The Righteousness of the Pagan and the Depravity of the Saint Text: 2 Samuel 11:6-13
Introduction: The Treachery of a Cover-Up
We are in the middle of one of the most tragic and sordid accounts in all of Scripture. David, the man after God's own heart, has fallen into a grievous sin of adultery with Bathsheba. He has violated the seventh commandment, and in so doing has violated his own integrity, his covenant with God, and his duty as king. But as is always the case, sin does not like to remain a solitary act. It is a sociable evil. Like a cornered animal, it immediately seeks to hide, to conceal, and to multiply. The initial sin of passion now gives way to the cold, calculated sin of deceit.
What we are about to witness is the anatomy of a cover-up. David, having received word that Bathsheba is pregnant, does not fall on his face in repentance. His first instinct is not confession, but concealment. He moves from being a lustful man to being a lying man. He is about to abuse the levers of royal power, not for the good of his people, but for the protection of his reputation. He is going to use the machinery of the state to hide the wickedness of his own heart.
And in this calculated deception, we are going to see a stark and terrible contrast. We will see the anointed king of Israel, a man blessed with the Spirit of God, behaving like a conniving pagan. And we will see a pagan, a Hittite, a man outside the formal covenant, behaving with more integrity, loyalty, and righteousness than the king himself. The story is constructed to show us this irony in the starkest possible terms. Uriah the Hittite, whose name means "Yahweh is my light," walks in the light of integrity. David, the sweet psalmist of Israel, is scurrying around in the darkness of his own making. This passage is a profound warning about the spiraling nature of sin and the surprising places where honor can be found.
The Text
Then David sent to Joab, saying, “Send me Uriah the Hittite.” So Joab sent Uriah to David. When Uriah came to him, David asked concerning the state of Joab and the state of the people and the state of the war. 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. 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. 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?” 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.” 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. 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.
(2 Samuel 11:6-13 LSB)
The First Scheme: A Royal Summons (vv. 6-8)
David's plan is simple, and from a worldly perspective, it is clever. He will bring Uriah home from the front lines, ensure he spends a night with his wife, and then the subsequent birth of the child will be attributed to him. The sin will be neatly tucked away under the cloak of legitimacy.
"Then David sent to Joab, saying, 'Send me Uriah the Hittite.' So Joab sent Uriah to David. When Uriah came to him, David asked concerning the state of Joab and the state of the people and the state of the war. 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." (2 Samuel 11:6-8)
Notice the abuse of authority from the very start. David uses his royal command, "Send me Uriah," not for state business, but for personal damage control. The entire apparatus of the kingdom is now being bent to serve the king's private sin. This is the essence of tyranny. When a leader's authority is no longer submitted to God's law, it becomes a tool for his own appetites.
The conversation that follows is a masterpiece of hypocrisy. David puts on the mask of a concerned commander-in-chief. "How is Joab? How are the people? How is the war?" This is all a charade. He does not care about the answers. His mind is entirely on his own predicament. This is what sin does; it makes you a liar. It forces you to live a double life, to maintain a public facade that is completely at odds with your private reality. David is acting. He is playing the part of the righteous king while plotting to conceal his own filth.
Then comes the seemingly benevolent command: "Go down to your house, and wash your feet." This was a common courtesy for a weary traveler. But underneath this gesture of hospitality is a sordid command. David is, in effect, ordering Uriah to go have marital relations with his wife. The "present from the king" that followed him was likely a meal, some wine, something to encourage a romantic evening. David is trying to orchestrate the circumstances to achieve his desired end. He is trying to play God, manipulating people like chess pieces to cover his tracks.
The Obstacle of Integrity (vv. 9-11)
David's plan, however, runs into an unexpected obstacle: the simple, rugged integrity of a faithful soldier.
"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. 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?'" (2 Samuel 11:9-10 LSB)
Uriah refuses to take the comforts that are rightly his. He sleeps at the palace gate with the other royal servants. This is a stunning rebuke to David, even if it is unintentional. While David was indulging his flesh on a comfortable rooftop, Uriah identifies with his brothers in the field. He will not enjoy personal pleasure while the army is at war. The contrast is deafening. The king is soft, self-indulgent, and deceitful. The soldier is tough, self-denying, and honorable.
David is incredulous. His plan is so simple, so logical from a worldly point of view. Why would any man turn down a night with his beautiful wife after a long campaign? David's question, "Why did you not go down to your house?" reveals his own spiritual state. He cannot comprehend Uriah's motives because he is no longer thinking in terms of duty, honor, and covenant solidarity. He is thinking in terms of appetite and expediency.
