Icarus

Do you know the story of Icarus? His father made them a set of wings out of feathers and wax so they could escape imprisonment. As they soared through the clouds, Icarus felt so free that he ignored his father’s warnings, and flew too close to the sun. The heat melted the wax, and he tumbled to his death. It’s a painful story about learning your limitations. The story we now launch into in David’s life is like that. It’s a painful replay of Genesis 3, like another fall of man. It’s about David, but it’s also about us.

Spring meant that it was time for King David to get back to war, and lead Israel to finish off the Ammonites from yesterday’s reading. But David decides to stay in Jerusalem and send Joab in his place. It’s understandable. David is about fifty now, and doesn’t have to do everything himself anymore. For all we know, Joab may have begged him to stay behind, just to be safe. But is David safe at home? It’s nice to no longer be poor, desperate, and weak, like David was for so many years. But success brings its own temptations: complacency, carelessness, arrogance. We will see all of this.

Though he stayed behind, we expect King David to consecrate himself to God, like his men on the battlefield. Instead, he lounges on his couch all day. Then he wanders idly on his roof as the sun goes down, looking around. God gives men energy and passion, but this must be channeled into a task. For David, that meant serving God in war. When our passions lack godly purpose and direction, we tend to get into lots of trouble.

As David idles on his roof, he sees a beautiful young woman, bathing. It does not seem that she is trying to be provocative; this is a ritual cleansing in the privacy of her home. Only the palace roof would provide a vantage point high enough to see her. David’s unwise behavior leads to this accidental glance; now he allows his glance to become a gaze, which quickly develops into an idea (see Prov 7:6–9). This is when we remember that crack in David’s foundation: his harem of wives and concubines in defiance of God’s Law. From his rooftop, David determines to add to his collection.

David never seems to think of or treat this young woman as a person; she’s just called “the woman,” an object for his use. David moves from “seeing” her to “sending” for information about her. It turns out she’s married to one of David’s own special forces, Uriah the Hittite. She’s also the daughter of Eliam, another one of his mighty men, and the grand-daughter of Ahithophel, his chief advisor. Her name, Bathsheba, means, “daughter of the oath.” She’s from a godly, loyal family. This is a flashing off-limits sign.

We expect David to walk away. We’ve seen him show hesed to his enemies over and over! But he now enters what the Bible calls “the hour of temptation:” when desire meets opportunity with an intensity like we have never experienced (see James 1:12–15). First unwise and unguarded, David then sees something off-limits but desirable, and realizes he has the opportunity to take it. Her husband is away, and he’s the king. In a moment, he blows past every warning, blocks out all he knows of God, and betrays all his human loyalties. Wonderful David acts like a brutal, arrogant, Canaanite King. He sends for her; they take her, he uses her, then he sends her back home, expecting to never see her again. It’s not a love affair—just shocking, ugly, self-gratification. We can’t believe this is the noble, kind, God-centered David we’ve known. But it is. And if he can cross these lines, then you and I can, too.

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Article by Eric Smith
Senior Pastor, Sharon Baptist Church