“Encouragement”
Pastor Bob Leroe, Cliftondale Congregational Church, Saugus, Massachusetts
King David is faced with a bittersweet victory. His son Absalom turned against him, raised up an army to overthrow his father, and in battle against David’s forces he met a violent death. In the previous chapter, David cries out in anguish (vs 33): “O my son Absalom! If only I could have died instead of you!” David’s words of mourning rank among the saddest, most heart-wrenching words ever spoken. The death of Absalom was the death of David’s hopes. In David’s mind, it was the loss of his future. He could not imagine a future apart from his son; he could not see ahead to his descendents, which would have a Messianic culmination in Jesus.
We see David in two roles: king, and father...but in this moment, we see him primarily as a grief-stricken father. David gives himself to his grief, absorbed and isolated in his loss. He holds nothing back. He is not thinking of his role as king of Israel.
David was in the toughest, the most agonizing of situations. He was needing comfort, yet also in the position of having to encourage others. His Army was beginning to question their victory. Morale should have been high, but seeing their King in tears made things difficult for the troops. They needed David to stand before them to reassure them and praise their victory.
When parents lose a child, both need comfort, and both are often unable to give comfort. It’s hard to lean on someone for support when that person is in just as much need as you.
David’s grief is interrupted by his commanding General Joab, who unceremoniously jerks David back into being king. This is not how to do grief counseling. Joab is unfeeling, business-like, and abrupt (like some generals I’ve known). He is unconcerned for David’s loss. He invades David’s sorrow and scolds him to make a public appearance. Joab is right, but in the wrong way. Joab takes the reins of responsibility to push David back into functioning as king. In Joab’s mind, there is no time for the luxury of remorse—the army needs its leader. David has put down Absalom’s rebellion but has not yet recovered his kingdom.
I can somewhat identify with David—-as an Army Chaplain I was often regarded as a “combat multiplier”. Commanders looked to me to improve unit morale. Part of my job was appraising the command climate, looking for indicators of poor morale, which could negatively impact combat effectiveness. Through training, worship, recreation, and ministry of presence, I was expected to raise the spirits of soldiers...even when I didn’t “feel like it”.
You may (I hope) agree with my assessment of David, but I want you to know that one scholar’s commentary on this passage states that David’s grief was “inordinate”—i.e. excessive and inappropriate, because of his duties and his unworthy son. The commentator claims, “this was no time for David to give in to private sorrows…his conduct displeased the Lord” Joab (who personally killed Absalom) is credited for getting David back on track.
Please mark my words: We have to guard against doing the right thing in the wrong way. I do not agree that David’s grief was “inordinate”. I would not wish to have Joab (or the author of the commentary I referred to) around to comfort me when I am bereaved. Joab joins the ranks of Job’s so-called friends, who, you’ll recall, turned on Job rather than offer comfort in his time of suffering. It was appropriate for David to need encouragement, just as it was necessary for him to offer encouragement to his army. He then needed to restore peace and unify the nation.
Did David’s troops really think he disapproved of their victory? I think anyone with an ounce of sensitivity would realize David’s mixed feelings. The rebellion was crushed, but at an awful cost. Warfare is waged when all other alternatives have been exhausted. David would have sought reconciliation through a negotiated peace, but Absalom only wanted the overthrow of David’s government. David prevailed, but not in the manner in which he’d have preferred. Now there is no hope left for reconciliation. Now at Joab’s insistence, David is prodded into action.
The author of the book of Hebrews states that a major reason to attend church is encouragement—we need one another, and we come here to bear one another’s burdens. For some, church is an impersonal place. Some people prefer to sit alone, and want to be left alone. The Catholic Church instituted the “passing of the peace” in the Mass, a few moments to greet one another. Delores Curran, a Catholic author remarked in a conference I attended that some Catholics would enjoy having a “passing of the peace section” and a “non-passing of the peace section”, kind of like “smoking” and “non-smoking”! Although some people resist encouragement, it’s something we all need. It’s been voiced that “more people have been brought into the church by the kindness of real Christian love than by all the theological arguments in the world” (William Barclay).
Paul Simon wrote a rather depressing song: “I am a rock, I am an island”. He was attempting to claim that he didn’t need anyone. “I touch no one and no one touches me.” People may try to live in isolation, but I think deep down inside we all need others to console and assure us during times of distress. “A rock feels no pain, and an island never cries.” But we all feel pain, no matter how many defenses we build. There are times we all need to cry out for consolation. At such times we may find God calling us to seek out others, and seek a deeper level of prayer.
