 

Some things do come naturally. Talent matters. But David’s sling skill did not come just naturally. His music did not come just naturally. His warrior ability did not come just naturally. He had experience. Skill is developed. Discipline matters. 

And honestly, David was a much more famous musician than I ever was, and I have never killed a lion, a bear, or Goliath. So even with my résumé, I am still not David. 

Neither are you. 

But here is the more important part: for a season of my life, I actually tried to become that kind of man—the strong guy, the fighter, the musician, the successful guy, the guy who could handle the problem, the guy who could win. And after building that résumé, I still needed Jesus. 

Physical strength cannot save you from sin. Skill cannot save you. Talent cannot save you. Success cannot save you. David proves it. David could kill Goliath, but David could not save David from David. 

And you do not want to be David either. We treat David like a prosperity buffet. Give me the victory. Give me the courage. Give me the music. Give me the fame. Give me the kingdom. Give me the wealth. But leave the decades of danger, betrayal, family collapse, murdered children, a raped daughter, rebellion, grief, consequences, and bloodshed over there. 

You cannot order David à la carte. You cannot have all of David’s success without David’s work, and you definitely do not want all of David’s pain. 

Giftedness Is Not Godliness 

This also gives us a quick callback to Part 12. We asked what we look for in leaders. Now take that one step further: even when God genuinely gifts somebody, giftedness is not godliness. 

David is extraordinarily gifted. He is a musician, poet, warrior, leader, and king, and yet he is capable of catastrophic sin. So we cannot confuse “God uses this person” with “God approves of everything this person does.” Those are not the same statement. 

That applies to pastors, teachers, politicians, people we admire, and anybody else we are tempted to turn into a hero. 

It also applies to us. 

Stop Making Yourself the Hero 

We live in an army-of-one culture. A huge amount of our entertainment is built around one person who somehow saves the day against impossible odds. Think Rambo. Think Rocky. Think about how many movies tell basically the same story: somebody nobody expects to win steps into an impossible situation and somehow defeats everybody. 

That is why we love those stories. 

But that is not how reality normally works. If you do not have the skill and you do not have the training, you are probably not going to win. The untrained person usually does not walk into a fight with someone who has trained for years and magically discover that belief in himself was enough. 

Yet because our culture trains us to identify with the hero, we start doing the same thing with Scripture. Joshua becomes me. Gideon becomes me. David becomes me. Then everybody around me becomes the enemy. Goliath becomes my boss, my debt, my disease, my political opponent, my insecurity, or whatever obstacle I happen to be facing. 

Suddenly the Bible becomes a book about how I can become the hero of my own story. 

But Part 11 told us to stop doing what is right in our own eyes. Part 12 told us to stop measuring everything by the world’s eyes. Now we need to stop reading Scripture only through our own eyes. 

Before asking, “Where am I in this story?” ask a better question: What is this story telling me about God? 

Sometimes Scripture is not giving you five stones. It is showing you the Savior. 

“But David Was a Man After God’s Own Heart” 

At this point someone may say, “But David was a man after God’s own heart.” 

Yes. And we need to understand what that means instead of using the phrase like a magic eraser over everything we just read. 

The language first appears in the Saul narrative. Saul rejects God’s command, and Samuel tells him that his kingdom will not continue because the LORD has sought a man according to His own heart. Then Paul summarizes the story in Acts 13, which we looked at last week. In Acts 13:22 he says, “But God removed Saul and replaced him with David, a man about whom God said, ‘I have found David son of Jesse, a man after my own heart. He will do everything I want him to do.’” 

Notice that Paul gives us an explanation with the phrase. “A man after God’s own heart” does not mean David will never sin. We have just read far too much Scripture to make that interpretation possible. The phrase concerns God’s chosen king, God’s purposes, and David’s fundamental orientation toward Him in contrast with Saul. 

And one enormous difference appears when David is confronted. David can say, “I have sinned.” David can pray, “Create in me a clean heart.” David can be corrected. He can repent. 

A man after God’s heart does not mean a flawless man. 

And watch what Paul does immediately after talking about David. Acts 13:23 says that from David’s descendants God brought Israel the Savior, Jesus. 

Paul does not say, “Therefore everybody become David.” He moves immediately from David to Jesus. 

That is where the Bible keeps moving too. 

David Is Not Your Permission to Sin 

One of the strangest ways Christians use David is to say, “Well, David committed adultery and murder, and he was still a man after God’s own heart,” almost as though David’s biography somehow becomes permission for our behavior. No. We have repeatedly looked throughout this series at Galatians 5. The works of the flesh include sexual immorality, hostility, quarreling, jealousy, outbursts of anger, division, envy, and other behaviors that show up repeatedly in David’s life. Paul does not finish that list by saying, “But David did some of these things, so relax.” He gives a warning that we should not soften: people whose lives are characterized by such practices will not inherit the Kingdom of God. 

