The King's Disordered Love Text: 2 Samuel 19:1-7
Introduction: Grief, Duty, and the Public Square
We come now to a passage that is deeply uncomfortable. It is a collision of two worlds that our modern sensibilities desperately try to keep separate: the world of raw, personal grief, and the world of cold, hard public duty. David, the man after God's own heart, has just received news that his rebellious, treasonous, and murderous son, Absalom, is dead. And he is utterly undone by it. His victory has turned to ashes in his mouth. But in being undone, he is threatening to undo the entire kingdom that has just risked everything to restore him.
We live in an age that worships at the altar of personal feeling. Authenticity, as defined by our culture, means that your internal emotional state must be given full and free expression, regardless of the consequences. To suppress your feelings for the sake of some external obligation is considered hypocrisy, a denial of your true self. But the Bible operates in a different universe. The Bible teaches that our feelings, like every other part of us, are fallen. They are not reliable guides. They can be disordered, disproportionate, and downright destructive. A king's grief is not just a personal matter when the stability of a nation hangs in the balance.
This is where Joab steps in. Joab is a complicated figure. He is a hard man, a ruthless man, and as we know, not always a godly man. But he is a clear-eyed realist. He understands power, loyalty, and the brutal calculus of leadership. And he sees that David, in the throes of his paternal sorrow, is about to commit a catastrophic political blunder. David's grief, however sincere, has become a public sin. He is honoring a traitor and shaming the loyal. He is loving his enemies and hating his friends. And Joab, with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, confronts the king with this treasonous sentimentality.
This passage forces us to ask hard questions. What is the proper relationship between a leader's private heart and his public role? When does personal sorrow become a dereliction of duty? And what does it look like to love rightly, to have our affections ordered by the law of God and not by the chaos of our fallen hearts?
The Text
Then it was told to Joab, "Behold, the king is weeping and mourns for Absalom." And the salvation that day was turned to mourning for all the people, for the people heard it said that day, "The king is grieved for his son." So the people stole away to enter into the city that day, as people who are dishonored steal away when they flee in battle. But as for the king, he wrapped his face up. Then the king cried out with a loud voice, "O my son Absalom, O Absalom, my son, my son!" Then Joab came into the house to the king and said, "Today you have shamed the faces of all your servants, who today have provided escape for your life and the lives of your sons and daughters, the lives of your wives, and the lives of your concubines, by loving those who hate you, and by hating those who love you. For you have informed all of us today that princes and servants are nothing to you; for I know this day that if Absalom were alive and all of us were dead today, surely then it would be right in your eyes. So now, arise, go out and speak to the heart of your servants, for I swear by Yahweh, if you do not go out, surely not a man will pass the night with you, and this will be of greater evil for you than all the evil that has come upon you from your youth until now."
(2 Samuel 19:1-7 LSB)
Victory Turned to Mourning (vv. 1-4)
We begin with the scene of a victory parade that has become a funeral procession.
"Then it was told to Joab, 'Behold, the king is weeping and mourns for Absalom.' And the salvation that day was turned to mourning for all the people, for the people heard it said that day, 'The king is grieved for his son.'" (2 Samuel 19:1-2)
The word for "salvation" here is the word from which we get Joshua, or Jesus. It means deliverance. The men who fought for David had just secured a great deliverance for the entire nation. They had risked their lives to put down a wicked rebellion and restore the Lord's anointed to his throne. This should have been a day of feasting, of triumph, of public celebration. But the king's grief acts like a poison, seeping down from the top and contaminating the whole affair. The joy of the victory is entirely eclipsed by the sorrow of the king.
David's grief is understandable on one level. This was his son, the handsome, charming prince. And no doubt David's conscience was screaming at him. He knew that his own sin with Bathsheba had set this whole tragic train in motion. The sword that was never to depart from his house had just cut down his own child. So this is a grief mingled with guilt, a father's love tangled with a king's failure. But while the grief is understandable, its public display is inexcusable.
"So the people stole away to enter into the city that day, as people who are dishonored steal away when they flee in battle. But as for the king, he wrapped his face up. Then the king cried out with a loud voice, 'O my son Absalom, O Absalom, my son, my son!'" (2 Samuel 19:3-4)
The imagery here is potent. The victorious soldiers, the heroes of the day, are so shamed by the king's reaction that they sneak back into the city like defeated cowards. They won the battle, but their king's response made them feel like they had done something wrong. They had saved the king's life, but in the process, they had broken the king's heart. David, for his part, is completely walled off in his sorrow. He covers his face, shutting out the sight of his loyal men, and cries aloud, shutting out the sound of their victory. He is blind and deaf to his duty, consumed by his personal pain.
