A Field on Fire: The Folly of Incomplete Reconciliation
Introduction: The Sentimental Heresy
We live in an age that has made an idol of sentiment. Our culture prizes feelings above facts, intentions above outcomes, and a cheap, syrupy notion of forgiveness above the hard, costly work of true reconciliation. We want the warm feeling of having forgiven without the messy business of repentance, restitution, and restored righteousness. This is the sentimental heresy, and it is a poison that has seeped from the culture into the church, and from the church into our families. And nowhere in Scripture do we see the disastrous fruit of this heresy more clearly than in David's catastrophic handling of his son, Absalom.
David is a man after God's own heart, but in this chapter, his heart is muddled. It is a mixture of genuine fatherly affection, unresolved guilt over his own sins, and a crippling passivity that allows him to be manipulated by his shrewd but godless general, Joab. David wants his son back, but he does not want to deal with the sin. He wants the form of restoration without the substance of it. He wants to bring Absalom back to Jerusalem, but not into his presence. This is an attempt to split the difference, to find a political solution to a deeply moral and spiritual problem. And as we will see, this kind of compromise is like trying to put out half a fire. It is a fool's errand, and it will burn your house down.
The story of Absalom's return is a master class in how not to handle familial sin. It is a story of a father who mistakes indulgence for grace, and a son who mistakes his own beauty and charisma for righteousness. It is a warning to every father, every pastor, and every magistrate. Forgiveness that papers over sin without dealing with it is not forgiveness at all. It is enablement. It is planting the seeds of a far greater rebellion, watered by a father's tears and a son's resentment. What we are about to read is the story of a field being set on fire, and the man holding the match is the one who should have been guarding the granary.
The Text
Then the king said to Joab, “Behold now, I have done this thing; go therefore, bring back the young man Absalom.” And Joab fell on his face to the ground, prostrated himself and blessed the king; then Joab said, “Today your servant knows that I have found favor in your sight, O my lord, the king, in that the king has performed the word of his servant.” So Joab arose and went to Geshur and brought Absalom to Jerusalem. However the king said, “Let him turn to his own house, and let him not see my face.” So Absalom turned to his own house and did not see the king’s face. Now in all Israel was no one as handsome as Absalom, so highly praised; from the sole of his foot to the top of his head there was no defect in him. When he shaved the hair of his head (and it was at the end of every year that he shaved it, for it was heavy on him so he shaved it), he weighed the hair of his head at 200 shekels by the king’s weight. And to Absalom there were born three sons, and one daughter whose name was Tamar; she was a woman of beautiful appearance. Now Absalom lived two full years in Jerusalem, and did not see the king’s face. Then Absalom sent for Joab, to send him to the king, but he was not willing to come to him. So he sent again a second time, but he was not willing to come. Therefore he said to his servants, “See, Joab’s portion of land is next to mine, and he has barley there; go and set it on fire.” So Absalom’s servants set the portion of land on fire. Then Joab arose, came to Absalom at his house and said to him, “Why have your servants set my portion of land on fire?” And Absalom answered Joab, “Behold, I sent for you, saying, ‘Come here, that I may send you to the king, to say, “Why have I come from Geshur? It would be better for me still to be there.” ’ So now, let me see the king’s face, and if there is iniquity in me, let him put me to death.” So Joab came to the king and told him, and he called for Absalom. Thus he came to the king and prostrated himself on his face to the ground before the king, and the king kissed Absalom.
(2 Samuel 14:21-33 LSB)
A Compromised Command (vv. 21-24)
We begin with David caving to Joab's manipulation.
"Then the king said to Joab, 'Behold now, I have done this thing; go therefore, bring back the young man Absalom.'... However the king said, 'Let him turn to his own house, and let him not see my face.'" (2 Samuel 14:21, 24)
David has just been worked over by the wise woman of Tekoa, who was herself a puppet of Joab. David sees through the charade and knows Joab is behind it, but instead of asserting his kingly authority and dealing with the matter righteously, he acquiesces. "I have done this thing," he says, as though he is granting a favor. But he is not leading; he is being led. He is a passive king, a reactive father. His heart longs for his son, which is a good and natural affection. But his duty as king, as the minister of justice for God, requires him to deal with the fact that his son is a murderer who has fled from justice.
So David strikes a compromise. He splits the difference between justice and mercy, and in doing so, achieves neither. "Bring him back to Jerusalem," he says, which is a form of mercy. "But let him not see my face," which is a form of judgment. This is an impossible situation. It is a political solution for a familial and covenantal problem. By bringing Absalom back to the capital city but refusing to see him, David is communicating two contradictory messages. He is saying, "You are pardoned enough to be here," but also, "You are guilty enough to be shunned."
This is not discipline. It is a slow-burning torment. It allows the poison of bitterness to fester in Absalom's heart. To be in Jerusalem, the heart of the kingdom, and yet be banished from the presence of the king, his own father, is a constant, public humiliation. David thinks he is being prudent, but he is actually being cruel. He has brought the fox back into the henhouse but has refused to look at him, hoping he will start laying eggs. This kind of halfway reconciliation is always a disaster. It communicates that the sin was not serious enough for real punishment, but the sinner is not loved enough for real restoration.
The Poison of Pride (vv. 25-27)
While Absalom is in this state of suspended animation, the text pauses to describe his external appearance. This is not incidental information.
"Now in all Israel was no one as handsome as Absalom, so highly praised; from the sole of his foot to the top of his head there was no defect in him." (2 Samuel 14:25 LSB)
The Bible is telling us what Absalom was trusting in. While he was stewing in resentment toward his father, he was cultivating his own glory. He was a celebrity. People praised his looks. He was physically perfect. This is a dangerous combination: a bitter heart wrapped in a beautiful package. His external glory was a mask for his internal corruption. And Israel, like all foolish people, was taken in by the packaging. They saw the hair, not the heart.