Ephesians 5 gives the same kind of warning regarding sexual immorality, impurity, greed, and the Kingdom of Christ and God. The New Testament response to David is never, David did it, therefore Christians can live that way too. The New Testament response is: do not live that way. 

Jesus Himself does not treat sin as inevitable Christian furniture that we simply learn to arrange more comfortably. In John 5:14, after healing the man at Bethesda, Jesus tells him, “Stop sinning, or something even worse may happen to you.” Then we have the famous account of the woman caught in adultery in John 7:53–8:11. Everybody loves the first half of that story. Nobody gets to throw the stone. It has almost become the biblical slogan for “do not judge anybody.” But Jesus does not end there. He turns to the woman and tells her, “Go and sin no more.” 

A Note on John 7:53–8:11 

The textual history of that story deserves a brief note. John 7:53–8:11 is absent from our earliest manuscripts of John and almost certainly did not originally stand in the Fourth Gospel at this location. But that does not mean the story suddenly appeared centuries later out of nowhere or that Christians should simply throw it away. The account has an ancient and complicated prehistory. There are early Christian references to similar Jesus traditions, it appears in forms known to the Didascalia and Didymus, and scholars have long noticed that its style resembles the Synoptic—especially Lukan—Jesus traditions more than the surrounding material in John. 

That matters because Christianity existed as a living, teaching community before every Gospel tradition was fixed into the precise manuscript form we now possess. The Gospels themselves preserve earlier oral and written Jesus traditions. A story being inserted into John later does not mean the event itself was invented at the moment of insertion. This story became deeply embedded in the received Christian tradition because the church recognized in it the Jesus it knew: gracious toward the sinner, unwilling to join hypocritical condemnation, but still calling the sinner to leave the sin behind. And even if someone remains uncomfortable using the passage because of its textual history, John 5:14 gives us the same uncontested feature of Jesus’ teaching: forgiveness and healing are not invitations to continue in sin. 

“But First John Says We All Sin” 

At this point some Christians immediately go to 1 John 1 and say, “But John says we all sin.” 

Kind of. Look at what he actually says. 

First John 1:8 reads: 

ἐὰν εἴπωμεν ὅτι ἁμαρτίαν οὐκ ἔχομεν — “If we say that we have no sin.” 

Notice the wording. John does not say, “If we claim that we are not sinning.” He says ἁμαρτίαν οὐκ ἔχομεν, “we do not have sin.” The verb ἔχομεν (echomen) means “we have” or “we possess.” Read alongside Paul’s teaching about the continuing reality of sin in the flesh, John is acknowledging that Christians do not claim sinless perfection or deny the reality of sin still present in fallen humanity. That is precisely why we still need Christ. 

Then verse 10 changes the wording: οὐχ ἡμαρτήκαμεν—“we have not sinned.” The verb ἡμαρτήκαμεν (hēmartēkamen) is perfect tense: not “we are presently living in sin,” but “we have sinned.” John is attacking the claim that we possess no sin and the claim that we have never sinned. He is not giving Christians permission to make sin their continuing practice. 

And then we make the mistake chapter numbers often encourage us to make: we stop reading. 

There were no chapter breaks in John’s letter. His next sentence is 1 John 2:1: τεκνία μου, ταῦτα γράφω ὑμῖν ἵνα μὴ ἁμάρτητε—“My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin.” Then he adds that if anyone does sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. 

Notice the order. John does not say, “You are all going to keep living in sin anyway, so relax.” He says, “I am writing this so that you will not sin.” Then, if you fail, you have an Advocate. Grace is available when the Christian stumbles; grace is not permission to move into the stumble and start decorating. 

Chapter 3 makes the distinction even harder to avoid. John repeatedly uses present-tense language for the person doing, practicing, or continuing in sin. The NLT captures the force well when it speaks of those who “keep on sinning” and those who “make a practice of sinning.” John contrasts a life oriented toward righteousness with a life characterized by the ongoing practice of sin. The point is not sinless perfection. The point is the difference between stumbling and living there, between repenting and practicing, between fighting the flesh and making peace with it. 

That is also the argument developed in this fuller Bible Believing Christian treatment, which follows the same thread through Jesus, Romans 6–8, Galatians 5, and 1 John. Will Christians Always Sin? What the Bible Actually Teaches About Sin 

What About Romans 7? 

