The Theological Optometrist Text: 1 Samuel 17:12-30
Introduction: The Paralysis of Pragmatism
We live in an age of giants. They parade up and down the valley of our culture every morning and every evening, issuing their challenges. The giant of secular humanism, the giant of sexual chaos, the giant of the god-state. And for the most part, the people of God, the armies of the living God, are cowering in their tents. They are paralyzed. They have looked at the sheer size of the opposition, calculated the odds, and concluded that the only sane response is to keep their heads down.
This is the paralysis of pragmatism. It is a spiritual condition that results from looking at the world horizontally instead of vertically. When you look horizontally, you see a nine-foot Philistine in bronze armor, and you see yourself. The math does not look good. But when you look vertically, you see a nine-foot Philistine, and you see the living God who spoke the galaxies into existence. The math changes rather dramatically. The problem in the church today is not a lack of resources, or a lack of manpower, or a lack of strategy. The problem is a crisis of vision. We have a severe case of theological astigmatism. We see the threats clearly, but we see God as a blurry figure in the distance.
The story of David and Goliath is not a children's tale about an underdog. It is a clinical account of how a man with correct theological vision can rout an entire army of pragmatists. It is a story about the power of defining the situation correctly. Before David ever picked up a stone, he picked up the right words. He reframed the entire conflict, not with bravado, but with brutal theological realism. And in doing so, he exposes the two great enemies of the church in any age: the pagan giant outside the camp, and the cowardly pragmatist within it. In our text today, we see David arrive on the scene, assess the spiritual landscape, and ask the question that terrifies all the sensible men.
The Text
Now David was the son of the Ephrathite of Bethlehem in Judah, whose name was Jesse, and he had eight sons. And Jesse was old in the days of Saul, advanced in years among men. And the three older sons of Jesse had gone. They had gone after Saul to the battle. And the names of his three sons who went to the battle were Eliab the firstborn, and the second to him Abinadab, and the third Shammah. But David was the youngest. Now the three oldest had gone after Saul, but David went back and forth from Saul to shepherd his father’s flock at Bethlehem. Then the Philistine approached, morning and evening, for forty days and took his stand. Then Jesse said to David his son, “Take now for your brothers an ephah of this roasted grain and these ten loaves and run to the camp to your brothers. You shall also bring these ten cuts of cheese to the commander of their thousand, and look into the welfare of your brothers, and bring back a token from them. And Saul and they and all the men of Israel are in the valley of Elah, fighting with the Philistines.” So David arose early in the morning and left the flock with a keeper and carried the supplies and went as Jesse had commanded him. And he came to the circle of the camp while the military force was going out in battle lines shouting the war cry. And Israel and the Philistines arranged themselves in battle lines, battle line against battle line. Then David left his baggage in the care of the baggage keeper and ran to the battle line and entered in order to greet his brothers. As he was speaking with them, behold, the champion, the Philistine from Gath named Goliath, was coming up from the battle lines of the Philistines, and he spoke these same words; and David heard them. Now all the men of Israel saw the man, and they fled from him and were greatly afraid. And the men of Israel said, “Have you seen this man who is coming up? Surely he is coming up to reproach Israel. And it will be that the king will enrich the man who strikes him down with great riches and will give him his daughter and make his father’s house free in Israel.” Then David spoke to the men who were standing by him, saying, “What will be done for the man who strikes down this Philistine and takes away the reproach from Israel? For who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should reproach the battle lines of the living God?” And the people spoke to him in accord with this word, saying, “Thus it will be done for the man who strikes him down.” Then Eliab his oldest brother heard when he spoke to the men; and Eliab’s anger burned against David, and he said, “Why have you come down? And with whom have you left those few sheep in the wilderness? I myself know your arrogance and the wickedness of your heart, for you have come down in order to see the battle.” But David said, “What have I done now? Was it not just a word?” Then he turned away from him to another and said the same word; and the people responded to him with the same word as before.
(1 Samuel 17:12-30 LSB)
The Errand Boy and the Stalemate (vv. 12-23)
The scene is set with excruciating normalcy. While the fate of Israel hangs in the balance, David is a shuttle diplomat between the sheepfold and the royal court. He is the youngest, the one left behind, the one tasked with the mundane. His three eldest brothers, Eliab, Abinadab, and Shammah, are off doing the important work of war. David is on the B-team, a shepherd boy.
Notice the backdrop: for forty days, Goliath has been demoralizing Israel. Forty is the biblical number of testing and trial. Israel is being tested, and they are failing spectacularly. Their failure is a spiritual torpor, a complete lack of nerve. They go out and draw up the battle lines each day, they shout the war cry, but it is all for show. It is performative courage that evaporates the moment the giant appears. This is a picture of much of the modern church: we have the programs, we sing the songs, we arrange ourselves in battle lines, but when the actual enemy shows his face, we run for the hills.
Into this forty-day funk, David is sent by his father, Jesse. His mission is not glorious. He is a delivery boy. He is to take roasted grain, bread, and cheese to his brothers and their commander. He is to check on their welfare and bring back a "token," some proof that they are well. This is Providence at its most beautifully ordinary. God does not teleport David to the front lines with a flaming sword. He uses the simple, obedient fulfillment of a domestic duty to place His anointed king at the precise point of spiritual crisis. Your great test will likely not arrive with a trumpet blast. It will arrive on a Tuesday, disguised as an ordinary errand. David's diligence is noted: "So David arose early in the morning." Faithfulness in the small things is God's training ground for faithfulness in the great things.
When David arrives, he hears the blasphemous challenge for himself. The words of Goliath fall on his ears, and unlike everyone else, they do not produce fear. They produce a holy indignation. The errand is now over. The divine appointment has begun.
