We have no means of determining how long time
elapsed between the events recorded in the
preceding chapter and those recorded in this. It is
not unlikely that Saul’s experience at Naioth led to a
temporary improvement in his relations to David. The
tone of this chapter leads us to believe that at the
time when it opens there was some room for doubt
whether or not Saul continued to cherish any deliberate
ill-feeling to his son-in-law. David’s own
suspicions were strong that he did; but Jonathan
appears to have thought otherwise. Hence the earnest
conversation which the two friends had on the subject;
and hence the curious but crooked stratagem by which
they tried to find out the truth.
But before we go on to this, it will be suitable for
us at this place to dwell for a little on the remarkable
friendship between David and Jonathan—a beautiful
oasis in this wilderness history,—one of the brightest
gems in this book of Samuel.
It was a striking proof of the ever mindful and
considerate grace of God, that at the very opening of
the dark valley of trial through which David had to
pass in consequence of Saul’s jealousy, he was brought
into contact with Jonathan, and in his disinterested
and sanctified friendship, furnished with one of the
sweetest earthly solaces for the burden of care and
sorrow. The tempest suddenly let loose on him must
have proved too vehement, if he had been left in Saul’s
dark palace without one kind hand to lead him on, or
the sympathy of one warm heart to encourage him;
the spirit of faith might have declined more seriously
than it did, had it not been strengthened by the bright
faith of Jonathan. It was plain that Michal, though
she had a kind of attachment to David, was far from
having a thoroughly congenial heart; she loved him,
and helped to save him, but at the same time bore
false witness against him (chap. xix. 17). In his deepest
sorrows, David could have derived little comfort from
her. Whatever gleams of joy and hope, therefore, were
now shed by human companionship across his dark
firmament, were due to Jonathan. In merciful adaptation
to the infirmities of his human spirit, God opened
to him this stream in the desert, and allowed him to
refresh himself with its pleasant waters; but to show
him, at the same time, that such supplies could not be
permanently relied on, and that his great dependence
must be placed, not on the fellowship of mortal man,
but on the ever-living and ever-loving God, Jonathan
and he were doomed, after the briefest period of
companionship, to a lifelong separation, and the
friendship which had seemed to promise a perpetual
solace of his trials, only aggravated their severity,
when its joys were violently reft away.
In another view, David’s intercourse with Jonathan
served an important purpose in his training. The
very sight he constantly had of Saul’s outrageous
wickedness might have nursed a self-righteous feeling,—might
have encouraged the thought, so agreeable to
human nature, that as Saul was rejected by God for
his wickedness, so David was chosen for his goodness.
The remembrance of Jonathan’s singular virtues and
graces was fitted to rebuke this thought; for if regard
to human goodness had decided God’s course in the
matter, why should not Jonathan have been appointed
to succeed his father? From the self-righteous ground
on which he might have been thus tempted to stand,
David would be thrown back on the adorable sovereignty
of God; and in deepest humiliation constrained
to own that it was God’s grace only that made him
to differ from others.
Ardent friendships among young men were by no
means uncommon in ancient times; many striking
instances occurred among the Greeks, which have sometimes
been accounted for by the comparatively low
estimation in which female society was then held.
“The heroic companions celebrated by Homer and
others,” it has been remarked, “seem to have but one
heart and soul, with scarcely a wish or object apart, and
only to live, as they are always ready to die, for one
another.... The idea of a Greek hero seems not to
have been thought complete without such a brother in
arms by his side.”[3]
But there was one feature of the friendship of
Jonathan and David that had no parallel in classic
times,—it was friendship between two men, of whom
the younger was a most formidable rival to the older.
It is Jonathan that shines most in this friendship, for
he was the one who had least to gain and most to lose
from the other. He knew that David was ordained by
God to succeed to his father’s throne, yet he loved him;
he knew that to befriend David was to offend his
father, yet he warmly befriended him; he knew that
he must decrease and David increase, yet no atom of
jealousy disturbed his noble spirit. What but divine
grace could have enabled Jonathan to maintain this
blessed temper? What other foundation could it have
rested on but the conviction that what God ordained
must be the very best, infinitely wise and good for him
and for all? Or what could have filled the heart thus
bereaved of so fair an earthly prospect, but the sense
of God’s love, and the assurance that He would compensate
to him all that He took from him? How
beautiful was this fruit of the Spirit of God! How
blessed it would be if such clusters hung on every
branch of the vine!
