The King in Exile: Loyalty in the Ruins
Introduction: The Long Shadow of Sin
There is a modern, sentimental notion that when God forgives sin, He simply wipes the slate clean and everything returns to the way it was, as though the offense never happened. This is a profound misunderstanding of both sin and forgiveness. When God forgives, He removes the eternal penalty, He cancels the judicial debt, and He restores fellowship. But sin is not just a line item in a heavenly ledger; it is a destructive force unleashed in the real world. It is a rock thrown into a pond, and the ripples will continue to spread long after the rock has sunk. Forgiveness does not erase the consequences.
Nowhere is this principle more starkly illustrated than in the life of David. Years have passed since his terrible sin with Bathsheba and his murder of Uriah. Nathan the prophet has confronted him, David has repented with a broken and contrite heart, and God has put away his sin. He will not die. But the Lord also said, through Nathan, "the sword shall never depart from your house." God promised that He would raise up evil against David from within his own household. And here, in 2 Samuel 15, we see the fulfillment of that terrible promise. The chickens, as they say, have come home to roost. And they are vultures.
Absalom, David's handsome, charismatic, and treacherous son, has spent four years patiently stealing the hearts of the men of Israel. He has positioned himself as the compassionate alternative to a distant and perhaps neglectful king. And now the trap is sprung. The conspiracy is strong, and the word comes to David that the nation has turned. This passage is not merely about a political coup. It is about the hard providence of God. It is about the bitter fruit of a forgiven sin. And in the midst of this chaos, this utter ruin of a king's reign, we see a stunning portrait of what true loyalty looks like, often from the most unexpected quarters.
The Text
Then an informant came to David, saying, “The hearts of the men of Israel have followed Absalom.” So David said to all his servants who were with him at Jerusalem, “Arise and let us flee, for otherwise there will be no escape for us from Absalom. Go in haste, lest he overtake us hastily and drive calamity on us and strike the city with the edge of the sword.” Then the king’s servants said to the king, “Behold, your servants are ready to do whatever my lord the king chooses.” So the king went out and all his household with him. But the king left ten concubines to keep the house. And the king went out and all the people with him, and they stopped at the last house. Now all his servants passed on beside him, all the Cherethites, all the Pelethites and all the Gittites, six hundred men who had come with him from Gath, passed on before the king.
(2 Samuel 15:13-18 LSB)
The Hard Calculus of Flight (vv. 13-14)
We begin with the terrible news and David's immediate, decisive response.
"Then an informant came to David, saying, 'The hearts of the men of Israel have followed Absalom.' So David said to all his servants who were with him at Jerusalem, 'Arise and let us flee, for otherwise there will be no escape for us from Absalom. Go in haste, lest he overtake us hastily and drive calamity on us and strike the city with the edge of the sword.'" (2 Samuel 15:13-14)
The message is blunt: "The hearts of the men of Israel have followed Absalom." This is not a small faction or a minor insurrection. The tide has turned completely. The popular support that had been David's strength has evaporated and transferred to his son. How did this happen? Absalom was a master of political theater. He offered the people what they wanted: access, flattery, and the promise of swift justice. But at a deeper level, this is the sovereign hand of God. God is the one who turns the hearts of men, and here He is turning them against His anointed as a direct consequence of David's sin.
David's reaction is not panic, but a swift, realistic assessment of the situation. "Arise and let us flee." This is not the voice of a coward. This is the voice of a seasoned general and a shepherd king. He knows he is outnumbered and outmaneuvered. To stay and fight would mean a bloody civil war within the walls of Jerusalem. The city he loves, the city of God, would become a slaughterhouse. His decision to flee is an act of profound pastoral care. He would rather lose his throne than destroy his capital. He would rather suffer personal humiliation than see his people massacred. This is a king who, even in his moment of greatest crisis, thinks of the welfare of the city. He is accepting the punishment of his iniquity.
Notice his reasoning: "lest he overtake us... and drive calamity on us and strike the city with the edge of the sword." David knows the kind of man Absalom is. He knows his son's ambition is utterly ruthless. Absalom would not hesitate to put Jerusalem to the sword to secure his throne. David's flight is a calculated move to draw the conflict out of the city and spare innocent lives. This is a glimpse of the old David, the shepherd who protects the flock. And it is also a type of the great Son of David, who, in the garden, would say, "If you seek Me, let these go their way," protecting His disciples by offering Himself.
The Loyalty of the Remnant (vv. 15-17)
In the face of national apostasy, a small remnant remains faithful. Their response is immediate and unconditional.
