Always Send a Boy to Do a Man's Job

Sunday, June 25, 2006
First-Trinity Presbyterian Church (USA)

1 Samuel 17:32-50

The battle lines have been drawn and it wouldn’t take a military strategist to figure out who is favored here. In one corner stands the Philistine army: many in number, the strongest of the strong, the expertly trained warriors, the very latest in armor and weapons at their disposal. They are a fierce and menacing group, eager to attack and conquer the Israelites, eager to proclaim their victory.

Their leader alone could do the job: Goliath of Gath. Even his name strikes fear. He is a champion and trained warrior. Standing at over nine feet tall, this giant’s business is intimidation of the enemy and victory over him. Loss is not something Goliath is familiar with, for who could scare and be triumphant over a man of this stature? Besides, he has accumulated the best in armor. There’s his helmet of bronze, his coat of mail, bronze plates of protection cover his legs. He has javelin, spear, and sword all sharpened and ready for battle. He is an invulnerable warrior.

Goliath calls out to the Israelites who are camped out on the other side of the battle line: “Why have you come out to draw up for battle? Am I not a Philistine, and are you not servants of Saul? Choose a man for yourselves, and let him come down to me. If he is able to fight with me and kill me, then we will be your servants; but if I prevail against him and kill him, then you shall be our servants and serve us … Give me a man, that we may fight together” (17:8-10). And the Philistine chants and taunts the opposing army, hoping to get a rise out of them, hoping to get one brave man to come from the other corner of the ring and fight.

But, the Israelites retreat to camp after hearing this demand, dismayed. Not one of the warriors in Saul’s army will volunteer to be that man, to be the one to face the giant warrior. A man would have to be crazy to put himself in such a position. And so the army mills around greatly afraid – if they do not send a man to fight, what will become of them and their people? And yet, who would prevail in such a battle? Who would volunteer for what is sure to be certain death? And yet, the whole army may face certain death if no one comes forward.

Enter David, the baby brother. He has come to check on his brothers for his father and bring them some food. But as he draws near to camp, he gets drawn into the talk of the Israelite soldiers. He overhears bits and snippets of their conversation and is soon joining it. In his child-like innocence, David questions the soldiers: “why doesn’t anyone respond to the challenge and take on the Philistine? Why do ya’ll mill around here in fear? Someone should step forward. Someone should do something.”

David’s eldest brother hears this line of questioning and drags David aside by his ear. Embarrassed by his younger brother, he berates him for coming down to the camp and for butting into this manly business. David doesn’t know what he’s talking about and he should just keep his mouth shut and go back to tending sheep.

And by all outward appearances, the eldest brother is right – David doesn’t have a clue about military battles. But the Lord didn’t prompt Samuel to anoint David as the next king because of his outward appearance or his shrewd military tactics. The Lord picked David because of his heart.

And in that heart is a courage that doesn’t know fear of the enemy and doesn’t understand military strategy; what David holds in his heart is a deep and abiding faith in the Lord, a trust and assurance that God is Lord over all and is the ultimate power and strength. That trust sends David running to Saul to volunteer himself to be the one to face the Philistine when all the other men of the army are shying away and whispering in clusters about the gigantic problem on their hands.

But Saul objects. With no other prospects of a soldier to face Goliath, Saul initially rejects David, saying: “You are just a boy and Goliath is a fierce warrior. There’s no way I could send you.” But over the next few minutes, Saul is somehow convinced by this determined child and his argument of experience as a shepherd and tales of victory over lions and tigers and bears. And oh my, Saul bids him go. Saul bids David go and thus sends a child as the representative of his army to face a nine-foot giant warrior.

But before David faces the giant, Saul offers him the best armor and sword. David tries it on, and like a kid playing dress-up in his parents’ clothes, attempts to walk in it and fit into that role. But David, wise beyond his boyish years, tells Saul he cannot take the armor and sword. He is not used to them and so he takes off the armor and gathers up the tools he is used to – some stones, a sling, a shepherd’s staff – and prepares to face the giant just as he is, as a young shepherd boy.

For although it has been lost on the entire Israelite army and King Saul, David knows where his true power lies – not in the protection of the armor and the might of the sword, not in this outward appearance or experience; it’s in what was uncovered when he took Saul’s best armor off; David’s true power lies in his heart – there in the depths of his heart, where he trusts in the name of the Lord of Hosts, the Holy One of Israel; in the One who delivered the Israelites out of the hand of Pharaoh, in the One who delivered the chosen people to the Promised Land, in the One who will deliver him from the hand of this Philistine.

And so David takes off his armor; David lets his personal, worldly defenses down and allows God to enter in and do one of the things that God does best – the seeming impossible, what some might even call the miraculous: making a giant warrior fall at the hands of an inexperienced shepherd boy who dared to face him without any armor, who dared to face the giant just as he was.

Just as he was. The boy David has not yet learned the art of protection, of building armors and walls around one’s self for defense and security. In his child-like faith, he still trusts the Lord for all that, even in the face of a giant.

And while few of us have come face-to-face with a nine-foot man, we each face giants of our own – those big ugly things that taunt and challenge us and demand an answer: doubts, pain, suffering, war, death. And the world bellows instructions at us as we prepare for battle: Put on your armor. Build up your defenses. Be prepared for anything. Just don’t feel anything.

But perhaps our preparation should look different; perhaps it should look more like David’s. Maybe we start by daring to take just one piece of our armor off and put aside for the moment the carefully laid plan or the rationale thing or the easy reply; and instead uncover our hearts before God, before the God of the Israelites, before the One who has been there, who will be there, and who is there.

Forever and ever. Amen.