The King's Tears and the Hard Men Text: 2 Samuel 3:31-39
Introduction: The Messiness of Kingdom Building
We have a tendency to sanitize the stories of the Bible. We like our heroes clean and our victories neat. But the establishment of David's kingdom, which is a type of the establishment of Christ's kingdom, was anything but neat. It was a bloody, treacherous, and politically complicated affair. It was a long war, the text tells us, between the house of Saul and the house of David. And in this long war, we see the collision of two fundamentally different approaches to building a nation: the way of the flesh and the way of the Spirit, the way of raw power and the way of covenantal faithfulness.
In our text, David is faced with a crisis that is both a political landmine and a spiritual test. Abner, the commander of Saul's army and the real power behind the throne of Ishbosheth, has been treacherously murdered by Joab, David's own commander. Joab did this for two reasons: blood vengeance for his brother Asahel, and to eliminate a powerful political rival. From a certain hard-nosed, pragmatic point of view, Joab's action was efficient. It removed a threat and settled a score. It was the way of the world. It was the way of the sons of Zeruiah.
But David is not just another warlord clawing his way to the top. He is God's anointed. He is tasked with building a kingdom of righteousness and peace. Joab's brutal act of vengeance threatens to undo all of David's careful work of reconciliation with the northern tribes. It makes him look like a tyrant who lures his enemies in with promises of peace only to assassinate them. The entire future of a united Israel hangs in the balance, and it all depends on how David handles this public relations nightmare. What he does here is a master class in godly leadership. He shows us that true strength is not found in the ruthlessness of men like Joab, but in public piety, genuine grief, and a settled trust in the ultimate justice of God.
The Text
Then David said to Joab and to all the people who were with him, "Tear your clothes and gird on sackcloth and lament before Abner." And King David walked behind the bier. Thus they buried Abner in Hebron; and the king lifted up his voice and wept at the grave of Abner, and all the people wept. And the king chanted a lament for Abner and said, "Should Abner die as a wicked fool dies? Your hands were not bound, nor your feet put in fetters; As one falls before the unrighteous, you have fallen." And all the people continued to weep over him. Then all the people came to persuade David to eat bread while it was still day; but David swore an oath, saying, "May God do so to me, and more also, if I taste bread or anything else before the sun goes down." Now all the people took note of it, and it was good in their sight, just as everything the king did was good in the sight of all the people. So all the people and all Israel knew that day that it had not been the will of the king to put Abner the son of Ner to death. Then the king said to his servants, "Do you not know that a prince and a great man has fallen this day in Israel? Thus I am weak today, though anointed king; and these men the sons of Zeruiah are too difficult for me. May Yahweh repay the evildoer according to his evil."
(2 Samuel 3:31-39 LSB)
Public Grief as Public Theology (v. 31-32)
David's first move is not a secret political calculation but a public, liturgical act.
"Then David said to Joab and to all the people who were with him, 'Tear your clothes and gird on sackcloth and lament before Abner.' And King David walked behind the bier. Thus they buried Abner in Hebron; and the king lifted up his voice and wept at the grave of Abner, and all the people wept." (2 Samuel 3:31-32)
Notice the first person David addresses: Joab. This is a direct and public rebuke. David forces the murderer to mourn his victim. He makes Joab participate in a ceremony that declares his own action to be a tragedy. This is not private counsel; this is public humiliation for a public sin. David understands that justice must not only be done, but it must be seen to be done. He commands all the people to join in, but he pointedly starts with the guilty party.
And then David, the king, takes the place of chief mourner. He walks behind the bier. He lifts his own voice and weeps at the grave. This is not political theater; the weeping is genuine. But it is also profoundly political. In that culture, and in any healthy culture, the actions of the king have immense symbolic weight. By publicly and emotionally mourning Abner, David is making a powerful statement to the entire nation. He is saying, "This was not my will. This was a crime. This was a loss for all of us." His tears wash away the suspicion that he was complicit. The people see his grief, and they weep with him. A shared public sorrow begins to mend the tear that Joab's sword had ripped in the fabric of the nation.
A Lament for Injustice (v. 33-34)
David then composes a short, sharp lament that functions as a public verdict on Abner's death.
"And the king chanted a lament for Abner and said, 'Should Abner die as a wicked fool dies? Your hands were not bound, nor your feet put in fetters; As one falls before the unrighteous, you have fallen.'" (2 Samuel 3:33-34)
This is brilliant. A "fool" in the Old Testament is not just a simpleton; a fool is a wicked man, a criminal. David asks a rhetorical question: "Did Abner die like a justly executed criminal?" The answer is a resounding no. Criminals are bound, their hands and feet put in fetters, before they are executed. But Abner was a free man, struck down not by the hand of justice, but by treachery.