This is a picture of disordered affection. David is mourning for the man who tried to kill him, usurp the throne of God, and who publicly defiled his concubines. Absalom was God's enemy and the kingdom's enemy. To mourn him in this way was to place his personal, paternal feelings above his covenantal duty as king. He was acting like a father, when he needed to be acting like a king. And in so doing, he was failing at both.
The Brutal Realist (vv. 5-6)
Into this bubble of self-pitying grief marches Joab, and he does not knock politely.
"Then Joab came into the house to the king and said, 'Today you have shamed the faces of all your servants, who today have provided escape for your life and the lives of your sons and daughters, the lives of your wives, and the lives of your concubines...'" (2 Samuel 19:5)
Joab immediately turns the tables. He tells David, "You think you are the one who is grieved? No, you are the one who is grieving others. You have shamed your men." Joab forces David to see the consequences of his actions. This wasn't just about Absalom. The lives of David's entire family and all his loyal followers were on the line. These men had just saved them all from a tyrant. And David's response was to treat them like villains.
Joab's language is blunt, but it is true. He lays out the charge with devastating clarity:
"...by loving those who hate you, and by hating those who love you. For you have informed all of us today that princes and servants are nothing to you; for I know this day that if Absalom were alive and all of us were dead today, surely then it would be right in your eyes." (2 Samuel 19:6)
This is the heart of the matter. To love the wicked is to hate the righteous. You cannot do both. David's sentimental attachment to his rebel son was, in effect, a declaration of hatred against the men who had faithfully served him. Joab is not just being rhetorical. He is laying out the logical implication of David's behavior. If you are this sad that the traitor is dead, it must mean you would be happy if all of us who killed him were dead instead. It's a brutal piece of logic, but it is unassailable. David's priorities were inverted. He was putting the life of one rebel above the lives of his entire kingdom. This is not godly sorrow; this is the sorrow of the world that works death. It is a sentimentalism that has become toxic.
The Ultimatum (v. 7)
Having delivered the diagnosis, Joab now prescribes the harsh medicine and delivers an ultimatum.
"So now, arise, go out and speak to the heart of your servants, for I swear by Yahweh, if you do not go out, surely not a man will pass the night with you, and this will be of greater evil for you than all the evil that has come upon you from your youth until now." (2 Samuel 19:7)
The command is simple: "Arise, go out and speak." Get up, get over yourself, and go do your duty. Go affirm your men. "Speak to the heart of your servants" means to speak encouragingly, to reassure them, to thank them. It is a call to perform the basic duty of a king and a commander. And Joab backs it up with a threat that is both staggering and entirely credible. He swears by the name of Yahweh that if David does not do this, the army will desert him overnight. The victory will evaporate. The kingdom will be lost again, and this time for good.
Joab's final line is a masterstroke of psychological force: "this will be of greater evil for you than all the evil that has come upon you from your youth until now." Think of all David had been through. He had faced Goliath, been hunted by Saul, lived as an outlaw, and just been driven from his throne by his own son. Joab is telling him that losing the loyalty of these men, right now, through his own foolish sentimentality, would be worse than all of it combined. And he was right. To be abandoned by God is one thing. To throw away God's deliverance for the sake of a disordered affection is a far greater tragedy.
A Better King, A Better Father
This is a hard passage. David, the man after God's own heart, is muddled, sentimental, and failing in his duty. Joab, the ruthless killer, is the voice of reason and loyalty. It shows us that even the best of men are still men, prone to letting their fallen hearts lead them astray. David's love for his son, in this instance, was a disordered love. It was a love that contradicted his love for God, for justice, and for his faithful people.
And in this, David serves as what we might call a reverse type of Christ. Joab's rebuke highlights the contrast. Joab accused David of being willing to sacrifice all his loyal followers for the sake of one rebellious son. But what did God the Father do? "He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" (Romans 8:32). God the Father sacrificed His loyal, obedient Son for the sake of a world full of rebellious sons. David's love was inverted; God's love is the foundation of reality.
David grieved because his rebel son was dead. God the Father did not cover His face and wail over our salvation. It was His plan from the beginning. He sent His Son for this very purpose. The death of Jesus was not a tragic accident that thwarted the Father's will; it was the very instrument of His will to save His people. Where David's grief shamed his loyal men, the Father's sacrifice is the eternal honor of all who believe. He did not love His enemy, Satan, and hate His friends, us. He crushed the head of the serpent and rescued us, His people, from bondage.
This is the gospel. We serve a King whose affections are perfectly ordered. He loves righteousness and hates wickedness. His heart is never muddled. His duty and His desire are one. And because He was willing to do what David could not, because He was willing to see His own Son crushed for the sake of justice, we who were rebels and traitors can be brought into His city, not stealing away in shame, but marching in as honored sons and daughters of the victorious King.