The Oak of Judgment and the Folly of a Father Text: 2 Samuel 18:1-18
Introduction: The Collision of Sentiment and Sovereignty
We come now to the tragic and bloody climax of Absalom's rebellion. And in this chapter, we see two great forces collide. On the one hand, we have the misguided, sentimental love of a father, and on the other, we have the inexorable, sovereign justice of God. The events in the forest of Ephraim are not a random skirmish; they are a divine verdict. This is the bitter fruit of David's sin, harvested at last. Years before, Nathan the prophet had told David, "the sword shall never depart from your house" (2 Sam. 12:10). Here, that sword is wielded by his own men against his own son.
We must understand that David's affection for Absalom, though understandable from a human perspective, had become a cancerous thing. It was a father's love detached from a king's duty. David the father wanted to spare his son, but David the king was obligated to execute the rebel who sought to tear the kingdom apart. When a man in authority allows his personal feelings to override his public duty, he invites chaos. This is a lesson our own generation desperately needs to learn. We live in an age drowning in sentimentality, where justice is considered harsh and mercy is redefined as permissiveness. But the Bible teaches that true love and true justice are not enemies; they kiss. God's love is a holy love. God's mercy operates within the framework of His righteousness.
David's command to "deal gently" with a traitorous usurper was not mercy; it was a dereliction of duty. It was a failure to uphold the law of God, which demanded death for a rebel. Because David would not act as king, God acted as King. Because David would not wield the sword of justice, God made the entire forest of Ephraim His sword. This chapter is a stark reminder that God is not mocked. A man, even a king after God's own heart, reaps what he sows. And Absalom, the vain and glorious prince, will find that the very thing in which he took pride, his magnificent hair, will become the instrument of his humiliating downfall.
The Text
Then David numbered the people who were with him and set over them commanders of thousands and commanders of hundreds. And David sent the people out, one-third under the hand of Joab, one-third under the hand of Abishai the son of Zeruiah, Joab’s brother, and one-third under the hand of Ittai the Gittite. And the king said to the people, “I myself will surely go out with you also.” But the people said, “You should not go out; for if we indeed flee, they will not set their heart on us; even if half of us die, they will not set their heart on us. But now you are worth ten thousand of us; so now it is better that you be ready to help us from the city.” Then the king said to them, “Whatever is good in your sight I will do.” So the king stood beside the gate, and all the people went out by hundreds and thousands. Then the king commanded Joab and Abishai and Ittai, saying, “Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom.” And all the people heard when the king commanded all the commanders concerning Absalom.
Then the people went out into the field to meet Israel, and the battle took place in the forest of Ephraim. And the people of Israel were defeated there before the servants of David, and the slaughter there that day was great, 20,000 men. And the battle there was scattered over the whole countryside, and the forest devoured more people that day than the sword devoured.
Then Absalom happened to meet the servants of David. Now Absalom was riding on his mule, and the mule went under the thick branches of a great oak. And his head caught fast in the oak, so he was left hanging between heaven and earth, while the mule that was under him passed onward. Then a certain man saw it, he told Joab and said, “Behold, I saw Absalom hanging in an oak.” Then Joab said to the man who had told him, “Now behold, you saw him! Why then did you not strike him there to the ground? And I would have given you ten pieces of silver and a belt.” So the man said to Joab, “Even if I should receive one thousand pieces of silver in my hand, I would not send forth my hand against the king’s son; for in our hearing the king commanded you and Abishai and Ittai, saying, ‘Keep for me the young man Absalom!’ Otherwise, if I had dealt treacherously against his life (and there is nothing hidden from the king), then you yourself would have stood aloof.” Then Joab said, “I will not wait around here before you.” So he took three spears in his hand and thrust them through the heart of Absalom while he was yet alive in the midst of the oak. And ten young men who carried Joab’s armor gathered around and struck Absalom and put him to death.
Then Joab blew the trumpet, and the people returned from pursuing Israel, for Joab restrained the people. And they took Absalom and cast him into a deep pit in the forest and set over him a very great heap of stones. And all Israel fled, each to his tent. Now Absalom in his lifetime had taken and set up for himself a pillar which is in the King’s Valley, for he had said, “I have no son to preserve my name.” So he named the pillar after his own name, and it is called Absalom’s Monument to this day.
(2 Samuel 18:1-18 LSB)
A King's Misguided Mercy (vv. 1-5)
The chapter opens with David organizing his loyal forces. He is a brilliant military commander, and his tactical sense has not left him. He divides his army into three divisions under his most trusted men: Joab, Abishai, and Ittai the Gittite, a foreigner whose loyalty shames many in Israel.
"And the king said to the people, 'I myself will surely go out with you also.' But the people said, 'You should not go out... now you are worth ten thousand of us...'" (2 Samuel 18:2-3)
David's first instinct is to lead his men into battle, as a king should. But his men wisely restrain him. They recognize that the entire rebellion is aimed at one man: David. If he falls, the cause is lost. Their logic is sound, and David rightly submits to their counsel. He is the anointed king, the center of the kingdom's stability. His life is more valuable than ten thousand of theirs. This is not flattery; it is a right understanding of covenantal headship. But this sound judgment from the people only highlights the foolishness of David's next command.
"Then the king commanded Joab and Abishai and Ittai, saying, 'Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom.' And all the people heard when the king commanded all the commanders concerning Absalom." (2 Samuel 18:5)
Here is the fatal error. This is not a private whisper to his commanders; it is a public order, heard by all the people. David places his personal affection for his son above the good of the entire nation. Absalom is not just a "young man"; he is a traitor, a usurper, and a would-be patricide. He has torn the kingdom in two and led thousands to their deaths. The law of God is clear on this: rebellion against God-ordained authority is a capital offense (Deut. 21:18-21). To "deal gently" with such a man is to despise justice. David is asking his men to risk their lives to put down a rebellion, but then to spare the very source of that rebellion. It is an impossible, contradictory command. It demoralizes the troops and undermines the very justice they are fighting for. This is what happens when sentimentality replaces righteousness at the highest level of leadership.
