You Are the Man Text: 2 Samuel 12:1-15
Introduction: The Blindness of Self
There is a particular kind of blindness that afflicts men, and it is most potent when it afflicts a man in power. It is the blindness of self. When a man has fallen into grievous sin, particularly a sin of appetite and a sin of violence, his entire moral universe warps around the gravity of his transgression. He becomes the center of his own cosmos, and the light of God's law is bent and distorted around him, unable to penetrate the darkness he has generated. He can see sin with perfect clarity, so long as it is in another man. He can pronounce judgment with righteous fury, so long as he is the one holding the gavel. But he cannot see himself. He cannot judge himself. The eye, which was made to see, cannot see itself.
This was the condition of David. For the better part of a year, the man after God's own heart had been living a monstrous lie. He had committed adultery with the wife of one of his most loyal soldiers. He had then, in a series of bungled and increasingly wicked cover-ups, arranged for that loyal soldier to be murdered on the front lines. He then took the man's wife, brought her into his house, and went on with the business of being king. He still administered justice. He still made rulings. He still, no doubt, sang psalms. But his heart was a crime scene, and he had cordoned it off with yellow tape, refusing to look at the body.
Sin does not just stain the soul; it stupefies the mind. It makes a man an idiot. David, the poet, the warrior, the king, had become a fool. And God, in His terrible mercy, would not leave him in his foolishness. God loves His children too much to let them remain comfortably numb in their sin. And so He sends a prophet. He sends Nathan, a man with a backbone of steel and a message from Heaven. And the message comes not as a thunderclap, but as a story, a carefully crafted parable designed to bypass David's defenses and slip underneath the door of his barricaded heart.
What we are about to witness is one of the most dramatic confrontations in all of Scripture. It is a collision between divine truth and human depravity, between prophetic courage and royal corruption. And in it, we see the pattern of all true repentance: God must first expose the sin before He can forgive the sin.
The Text
Then Yahweh sent Nathan to David. And he came to him and said, “There were two men in one city, the one rich and the other poor. The rich man had a great many flocks and herds. But the poor man had nothing except one little ewe lamb Which he bought and nourished; And it grew up together with him and his children. It would eat his morsel of bread and drink of his cup and lie in his bosom, And was like a daughter to him. Now a visitor came to the rich man, And he was unwilling to take from his own flock or his own herd, To prepare for the traveler who had come to him; Rather he took the poor man’s ewe lamb and prepared it for the man who had come to him.” Then David’s anger burned greatly against the man, and he said to Nathan, “As Yahweh lives, surely the man who has done this deserves to die. And he must make restitution for the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing and had no compassion.” Nathan then said to David, “You are the man! Thus says Yahweh, the God of Israel, ‘It is I who anointed you king over Israel and it is I who delivered you from the hand of Saul. I also gave you your master’s house and your master’s wives into your care, and I gave you the house of Israel and Judah; and if that had been too little, I would have added to you many more things like these! Why have you despised the word of Yahweh by doing evil in His sight? You have struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword, have taken his wife to be your wife, and have killed him with the sword of the sons of Ammon. So now, the sword shall never depart from your house, because you have despised Me and have taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your wife.’ Thus says Yahweh, ‘Behold, I will raise up evil against you from your own household; I will even take your wives from before your sight and give them to your companion, and he will lie with your wives in the sight of this sun. Indeed you did it secretly, but I will do this thing before all Israel, and before the sun.’ ” Then David said to Nathan, “I have sinned against Yahweh.” And Nathan said to David, “Yahweh also has taken away your sin; you shall not die. However, because by this deed you have given occasion to the enemies of Yahweh to blaspheme, the son also that is born to you shall surely die.” And Nathan went to his house.
(2 Samuel 12:1-15 LSB)
The Parable and the Trap (vv. 1-6)
We begin with God's initiative. David was not seeking God. God sought David.