And what hair it was. He had to cut it once a year, and it weighed 200 shekels, which is somewhere around five pounds. This was his crown before he had a crown. It was a symbol of his vitality, his glory, his pride. But notice the foreshadowing. The very thing that is his glory will become the instrument of his destruction. He will later be caught by this same hair in the branches of an oak tree, where Joab will find him and kill him. The point is clear: the thing you are most proud of, the thing you trust in apart from God, will become the very thing that hangs you.
We are also told he had three sons and a beautiful daughter named Tamar. He names his daughter after his violated sister, which seems noble on the surface. But it is more likely a constant, public reminder of his grievance against his father. "See my beautiful daughter? I named her for the sister my father the king failed to avenge." It is a monument to his bitterness. Everything about Absalom is calculated for public appearance. He is building his brand. He is cultivating a following based on his good looks and his carefully managed victim status.
Arson as Foreign Policy (vv. 28-32)
Two years of this cold war pass. Two years of Absalom living in Jerusalem, seeing the palace from his window, but never seeing his father's face. His patience finally runs out.
"Therefore he said to his servants, 'See, Joab’s portion of land is next to mine, and he has barley there; go and set it on fire.'" (2 Samuel 14:30 LSB)
This is Absalom in a nutshell. He is a man of breathtaking arrogance and entitlement. He wants a meeting with Joab, the most powerful general in the country. Joab ignores him twice. A normal person might send a third, more urgent message. Absalom burns down his barley field. This is not just mischief; it is a statement of radical self-importance. It says, "My desires are more important than your property. My agenda is the only one that matters. I will get what I want, and I will burn down anything or anyone who stands in my way."
And it works. Joab comes running. Absalom's message to the king, via Joab, is just as arrogant. "Why have I come from Geshur? It would be better for me still to be there." This is not the language of a repentant son. This is a demand. He is not asking for forgiveness; he is demanding an audience. He then says, "So now, let me see the king’s face, and if there is iniquity in me, let him put me to death." This sounds pious, like a willingness to face justice. But it is a bluff. It is a piece of high political theater. He knows his father is a sentimentalist. He knows David doesn't have the backbone to execute him. He is leveraging his father's weakness against him. He is saying, "Either fully restore me or kill me." He is forcing his father's hand, knowing which way it will go.
A Kiss of Betrayal (v. 33)
The story concludes with the tragic climax of this false reconciliation.
"Thus he came to the king and prostrated himself on his face to the ground before the king, and the king kissed Absalom." (2 Samuel 14:33 LSB)
Joab, the pragmatist, delivers the message. And David, the sentimentalist, folds completely. He calls for Absalom. Absalom comes and performs the outward ritual of submission. He prostrates himself. He plays the part of the penitent son. But we have seen his heart. We know what he did to Joab's field. We know the arrogance of his message. This prostration is pure hypocrisy. It is a lie, performed on the floor of the throne room.
And David falls for it. He doesn't question him. He doesn't demand a confession. He doesn't require any evidence of a changed heart. He sees the outward gesture, his fatherly heart melts, and he leans down and kisses his son. This is supposed to be the happy ending. The music swells. Father and son are reunited. But it is a lie. This is not a kiss of true reconciliation; it is a kiss of appeasement. It is a kiss that validates the son's rebellion and papers over his sin. It is, in effect, a kiss of betrayal. It betrays justice, it betrays the throne, and it betrays the future of Israel.
This kiss is the final act that seals David's doom. By giving Absalom this unconditional, unrepentant restoration, David has just empowered his greatest enemy. He has given him access, legitimacy, and the appearance of royal favor. And what is the very next thing we read in the next chapter? "Now it came about after this that Absalom provided for himself a chariot and horses and fifty men as runners before him" (2 Samuel 15:1). The rebellion begins immediately. The kiss was the starting gun.
Conclusion: The Cost of a Real Kiss
This entire chapter is a portrait of failed fatherhood and cheap grace. David wanted reconciliation without repentance. Absalom wanted restoration without submission. And the result was a field on fire and a kingdom in flames.
We must see the warning here. In our homes, we cannot offer our children forgiveness without requiring repentance. To do so is not kindness; it is to teach them that sin has no consequences. It is to train them up to be Absaloms. We must love our children enough to discipline them, to hold them to God's standard, and to lead them to the cross, not just give them a pass.
But more than this, we must see how this story points us to a better Father and a better Son. God the Father does not offer us a cheap reconciliation. He does not bring us back to Jerusalem and then refuse to see us. But His embrace is costly. For God to kiss us, for Him to welcome us into His presence, justice had to be satisfied. There could be no compromise. The sin had to be dealt with.
And so God sent His true Son, His only Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, who was not beautiful in the way Absalom was. He had no form or majesty that we should desire Him. But unlike Absalom, His heart was pure. And He came not to steal a throne, but to descend from one. He came to pay the price for our rebellion.
On the cross, Jesus took the full weight of our iniquity. He was banished from the Father's face so that we could be welcomed in. He cried out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" He endured the ultimate excommunication, the ultimate "let him not see my face," so that we might hear the words, "Well done, good and faithful servant."
The reconciliation we have with God is not based on a sentimental kiss that ignores sin. It is based on the bloody cross that confronts sin and conquers it. It is a costly grace, a holy love. And when God kisses us, when He adopts us as sons, it is a true kiss. It is a kiss of justification, a kiss of regeneration, a kiss that does not just cover the rebellion but crucifies it and raises us to new life. David's kiss empowered a rebel. God's kiss creates a son.