Commentary - 2 Samuel 11:6-13

Bird's-eye view

In this passage, we are descending with David into the frantic machinations of a cover-up. Sin never stays simple; it always complicates. David's initial act of adultery with Bathsheba has now created a problem with consequences, namely, a child. The king, who should be executing justice and righteousness, is now twisting the levers of power to hide his own profound injustice. He summons Uriah, a man of notable integrity, from the battlefield under the guise of wanting a report from the front. But the real motive is to get Uriah to sleep with his wife, thereby providing a plausible father for the child David has conceived in his sin. What unfolds is a contest of character. We see David, the man after God's own heart, acting with the cunning of a serpent, while Uriah the Hittite, a foreigner, displays a loyalty and devotion that puts the king of Israel to shame. The entire episode is a stark illustration of how one sin begets another, and how a hardened heart will resort to increasingly desperate and wicked measures to avoid exposure and repentance.

David's plan seems straightforward, but it is repeatedly foiled by Uriah's unexpected and principled stand. This is not just a clash between two men; it is a clash between two worldviews. David is operating out of selfish desire and fear of man, while Uriah is governed by covenant loyalty to his God, his king, and his comrades. The irony is thick enough to cut with a knife. The king tries hospitality, gifts, and even intoxication to break Uriah's resolve, but nothing works. Uriah's simple faithfulness stands as a towering rebuke to David's complex deceit. This section of the narrative serves as the hinge upon which the whole sordid affair turns toward its tragic and murderous conclusion. God, in His providence, is using Uriah's integrity to expose the depths of David's depravity.

Outline

Clause-by-Clause Commentary

v. 6 Then David sent to Joab, saying, “Send me Uriah the Hittite.” So Joab sent Uriah to David.

The machinery of state is now being employed for the purpose of concealing personal sin. David, who had been anointed by God to govern Israel, is using his royal authority not for the good of his people, but to manipulate one of his finest soldiers. The command is simple, direct, and cloaked in the authority of the king. Joab, the ever-pragmatic and often ruthless commander, complies without question. He doesn't know the reason, but he knows an order when he hears one. This is how sin works in the lives of powerful men. The instruments of their rule become the tools of their corruption. David is not just a private citizen committing a private sin; he is a king prostituting his office.

v. 7 When Uriah came to him, David asked concerning the state of Joab and the state of the people and the state of the war.

Here is the art of the lie. David puts on the mask of the concerned commander-in-chief. He asks about the war, the troops, the general. It all sounds perfectly normal, the kind of thing a king should be interested in. But it is a complete sham. The words are hollow because the heart behind them is rotten. David's real concern is not for the welfare of his army but for the success of his cover-up. He is using the language of duty to disguise his dereliction of duty. This is a profound spiritual danger. When we can speak of godly things, of our responsibilities and concerns, all while our hearts are bent on concealing a cherished sin, we are in a perilous state. David is play-acting the part of the king he ought to be, while in reality, he is a slave to his lust and fear.

v. 8 Then David said to Uriah, “Go down to your house, and wash your feet.” And Uriah went out of the king’s house, and a present from the king went out after him.

This is the central piece of the initial deception. "Go down to your house, and wash your feet." This was a common courtesy, a way of refreshing oneself after a journey. But it was also a euphemism for relaxing and enjoying the comforts of home, which would naturally include marital relations. David is not just being hospitable; he is setting a trap. He wants Uriah to sleep with Bathsheba, so that when the child is born, everyone will assume Uriah is the father. To sweeten the pot, he sends a royal gift after him. It's a bribe, a little something to encourage Uriah to enjoy the comforts David is offering. David thinks he can purchase another man's integrity, or at least distract him with royal favor. He is trying to solve a spiritual problem with carnal means: manipulation and material gifts.

v. 9 But Uriah lay down at the door of the king’s house with all the servants of his lord, and did not go down to his house.

And here the plan hits a snag. The snag is a man of honor. Uriah, the Hittite, a Gentile grafted into Israel, shows more faithfulness than the king of Israel himself. He does not go home. Instead, he sleeps at the palace gate with the other royal servants. This is an extraordinary act of self-denial and solidarity with his fellow soldiers. He is on the king's business, and he considers himself on duty. He will not avail himself of comforts while his brothers in arms are in the field. Uriah's simple, righteous action throws a wrench into David's complex, wicked scheme. God is at work here, using the faithfulness of one man to expose the faithlessness of another.

v. 10 Then they told David, saying, “Uriah did not go down to his house.” And David said to Uriah, “Have you not come from a journey? Why did you not go down to your house?”