Besides being disinterested, Jonathan’s friendship for
David was of an eminently holy character. Evidently
Jonathan was a man that habitually honoured God, if
not in much open profession, yet in the way of deep
reverence and submission. And thus, besides being
able to surrender his own prospects without a murmur,
and feel real happiness in the thought that David would
be king, he could strengthen the faith of his friend, as
we read afterwards (chap. xxiii. 16): “Jonathan, Saul’s
son, arose and went to David into the wood, and
strengthened his hand in God.” At the time when they
come together in the chapter before us, Jonathan’s faith
was stronger than David’s. David’s faltering heart was
saying, “There is but a step between me and death”
(ver. 3), while Jonathan in implicit confidence in God’s
purpose concerning David was thus looking forward to
the future,—“Thou shalt not only while yet I live
show me the kindness of the Lord that I die not; but
also thou shalt not cut off thy kindness from my house
for ever; no, not when the Lord hath cut off the enemies
of David every one from the face of the earth.” There
has seldom, if ever, been exhibited a finer instance of
triumphant faith, than when the prince, with all the
resources of the kingdom at his beck, made this request
of the helpless outlaw. What a priceless blessing is
the friendship of those who support and comfort us in
great spiritual conflicts, and help us to stand erect in
some great crisis of our lives! How different from the
friendship that merely supplies the merriment of an idle
hour, at the expense, perhaps, of a good conscience,
and to the lasting injury of the soul!
But let me now briefly note the events recorded in
this chapter. It is a long chapter, one of those long
chapters in which incidents are recorded with such
fulness of detail, as not only to make a very graphic
narrative, but to supply an incidental proof of its
authenticity.
First of all, we have the preliminary conversation
between David and Jonathan, as to the real feeling of
Saul toward David. Incidentally, we learn how much
Saul leant on Jonathan: “My father will do nothing,
either great or small, but he will show it me,”—a proof
that Jonathan was, like Joseph before him, and like
Daniel after him, eminently trustworthy, and as sound
in judgment as he was noble in character. Guileless
himself, he suspected no guile in his father. But David
was not able to take so favourable a view of Saul. So
profound was his conviction to the contrary, that in
giving his reason for believing that Saul had concealed
from his son his real feeling in the matter, and the
danger in which he was, he used the solemn language
of adjuration: “As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul
liveth, there is but a step between me and death.”
Viewed from the human point, this was true; viewed
from under the Divine purpose and promise, it could not
be true. Yet we cannot blame David, knowing as he did
what Saul really felt, for expressing his human fears, and
the distress of mind to which the situation gave birth.
Next, we find a device agreed on between David and
Jonathan, to ascertain the real sentiments of Saul. It
was one of those deceitful ways to which, very probably,
David had become accustomed in his military experiences,
in his forays against the Philistines, where
stratagems may have been, as they often were, a
common device. It was probable that David would be
missed from Saul’s table next day, as it was the new
moon and a feast; if Saul inquired after him, Jonathan
was to pretend that he had asked leave to go to a
yearly family sacrifice at Bethlehem; and the way in
which Saul should take this explanation would show
his real feeling and purpose about David. In the event
of Saul being enraged, and commanding Jonathan to
bring David to him, David implored Jonathan not to
comply; rather kill him with his own hand than that;
for there was nothing that David dreaded so much as
falling into the hands of Saul. Jonathan surely did not
deserve that it should be thought possible for him to
surrender David to his father, or to conceal anything
from him that had any bearing on his welfare. But
inasmuch as David had put the matter in the form he
did, it seemed right to Jonathan that a very solemn
transaction should take place at this time, to make their
relation as clear as day, and to determine the action
of the stronger of them to the other, in time to come.