Two Questions, Two Worldviews (vv. 24-27)
Here we have the central pivot of the entire story. It is a collision of two completely different ways of seeing the world, encapsulated in two different questions. First, the question of the Israelites.
"And the men of Israel said, 'Have you seen this man who is coming up? Surely he is coming up to reproach Israel. And it will be that the king will enrich the man who strikes him down with great riches and will give him his daughter and make his father’s house free in Israel.'" (1 Samuel 17:25 LSB)
Their question is essentially, "Have you seen how big he is?" Their focus is entirely on the man. They see the problem. They even identify it correctly as a "reproach" to Israel. But their solution is entirely horizontal and mercenary. Their hope is in a transaction. What's the bounty? Riches, a royal marriage, and a tax break. They are trying to solve a spiritual crisis with a carnal incentive program. Saul is treating God's war like a corporate sales contest. This is the essence of worldliness. It sees a problem that is fundamentally about the glory of God and asks, "What's in it for me?"
Then David speaks, and it is as though a window has been thrown open in a stuffy room. He asks a completely different kind of question.
"What will be done for the man who strikes down this Philistine and takes away the reproach from Israel? For who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should reproach the battle lines of the living God?" (1 Samuel 17:26 LSB)
David asks about the reward, yes, but notice how he frames it. His question is not the central thing. It is the preamble to his theological thunderclap. He redefines the entire situation with two phrases. First, he calls Goliath an "uncircumcised Philistine." This is not a playground taunt. It is a profound theological category. Circumcision was the sign of the covenant. To be uncircumcised was to be outside the covenant, a stranger to the promises of God, without God and without hope in the world. David is saying, "This man, for all his height and bronze, is an outsider. He has no claim on the God of Abraham."
Second, he redefines the army. They are not just "all the men of Israel." They are the "battle lines of the living God." They are not Saul's army. They are Yahweh's army. The reproach is not against their military pride; it is against their God. David is a theological optometrist. He has just given the entire army a new prescription. He has corrected their vision. The conflict is not between a big man and a small army. It is between a loud-mouthed pagan and the living God. Once you see that, the outcome is not in doubt.
The Fury of the Compromised Brother (vv. 28-30)
The first person to attack David is not a Philistine. It is his own brother. This is a pattern we must learn to expect. When a man of faith and courage stands up, the first wave of opposition often comes from the insiders who have grown comfortable with the stalemate.
"Then Eliab his oldest brother heard when he spoke to the men; and Eliab’s anger burned against David, and he said, 'Why have you come down? And with whom have you left those few sheep in the wilderness? I myself know your arrogance and the wickedness of your heart, for you have come down in order to see the battle.'" (1 Samuel 17:28 LSB)
Eliab's anger is white-hot. Why? Because David's courage is a rebuke to his cowardice. David's faith exposes Eliab's fear. So Eliab does what the compromised always do: he attacks David's motives. He cannot refute David's theology, so he impugns his character. He accuses him of dereliction of duty ("those few sheep"), arrogance, and having a wicked heart. He accuses David of being a mere spectator, a war tourist. This is the bitterness of the man who knows what he ought to do but lacks the faith to do it. He resents the one who shows up and is willing.
David's response is a masterclass in staying focused.
"But David said, 'What have I done now? Was it not just a word?'" (1 Samuel 17:29 LSB)
He doesn't get drawn into a family squabble. He doesn't defend his motives. He simply points to the objective reality of what he did. "Was it not just a word?" This is magnificent. David understands that the whole battle turns on a word, on a right definition of the situation. He spoke a true word, a theological word, into a situation saturated with the lies of fear. And that word had power. It was the first stone he slung. Before he could defeat Goliath, he had to defeat the fearful narrative that held Israel captive. And he did it with a word.
He then turns away from Eliab. He does not allow the naysayer to have the last word or to bog him down. He turns to another man and says the same thing. He is looking for men who will see what he sees. He is building a coalition of the courageous, even if it is a coalition of two or three. This is how reformation begins. Not with a majority vote, but with one man speaking a true word and then finding others who will echo it.
The Greater David
This entire episode is a glorious foreshadowing of the Lord Jesus Christ. He is the true and greater David. He was sent by His Father into the world, our valley of Elah, on what looked like a humble mission. He came to His own brothers, the Jews, and they despised and rejected Him. They questioned His motives, calling Him a glutton and a drunkard, saying He had a demon.
He arrived to find God's people paralyzed by fear, held captive by their own Goliaths: sin, death, and the devil. For centuries, this enemy had reproached the people of God, and no one could stand against him. The religious leaders, like Saul, could only offer worldly incentives and regulations. The people, like the army, were terrified.
And what did Jesus do? He began with a word. He spoke with authority. He reframed the entire human condition. He spoke of the kingdom of God, of righteousness, of judgment. He called the enemy what he was: a liar and a murderer from the beginning. He called the people to see themselves not as helpless victims but as the potential children of the living God. His word, like David's, was the first stone slung.
And like David, he went out to face the champion alone. He went to the cross to fight our Goliath, and there He crushed the serpent's head. He took away the reproach from us forever. He defeated sin, disarmed death, and made a public spectacle of the devil.
Therefore, we who are in Christ are no longer the cowering army. We are the army of the greater David. The battle has already been won. Our task is not to be paralyzed by the giants who still stomp around in the valley. Our task is to learn to see them as our Lord sees them. They are uncircumcised. They are outsiders to the covenant of promise. They have no claim on the future. And we are the army of the living God. Our job is to speak the true word into our generation, to define the situation with theological clarity, and to stop being surprised when our compromised brothers get angry. Let them be angry. We have a battle to fight, a reproach to answer, and a living God to glorify.