A young boy was on his way to church in Chicago. On his way someone asked him where he was going. He gave the name of the church, which surprised the stranger. “That’s a long walk—why would you go so far to attend church.” The boy replied, “Because people love you there.” It’s not enough to have the right theology—we need to be the right people. We must speak the truth in love. People do not expect from the church a constant stream of profound statements; they expect love, concern, and caring. Some churches are marked by conflict—they spend all their energy defending their doctrines and attacking others. And all the while people are hurting, needing someone to care about them. Being “right” isn’t enough. I heard Dave Horsfield say the other day, “People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.” David was in pain, and all Joab does is hurt him some more.
Joab reminds me of some Army doctors I’ve known. When I was stationed at Fort Sam Houston/Brooke Army Medical Center as a hospital chaplain, I was driving a clunker of a car. I got to know my auto mechanic very well. He would ask me about my hospital ministry, and I told him about the unique needs of the patients. He listened to my description of life and death on the wards as he repaired my radiator. He then came out from under the hood of my car and confessed: “Chaplain, I could never work in a hospital. I care too deeply about the pain of people; it would hurt too much to see them suffer.” I responded with intentional irony, “You know, the problem in hospitals is that some doctors think they have your job.” We can treat people as problems—“the colostomy in room 25”—or as individuals with legitimate needs and hurts.
Are you discouraged today? Do you know someone who’s discouraged? Discouraged people don’t need answers—they need compassion. They need a warm embrace and a listening ear. They need pity. We’ve taken this good word and turned it into a pejorative. Let me read to you the dictionary definition of pity: “Sympathetic grief or sorrow excited by the suffering or misfortune of another, often leading one to give aid or to show mercy and compassion.” Can anyone tell me, by this definition, what is so wrong with showing pity? Never apologize for needing pity! However, you may need to apologize if your heart is so hard you can’t offer pity! All Joab can say to David is, in effect, “Your son is dead—get over it.” I agree that David’s army needed encouragement, but so did he.
A soldier stopped by my chapel office one day, and poured his heart out for an hour. I said very little, just a few mmhmm’s along the way. After he was through he got up and said, “Thanks, Chaplain—you don’t know how much you helped me.” He was right—I didn’t! All I did was listen…which is exactly what people may need. Do we care enough to listen to the hurts of others? We think we have to always offer advice—yet what people most need is encouragement. That soldier didn’t come for guidance or information, he came in hope of finding someone who was available, and who cared. There’s a time to speak, and a time to be silent. There are times when we’re able to help, and other times when we’re in need of help.
I can excuse David for having trouble encouraging his troops. I think Joab should have been more sympathetic. I realize there are times we do have to help others when we’re hurting. We extend compassion as wounded healers. But before we can help others, we have to learn how to weep. The word compassion means “to suffer with others”. The Hebrew word describes the experience of wounding pain in one’s womb, implying a motherly solidarity with others. Compassion leads to a plan. It begins with an awareness of a need and results in action to alleviate the pain.
In the Chronicles of Narnia, C.S. Lewis tells a story about a boy whose mother is desperately ill. The boy goes to Aslan, the lion (who is Christ), and asks that his mother be healed. The lion begins to weep, and at that moment the boy realizes that Aslan cares more about his mother than even he did. God cares more than we’re capable of caring. We learn compassion and encouragement through the life of Christ, the Man of Sorrows. He is, as Paul says, “the Lord of compassion and the God of all comfort, who consoles us in our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any distress with the comfort we ourselves have received from God” (II Cor 1:3). In Christ we find our consolation.
Prayer: Compassionate Lord, grant us tenderness as we encounter hurting people this week. Love others through us. Help us to be a friend to the friendless, so that through us others may experience Your grace. Give us a vision of the needs of others, the difference Christ makes, the place Christ deserves, the hope Christ offers. Then help us to take action. In our Savior’s Name we pray, Amen.
Note from the Pastor: There are two extremes in how we relate to people: We can be dispassionate (detached, remote, unfeeling), or impassioned (crippled by the hurts of others, out of control), or we can choose to be compassionate, able to feel the pain, yet able to do something about it. For further reading, I recommend 2 books: The Search for Compassion by Andrew Purves, and Compassion—A Reflection on the Christian Life, by Henri Nouwen, Donald McNeill and Douglas Morrison.
