The Courage of Worms: The Collapse of a Paper Kingdom Text: 2 Samuel 4:1-3
Introduction: The Hollowness of Godless Power
We come now in our study of 2 Samuel to the unraveling of a kingdom. And we must pay close attention, because the way a thing unravels tells you a great deal about the material from which it was woven. Saul's kingdom, propped up for a time by his own carnal striving and then, after his death, by the shrewd political machinations of Abner, is revealed for what it truly is: a hollow gourd. It looked impressive for a season, but it was all shell and no substance. When God withdraws His hand, and when the key men who held it all together through sheer force of will are removed, the whole structure collapses into a pile of dust and dismay.
This is a foundational lesson for us. Men are always attempting to build kingdoms, whether in politics, in business, or even in the church, that are not centered on the Lordship of Jesus Christ. They build with the bricks of human ambition and the mortar of political pragmatism. They rely on strong personalities, clever strategies, and backroom deals. And for a time, it can appear to work. But what we see in the life of Ish-bosheth, Saul's pathetic son, is that any enterprise not built on the rock of God's favor is built on shifting sand. When the storms of providence come, and they always do, the collapse is not just predictable; it is total.
The world believes that power resides in armies, in political appointments, in strongmen. Abner was such a man. He was the real power behind Ish-bosheth's throne. But Abner is now dead, murdered by Joab in the gates of Hebron. And with the removal of that one man, the central pillar of the house of Saul is kicked out, and the entire edifice begins to groan and sag. What we are about to witness is the political equivalent of a controlled demolition, but the one in control is not David, and certainly not the assassins we will meet shortly. The one in control is the God who raises up kings and brings them down, the God who was fulfilling His promise to His servant David.
This passage is a stark portrait of the difference between true, God-given authority and the borrowed, flimsy authority of men. David's kingdom is growing stronger every day, not because he has all the best men initially, but because he has God's anointing. Ish-bosheth's kingdom is disintegrating, not because he lacks men, but because he lacks God. This is a lesson we must learn deep in our bones. All human endeavors that leave God out of the equation are, at the end of the day, just Ish-bosheth's kingdom waiting to fall apart.
The Text
Then Ish-bosheth, Saul’s son heard that Abner had died in Hebron. And he lost courage, and all Israel was dismayed. Now Saul’s son had two men who were commanders of bands: the name of the one was Baanah and the name of the other Rechab, sons of Rimmon the Beerothite, of the sons of Benjamin (for Beeroth is also considered part of Benjamin, and the Beerothites fled to Gittaim and have been sojourners there until this day).
(2 Samuel 4:1-3 LSB)
The King Who Was a Puppet (v. 1)
We begin with the immediate aftermath of Abner's death:
"Then Ish-bosheth, Saul’s son heard that Abner had died in Hebron. And he lost courage, and all Israel was dismayed." (2 Samuel 4:1)
The news of Abner's death arrives, and the response is instantaneous and telling. Ish-bosheth "lost courage." The Hebrew here is that his hands went limp, they became feeble. This is a picture of utter helplessness, of a man whose strength has completely drained away. And why? Because his strength was never his own. Ish-bosheth was a king in name only. He was Abner's creature, a placeholder propped up on the throne to give a veneer of legitimacy to Abner's rule. Abner made him king, Abner ran the kingdom, and Abner was in the process of selling that kingdom out to David when he was killed. Ish-bosheth was a cardboard king, and when his puppeteer's strings were cut, he simply crumpled.
His very name is a sermon. He is called Ish-bosheth, which means "man of shame." His original name, as we see in 1 Chronicles 8:33, was Eshbaal, meaning "man of Baal." The later scribes, out of a pious refusal to even speak the name of the pagan deity Baal, substituted it with "bosheth," or shame. But this was a providentially guided alteration, for his life was indeed one of shame. He was a weak, ineffectual ruler who reigned for two years but never truly ruled at all. He was a man defined not by his own character or anointing, but by his father, Saul, and his general, Abner. When Abner is removed, Ish-bosheth has nothing left. He had outsourced his courage, his strategy, and his entire political existence to another man. And when that man was gone, so was his kingdom.
This is a profound spiritual principle. Any strength, any authority, any courage that is not rooted directly in God is borrowed strength. It is a counterfeit. You might be able to coast for a while on the charisma of a leader, the strength of an institution, or the momentum of a movement. But when God decides to remove that external support, you will be exposed for what you are. If your faith is in a pastor and not in Christ, what happens when that pastor falls? If your security is in a political party and not in God's sovereignty, what happens when your party loses power? If your courage is in your bank account and not in the promises of God, what happens when the economy tanks? You become like Ish-bosheth: your hands go limp, and your courage fails.
