2 Samuel 18

Egypt on the south, to the Euphrates River on the north, and on the east he conquered Edom, Moab, and Ammon, and on the north defeated the Arameans and the Syrians, including Hamath. Because of God’s gifts and help, David undoubtedly became Israel’s greatest king and greatest military genius. He was blessed with courageous men like Joab and Abishai, plus his “mighty men” (2 Sam. 23; 1 Chron. 11:10–47).

When General Douglas MacArthur spoke before the United States Congress on April 19, 1951, he made the famous statement, “In war there is no substitute for victory.” But more than one military expert has maintained that armed forces can only win battles and that in the long run, nobody really wins a war. Why? Because the price is too high. For every word in Hitler’s book Mein Kampf, 125 people died in World War II. In view of modern atomic weapons, nobody would “win” World War III.

David’s army and Absalom’s army were about to engage in battle in a civil war that neither father nor son could “win,” but both sides could lose. If David won, it meant death for his son Absalom and his friend Ahithophel; if Absalom won, it could mean death for David and other members of his family. In modern terms, it was a “catch-22” situation; in ancient terms, it would be a “pyrrhic victory.”

Absalom was trusting his charm, his popularity, his army, and the wisdom of Ahithophel, but David was trusting the Lord. “Hear my cry, O God; attend to my prayer. From the end of the earth I will cry to You, when my heart is overwhelmed; lead me to the rock that is higher than I” (Ps. 61:1–2 nkjv).

What did David experience during those difficult days?

Knowing that the enemy was soon to arrive, David numbered his troops, divided them into three companies, and placed Joab, Abishai, and Ittai as their commanders. Whatever approach Absalom and Amasa used, David’s men would be able to maneuver and help each other. David offered to accompany the army, but the people told him to stay in a place of safety in the walled city. (See 21:15–17, which occurred long before Absalom’s rebellion.) “There are ten thousand of us but only one of you!” they argued. They knew that Absalom’s soldiers would go after the king and not worry about the soldiers. If David stayed in the city, he could send out reinforcements if they were needed. David accepted their decisions; he didn’t want to fight his son anyway.

But neither did he want the army to fight his son! Absalom had stood at the gate in Jerusalem and attacked his father (15:1–6); now David stood at a city gate and instructed the soldiers to go easy on Absalom. Absalom certainly hadn’t been gentle with his father! He had murdered Amnon, driven David out of Jerusalem, seized his throne, violated David’s concubines, and now he was out to kill David. That doesn’t sound like the kind of man you would want to protect, but if David had one fault, it was pampering his sons (1 Kings 1:5–6; see 1 Sam. 3:13). But before we criticize David, we must remember that he was a man after God’s own heart. Let’s be thankful that our Father in heaven hasn’t dealt with us according to our sins (Ps. 103:1–14). In His grace, He gives us what we don’t deserve, and in His mercy He doesn’t give us what we do deserve. Jesus didn’t deserve to die, for He was sinless, yet He took the punishment that belonged to us. What a Savior!

The battle spread out across the area, and many soldiers died because of the density of the forest. We don’t know how many men perished on each side, but it’s likely that most of the ten thousand dead belonged to Absalom’s army. Both the sword and the forest devoured their victims. (This metaphor has been used before in 1: and 2:26.) But God didn’t need a sword to stop the rebel Absalom; He simply used the branch of a tree! How much his heavy head of hair contributed to this accident isn’t recorded, but it’s ironic that the thing he was so proud of (14:25–26) turned out to assist in his death. Indeed, pride does lead to judgment. Another example is Samson (Judg. 16). “He catches the wise in their own craftiness, and the counsel of the cunning comes quickly upon them” (Job 5: nkjv).

The soldiers who encountered Absalom hanging from the tree didn’t dare touch him, but Joab had his own agenda. It was Joab who had orchestrated the reconciliation of David and Absalom, and now Joab ignored David’s orders and killed the young man. Absalom rejected Ahithophel’s plan to “kill the king only,” but Joab accepted it! There’s a hint in verse 11 that Joab had quietly spread the word that he would reward any soldier who killed the rebellious son. The soldier who could have won the reward refused to kill Absalom for two reasons: he didn’t want to disobey the king, and he wasn’t sure Joab would defend him if the king found out about it. After all, David killed the man who said he killed Saul (1:1–16) as well as the two men who killed Saul’s son Ish-Bosheth (4:1ff.). The soldier knew that Joab didn’t want to be caught issuing an order to kill the king’s son when the king commanded otherwise. The death of Absalom marked the end of the war and the rebellion, so Joab withdrew his troops.

