How exhausting strong emotions can be. If only the exhaustion from strong emotions brought the welcome reward of restful sleep, but it doesn't. It intensifies numbing pain and inflames answerless questions. Surely this is what David felt as he wept aloud until he had no strength left to weep. (1 Samuel 30:4) Already skidding down the gullet of fresh tragedy, the absoluteness of living in the face of the loss of his wives and children and the place he used to call home is devouring him. Surely this same anguish tormented his wives and children as they were carried away from a sacked city by soldiers who were now descending into the repulsive unpredictability of drunkenness.
How could it be that such a tragedy and such wretchedness could become the possession of the man after God's own heart? (Acts 13:22) How could David and Abigail, with their faces pressed against the unforgiving ground, have known what God's bird's-eye view revealed? Even as we consider this moment in retrospect, it may not be immediately obvious what God's purpose was. The same is true of our own perspective in our own tragedy.
One of God's purposes for David's misfortune is revealed in 2 Samuel 3:36 where Samuel records the attractive detail that everything the king did, pleased the people. In the context, David had made it indisputable that he had not contributed at all to the death of Abner, Saul's army commander, nor had he been involved in the death of Ish Bosheth, Saul's son. He made a public spectacle of his grief for the loss of these men. The people were pleased with David because he was different. He was a man who cared about the value of other people, especially Saul, the Lord's anointed king, and Saul's family. While David had demonstrated his innocence in the murders of Saul's army commander and son, there remains the death of Saul himself.
The day Saul was killed, David had actually set out to go into battle against Saul, with the Philistines (1 Samuel 29). Had the Philistines allowed him to fight alongside them, it would not have been obvious that David had had nothing to do with Saul's death. It would not have been clear that David was different. And the unique distinguishing factor that pleased the people enough to crown him king, would not have been present.
So as David wept aloud until he had no strength left to weep, and then found strength in the Lord his God to destroy the Amalekites, it was not immediately clear that God was simultaneously setting him apart as unique. God was publicising the evidence that David was in no way involved with the death of Saul. God had given him an alibi. It was this consistent distance from all hostility toward Saul and his family, trusting rather in God's sovereign termination of Saul's reign, that drew the hearts of his kingdom out in love toward him. Everything he did pleased them. Strangely, it was in the very moments of weeping aloud until he had no strength left to weep, that God was securing his future kingdom, by securing the character quality that the people found most attractive in him.
Pressed up against the screen of our own affliction, the picture is fuzzy and confusing. Yet with the distance that time spent in Christ-centred deliberation brings, a high definition image emerges. An image that brings us to tears of joy. Is God cultivating in you, through heartbreak, something that other people find deeply attractive? Something that is even attractive to God Himself? Is He grooming you for future privilege and eternal reward? Is He refining you to be uniquely useful to individuals whom no-one else is equipped to reach? Is He bringing you to your knees in agony, in kindness, knowing that this will bring you unparalleled, additional joy forever? Or is there an even greater purpose? Is He so beautifying your heart and life that in a coming day, every angel and human will shout in praise to God for what He has made out of the mess that was your life?
I shared some of these thoughts in a sermon in 2008. Listen to it here.