The governor of New York is set to resign tomorrow because of his sins. It’s unlikely that he will call them sins, but that is what they are. The assumption is that he will hold some kind of press conference to resign his office. How likely would it be that the chief prosecutor on the case would approach the governor and beg him for mercy? The governor might beg for mercy from the prosecutor, but it is inconceivable that the reverse would be true. The prosecutor will most certainly not beg for mercy tomorrow, because when you have the upper hand, you don’t need to beg for mercy. Rather, you are in a position of granting mercy.

David felled the giant with a single stone, removed Goliath’s sword and ended his life. But what if David, sword in hand, had stood over the unconscious body of Goliath and begged him for mercy? Is that not the most unlikely ending to the story? We might believe it if Goliath had suddenly opened his eyes, saw that David was about to kill him and begged him for mercy. But Goliath was not in a position to grant mercy and David was not in a place of needing mercy.

The nature of granting and receiving mercy is self-evident, which is why this chapter is a bit confusing. While David is fleeing for his life from the murderous King Saul, David and Jonathan meet for the last time in their lives. Since David is the hunted prey and Jonathan is the heir to the throne of Israel, of the two, who had the upper hand? Who stood in the position of power? Since Jonathan clearly had the upper hand, who was most likely to ask for mercy? The obvious answer is that David should be the one who asks for mercy because he is in a position of weakness. But what we see in this chapter is just the opposite. In David’s moment of greatest weakness, Jonathan asks David to grant him mercy. At first glance, it is just as shocking as if David had asked Goliath for mercy.

The turning point comes in verse fourteen. But show me unfailing kindness like that of the Lord as long as I live, so that I may not be killed. The word that the NIV translates as “unfailing kindness” is the Hebrew word hesed (chesed). The ESV translates the word as “steadfast love,” as in, “the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases.” The Hebrew word hesed is one that all Christians should know. It is often translated as “lovingkindness,” but most often as “mercy.” Hesed is the O.T. equivalent of mercy and grace in the N.T.. It is ultimately salvation mercy from God. This is the kind of mercy that Jonathan asks of David, and in case there is any doubt about this, Jonathan qualified his request. He said, show me unfailing kindness like that of the Lord.  In effect, he said, “David, what I need most is mercy, the kind of mercy which flows from Yahweh. I need steadfast love. I need hesed.” How can this be? This seems almost as strange as David begging Goliath for mercy. I trust that the answer to this question will teach us a great deal about hesed—the mercy of God—and how this mercy can flow out of our lives to those around us.

Let me remind you of the details of David’s life. If you recall, in the last two chapters, Saul had made six separate attempts on David’s life. In two of those attempts, Saul threw a total of three spears at David. Now the first two spears David could have thought to himself, “Well maybe Saul doesn’t like my harp playing today,” but certainly by the third spear, David was aware of Saul’s true intent! J  David was officially on the run, and chapter twenty begins with David sneaking back to talk with Jonathan about his father’s determination to see him dead. At first, Jonathan denies the accusation. After all, Saul had personally given Jonathan his word that he would not harm David. You can imagine how much of a shock this was for Jonathan. On the one hand his closest, covenant friend David is telling him that his father wants him dead. On the other hand, Saul had personally promised Jonathan that David would not be killed. Who do you think Jonathan believed—his friend or his father? As painful and gut wrenching as it must have been, Jonathan seemed to immediately believe David. Most of this chapter is essentially a plot to draw a confession out of Saul. It is a bit like the Elliott Spitzer case. The FBI had already gathered all of the evidence of his guilt and all that remained was Spitzer’s own confession. The word of David was all the evidence that Jonathan really needed, but you can understand why he would want to hear a personal confession from his father. The entire, elaborate plot about David being absent from the King’s table, the shooting of arrows in the field—all of this was merely a way of obtaining Saul’s confession and communicating the outcome to David. But the key to the whole chapter is found in verses 13-17. I am going to read from the ESV here because I think it brings more clarity.

May the Lord be with you, as he has been with my father. ¹⁴ If I am still alive, show me the steadfast love of the Lord, that I may not die; ^{15 a}and do not cut off² your steadfast love from my house forever, when the Lord cuts off every one of the enemies of David from the face of the earth.” ¹⁶ And Jonathan made a covenant with the house of David, saying, ^b“May³ the Lord take vengeance on David’s enemies.” ¹⁷ And Jonathan made David swear again by his love for him, ^cfor he loved him as he loved his own soul.

