An Ordinary King

We are given more of a clue into Jesse’s omission with the physical description of David. In contrast to his brother Eliab, who is imposing and strong, David is described as boyish and weak. Western readers may be tempted to read about David’s beautiful eyes and handsome appearance as if these were complimentary attributes. They are not. The author points them out to show that David looks more like a cute kid than a possible warrior. The text intends to show us that David is outwardly unimpressive, even to those who knew him best; yet this is the one God chooses.

It is easy to rush past the realization that David was an ordinary person, especially if we are acquainted with some of the extraordinary events of his life. How can the David, who wrote most of the Psalms, who knocked off Goliath, be an ordinary man? Is he not the standard after which all future kings will be measured? Is he not the pinnacle of extraordinary?

David’s life was certainly not ordinary but not because of any greatness in himself. The great aspects of David’s life are all the result of the Spirit of God. Even some of the more magnificent scenes from his life paint him as an ordinary man: he challenges Goliath to a fight but only because his father sends him to the battle with sack lunches for his older brothers; he writes dozens of psalms but only because he has time on his hands while sitting in a pasture or hiding in caves.

David became extraordinary, but we must not miss that every extraordinary event in his life happened in spite of his own ordinariness. David had access to the power of an extraordinary God because he did not think he was extraordinary in himself. This is in strong contrast to Saul, who was fully convinced of his own greatness, a folly that led God’s Spirit away from him and brought him crashing back down to earth.

Contemporary North American society would have us all be Sauls instead of Davids. And for the most part, the church repeats these lies in Christianized forms. Thus we teach people that they are special, unique, like a snowflake. In one sense, of course, this is true: we each have unique DNA, fingerprints, and defining experiences. But in another, more profound sense, none of us is all that special. Yes, we are fearfully and wonderfully made in God’s image, but we do the Bible a great disservice when we try to show how these truths lead to self-esteem boosting and puffing up our egos. Even the prophet Elijah, the greatest prophet in the Old Testament, was—according to James—“a man with a nature like ours” (5:17). David did not achieve greatness because he nurtured narcissism.

Or we encourage people to get involved because “God needs them,” as if God were shorthanded and in need of some talented leaders. But the God who created the universe out of nothing is not wringing His hands for lack of personnel. This may not make us feel particularly special, but the gospel does not aim to make us feel that way. God is special and we are not. Our entire faith consists in making much of Him because of His majestic uniqueness.

David was ordinary. We are ordinary. Accepting this is a big first step in being used by God because Christianity is a large collection of nobodies worshiping a great big Somebody.

God does not revel in the ordinary for its own sake. In David’s life, as in ours, He is interested in doing some extraordinary things. And that only happens as the Spirit of God is allowed to work. Samuel threatened that God would revoke His Spirit from Saul, and this passage ends with that same Spirit rushing upon David. This Spirit would make the extraordinary possible.

This is the case throughout Scripture. It is only by the Spirit of God that Joseph, a foreign criminal in Egypt, can become the second-most-powerful man in the world (Gen 41:38-41). Only by the Spirit of God could Gideon take 300 men and defeat an army of 100,000 without a single casualty (Judg 7:19-25). And the same Spirit enabled the early church to defy the Roman Empire, testifying boldly about Jesus even when it cost them their lives (Acts 7:55).

Zechariah would sum up all the great and powerful people in the Bible by saying, “‘Not by strength or by might, but by My Spirit,’ says the Lord of Hosts” (Zech 4:6). Only as we cease trying to be Saul can God be truly extraordinary through us. Too many of us have tried to become David by pursuing the path of Saul. But God will not share His glory. So He takes the ordinary, the plain, and the outcast and pours His power into them. Only one person in our lives can be seen as great—it is either God or us.

This is a strong blow to many of us who have been fed a steady diet of praise. Our parents, teachers, and peers have convinced us that we are distinguished, extraordinary, and just plain awesome. And perhaps we are more talented than some others around us. But the danger of relying on our talents and skills is that we run the risk of following Saul, not David. When it comes to making a lasting impact in God’s kingdom, no one has what it takes, no matter how talented.

