Opening: The Weight Warriors Carry
Have you ever sat across the table from a war veteran and really listened—listened until the silence said more than the words?
I grew up with those stories.
My father fought in the Second World War. He was a soldier in the Battle of the Bulge—and by the way, that has nothing to do with anyone’s waistline. He faced snow and gunfire and came home alive, but never entirely the same.
My brother fought in Vietnam. He went in a boy and came back carrying things he could not name. He had faced danger behind enemy lines, and the man who returned was not the boy who left. He now rests at Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia. I miss him still.
Through the years I’ve met other veterans—good men, decent men—who have taken life in battle. Even when war feels unavoidable, it leaves a mark. You can hear it in their pause, you can see it in their eyes. Something inside stays wounded.
And I need you to know tonight: King David understood that weight.
---
David the Warrior
The women sang in the streets,
> “Saul has killed his thousands, but David his ten-thousands.”
He had stood toe-to-toe with Goliath and won.
Scripture records that he “made a name for himself” by striking down eighteen thousand Edomites (2 Samuel 8:13). He defeated the Moabites too. And remember—his great-grandmother Ruth came from Moab! Moab’s king had once given David shelter when Saul was hunting him (1 Samuel 22). Yet later David’s army measured out Moabite prisoners, sparing only one third. Whether revenge or strategy, we don’t know. But we know this: David was a warrior, and warriors carry scars you can’t see.
Somewhere deep inside David wondered if those blood-stained hands disqualified him from doing something beautiful for God.
---
A Holy Desire and a Closed Door
Fast-forward to 1 Chronicles 17. David is no longer running. He’s living in a cedar-lined palace. Life is stable. And a thought begins to burn in his heart:
> “Here I am, living in a house of cedar, while the ark of the covenant of the Lord is under a tent.”
That wasn’t pride talking; that was devotion. He calls Nathan the prophet and shares his dream of building a permanent temple. Nathan answers on instinct, “Do whatever you have in mind, for God is with you.”
But that night heaven speaks.
> “Go and tell my servant David,” the Lord says,
“You are not the one to build me a house to dwell in. From the day I brought Israel up out of Egypt until now I have moved from tent to tent. Did I ever say to any of their leaders, ‘Why have you not built me a house of cedar?’”
Somebody needs to hear this tonight: sometimes God’s first word is NO.
David’s plan was pure. His heart was right. But God said no.
---
When God Says No
Maybe David lay awake that night thinking, “Lord, is this rejection? Is it the blood on my hands? Is it the fights I fought, the men I killed?”
Have you ever been there?
You had a holy desire—marriage, ministry, a business meant to bless others. You prayed. You planned. Then heaven closed the door.
A young couple I know felt that.
They dreamed of starting a nonprofit to feed hungry kids. Funding lined up, volunteers signed on—and in one month everything collapsed. Grants fell through, key partners disappeared. They wept. They questioned. But listen—while one door shut, God was opening another. Six months later they were invited to lead a citywide food-security initiative with ten times the reach. What looked like rejection was redirection.
Somebody shout, “God’s no is not rejection!”
That’s what David was about to learn. God’s no wasn’t a slap. It was a setup.
---
God’s Greater Yes Begins
Through Nathan the prophet, God kept speaking:
> “I took you from the pasture, from following the sheep, and made you ruler over my people Israel. I have been with you wherever you went. I cut off all your enemies. Now I will make your name great, like the names of the greatest men on earth.
…I declare that the Lord will build a house for you. When your days are over, I will raise up your offspring to succeed you. I will establish his kingdom. I will be his father and he will be my son. I will never take my love from him. I will set him over my house and my kingdom forever; his throne will be established forever.”
Do you hear the music in that promise?
David says, “I’ll build You a house.”
God replies, “No, David—I’ll build you a house. Not cedar and stone, but an everlasting kingdom.”
Centuries later the angel Gabriel would echo that very covenant to a young woman in Nazareth:
> “The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end” (Luke 1:32–33).
God’s no had cleared the stage for the greatest yes in history—Jesus, the Son of David, the eternal King.
---
Pause and Praise
Right here somebody ought to lift a hand and thank Him.