The next passage people naturally reach for is Romans 7: “See? Paul says he keeps doing the very thing he hates. Paul could not stop sinning either.” 

That reading creates an immediate problem when Romans is read as one argument instead of isolated chapters. Romans 5 introduces the controlling contrast between Adam and Christ. Sin and death enter through Adam; righteousness and life come through Christ. Romans 6 then tells Christians that they have died to sin, that the old person was crucified so that they would no longer be slaves to sin, and that sin will not rule over them. 

Then Romans 7 suddenly gives us a speaker saying, “I am sold under sin.” 

If that is Paul describing his normal Christian life, Paul contradicts himself almost immediately. In chapter 6 he says Christians are no longer slaves to sin; in chapter 7 the speaker says he is enslaved to sin; then chapter 8 immediately says that the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set us free from the law of sin and death and tells Christians that by the Spirit they are to put to death the deeds of the body. 

The better reading is that Romans 7 is προσωποποιία (prosōpopoiia), speech-in-character. Paul adopts a voice in order to dramatize the condition of humanity under commandment and sin. This is not some idea invented because Christians became uncomfortable with Romans 7. The rhetorical reading has substantial scholarly support; Stanley Stowers famously developed the Romans 7 monologue as a speech-in-character, and subsequent scholarship has continued to work seriously with that rhetorical framework. 

And the character fits the argument Paul has already established. Romans 5 has put Adam and Christ at the center. Romans 7 reenacts the Adamic problem: there is a commandment, sin seizes the opportunity through the commandment, desire is awakened, transgression follows, and death results. Paul is dramatizing the voice of the person in Adam, under law and enslaved to sin, not giving the church a diary entry about the normal Spirit-filled life. 

The contradiction disappears when we let Romans 5–8 stay together. Romans 5 establishes Adam and Christ. Romans 6 says those in Christ are no longer slaves to sin. Romans 7 dramatizes the inability of life under commandment apart from the liberating power of the Spirit. Romans 8 gives us that liberation: “The law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and death.” 

So when Romans 7 says, “I am sold under sin,” we should not use that sentence to erase Romans 6 saying we are no longer slaves to sin and Romans 8 saying we have been set free from its law. Paul is not teaching three contradictory Christian identities in three consecutive chapters. 

He is showing us the problem and then showing us the answer. 

This fuller article walks through Romans 6, Romans 7 as speech-in-character, the Adamic echoes, and the victory language of Romans 8 in much greater detail. Will Christians Always Sin? — Romans 6–8 and the Christian’s Relationship to Sin 

If You Want to Imitate David, Imitate This 

If Christians insist on imitating David somewhere, here is a much better place to start. Nathan says, “You are the man,” and David does not spend the rest of the chapter defending himself. He says, “I have sinned against the LORD.” 

That takes us back to the question we asked in Part 11: Are you still correctable? 

When Scripture exposes something in us, we do not need to defend it, baptize it, explain why our circumstances were special, or find another biblical character who did something worse. We can simply repent. 

Grace does not make sin harmless. Grace makes repentance possible. 

And the New Testament warns us not to turn that grace into permission. 

Deliberately Continuing in Sin — Hebrews 10 

Hebrews 10 gives one of the strongest warnings in the New Testament. After calling believers to draw near to God, hold tightly to their hope, stir one another toward love and good works, and remain together as the Day approaches, the writer says: 

Ἑκουσίως γὰρ ἁμαρτανόντων ἡμῶν — “For if we deliberately continue sinning…” 

The adverb ἑκουσίως (hekousiōs) means willingly or deliberately. The participle ἁμαρτανόντων (hamartanontōn) is present tense: this is not a mistake, an accidental failure, or a believer stumbling and repenting. It describes deliberate, continuing sin after receiving the knowledge of the truth. 

Then notice the rest of the Greek: 

οὐκέτι περὶ ἁμαρτιῶν ἀπολείπεται θυσία — “there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins.” 

Ἁμαρτιῶν (hamartiōn) is plural. 

That is important because one of the standard attempts to neutralize Hebrews 10:26 is to say, “This is only talking about apostasy,” as though the writer has identified one isolated technical sin called apostasy and therefore the warning has nothing to say about deliberate Christian disobedience. 

But that is not what the verse says. The writer speaks of deliberately continuing to sin, and then says there is no remaining sacrifice for sins, plural. The Greek does not narrow the warning to one isolated act. It describes deliberate persistence in sin after coming to the knowledge of the truth. Verse 29 then shows where that rebellion ultimately leads: trampling the Son of God, treating the blood of the covenant that sanctified us as common, and insulting the Spirit of grace. Apostasy is not an escape hatch from the warning. It is what deliberate rebellion against known truth ultimately looks like when carried to its end. 