This is the third thing in the chapter. Jonathan,
takes David into the field, that is, into some sequestered
Wady, at some distance from the town, where they
would be sure to enjoy complete solitude; and there
they enter into a solemn covenant. Jonathan takes the
lead. He begins with a solemn appeal to God, calling
on Him not as a matter of mere form or propriety, but
of real and profound significance. First, he binds himself
to communicate faithfully to David the real state
of things on the part of his father, whether it should be
for good or for evil. And then he binds David, whom
by faith he sees in possession of the kingly power, in
spite of all that Saul may do against him, first to be
kind to himself while he lived, and not cut him off,
as new kings so often massacred all the relations of
the old; and also after his death to show kindness to
his family, and never cease to remember them, not even
when raised to such a pitch of prosperity that all his
enemies were cut off from the earth. One knows not
whether most to wonder at the faith of Jonathan, or the
sweetness of his nature. It is David, the poor outlaw,
with hardly a man to stand by him, that appears to
Jonathan the man of power, the man who can dispose of
all lives and sway all destinies; while Jonathan, the
king’s son and confidential adviser, is somehow reduced
to helplessness, and unable even to save himself. But
was there ever such a transaction entered into with
such sweetness of temper? The calmness of Jonathan
in contemplating the strange reverse of fortune both to
himself and to David, is exquisitely beautiful; nor is
there in it a trace of that servility with which mean
natures worship the rising sun; it is manly and generous
while it is meek and humble; such a combination of the
noble and the submissive as was shown afterwards, in
highest form, in the one perfect example of the Lord
Jesus Christ.
Next comes a statement of the way in which Jonathan
was to announce to David the result. It might not be
safe for him to see David personally, but in that case
he would let him know what had transpired about him
through a preconcerted signal, in reference to the place
where he would direct an attendant to go for some
arrows. As it happened, a personal interview was
obtained with David; but before that, the telegraphing
with the arrows was carried out as arranged.
On the first day of the feast, David’s absence passed
unnoticed, Saul being under the impression that he had
acquired ceremonial uncleanness. But as that excuse
could only avail for one day, Saul finding him absent
the second day, asked Jonathan what had become of
him. The excuse agreed on was given. It excited the
deepest rage of Saul. But his rage was not against
David so much as against Jonathan for taking his part.
Saul did not believe in the excuse, otherwise he would
not have ordered Jonathan to send and fetch David.
If David was at Bethlehem, Saul could have sent for
him himself; if he lay concealed in the neighbourhood,
Jonathan alone would know his hiding-place, therefore
Jonathan must get hold of him. If this be the true
view, the stratagem of Jonathan had availed nothing;
the plain truth would have served the purpose no
worse. As it was, Jonathan’s own life was in the most
imminent danger. Remonstrating with his father for
seeking to destroy David, he narrowly escaped his
father’s javelin, even though, a moment before, in his
jealousy of David, Saul had professed to be concerned
for the interests of Jonathan. “Thou son of the
perverse rebellious woman, do not I know that thou
hast chosen the son of Jesse to thine own confusion,
and to the confusion of thy mother’s nakedness?”
What strange and unworthy methods will not angry
men and women resort to, to put vinegar into their
words and make them sting! To try to wound a
man’s feelings by reviling his mother, or by reviling
any of his kindred, is a practice confined to the dregs
of society, and nauseous, to the last degree, to every
gentle and honourable mind. In Saul’s case, the
offence was still more infamous because the woman
reviled was his own wife. Surely if her failings
reflected on any one, they reflected on her husband
rather than her son. But that it was any real failing
that Saul denounced when he called her “the perverse
rebellious woman,” we greatly doubt. To a man like
Saul, any assertion of her rights by his wife, any
refusal to be his abject slave, any opposition to his wild
and wicked designs against David, would mean perversity
and rebellion. We are far from thinking ill of
this nameless woman because her husband denounced
her to her son. But when we see Saul in one breath
trying to kill his son with a javelin and to destroy his
wife’s character by poisoned words, and at the same
time thirsting for the death of his son-in-law, we have
a mournful exhibition of the depth to which men are
capable of descending from whom the Spirit of the
Lord hath departed.
No wonder that Jonathan arose from the table in
fierce anger, and did eat no meat the second day of the
month. One wonders how the feast went on thereafter,
but one does not envy the guests. Did Saul drown
his stormy feelings in copious draughts of wine, and
turn the holy festival into a bacchanalian rout, amid
whose boisterous mirth and tempestuous exhilaration
the reproaches of conscience would be stifled for the
hour?