Because you’ve lived this. The job you didn’t get. The relationship that broke apart. The prayer that seemed unanswered. And yet—behind every holy no is a bigger yes you cannot yet see.
David would one day say,
> “Who am I, O Lord God, that you have brought me this far?”
That’s not discouragement—that’s worship.
God’s no leads to a better yes.
---
Grace Unveiled
When Nathan finished delivering God’s covenant promise, David was overwhelmed.
He went in and sat before the Lord and said:
> “Who am I, Lord God, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far?
And as if this were not enough in Your sight, my God, You have spoken about the future of the house of Your servant. You have looked on me as though I were the most exalted of men.”
Can you hear the awe?
David’s hands were still blood-stained. His memories still carried the cries of battle. But God looked at him and said, exalted.
That, church, is grace.
Let me preach it plain.
Justice is when you get what you deserve—whether reward or punishment.
Mercy is when you don’t get what you deserve—when the sentence is stayed.
Grace? Grace is when you get what you could never deserve—honor, adoption, an eternal promise, a seat at the table of the King.
Grace is not God winking at sin.
Grace is God reversing your status—treating you as beloved, treasured, chosen.
Somebody say Grace!
Paul writes in Romans 2:4,
> “It is the goodness of God that leads you to repentance.”
Grace doesn’t excuse sin; grace empowers holiness.
Show me the person who truly understands grace, and I’ll show you someone whose heart longs to please God.
Grace never says, “Live any way you want.” Grace says, “Live free, live clean, live bold—because you’ve been raised to the King’s table!”
---
Grace Is a Person
The covenant God made with David wasn’t just about a throne in Jerusalem.
It was about Jesus.
Gabriel told Mary,
> “The Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David, and He will reign forever.”
At the opening of Matthew’s Gospel Jesus is called “the Son of David.”
At the very end of Revelation He calls Himself “the Root and the Offspring of David.”
Grace is not an idea.
Grace is Jesus Himself—the living covenant, the forever King.
Karl Barth once shocked a roomful of theology students when asked if God had revealed Himself in other religions. He said,
> “No, God has not revealed Himself in any religion, including Christianity. He has revealed Himself in His Son.”
Church, our hope is not in a system or a set of rituals.
Our hope is in a Savior.
And that Savior is grace incarnate.
Somebody shout Jesus!
---
Grace Wants to Be Shared
Now when grace fills you, you can’t keep it bottled up.
It has to overflow.
That’s exactly what happened next in David’s life.
Second Samuel chapter 9 says that one morning David woke up with an ache to do something more than sing about grace. He wanted to show it.
> “Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness for Jonathan’s sake?”
Remember, Saul had tried to kill David more than once.
David spent years as a hunted man because of Saul’s obsession.
And yet David longs to bless Saul’s family.
That’s the power of grace.
It sets you free from the score-keeping life.
It makes you love your enemies and pray for those who curse you.
It turns vengeance into mercy and bitterness into blessing.
Somebody say That’s God!
---
The Son of Shame
The servants answer,
“Yes, there is one. His name is Mephibosheth.”
The name itself means “son of shame.”
When he was six years old, his father Jonathan and grandfather Saul died in battle. In the panic of the palace, his nurse scooped him up to flee. In the rush she stumbled, and the child fell—injuring both legs. He would never walk again.
They carried him to a place called Lo-Debar.
The name means no pasture—a barren place.
There in that desolate outpost he grew up on second-hand stories and bitter warnings:
“Stay hidden. King David hates you. If his men ever find you, they’ll kill you.”
Year after year the lie deepened: the king is your enemy; the king wants you dead.
How many of us have lived under a similar whisper?
“God is angry. God is out to get you. God could never use you after what you’ve done.”
But one morning the hoofbeats of grace thundered across the wasteland.
David sent a royal escort.
Imagine the fear when soldiers appeared at Mephibosheth’s door: “The king commands your presence.”
He must have thought, This is the day I die.
Somebody here knows what it feels like to expect judgment and instead meet mercy.
---
Lifted to the King’s Table
They carried Mephibosheth—maybe on a simple wooden cart—into Jerusalem.
