A Tale of Two Seeds: The House of Saul Text: 1 Chronicles 9:35-44
Introduction: The Bible's Bony Places
We come now to a portion of Scripture that causes many modern readers to quietly shut their Bibles and go look for something more... inspiring. We are in the genealogies. For many, this is like trying to eat the bones of the fish instead of the meat. It seems dry, repetitive, and frankly, irrelevant. We want the soaring psalms, the sharp proverbs, the grand narrative of redemption. And yet, the Holy Spirit, in His infinite wisdom, saw fit to include these long lists of names. As I've said before, some of the genealogies are Grape Nuts. But we are commanded to live by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God. That means tota et sola Scriptura. All of Scripture, and only Scripture. These bony places are here for a reason. They are the skeletal structure upon which the whole body of revelation hangs.
A list of names is not just a list of names. It is a record of God's covenant dealings in history. It is a story of families, of sin, of grace, of promises kept and promises broken. These genealogies are the historical bedrock that keeps our faith from floating away into the realm of myth and abstract principle. Christianity is a historical religion. It is about a real God interacting with real people, in real time and space. These names anchor the story. They remind us that God's plan of redemption was not an afterthought; it was woven into the fabric of history from the beginning, through generations of real, flesh-and-blood people.
This particular genealogy, at the end of 1 Chronicles 9, is strategically placed. The Chronicler has been tracing the lines of Israel, establishing who is who after the exile. And just before he launches into the tragic story of Saul's demise in chapter 10, he gives us Saul's family tree. This is not accidental. It's a theological setup. He is showing us the house that will fall, the royal line that God rejected, in order to set the stage for the house that God will build, the line of David. This is the tale of two seeds, the story of a failed kingship that points us to the necessity of a true and better King.
The Text
Now in Gibeon, Jeiel the father of Gibeon lived, and his wife’s name was Maacah, and his firstborn son was Abdon, then Zur, Kish, Baal, Ner, Nadab, Gedor, Ahio, Zechariah, and Mikloth. Mikloth became the father of Shimeam. And they also lived with their relatives in Jerusalem opposite their other relatives. Ner became the father of Kish, and Kish became the father of Saul, and Saul became the father of Jonathan, Malchi-shua, Abinadab, and Eshbaal. The son of Jonathan was Merib-baal, and Merib-baal became the father of Micah. The sons of Micah were Pithon, Melech, Tahrea, and Ahaz. Ahaz became the father of Jarah, and Jarah became the father of Alemeth, Azmaveth, and Zimri; and Zimri became the father of Moza. Moza became the father of Binea and Rephaiah his son, Eleasah his son, Azel his son. Azel had six sons, and these were their names: Azrikam, Bocheru, Ishmael, Sheariah, Obadiah, and Hanan. These were the sons of Azel.
(1 Chronicles 9:35-44 LSB)
The Roots of a Rejected King (vv. 35-39)
The genealogy begins by grounding Saul's family in a specific place and lineage.
"Now in Gibeon, Jeiel the father of Gibeon lived... Ner became the father of Kish, and Kish became the father of Saul..." (1 Chronicles 9:35, 39)
We are told this is the line of Benjamin, Saul's tribe. This is significant. Benjamin was the smallest of the tribes, nearly wiped out in a brutal civil war because of their shocking depravity (Judges 19-21). Yet God, in His grace, preserved them. And from this unlikely, scarred tribe, He raises up Israel's first king. This is a pattern we see throughout Scripture: God delights in using the weak, the small, and the unlikely to accomplish His purposes. He did not choose the mighty tribe of Judah at first, but the runt of the litter, Benjamin.
The text also mentions that they lived in Gibeon and later in Jerusalem "opposite their other relatives." This is more than just a geographical note. It shows the historical reality of tribal allotments and family settlements. These are real people in a real place. But it also points to the central importance of Jerusalem, the city that would soon become the focal point of God's covenant purposes under a different king.
Notice the name "Baal" appears in verse 36 as one of Saul's ancestors. And Saul's own son is named "Eshbaal" (v. 39), which means "man of Baal." This is a troubling sign. While "Baal" can simply mean "lord" or "master," it was also the name of the prominent Canaanite storm god, the chief rival to Yahweh. For this name to appear in the royal line, even if used in a generic sense, shows a certain spiritual carelessness, a flirtation with the surrounding pagan culture. It is a crack in the foundation. It hints at the divided heart that would ultimately be Saul's downfall. He was a man who wanted to be the Lord's anointed, but on his own terms, with a little bit of the world's way of thinking mixed in. This syncretism is a spiritual cancer, and we see its roots right here in the family tree.
The Chronicler is showing us that Saul's failure was not an isolated event. It was the fruit of a family line that was, at best, spiritually compromised. The seeds of his disobedience in Gilgal were sown generations before in Gibeon.
A Cursed Line and a Glimmer of Grace (vv. 39-41)
The genealogy now focuses on the tragic trajectory of Saul's immediate family.