Both Absalom and Ahithophel died on trees, and to an Israelite, hanging a body on a tree was evidence that the deceased was cursed by God (Deut. 21:22–23; Gal. 3:13). When you consider the crimes these two men committed, is it any wonder they were cursed? Yet God in His grace forgave David of the same crimes and allowed him to live. At one time, Absalom was the most popular man in the kingdom, but he ended up being buried in a pit, his body covered with stones. Apparently his three sons had died (14:27), so there was no one left in his family to perpetuate his name, so he erected a pillar to keep his name alive (v. 18). Even the original pillar is gone, and the so-called Tomb of Absalom seen today in the Kidron Valley is from the days of the Herods. “The memory of the righteous is blessed, but the name of the wicked will rot” (Prov. 10: nkjv).

The war was over and the rebellion ended. All that remained was for Joab to notify the king and return him safely to Jerusalem. But it was a bittersweet victory for David. When the enemy is your own son, there can be no triumph and no celebration.

Ahimaaz was a well-known runner (v. 27), and he volunteered to take the news to the king at Mahanaim, some three miles away. As enthusiastic as the young man was, he didn’t realize what he was asking; for David was known to take out his anger and sorrow on the messengers (1:4–16; 4:8–12)! Although the word “tidings” that Ahimaaz used could apply to any kind of news, it usually referred to “good news,” and there was no good news that day. Joab knew his king very well and knew that the report of Absalom’s death must be conveyed with compassion and skill. To keep Ahimaaz safe, Joab selected a person known only as “the Cushite,” who was possibly one of his own servants. Better that a foreign servant be slain than the son of a Jewish priest. However, after the Cushite left, Ahimaaz continued to annoy Joab and ask for permission to run. There was nothing good or bad to add to the news, so why run? Weary of hearing the young man’s pleas, Joab gave him permission to go.

Ahimaaz reminds us of those bothersome people who want to be important but have nothing much to say. He took the long, easy route to Mahanaim through the valley, while the Cushite took the short, direct route over difficult terrain. Ahimaaz was a young man without a real message or the ability to convey that message in the right way. As the Cushite ran, he meditated on how to tell King David that his son was dead. What’s the sense in running if you don’t know how to share the news?

The scene shifts to Mahanaim where David is seated between the outer and inner gates of the city, waiting for the watchman in the tower to give him word that a messenger is on his way from the battlefield. Even though he was unprepared to speak to the king, Ahimaaz put forth every effort and passed the Cushite on the road. David said, “He is a good man. He comes with good news” (v. 27 niv). It’s obvious that the character of the messenger has nothing to do with the contents of the message, but David was grasping for any straw of hope available.

Before he arrived at the gate, Ahimaaz was so anxious to give the news that he called out, “All is well.” Then he came to the king, bowed before him and told him that Joab had won the battle. When David asked about Absalom, the young messenger was not prepared or equipped to share the bad news, so he made an excuse that was undoubtedly a lie. In his feeble attempt to go down in history as the man who brought the news from the forest of Ephraim to Mahanaim, Ahimaaz ended up having nothing to say that David wanted to hear. What he said was correct, but he didn’t say enough. He ended up standing to one side and watching the Cushite deliver the right message in the right way.

During my pastoral ministry, I’ve occasionally had to be the bearer of bad news. I can recall praying, pondering, and putting myself in the place of the waiting people, all the while trying to assemble words that would bring the least amount of hurt. It wasn’t easy. Someone has defined “tact” as “the knack of making a point without making an enemy,” and the Cushite had tact.

The text says that David “trembled violently” when he comprehended that Absalom had been slain. No doubt he had prayed that the worst would not happen, but it happened just the same. In one sense, David pronounced his own sentence when he said to Nathan, “And he shall restore the lamb fourfold” (12:5), for this was the final payment of David’s great debt. The baby had died, Tamar was raped, Amnon was slain and now Absalom was dead. David tasted once again the pain of forgiven sin.

David’s tears reveal the broken heart of a loving father. Speaking about David’s sorrow, Charles Spurgeon said, “[I]t would be wise to sympathize as far as we can, than to sit in judgment upon a case which has never been our own.” David wept when he heard about the death of Jonathan and Saul (1:11–12), the murder of Abner (3:32), and the murder of Amnon (13:33–36), so why shouldn’t he weep over the death of his beloved son Absalom? Once again, we see the heart of God revealed in the heart of David, for Christ died for us when we were sinners and living as the enemies of God (Rom. 5:7–10). David would have died for Absalom, but Jesus did die for us!

David’s problem wasn’t that he grieved over his son, for grief is a very human response and tears are a part of the healing. His problem was that he grieved excessively and wouldn’t permit himself to be comforted. His response was abnormal. He neglected himself and his responsibilities and had to be soundly rebuked by Joab before he would take steps to return to Jerusalem and save the kingdom. His troubles weren’t over, but the Lord would empower him to be the ruler He wanted him to be.

The Lord can heal a broken heart, if we give all the pieces to Him and obey Him by faith.