The Forest Fights for God (vv. 6-8)
The battle is joined, and the outcome is decisive. But the narrator adds a crucial detail about how the victory was won.
"And the battle there was scattered over the whole countryside, and the forest devoured more people that day than the sword devoured." (2 Samuel 18:8)
This is a stunning statement. The terrain itself became God's weapon. Absalom's forces, likely unfamiliar with the dense, treacherous forest of Ephraim, were routed. Men fell into pits, got tangled in the undergrowth, and were cut down. The creation itself rose up to fight against the rebel. This is a profound theological point. When men rebel against the Creator, the creation itself becomes their enemy. The Lord had promised to preserve David's throne, and here He uses the trees and the terrain as instruments of His sovereign will. This was not just a lucky break for David's army; it was the direct intervention of God. God was judging Absalom, and He did not need David's permission to do so.
Vanity Hung from an Oak (vv. 9-15)
The centerpiece of the chapter is the ignominious end of Absalom. His death is dripping with divine irony.
"Now Absalom was riding on his mule, and the mule went under the thick branches of a great oak. And his head caught fast in the oak, so he was left hanging between heaven and earth..." (2 Samuel 18:9)
Absalom was famous for his magnificent head of hair. It was a symbol of his vanity and pride (2 Sam. 14:26). And now, the very thing that was his glory becomes the instrument of his capture. He is caught by his hair, hoisted off his royal mule, and left dangling, helpless, "between heaven and earth." This is the posture of one who is cursed (Deut. 21:23). He who sought to grasp the throne of Israel is now suspended by a tree, unable to touch either the earth he wished to rule or the heaven he had offended. It is a perfect picture of divine judgment.
A soldier sees him but, remembering David's command, refuses to touch him. His reasoning is impeccable: he knows that even if Joab rewarded him, the king would find out, and Joab would abandon him to the king's wrath. This soldier shows more wisdom and loyalty than his king. But Joab is a different kind of man. He is a ruthless pragmatist. He understands what David, in his sentimentality, refuses to see: the rebellion does not end until the rebel is dead.
"Then Joab said, 'I will not wait around here before you.' So he took three spears in his hand and thrust them through the heart of Absalom while he was yet alive..." (2 Samuel 18:14)
Joab's action is a direct defiance of the king's order. And yet, it is the right thing to do. It is an act of justice. Joab is acting as the true servant of the kingdom, even if it means disobeying the compromised king. He understands that his ultimate loyalty is to the throne of Israel and the God who established it, not to the conflicted emotions of the man who currently sits on it. He drives three spears into Absalom's heart, a symbolic and decisive end, and his armor-bearers finish the job. Justice, which David had tried to muzzle, is finally served.
A Pile of Stones for a Pillar of Pride (vv. 16-18)
The end of the story contrasts two monuments. With Absalom dead, Joab sounds the trumpet to end the fighting. The goal was not slaughter, but the end of the rebellion.
"And they took Absalom and cast him into a deep pit in the forest and set over him a very great heap of stones." (2 Samuel 18:17)
This is the burial of a great criminal. It is a burial of shame, reminiscent of the stoning of Achan, who brought trouble on Israel (Joshua 7:26). The great heap of stones is not a memorial of honor, but a monument of infamy, a perpetual warning against rebellion. This is the legacy Absalom earned.
And the narrator immediately contrasts this with the legacy Absalom wanted.
"Now Absalom in his lifetime had taken and set up for himself a pillar which is in the King’s Valley, for he had said, 'I have no son to preserve my name.' So he named the pillar after his own name..." (2 Samuel 18:18)
Here is the heart of the matter. Absalom was driven by a lust for glory. He wanted to make a name for himself. He built a monument to his own ego. But God has a way of humbling the proud. The monument Absalom built for his own glory is mentioned only as a footnote to the monument of shame that God built for him in the forest. Man proposes, but God disposes. Absalom sought to preserve his name, and God did so, but as a byword for rebellion, vanity, and a fool's death. His true monument is not the pillar in the King's Valley, but the pile of rocks in the woods.
Conclusion: The Greater David and the True King
This story is a mess of compromised loyalties, misguided affections, and brutal necessities. David, the father, failed to be a king. Joab, the subject, had to act like one. Absalom, the prince, died like a dog. It is a stark picture of the consequences that flow from sin, even forgiven sin. David's sin with Bathsheba unleashed the chaos that devoured his own son.
But in this sad story, we see our need for a better King. We see our need for a King who is not torn between affection and justice, but who perfectly embodies both. David, in his grief, would later cry out, "O my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you!" (2 Sam. 18:33). But David could not die for his rebellious son. He was a sinner himself.
There is, however, another Son of David who could. Jesus Christ, the true King, saw us in our rebellion, far more wicked than Absalom. We were caught in the thicket of our own sin, hanging between heaven and earth, under the curse of God. And He did not send a Joab to execute justice upon us. He came Himself. He took our place. He hung on a tree, the ultimate curse, in our stead. He, the true King, died for the rebels. David wished he could die for his son; God the Father actually gave His Son for us.
Therefore, the justice of God and the love of God are not at war. They met at the cross. There, God dealt with rebellion not gently, but with the full force of His wrath, poured out upon His own Son. And because of that, He can offer us not a sentimental pardon, but a just and holy mercy. He does not overlook our treason; He pays for it. And He gives us not a pillar of stone to preserve our name, but His own name, and a place in His eternal kingdom.