"Then Yahweh sent Nathan to David. And he came to him and said, 'There were two men in one city, the one rich and the other poor...'" (2 Samuel 12:1)
Notice the courage of Nathan. He is walking into the lion's den. David has already murdered one man to cover his tracks; what's to stop him from murdering another? But Nathan is a man under authority, and the One who sent him is the King of kings. This is the foundation of all prophetic ministry: "Thus says Yahweh." Without that, it is just one man's opinion against another's.
Nathan's approach is brilliant pastoral strategy. He doesn't come in with guns blazing. He tells a story. He presents a legal case for the king to judge, which was one of David's primary duties. The parable is a masterpiece of emotional and moral clarity. You have a rich man with "a great many flocks and herds" and a poor man with "nothing except one little ewe lamb." The description of the poor man's relationship with his lamb is profoundly tender. It "grew up together with him and his children," it ate from his plate, drank from his cup, lay in his bosom, and "was like a daughter to him." This is not just livestock; this is family.
Then the villain enters. A traveler comes to the rich man, who, being "unwilling to take from his own flock," decides to steal the poor man's pet lamb to serve for dinner. The wickedness is multi-layered. It is theft. It is a gross abuse of power. It is a violation of hospitality, as he should have provided for his guest from his own abundance. But most of all, it is an act of breathtaking cruelty. He didn't just take property; he slaughtered a man's beloved daughter-figure. He took the one thing the poor man had.
David's reaction is immediate and volcanic.
"Then David’s anger burned greatly against the man, and he said to Nathan, 'As Yahweh lives, surely the man who has done this deserves to die. And he must make restitution for the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing and had no compassion.'" (2 Samuel 12:5-6)
David's moral compass is not broken. It works perfectly when pointed at someone else. He sees the injustice with crystal clarity. His sentence is actually harsher than the Mosaic law required. The law demanded fourfold restitution for a stolen sheep (Exodus 22:1), which he correctly applies. But he also declares the man "deserves to die." This is what psychologists call projection. The sinner, feeling the weight of his own guilt, often becomes a harsh judge of others for lesser offenses. This is compensatory indignation. David is trying to offload his own sense of corruption onto the villain of Nathan's story. He is judging so harshly because he is, unknowingly, judging himself. The trap has been sprung.
The Accusation and the Indictment (vv. 7-12)
What comes next is one of the most powerful lines in all of literature, sacred or secular.
"Nathan then said to David, 'You are the man!'" (2 Samuel 12:7)
Imagine the silence in the room. The force of those four words must have hit David like a battering ram. The story was a mirror, and Nathan has just forced David to look into it. And in that mirror, David does not see a righteous king, but the cruel, selfish, rich man. He is the one who had everything, an entire kingdom, God's favor, many wives, and yet he stole the one precious lamb, Bathsheba, from his faithful soldier, Uriah.
Nathan does not stop there. He immediately follows the accusation with the divine indictment, beginning with a reminder of God's lavish grace. "Thus says Yahweh, the God of Israel, 'It is I who anointed you king... I who delivered you from the hand of Saul. I also gave you your master’s house and your master’s wives... and if that had been too little, I would have added to you many more things like these!'" (vv. 7-8). God's point is sharp: David's sin was not born of need, but of greed. God had given him everything, and was willing to give him more. His sin was therefore an act of profound contempt for the Giver. It was spitting in the face of grace.
"Why have you despised the word of Yahweh...?" (v. 9). This is the root of the sin. It wasn't just adultery and murder. It was despising God. David had treated God and His law as insignificant. Nathan then lays out the crimes with brutal specificity: "You have struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword, have taken his wife to be your wife, and have killed him with the sword of the sons of Ammon." There is no hiding in generalities. The sin is named in all its ugliness.