And notice, it was not just Ish-bosheth. "All Israel was dismayed." The whole nation had put their trust in the political arrangement Abner had cobbled together. They were following a man, not a principle. They were loyal to the house of Saul out of a misplaced sense of tradition and political convenience, not out of any conviction that God's blessing was there. And so, when the strongman falls, the people are thrown into confusion and terror. This is the fragility of all man-centered enterprises. They are a breath away from panic.
The Opportunists in the Wings (v. 2-3)
In the vacuum of power created by Abner's death and Ish-bosheth's paralysis, new actors emerge from the shadows. These are not men of principle, but men of opportunity.
"Now Saul’s son had two men who were commanders of bands: the name of the one was Baanah and the name of the other Rechab, sons of Rimmon the Beerothite, of the sons of Benjamin..." (2 Samuel 4:2)
Here we are introduced to the assassins, Rechab and Baanah. The text is very deliberate in giving us their resume. First, they are "commanders of bands." These were likely mercenary captains, leaders of raiding parties who made their living through plunder. They were military men, but not like Abner, who commanded the national army. These were freelance operators, men whose loyalty was for hire. Their profession was violence and opportunism. When a kingdom is rotting from the head down, men like this begin to circle like vultures.
Second, we are told they are "sons of Rimmon the Beerothite, of the sons of Benjamin." This is a crucial detail. They are from Ish-bosheth's own tribe, the tribe of Benjamin. This was the tribe that had the most to lose from a transfer of power to David and the tribe of Judah. Their treachery, therefore, is not against a foreign king, but against their own kinsman. This is an act of profound covenantal betrayal. But their loyalty is not to their tribe or their king; it is to their own advancement. They can read the political tea leaves. They see that the house of Saul is a sinking ship, and they are looking for a way to secure a place for themselves on David's vessel.
They believe that by assassinating the now-useless Ish-bosheth, they can curry favor with David, the rising star. This is the logic of the world. It is the thinking of Judas, who betrayed his master for thirty pieces of silver. It is the thinking of all political turncoats who trim their sails to the prevailing winds. They mistake pragmatism for wisdom, and they believe that the new boss will reward them for taking out the old boss. As we will see, they have gravely misjudged the character of David, because they have no understanding of the character of David's God.
The text then gives us a curious historical footnote that is filled with meaning.
"...(for Beeroth is also considered part of Benjamin, and the Beerothites fled to Gittaim and have been sojourners there until this day)." (2 Samuel 4:2-3)
Beeroth was one of the Gibeonite cities that had made a deceptive treaty with Joshua centuries earlier (Joshua 9). They were Canaanites who were incorporated into Israel. Though the city was allotted to Benjamin, it seems that at some point, perhaps during Saul's fanatical and sinful persecution of the Gibeonites (2 Sam. 21:1-2), the original Beerothites had been driven from their home and were now living as refugees in a place called Gittaim. This little detail paints a picture of the instability and injustice that characterized the reign of Saul and his legacy. The kingdom was shot through with old sins, broken covenants, and displaced peoples. Rechab and Baanah are products of this chaotic environment. They are men uprooted from their heritage, whose actions are governed not by covenantal faithfulness, but by the raw calculus of survival and ambition.
This is what happens when a nation forsakes God. The foundations are destroyed. Covenants are broken, loyalties dissolve, and men of violence and ambition see their chance. The fear that gripped Ish-bosheth and all Israel was a rational response to their situation. They had built their house on the sand of a man's strength, and a strong wind had blown that man away. Now, the tide of God's sovereign purpose was coming in, and their whole world was about to be washed away.
Providence and Human Wickedness
In all of this, we must see the hidden hand of God. God is not the author of sin. He did not whisper in the ears of Rechab and Baanah, telling them to commit murder. Their actions were their own, flowing from the wickedness of their own hearts. And yet, God in His sovereignty uses the free and sinful actions of men to accomplish His righteous purposes. This is the great mystery of providence.
God had promised the kingdom to David. The house of Saul was an obstacle to the fulfillment of that promise. God could have removed Ish-bosheth in any number of ways. He could have struck him with a disease or had him fall in battle. Instead, He allows the internal rottenness of Saul's kingdom to eat itself from the inside out. He uses the treachery of Benjamite mercenaries to clear the way for His anointed king. Joseph's brothers sold him into slavery out of wicked envy, but Joseph could later say, "You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good" (Genesis 50:20). The Romans and the Jewish leaders crucified Jesus out of fear, political expediency, and hatred, yet it was through this greatest of all sins that God accomplished the greatest of all goods, the salvation of the world.
So it is here on a smaller scale. Rechab and Baanah are thinking only of their own reward. They are wicked men, and they will be judged for their wickedness. But God is weaving their sinful threads into the grand tapestry of His redemptive plan. He is dismantling the false kingdom to establish the true one. He is showing Israel that their only hope is not in a man like Saul, or a political operator like Abner, or a weakling like Ish-bosheth, but only in the king of His own choosing, the man after His own heart. And in doing so, He is pointing us forward to that greater Son of David, whose kingdom is not of this world, and which can never be shaken.