"...and Saul became the father of Jonathan, Malchi-shua, Abinadab, and Eshbaal. The son of Jonathan was Merib-baal, and Merib-baal became the father of Micah." (1 Chronicles 9:39b-41)
Here we have the sons of Saul. We know their story from the books of Samuel. Jonathan, a man of great faith and loyalty, a stark contrast to his father. And the others, who would die with their father on the battlefield of Gilboa, a testament to the corporate nature of God's judgment. The wages of the father's sin were paid, in part, by the lives of his sons. This is the hard reality of federal headship. The king represents his people, and the father represents his household. When the head goes astray, the body suffers.
But in the midst of this litany of a cursed house, we find a name of profound significance: Merib-baal. This is the son of Jonathan. We know him better by his other name, Mephibosheth. The scribes who later copied the text often changed names with "Baal" in them to "Bosheth," which means "shame." So Eshbaal becomes Ish-bosheth, "man of shame," and Merib-baal, which means "contender with Baal," becomes Mephibosheth, "from the mouth of shame." The change itself is a theological commentary on the failure of Saul's house.
But Merib-baal, or Mephibosheth, is a picture of the gospel. He is the crippled son of a fallen royal house. He is a descendant of the king's enemy, living in hiding, in a barren place called Lo-debar, which means "no pasture." He is helpless, hopeless, and expecting nothing but death from the new king, David. And what does David do? He seeks him out. Not to kill him, but to show him "the kindness of God" for the sake of his father, Jonathan. David brings him to Jerusalem, restores all of Saul's land to him, and gives him a permanent seat at the king's table (2 Samuel 9).
This is what God does for us in Christ. We are the crippled sons and daughters of a fallen federal head, Adam. We are spiritual refugees from a rebel kingdom, living in Lo-debar, with nothing to offer and everything to fear. And the true King, the son of David, seeks us out. He doesn't give us what we deserve, which is judgment. He gives us what we don't deserve, grace, for the sake of another, His beloved Son. He restores our inheritance and seats us at His table, forever. The Chronicler includes Merib-baal here as a bright, shining star of unmerited grace in the dark night of Saul's doomed lineage.
The Line Continues, The Point Remains (vv. 42-44)
The genealogy concludes by tracing the line of Saul, through Jonathan and Merib-baal, for several more generations.
"Ahaz became the father of Jarah... Zimri became the father of Moza... Azel had six sons..." (1 Chronicles 9:42-44)
The list continues, name after name. Why? To show that God did not utterly annihilate the house of Saul. Through the covenant friendship of David and Jonathan, a remnant was preserved. God's judgments are thorough, but His mercy endures. The line did not hold the throne. The scepter had passed to Judah, as prophesied. But the family continued. They were living proof of both God's righteous judgment against a disobedient king and His covenant-keeping mercy toward the son of a faithful friend.
These names, Azrikam, Bocheru, Ishmael, and the rest, are unknown to us. They are footnotes in the grand story. But they were not footnotes to God. He knew each one. He numbered their days. Their inclusion here is a quiet testament to the fact that God's providence extends to every individual life. Even those who are part of a disgraced family line are not outside the scope of His sovereign care. There is no person so insignificant that they are forgotten by God.
Ultimately, this genealogy serves as a stark warning and a profound comfort. The warning is this: God is not impressed by outward appearances. Saul was tall, handsome, the people's choice. But his heart was not right, his house was compromised, and God rejected him. God is not interested in our half-hearted, syncretistic attempts at religion. He demands total allegiance. The comfort is this: even in the midst of judgment, God preserves a remnant by grace. He makes a way for the crippled and the shameful to sit at the king's table. The line of Saul failed, but the line of David would not. And from that line of David would come the ultimate King, Jesus Christ, whose kingdom will have no end.
Conclusion: Finding Your Place in the Story
So what do we do with a passage like this? First, we thank God that He is a God of history, a God of covenant, and a God who writes His story through the messy lives of real families. We are not deists, believing in a God who wound up the clock and walked away. We are Christians, believing in a God who is intimately involved in the affairs of men, down to the last name in the phone book of Benjamin.
Second, we must see the story of Saul as a cautionary tale. Saul's kingdom was built on the sandy foundation of human approval and religious compromise. It looked impressive for a time, but it could not stand. We must ask ourselves if we are building our lives, our families, or our churches on similar foundations. Are we trying to serve both God and Baal? Are we more concerned with what men think than with what God has commanded? If so, this genealogy is a warning shot across our bow. The house of Saul is the end of that road.
Finally, and most importantly, we must see ourselves in Merib-baal. We are the crippled ones. We are from the house of a rebel king, Adam. We have no claim on the throne, no right to the inheritance. We are spiritually lame, residing in a place of no pasture. But the true King, Jesus, has sought us out. He has called us by name. He has seated us at His table, not because of our merit, but because of His covenant love. He has clothed us in righteousness and adopted us into His royal family.
This genealogy, then, is not just a dry list of names. It is a powerful sermon in outline. It is the story of a failed kingdom that makes us long for the true one. It is the story of a broken line that highlights the unbreakable promise made to David. It is the story of judgment and mercy, of shame and grace. It is the story that finds its ultimate meaning and fulfillment when our names, by grace through faith, are written in the Lamb's book of life.