If this passage is the key to this chapter, then verse fifteen is the master key that opens up understanding. Jonathan asked for mercy for himself and for his future generations, then he added this amazing comment: when the Lord cuts off every one of the enemies of David from the face of the earth. Jonathan had not gained the personal confession from Saul, yet he was already convinced that David would be victorious over his enemies. And who were David’s chief enemies? Saul! We don’t know how or why Jonathan knew this information, but there is no doubt that he was certain that David would one day sit on the throne, and in order for that to happen, it would mean the destruction of his own father. Verse sixteen is even more striking. Jonathan blessed David by saying, “May the Lord take vengeance on David’s enemies.” Jonathan may as well have said, “May the Lord take vengeance on my father and place you on the throne of Israel,” for that is what he meant. Moreover, if Saul was the chief enemy of David, that would mean that at least some of Jonathan’s descendants would also be enemies of David.

Now we can begin to see why Jonathan asked David for mercy. Even though David appeared to be at his time of greatest weakness and vulnerability, Jonathan was able to see David’s future as strong and secure. Therefore, Jonathan, not David, was the weaker of the two, and this is the reason he asked for mercy from David. Maybe no one else but Jonathan could see it, and maybe it wasn’t exactly true at that moment, but one day David would be in the position of granting mercy and Jonathan would be in the place of needing mercy.

And here is where the tables are turned on you and I. We are all Jonathans—we all desperately need mercy but seldom know that we need it. We all need hesed—we need this lovingkindness and mercy from the Lord, but our pride blocks us from seeing our need. Jonathan exhibited an tremendous amount of humility when he asked for mercy. Jonathan was next in line on the throne, the heir apparent. From all appearances, Jonathan held the upper hand. But then he saw things as God saw them. Saul saw the same thing Jonathan did. Both Saul and Jonathan knew that David would be the next king, but when Saul realized it, his pride kicked into high gear, but when Jonathan saw it, he became extremely humble—or perhaps I should say, his humility became evident. His humility preceded his request for mercy.

There is so much we can learn about mercy from this story. First we see that Jonathan’s request for mercy transcended family ties. This culture was very different from ours in that they had a much stronger tie to their ancestors. You almost always followed in the footsteps of your father and grandfather. If your father was a farmer, you would become a farmer. If your father was a craftsman or artisan, you would learn his trade and follow after him. And if your father was the king, then you were groomed your whole life to take his place. There was a tie to one’s parents and grandparents that went far beyond respect and honor—it basically determined the kind of person you would be and the kind of life you would live. So when Jonathan broke ties with his father to humble himself before David, he was losing more than the throne—he was cutting off the allegiance to his entire family. Sometimes we fail to make the right decisions because we are held back by family expectations. Sometimes we don’t show forgiveness to a family member because other family members have chosen not to forgive. Whether or not we realize it, we carry the history and expectations of our family around with us. But there are times in life when the way of our family is at odds with the way of our God. There are times when we need to say to our parents, “Mom and dad, I love you, but I cannot follow you. God has called me to obey and follow him, and that is what I must do.”

It’s like what when Jesus said, “Whoever wants to follow me must hate his father and mother.” Did Jonathan hate Saul? No, Jonathan died in battle alongside Saul. Jonathan gave his life for the kingly rule of his father. He did not hate him, but he did break allegiance with his father in order to follow God.

A second principle is that mercy does not need to put itself in the path of a spear. David granted mercy to Jonathan. We see that long after David becomes king and he searches out a descendant of Jonathan to honor this covenant of mercy. But David also showed mercy to Saul—many times! But just because he showed Saul mercy did not mean that David went back to Saul so that Saul could use David for target practice. You can show mercy and forgiveness to someone who has hurt you, but that does not man you are required to put yourself back into harm’s way. I know that Jesus said, “If someone hits you on the check, turn the other cheek to him.” We do have to be willing to forgive others seventy times seven, but Jesus’ command does not require us to put our bodies in front of the assassin’s bullet. Forgive the person who has hurt you. Show mercy to the person who has hurt you, but there’s nothing preventing you from getting out of the way of their spears. (illustrate…)