"Then the king’s servants said to the king, 'Behold, your servants are ready to do whatever my lord the king chooses.' So the king went out and all his household with him. But the king left ten concubines to keep the house. And the king went out and all the people with him, and they stopped at the last house." (2 Samuel 15:15-17 LSB)
The loyalty of David's servants is absolute. "Behold, your servants are ready to do whatever my lord the king chooses." There is no debate, no negotiation, no second-guessing. They do not check the political polls. Their loyalty is not to the office, but to the man. They are bound by covenant, by personal allegiance to God's anointed. This is the kind of loyalty that is almost entirely foreign to our modern, democratic, individualistic sensibilities. We are loyal as long as it is convenient, as long as the leader is popular, as long as it serves our interests. These men show us a different standard: a rugged, self-sacrificial loyalty that holds fast when everything is falling apart.
David's departure is a sorrowful procession. He takes his entire household, a clear sign that he does not expect to return soon. But he leaves ten concubines behind. This is a fateful and tragic decision. His intent was likely practical: someone must maintain the royal residence. But in the ancient world, a king's harem was a potent symbol of his authority and succession. By leaving them, David unwittingly provides Absalom with the means to demonstrate his utter contempt for his father and his claim to the throne, which Ahithophel will later advise him to exploit in the most public and shameful way (2 Sam. 16:21-22). This is another ripple from David's original sexual sin, coming back to haunt him in a horrifically public fashion.
They stop at "the last house," likely a landmark on the edge of the city before the descent into the Kidron Valley. Here, the king pauses to watch his followers pass by, to take stock of who is with him and who is not. It is a muster of the faithful, a counting of the small flock that has not abandoned the shepherd.
The Faithfulness of Foreigners (v. 18)
And now we come to the most remarkable part of this scene. The honor guard, the most loyal of the loyal, is composed of foreigners.
"Now all his servants passed on beside him, all the Cherethites, all the Pelethites and all the Gittites, six hundred men who had come with him from Gath, passed on before the king." (2 Samuel 15:18 LSB)
The Cherethites and Pelethites were David's elite royal bodyguard, mercenaries likely of Philistine origin. But the most striking group is the Gittites. These are six hundred men from Gath, the very city of Goliath, the hometown of Israel's arch-enemies. These are Philistines. They had attached themselves to David during his own time as an exile in their land, and they have followed him ever since. Their leader, as we will see in the following verses, is Ittai the Gittite.
Consider the profound irony here. "The hearts of the men of Israel" have gone after Absalom. God's covenant people, who had received the law, the promises, and the king from God, have betrayed their king. And who remains? A band of foreign mercenaries. Gentiles. Philistines from Gath. They are the ones displaying true covenant faithfulness. They are the ones who understand loyalty. While Israel is chasing a charismatic rebel, these outsiders are clinging to the true king, even in his exile and humiliation.
This is a powerful, recurring theme in Scripture. It is a foreshadowing of the gospel. When the Son of David came, He was rejected by His own people. The religious leaders, the keepers of the covenant, conspired to kill Him. And who recognized Him? A Roman centurion at the cross. A Syrophoenician woman. Outsiders. The gospel would go to the Gentiles, who would be grafted into the olive tree from which the natural branches were broken off because of unbelief (Romans 11). God has always delighted in shaming the proud and the privileged by raising up faith from the most unlikely places. Here, in David's darkest hour, his most steadfast protectors are not his countrymen, but the men from Goliath's hometown.
Conclusion: The Rejected King and His Loyal Remnant
This scene is a poignant picture of earthly loyalty and betrayal, but it points to a far greater reality. David's flight from Jerusalem is a dress rehearsal for the passion of his greater Son. Like David, Jesus was betrayed by one from his own house, Judas. Like David, He was rejected by the nation of Israel. Like David, He left the city and crossed the Kidron Valley to the Mount of Olives (John 18:1), where His agony would begin. David went up the mount weeping; Jesus would sweat drops of blood.
And just as David had a loyal remnant, so does Christ. His kingdom is not of this world, and His followers are often a strange and motley crew. They are the Cherethites, Pelethites, and Gittites of the world. They are the tax collectors and prostitutes, the Gentiles and the outcasts. They are those who pledge their allegiance not to a popular movement or a charismatic leader, but to the rejected King. Their loyalty is not contingent on His political success or earthly power. They follow Him in His exile, because they know that His rejection is the path to His glorification. They know that this flight from Jerusalem is not the end of the story.
This passage forces us to ask where our loyalties lie. It is easy to follow a king when he is popular, victorious, and sitting on the throne. It is easy to be a Christian when the culture finds it respectable. But what happens when the tide turns? What happens when following the true King means exile, loss, and humiliation? When the hearts of the men of Israel turn away, will you be found among them? Or will you be found in that small, sorrowful procession, marching out of the city with the rejected King, your loyalty fixed not on the shifting sands of public opinion, but on the solid rock of God's anointed? That is the only loyalty that will endure. That is the only loyalty that leads to a crown.