Once we know, we are accountable. 

Peter Gives the Same Warning 

Second Peter 2:20–21 makes the same basic point from another direction. Peter speaks of people who have escaped the wickedness of the world through knowing our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, but then become tangled up and enslaved again. Peter says they are worse off than before. It would have been better for them never to have known the way of righteousness than to know it and then turn away from the holy command they were given. 

That language is difficult to make harmless. These are people who escaped the world through the knowledge of Christ and then became enslaved again. 

So when 1 John, Hebrews, and 2 Peter are allowed to speak together, the warning becomes impossible to avoid. No Christian gets to claim sinless perfection. We have sin. We have sinned. We still need our Advocate, Jesus Christ the righteous. 

But neither does any Christian get to turn that truth into permission to live in sin. 

David is not your excuse. 

Grace is not your excuse. 

Romans 7 is not your excuse. 

The New Testament calls us to repentance, freedom from sin’s mastery, life in the Spirit, and holiness. 

When we stumble, we have an Advocate. 

When Scripture confronts us, we repent. 

And when grace meets us, grace does not leave us where it found us. 

The New Testament Does Not Stop at David 

We should not take Jesus out of this story any more than we should take Jesus out of the church. The New Testament itself makes the movement unmistakable. In Acts 2, Peter reminds his audience that David died, David was buried, and David’s tomb was still with them. David was not the fulfillment of the promise. He was pointing beyond himself. 

Then Acts 13 traces the story again: Saul, David, Jesus. That is the biblical movement. It is not David → you. It is David → Jesus. 

Once we see that movement, the contrasts become difficult to miss. David defeats an enemy while Israel watches; Jesus defeats the enemies His people could not defeat. David takes another man’s wife; Jesus gives Himself for His bride. David arranges for an innocent man to die in order to cover his own sin; Jesus is the innocent Man who dies to cover ours. David’s sin brings death upon his people; Jesus’ righteousness brings life to His people. 

David begins as a shepherd, yet one of his final decisions as king results in seventy thousand of his sheep dying. Jesus is the Good Shepherd who lays down His own life for the sheep. David sheds so much blood that he is not permitted to build God’s house; Jesus sheds His own blood and builds God’s people into God’s dwelling. David is a king who needs forgiveness. Jesus is the King who gives it. 

That is the difference. 

How We Should Read David 

So there are some practical things we should take with us. When you read Scripture, read past the famous part. Do not stop at the scene everybody knows simply because that is where the children’s Bible stopped. Keep reading until the Bible itself tells you what kind of person you are actually dealing with. 

When somebody impresses you, look past the gifting to the character. David was extraordinarily gifted, but giftedness did not prevent catastrophic failure. The same is true now. A large platform, remarkable talent, influence, intelligence, charisma, or even obvious usefulness to God does not tell us everything we need to know about a person. 

And when Scripture confronts you, stop trying to defend yourself by dismantling the Scripture. We have seen how easily people do that. Hebrews gives a severe warning, so we redefine the warning until it can no longer reach us. First John tells us not to practice sin, so we isolate one sentence from chapter 1 and use it against chapters 2 and 3. Romans says Christians are no longer slaves to sin, so we pull Romans 7 away from chapters 5, 6, and 8 and turn slavery to sin back into the Christian norm. 

At some point, humility simply says, maybe the text is correcting me. 

That is what David gets right when Nathan confronts him. He does not dismantle the message until he can escape it. He repents. 

And when you are tempted to make yourself the hero of every biblical story, look for Jesus first. Before asking how you can become David, ask what David is showing you about the King who comes after him. 

Then, when someone tells you that you need to “be like David,” perhaps the best first question is still the simplest one: 

Which chapter? 

You Don’t Need to Be David 

Maybe this is actually good news. You do not have to defeat every giant. You do not have to become the hero. You do not have to manufacture some legendary life so that God can finally use you. 

You do not have to be David. 

You need David’s Son. 

David could kill Goliath, but David could not defeat David’s greatest problem. David still needed saving from David, and so do we. 

The Bible does not end by telling us to become David. David was chosen. David was gifted. David was used by God. David sinned. David repented. David died. But the promise kept moving until the Son of David came—the King David could only point toward, the King who does not fail His people, the King who does not need forgiveness, and the King who gives it. 

That King is Jesus. 

________________________________________ 
©️Copyright 2026 Gene Simco Most Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright ©1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved. Scriptures in brackets reflect the original Biblical languages.

Scandalous Scripture: The Bible We Don't Read in Church

Part 13: You’re Not David

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