The news gets back to David. The trap did not spring. David's reaction is one of exasperated disbelief. He summons Uriah again. The question he asks is dripping with false innocence. "You've been on a long journey, why wouldn't you go home?" David is trying to make Uriah's behavior seem strange, unreasonable. He wants to paint Uriah's integrity as a kind of oddity. This is what a compromised conscience does. It tries to normalize sin and pathologize righteousness. David cannot understand Uriah's actions because he is viewing them through the fog of his own guilt. He expects other men to be as self-indulgent as he has been.

v. 11 And Uriah said to David, “The ark and Israel and Judah are staying in booths, and my lord Joab and the servants of my lord are camping in the open field. Shall I then go to my house to eat and to drink and to lie with my wife? By your life and the life of your soul, I will not do this thing.”

Uriah's response is one of the great speeches of loyalty in all of Scripture. He lays out his reasons with devastating clarity. First, the Ark of the Covenant, the very presence of God, is in a temporary dwelling with the army. Second, the armies of Israel and Judah are in the field. Third, his commander Joab and his fellow officers are sleeping rough. Given these realities, how could he possibly go home to feast and enjoy his wife? It would be a betrayal of his God, his nation, and his comrades. He seals his resolve with a solemn oath, swearing by the king's own life. The irony is staggering. Uriah swears by the life of the very man who is plotting his death and who has violated the covenant he holds so dear. Uriah's righteousness is not complicated; it is a simple matter of priorities. God and duty come before personal comfort.

v. 12 Then David said to Uriah, “Stay here today also, and tomorrow I will send you out.” So Uriah remained in Jerusalem that day and the next.

David is not deterred. If the first plan failed, he will try another. He tells Uriah to wait another day. This is the persistence of a man committed to his sin. He will not be thwarted by righteousness. He will simply try a different angle. He keeps Uriah in Jerusalem, hoping that perhaps another night, another opportunity, will change his mind. David is doubling down on his deception. Each step takes him further from God and deeper into the mire. He is no longer the sweet psalmist of Israel; he is a scheming tyrant.

v. 13 Now David called him, and he ate and drank before him, and he made him drunk; and in the evening he went out to lie on his bed with his lord’s servants, but he did not go down to his house.

This is the final, desperate attempt at manipulation. David invites Uriah to his own table, a place of honor. And there, he gets him drunk. The reasoning is crude but clear: a drunk man's resolve will be weakened. Surely, a man full of wine will stumble home to his wife. This is a new low for David. He is not just deceiving Uriah; he is actively seeking to corrupt him, to break down his moral defenses with alcohol. But even in his drunkenness, Uriah's integrity holds. He does not go home. He stumbles out and sleeps once more with the servants. The sober faithfulness of Uriah is more powerful than the drunken machinations of the king. David has exhausted his cunning, and Uriah's character has withstood every test. The failure of this final ploy will drive David from deception to the far darker sin of murder.

Application

This passage is a stark warning about the progressive nature of sin. What begins as a lustful glance from a rooftop spirals into adultery, deception, manipulation, and will ultimately lead to murder. Sin is never static; it is always seeking to entrench itself, to cover its tracks, and to eliminate any obstacle to its reign. We must learn to deal with sin ruthlessly at the first glance, not after it has conceived and brought forth death.

We also see a profound contrast in character. Uriah the Hittite, a man on the margins of the covenant people, displays a covenant faithfulness that shames the anointed king. His loyalty is not to his own comfort but to his God and his brethren. This is the kind of integrity that God honors, and it stands as a rebuke to our own frequent compromises. We are called to this kind of principled living, where our duties to God and others outweigh our desire for personal ease.

Finally, we see the folly of trying to outsmart God. David uses all his royal power and cunning to arrange circumstances to his liking, but God uses the simple, unbending integrity of one man to frustrate all his plans. You cannot manage your sin. You cannot hide it in a way that God will not see. The only solution for sin is not a clever cover-up but a full and broken-hearted confession. David will eventually learn this lesson, but not before his sin has wreaked havoc on his family, his kingdom, and his own soul. Let us learn from his fall, and run to the cross for cleansing, not to our own wits for a cover.