The third day has come, on which, by preconcerted
agreement, Jonathan was to reveal to David his father’s
state of mind. David is in the agreed-on hiding-place;
and Jonathan, sallying forth with his servant, shoots
his arrows to the place which was to indicate the
existence of danger. Then, the lad having gone back
to the city, and no one being on the spot to observe
them or interrupt them, the two friends come together
and have an affecting meeting. When Jonathan parted
from David three days before, he had not been without
hopes of bringing to him a favourable report of his
father. David expected nothing of the kind; but even
David must have been shocked and horrified to find
things so bad as they were now reported. In an act
of unfeigned reverence for the king’s son, David
bowed himself three times to the ground. In token of
much love they kissed one another; while under the
dark cloud of adversity that had risen on them both,
and that now compelled them to separate, hardly ever
again (as it turned out) to see one another in the flesh,
“they wept one with another until David exceeded.”
“They wept as only strong men weep,
When weep they must, or die.”
One consolation alone remained, and it was Jonathan
that was able to apply it. “Jonathan said to David,
Go in peace, forasmuch as we have sworn both of us
in the name of the Lord, saying, The Lord be between
me and thee, and between my seed and thy seed for
ever.” Yes, even in that darkest hour, Jonathan could
say to David, “Go in peace.” What peace? “Thou
wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed
on Thee, because he trusteth in Thee.” “The angel of
the Lord encampeth about them that fear Him, and
delivereth them.” “Many are the afflictions of the
righteous, but the Lord delivereth them out of them all.”
We cannot turn from this chapter without adding
a word on the friendships of the young. It is when
hearts are tender that they are most readily knit to
each other, as the heart of Jonathan was knit to the
heart of David. But the formation of friendships is too
important a matter to be safely left to casual circumstances.
It ought to be gone about with care. If you
have materials to choose among, see that you choose
the best. At the foundation of all friendship lies congeniality
of heart—a kindred feeling of which one often
becomes conscious by instinct at first sight. But
there must also be elements of difference in friends. It
is a great point to have a friend who is above us in
some things, and who will thus be likely to draw us up
to a higher level of character, instead of dragging us
down to a lower. And a friend is very useful, if he is
rich in qualities where we are poor. As it is in In
Memoriam—
“He was rich where I was poor,
And he supplied my want the more
As his unlikeness fitted mine.”
But surely, of all qualities in a friend or companion
who is to do us good, the most vital is, that he fears
the Lord. As such friendships are by far the most
pleasant, so they are by far the most profitable. And
when you have made friends, stick by them. Don’t
let it be said of you that your friend seemed to be
everything to you yesterday, but nothing to-day. And
if your friends rise above you in the world, rejoice in
their prosperity, and banish every envious feeling; or
if you should rise above them, do not forget them,
nor forsake them, but, as if you had made a covenant
before God, continue to show kindness to them and
to their children after them. Pray for them, and ask
them to pray for you.
Perhaps it was with some view to the friendship of
Jonathan and his father that Solomon wrote, “There
is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.” Jonathan
was such a friend to David. But the words suggest
a higher friendship. The glory of Jonathan’s love for
David fades before our Lord’s love for His brethren.
If Jonathan were living among us, who of us could
look on him with indifference? Would not our hearts
warm to him, as we gazed on his noble form and open
face, even though we had never been the objects of his
affection? In the case of Jesus Christ, we have all the
noble qualities of Jonathan in far higher excellence
than his, and we have this further consideration, that
for us He has laid down His life, and that none who
receive His friendship can ever be separated from His
love. And what an elevating and purifying effect that
friendship will have! In alliance with Him, you are
in alliance with all that is pure and bright, all that is
transforming and beautifying; all that can give peace
to your conscience, joy to your heart, lustre to your
spirit, and beauty to your life; all that can make your
garments smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia; all
that can bless you and make you a blessing. And
once you are truly His, the bond can never be severed;
David had to tear himself from Jonathan, but you will
never have to tear yourselves from Christ. Your union
is cemented by the blood of the everlasting covenant;
and by the eternal efficacy of the prayer, “Father, I
will that they also whom Thou hast given me be
with me where I am.”