2 Samuel 4:1-5, 9-10
You were the one, they said. You were the one that led us when things we’re bad. You showed us the way. You conquered our enemies. You made it so that we could see another day. You were the one, they said, when they were not sure about their future. Lead us now. Be our king, David. It is a cacophony of voices as all of the tribes of Israel speak at once, all repeating the same thing: you are our flesh and bone. You are the one. You should be our king. God has said so. You will be the king of Israel.
So, they anointed him. They anointed him king of Israel — but it’s not really the tribes of Israel that do the anointing. It’s not even the officiating priest pouring oil upon David’s brow. God anoints David. God affirms the covenant that David has made with the tribes of Israel. God recognizes this next chapter in Israel’s history. God works through that oil to change the relationship that the tribes of Israel and David will share. Of course, they know, as we know, that this ritual action means certain things about that relationship. God is in it, sure, but let’s get down to brass tacks. This isn’t about some ephemeral relationship. This anointing means that the tribes of Israel are “agreeing to their responsibilities, such as taxes, state work projects, and military service.” That’s what it means to have a king — no matter how unlikely a leader he may be.
And David is a very unlikely leader. You may not have heard that in Sunday School. You probably heard that David is a hero, but that’s not exactly the whole story. Sure, he’s a poet with tremendous military valor. He is also a big jerk. As one biblical scholar observes, “Yes, he is a great leader, a strong warrior, and a skilled musician and poet. At the same time, he is ruthless and not to be worshipped.” But, even today as I point out this fact, we are not going to dwell on the fact. We won’t list the variety of reasons you could cite proving the jerkiness of this newly anointed king. Even though it is rather apparent in those verses that both the Revised Common Lectionary and I chose to skip, I’m much more interested in how those tribes of Israel join their voices to say: You were the one.
It’s a tremendous statement to make about any one person, especially someone that is only thirty years old. But, it’s not really about his age. David may be only thirty years old — but isn’t there some qualifier that you would insert? When you are the one that is told, “You were the one,” don’t you quickly insert some limitation?
You were the one, they tell you. But, you won’t let them finish. You can’t take credit for that. You won’t even give God credit. You reject that affirmation. Because you are only… Well, you know. You know where you sell yourself short. You know how you won’t give yourself credit. You know what qualifiers you impose upon yourself because you don’t believe that you could possibly be the one. No, you tell them and yourself that somebody else will be anointed, somebody else will lead, somebody else will be the hero.
Sara Miles has no patience for this. In her recent book Jesus Freak, she critiques the contemporary church for becoming defined by limitations. Sara runs the food pantry at St. Gregory’s in San Francisco. She’s seen what it takes to be a leader. She has her own insecurities, but she didn’t get lost in those qualifiers. Somehow, she knew that she was the one. She would do it. She would help her church feed the hungry, but she hates all of the red tape. As she says: “Apparently, Christians can’t feed people without a permit from the state, a certificate from the church insurance fund, and a resolution at a denominational convention.”
However, she doesn’t limit this critique to the feeding ministry at St. Gregory’s. The problem is bigger than that. It has seeped into every aspect of being church. So, her rant continues: “You can’t teach without audiovisual aids and rooms full of approved Christian gear. You can’t touch sick people without 125 hours of supervised clinical instruction and latex gloves. You can’t proclaim repentance unless you’ve been to seminary–and even then it’s a bit dicey. And God forbid you should claim authority to act in Jesus’ name without a feasibility study, a mission statement, a capital outlay of $10,000, and at least six months of committee meetings. But ordinary people still hope, suspect, and believe they can be Jesus.”
Ordinary people — unlikely leaders like you and me — still believe that we can be Jesus. It’s part of the faith that we claim as a Christian family. We are not just loving, welcoming and serving. We do so because someone needs to be Jesus. Someone needs to love and welcome and serve because that’s what Jesus did. That’s why we love him. But we can’t seem to find that love within ourselves — and it’s been there. It’s always been there. That love of God has been given to unlikely leaders since long before David, so why not now? Why wouldn’t that love be given to you too?
But, you let those qualifiers have more power. You permit those limitations to have more weight. No, you tell them. Somebody else will be anointed, somebody else will lead, somebody else will be the hero.
Now, I say this with as much tenderness and love as I can muster: Don’t be that jerk. This story would have had a completely different ending if David had allowed his qualifiers to have the most weight. And he could have done so. He could have been humble and meek and even kind. There may have been some merit to that, but David listened to all of the tribes of Israel. He didn’t dismiss them. He believed them when they said: You are our flesh and bone. You are the one. You will be our king. God has said so. You will be the king of Israel.
And then, David grew increasingly powerful. It could mean that he bulked up at the gym or his empire expanded, but I tend to think that that increasing power has to do with the heavenly forces that stayed with David. He grew increasingly powerful because God was with him.
You might not think of yourself as a leader. You may still think that this is a nice story about some king a long time ago — but this isn’t just about David. We tell this story so that you might realize that the contemporary church needs a few more ordinary people to believe that they can be Jesus. Because there are plenty of people that need a hero and we can’t waste any more time wondering who will lead. In David’s story, and in so many others, our faith reminds us that there is no particular qualities for a leader. You just have to say yes. Because when you do, you will grow increasingly powerful. When you make that covenant, God will be with you. Heavenly forces will surround you — and you will never, ever be the same. So, will you be the one?