The final line is the verdict: "As one falls before the unrighteous, you have fallen." David publicly declares Joab and his co-conspirators to be "unrighteous men." He exonerates Abner from dying the death of a fool and condemns his murderer in the same breath. He is defining the narrative. He is telling all of Israel how they are to understand this event. This was not an execution; it was an assassination. This was not justice; it was a crime committed by wicked men. And because the king himself says it, the people believe it, and they weep all the more.
The King's Fast (v. 35-37)
David reinforces his sincerity with a solemn, public oath.
"Then all the people came to persuade David to eat bread while it was still day; but David swore an oath, saying, 'May God do so to me, and more also, if I taste bread or anything else before the sun goes down.'" (2 Samuel 3:35)
The people, concerned for their king, urge him to eat. His response is to double down on his mourning. He takes a self-maledictory oath, the most serious kind of oath one can take. He is essentially saying, "May God strike me dead if I break this fast." This demonstrates the depth of his grief and his commitment to honoring Abner. It is another public sign, another piece of irrefutable evidence for the people.
And the result is a stunning political victory, achieved not through the sword, but through piety. "Now all the people took note of it, and it was good in their sight, just as everything the king did was good in the sight of all the people. So all the people and all Israel knew that day that it had not been the will of the king to put Abner the son of Ner to death." David won the hearts of the people because his own heart was genuinely broken. He established his integrity through his lament. He solidified his kingdom through his tears. He proved that he was a king who feared God and loved righteousness, and the people saw it and were pleased.
The Anointed King's Weakness (v. 38-39)
The chapter concludes with David's private assessment of the situation to his inner circle.
"Then the king said to his servants, 'Do you not know that a prince and a great man has fallen this day in Israel? Thus I am weak today, though anointed king; and these men the sons of Zeruiah are too difficult for me. May Yahweh repay the evildoer according to his evil.'" (2 Samuel 3:38-39)
First, he honors Abner again, calling him a prince and a great man. This was his rival, the man who had propped up the house of Saul for years. But David recognizes his stature. This is a mark of a generous and kingly spirit.
Then comes the stunning admission: "I am weak today, though anointed king." What does he mean? He has just won a massive political victory. The people are with him. But he recognizes his practical limitations. He is God's anointed, but he is not yet all-powerful. His own nephews, the sons of Zeruiah, his military command, are "too difficult" for him. The word is "hard." They are too hard, too severe, too ruthless. They operate on a different wavelength. David is trying to build a kingdom of grace and covenant, and they only understand the logic of the sword and the blood feud.
At this moment, David cannot afford to execute Joab. Joab has the loyalty of the army, and the kingdom is still fragile. To move against Joab now would be to risk another civil war. So David, the anointed king, finds himself in a position of weakness, unable to execute immediate justice. And what does he do? He entrusts the matter to God. "May Yahweh repay the evildoer according to his evil." This is not an abdication of responsibility. It is a recognition of God's timing and God's ultimate sovereignty. David knows that justice must be done, but he is wise enough to know that he cannot do it yet. He files the invoice with heaven, confident that God will pay it in due time. And He did, through the hand of Solomon.
Conclusion: Living with the Hard Men
This story is intensely practical for us. We live in a world full of hard men, the sons of Zeruiah. They are the pragmatists, the Machiavellians, the men who believe that the ends always justify the means. They despise the "weakness" of Christ's kingdom, with its emphasis on forgiveness, patience, and turning the other cheek. They see public piety as mere performance and grief as a waste of time.
Like David, we are often in positions where we are, for a time, weak. We are anointed, sealed by the Spirit, citizens of a heavenly kingdom, and yet we must navigate a world where the sons of Zeruiah often seem to hold all the cards. We cannot always enact immediate justice. We see wickedness go unpunished. We see ruthless men succeed.
In such times, we must learn from David. We must not adopt the methods of the hard men. We must not fight treachery with treachery. Our weapons are different. We must engage in public faithfulness. We must weep for the things that ought to be wept over. We must call evil by its name, just as David did in his lament. We must live lives of such transparent integrity that the world, watching, has to conclude that we are not complicit in their wickedness. And we must learn to entrust final justice to God. He is the one who will repay the evildoer. Our job is to build the kingdom in the midst of the mess, trusting that the King of Kings, who was himself murdered by unrighteous men, will have the final word.