And because sin has consequences, the judgment is pronounced. It is a terrifyingly just judgment, fitting the crime with poetic precision. This is the law of the harvest: you reap what you sow. David sowed with the sword, and so "the sword shall never depart from your house" (v. 10). He despised God, and so God will raise up evil against him "from your own household" (v. 11). He took another man's wife secretly, and so God will take his wives and give them to another "before all Israel, and before the sun" (v. 12). The sin done in the dark will be judged in the blazing light of noon. This is a fundamental principle. God's judgments are not arbitrary; they are tailored to the transgression.
The Confession and the Consequences (vv. 13-15)
The moment of truth has arrived. How will the king respond? Will he execute the prophet? Will he deny the charge? Will he rationalize and excuse? All the pride of his office, all the power of his throne, hangs in the balance.
"Then David said to Nathan, 'I have sinned against Yahweh.'" (2 Samuel 12:13)
Here is the mark of a man after God's own heart. Not that he doesn't sin, but that when confronted, he repents. This is the turning point. David's confession is simple, direct, and profound. He offers no excuses. He doesn't blame Bathsheba. He doesn't blame the pressures of kingship. He doesn't say, "I made a mistake." He says, "I have sinned." And he identifies the one against whom he has ultimately sinned: "against Yahweh." As he would later write in Psalm 51, "Against You, You only, have I sinned, and done what is evil in Your sight."
And the word of grace comes just as swiftly as the word of judgment.
"And Nathan said to David, 'Yahweh also has taken away your sin; you shall not die.'" (2 Samuel 12:13)
This is the gospel in the Old Testament. The penalty for adultery and murder under the law was death. David had just declared it himself. By all rights, he should be executed. But God, in His sovereign grace, "has taken away" or "put away" the sin. God pardons the king. This is justification. The guilt is removed. The ultimate penalty is canceled. But we must understand that forgiveness does not mean the erasure of all consequences.
Nathan continues: "However, because by this deed you have given occasion to the enemies of Yahweh to blaspheme, the son also that is born to you shall surely die" (v. 14). This is a crucial distinction that our sentimental age fails to grasp. Forgiveness and consequences are not mutually exclusive. When a Christian man commits a heinous public sin, he brings reproach upon the name of God. The world looks on and says, "See! That is what your God is like. That is what His people are like." This is blasphemy, and God takes it very seriously. The death of the child is a terrible, heartbreaking judgment. It is a direct consequence of David's sin, and it is also a public demonstration that God does not wink at the sins of His people. He will forgive them, but He will also chastise them, and He will vindicate His own holy name before a watching world.
Conclusion: The Greater David
This entire sordid, tragic, and ultimately hopeful account points us to a greater story. David, the rich and powerful king, abused his power and took what was not his. He deserved to die for his sin. But God, in His grace, provided a way for his sin to be "put away." David was forgiven, but another had to bear a consequence. In this case, it was his infant son.
This is a shadow, a type, of a far greater reality. We are all like David. We have been given abundant blessings by God, and yet we have despised His word. We have taken what is not ours. We have sinned against Him, and we deserve to die. Our anger at the rich man in the parable is our own self-condemnation.
But God, who is rich in mercy, has sent not a prophet, but His own Son. And Jesus Christ came to us and said, in effect, "You are the man. You are the sinner." But then He did something Nathan could never do. He said, "And I will be the man for you."
On the cross, God did to Jesus what He threatened to do to David's household. The sword fell upon Him. He was stripped naked "before the sun." He bore the public shame and the divine curse for sins He did not commit. God took all of our sin, our adultery, our murder, our lies, and He "put it away" by placing it on Christ. The Father's beloved Son, the true and innocent Lamb, was taken and slain so that we, the guilty, might be forgiven and live.
David's story shows us that no one is beyond the reach of sin, not even a man after God's own heart. But it also shows us that no one who truly repents is beyond the reach of grace. The message of Nathan is the message of the gospel. First, the sharp, painful conviction of the law: "You are the man!" And then, for all who confess, the sweet, liberating word of grace: "Yahweh also has taken away your sin; you shall not die."