Uriah's reply is one of the great speeches of honor in the Bible. It is a declaration of covenant loyalty that puts the king to shame.
"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.'" (2 Samuel 11:11 LSB)
Uriah's reasoning is threefold. First, the Ark of the Covenant is in a temporary shelter. The very presence of God is with the army, in a tent. How can he go to his comfortable house? Second, his brothers, Israel and Judah, are in the field. He is bound by a covenant of solidarity with them. Third, his commanders, Joab and the other officers, are roughing it. He will not elevate his comfort above theirs. His logic is impeccable. It is the logic of a man who understands his place in a larger story, a man defined by his commitments, not his comforts.
The oath he swears, "By your life and the life of your soul," is an oath of fealty to the very king who is plotting his demise. The irony is thick and bitter. Uriah, the pagan Hittite, is showing more faithfulness to the God of Israel (by honoring the Ark), more loyalty to the people of Israel, and more devotion to the king of Israel than the king himself. This is a picture of how sin inverts the moral order. The man of God is acting like a pagan, and the pagan is acting like a man of God.
The Second Scheme: The Depravity of Drink (vv. 12-13)
When deception fails, David resorts to debauchery. If he cannot persuade Uriah's honorable mind, he will try to disable it with alcohol.
"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. 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." (Genesis 1:3 LSB)
This is a new level of depravity. David is now deliberately trying to get one of his finest soldiers drunk, hoping that in his intoxicated state, his resolve will crumble and he will stumble home to his wife. David is not just a liar now; he is a tempter. He is actively trying to induce a man to lower his moral guard for his own selfish purposes. He is using hospitality as a weapon. He invites Uriah to his own table, shares a meal with him, and all the while is plotting to use this fellowship to further his wicked scheme.
Think of the scene. David, the king, the man who wrote "The Lord is my shepherd," is pouring the wine, encouraging Uriah to drink more, all with a hidden, malicious motive. He is trying to corrupt the very man his sin has wronged. This is the downward spiral of sin. It starts with a look, proceeds to an act, moves to a lie, and now descends into a malicious plot to corrupt another man's integrity.
But even this fails. Uriah, though drunk, does not go home. His character, his ingrained sense of duty, is so strong that it holds even when his senses are dulled by wine. He stumbles out and sleeps again with the servants. The integrity of the drunken Hittite is still greater than the integrity of the sober king. David's second scheme has failed, and his options are narrowing. The cover-up is not working. And when sin cannot be covered, it often turns to violence. David's heart is hardening, and he is being backed into a corner of his own making, a corner from which the only exit he can see is murder.
The Unyielding Conscience
This passage is a powerful illustration of the war between a hardened heart and an honorable conscience. David's conscience should be screaming at him, but he has gagged it and locked it in the basement. He is operating purely on the basis of pragmatic self-preservation. He has a problem, and he is looking for a solution, any solution, that will make it go away.
Uriah, on the other hand, is a man governed by his conscience, by a code of honor that is deeply rooted in his identity as a soldier and a member of a covenant community. He is not trying to be difficult. He is simply being faithful. His integrity is not for sale, and it cannot be dissolved in wine. His righteousness is an immovable object, and David's deceitful force cannot budge it.
This is a profound warning to us. When we sin, our first and most desperate need is not a clever plan, but a broken heart. It is not concealment, but confession. David's attempts to manage his sin only drive him deeper into it. He is like a man in quicksand; every effort to extricate himself only sinks him further. He should have stopped after verse 9. When Uriah first refused to go home, David should have seen it as the restraining grace of God. He should have seen the honor in his servant and been cut to the heart by the sight of his own dishonor. He should have fallen on his face and confessed everything.
But he did not. His pride was too great. His fear of exposure was too strong. And so he pressed on, from one wicked scheme to the next.
And here is the gospel truth for us. We are all Davids. We have all sinned and fallen short. We all have an instinct to cover, to manage, to conceal. But God, in His mercy, sends us "Uriahs", people or circumstances whose simple, unyielding righteousness exposes our own sin. He sends a truth that will not go away, a conscience that will not be silenced by our clever rationalizations or our drunken stupors. And when He does, we have a choice. We can be like David here, hardening our hearts and descending further into wickedness. Or we can do what David eventually did, when confronted by the prophet Nathan. We can break. We can confess. We can say, "I have sinned against the Lord." For it is only when we abandon the cover-up that we can be covered by the grace of God, washed not by our own schemes, but by the blood of the one true King who never failed, Jesus Christ.