This is why David, even after he becomes a king, can pen a song like Psalm 23. He sees himself as a sheep, and sheep are dumb. They focus on the patch of grass immediately in front of them and know nothing else. Essentially every predator alive can easily dispatch a sheep. If a sheep thrives, it is always because of the care of the shepherd, not the skill of the sheep. David knew this intimately—that the Lord was his shepherd—and he embraced his “sheeply” role.

Being anointed is a momentous occasion, and David must have been elated. Samuel, the most important prophet in Israel, comes on a covert mission to anoint David, reports that God Himself has chosen David, and as the oil pours down his head, the Spirit of God rushes on him. This is not an experience anyone present would soon forget.

But as often happens in situations like this, this mountaintop experience was followed by monotony and drudgery. Samuel returns to Ramah, and David goes back to tending sheep. No elite training program for future kings. No interviews with the Israel Gazette. No fittings for kingly robes and crowns. Just more of the same.

His father puts him back on sheep duty, which is where we find David even years later. His dad is apparently unwilling to have his chief sheep-keeper taken away from his duties, so despite the magnificent anointing, the next few scenes of David’s life always start out in the pasture. Even when David’s life starts to display a little more action, the trend is not in the upward direction. David will soon go from the pasture to the cave, hiding out and on the run for years from the increasingly jealous and insane Saul.

Can you imagine David’s thoughts? “I have been anointed king! I know my destiny! But look at everything that is happening. Has there been a mistake?” We do not know if David entertained these thoughts, but we do know that God was not merely sloppy with His timing. God was using the pasture to prepare the king.

Years spent watching sheep would have been monotonous and obscure. There is a reason we are not given a catalog of David’s daily events during this time: they would have been the same every single day. Walk the sheep from here to there. Lead them to water. Retrieve a wandering lamb. Sit. Wait. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. But the pasture was also where David honed some of the most vital skills in his life. It was where he sharpened his slingshot accuracy. It was where he grew in courage, fending off lions and bears from his helpless flock. It was where he learned humility, cleaning sheep excrement off his robes and sandals day after day.

No wonder Psalm 78:72 says that David “shepherded them with a pure heart and guided them with his skillful hands.” A pure heart and a shepherding attitude come from the pasture, not the palace.

This is still what God does with us today. Mothers who feel undervalued, changing diapers for unappreciative infants, experience their own pasture and can do so with joy if they realize that in whatever they do, it is for the Lord (cf. Col 3:23). Businesspeople often work dead-end jobs, unnoticed even by their own supervisors, but if they work with faithfulness where they are, God often does magnificent things. Students, many of whom are eager to get out into the world and “make a difference,” pore over their books, learning material they may never use. But God is at work in them, forging their character, patience, and integrity. We ought not to despise the pasture or resent our suffering: these are God’s laboratories for molding our hearts to look how He wants.

We need constant reminders that David’s story is not about us. I have heard enough sermons that say, “Look at David! He wasn’t much, but he became king! So don’t judge a book by its cover because sometimes good things come in small packages.” A little rah-rah, a little motivational talk, and we can all go out and act the part of David in our lives.

But these stories are not primarily about us. We may see some of ourselves in David, but his story is not meant to resonate with our lives. It is meant to remind us of someone greater. David prefigures Christ, who would be the truly ordinary-extraordinary.

Consider that David is anointed by the Spirit of the Lord, only to spend the next 15 years in obscurity and suffering. Jesus was a carpenter with a regular, blue-collar job. He was not a rising ruler. He was not even a rabbi. Apart from a short story in Luke, we know nothing of His life from the time of His birth until He is 30 years old. When Jesus bursts on the scene, He is anointed, and the Holy Spirit rushes upon Him. But instead of marching on Jerusalem, Jesus’ next stop is the wilderness, for 40 days of wandering and temptation.

Jesus’ time on earth would be largely spent in obscurity, and those moments that were not obscure were filled with suffering. But the Father would use this life of suffering to save the world.

David’s anointing is not an anecdote telling us to hang on until God puts us on the throne of victory. Jesus is already there. The gospel reminds us that He has won the victory, and if we want victory, it only comes by sharing in His victory, not anticipating our own. The most ordinary king of all, an obscure man from Galilee, has been raised to the most extraordinary position of all. If we know Him, our lives will never be truly ordinary again.