A third principles is that we give mercy because we need mercy. The heading of Psalm 142 reads as follows: “A maskil of David. When he was in the cave.” What cave, you ask? We don’t know for certain, but it must have been one of the caves in which David hid to escape Saul’s attacks. This may have been the cave in chapter 24, just a few weeks or months after David granted mercy to Jonathan. And what did David say in the cave?  “I cry aloud to the Lord; I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy.” What if David had refused to grant mercy to Jonathan and his descendants? Would God have answered David’s desperate prayer in the back of the dark cave? Who knows—maybe David prayed a prayer like this just before Saul went into the same cave, giving David a chance to take vengeance upon him, yet show him even more mercy. David granted mercy to Jonathan because he know that he was also a Jonathan—a man in need of daily mercy.

Who is the person who most needs mercy and forgiveness from you? Can’t you see that you are just like him or her? You need mercy just as much as they do. You are no more deserving of mercy than they are. This is the very essence of mercy, because mercy, by definition, cannot be earned. If you could earn it, it wouldn’t be mercy; it would be a payment of a debt owed to you. But a really twisted form of mercy dangles mercy in front of others like a carrot to a mule—it’s always within reach but never truly attainable. We hold mercy out to others and say, “OK, here’s your mercy. Now earn it! Let me see you get down on your hands and knees. Let me watch you suffer for a while, and maybe then I’ll give you some of my mercy.” We did not earn our mercy and we have no right whatsoever to make others earn it.

I met with Pastor Chris Crye this past week and he told me about a guy in his church who had an amazing “aha” moment about mercy described in Ephesians chapter two, which reads,  “As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air…^ But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions.” This guy sat in Chris’ office and kept saying, “Now I get it. It says, even when we were dead in transgressions and sins.” He kept saying, “even when, even when.” This man was having a breakthrough in his understanding of mercy. It had finally really penetrated into his heart that he did not—and could not ever—have earned mercy from God. “I get it” he says. “I get it!” But when we dangle mercy like a carrot, it proves that we don’t really get it.

We become like the man in the parable of the unmerciful servant who, after being forgiven of a trillion dollar debt, immediately runs out, finds a man who owes him a few hundred dollars, and begins to choke him saying, “Pay back what you owe me!” Paul would say to this man, “Even when you owed a trillion dollars, the king, who is rich in mercy, forgave your entire debt.” Some of us walk around with tired, crippled hands, because we spend much of our lives choking the life out of others, all because we don’t understand mercy. We think the world owes us something. We secretly believe that we deserve peace and happiness and so we hate anyone who we think has robbed us of such things; anyone who has ever thrown a spear at us, whether or not they ever hit us.

The thing about mercy is that it can seem so unfair. What if I snuck into your house, shredded all of your furniture with a hunting knife, chopped up your kitchen table with an axe, tossed cans of black paint all over the walls, floor and ceiling, and then for good measure, busted your water main and flooded your basement. What would your first response be? You would likely be filled with rage and anger and would probably bust a blood vessel in your forehead from all your yelling and screaming. The basis of your anger is the desire for justice. Who is going to clean up the mess? Who is going to pay for the damages? Who is going to give you back your life? What you really want at that moment, whether or not you can articulate it, is good, old-fashioned justice. And at its core, this is a good thing. The Bible is a book about justice and God is a God of perfect justice. Our desire for justice is rooted in this common, divinely-inspired desire for justice to be served.

Now this is the point where mercy enters the scene, because mercy leaves all justice and judgment in God’s hands. Justice will be served because God demands justice, even more than you and I demand it. In God’s economy, justice will be served! And justice looks like this.

But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities;

the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.

^6 We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way;

and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

God will have his justice. Sins must be atoned for. Someone must pay the price or justice is not served. But we know that this is also perfect mercy. If we have received this mercy, and then withhold it from even one person, it is as if we look God in the eye and tell him, “Your mercy is no good. God, you haven’t given me enough mercy to spare for another.”  We like to point out the sins of people like Eliot Spitzer. It is easy to demonize their sins and pretend that they are the chief of sinners. But if you tell God that his mercy is not good enough for you—it is not sufficient, then I think that is worse than the sin of Eliot Spitzer. People need our mercy—even the one who throw spears at us. People desperately need hesed. We need hesed.

Rich Maurer

March 16, 2008