They set him down on the marble floor of the palace.
He bowed low, face to the ground.
David called his name.
> “Mephibosheth!”
“Yes, my lord,” he whispered. “Your servant.”
Then David spoke the words that still shake the gates of hell:
> “Don’t be afraid. I will surely show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan. I will restore to you all the land that belonged to your family, and you will always eat at my table.”
Mephibosheth stammered,
> “What is your servant, that you should notice a dead dog like me?”
But David wasn’t finished.
He appointed Ziba and his sons and servants to work the fields so that Mephibosheth would always have provision. And most tender of all, he gave him a standing invitation:
> “You will always eat at my table, like one of the king’s sons.”
The chronicler adds simply,
> “And Mephibosheth lived in Jerusalem, because he always ate at the king’s table; he was lame in both feet.”
Somebody ought to praise God.
Because that’s your story.
You were hiding in a no-pasture place.
The enemy told you the King wanted you dead.
But grace came looking. Grace carried you in. Grace called your name.
---
Jesus, the Greater David
Church, can you see the gospel shining through David’s kindness?
David went to Lo-Debar to lift up one broken, forgotten son of shame.
But Jesus left the glory of heaven to lift up a whole world of broken sons and daughters.
David sent soldiers.
Jesus came Himself.
David gave back family land.
Jesus gave His own life.
David set a crippled man at a royal table.
Jesus sets forgiven sinners at His Father’s eternal banquet.
Paul shouts in Romans 8:1,
> “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”
And John echoes in 1 John 3:19-20,
> “Whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and He knows everything.”
Somebody needs to hear that right now:
Your heart may accuse you, but God overrules the verdict!
The King who knows every scar, every secret, every failure says,
> “You will always eat at My table like one of My children.”
No more Lo-Debar.
No more hiding.
Grace has carried you home.
Somebody shout Hallelujah!
---
The Banquet Is Ready
Jesus often spoke of a banquet—a marriage supper of the Lamb.
Luke 14:15 says,
> “Blessed is the one who will eat at the feast in the kingdom of God.”
Revelation pulls back the curtain and shows the long table stretching farther than the eye can see.
And friend, there is a placemat with your name on it.
It doesn’t matter where you’ve been.
It doesn’t matter how crippled you feel.
At the King’s table your brokenness is hidden under the cloth of His righteousness.
The best part is not the menu;
the best part is the company—you sit next to the King Himself.
Somebody give God praise!
---
The Church: Theater of Grace
So what is the church?
It is not a sin-monitoring station.
It is not a hall of condemnation.
The church is the theater of God’s grace—the stage on which His mercy is displayed for the world to see.
When the curtain rises, heaven wants the world to watch how God loves:
how He seats the unworthy in places of honor, how He treats the broken as beloved, how He calls strangers His sons and daughters.
That’s why we don’t just talk about grace; we live it.
We err on the side of mercy because that’s what Jesus did.
We hold every sinner in high esteem because that’s how He holds us.
If you’ve been seeing yourself in a negative light, step out of that dark corner.
Come boldly to the throne of grace (Hebrews 4:16).
Let God put His perspective on you:
to Him you are infinitely worthwhile.
---
A Personal Invitation
Tonight, somebody here is still in Lo-Debar.
You’ve been believing the lie that the King is against you.
But the Spirit of God is calling your name.
The hoofbeats of grace are at your door.
The King has sent for you.
He says, “Don’t be afraid. I will surely show you kindness. You will always eat at My table.”
You can come crippled.
You can come carrying shame.
Just come.
The marriage supper of the Lamb is prepared, and the King of kings has set a place for you.
Will you slide your lame legs under His tablecloth of grace?
If that’s your heart cry, lift your hand, whisper a prayer, call on the name of Jesus—right now.
---
Closing Prayer
Lord Jesus,
we stand in awe of Your mercy.
You came looking for us in our desolate places.
You called us by name when we expected only judgment.
You carried our sins to the cross and clothed us in righteousness.
Tonight we accept the seat You saved for us.
Help us live as trophies of grace and as agents of grace in a hurting world.
In Your mighty name we pray, Amen.
