It Takes a God

       “Teenagers are cats but they will become dogs.”  I don’t know who wrote these words but they’re true.  The author continues:  “I just realized that while children are dogs – loyal and affectionate – teenagers are cats.  It’s so easy to be a dog owner. You feed it, train it, boss it around and it puts is head on your knee and gazes at you as if you were a Rembrandt painting. It bounds indoors with enthusiasm when you call it.

       “Then around age 13 ‘your adoring little puppy turns into a big old cat. When you tell it to come inside it looks amazed, as if wondering who died and made you emperor. Instead of dogging your doorstep it disappears.  You won’t see it again until it gets hungry -- then it pauses on its sprint through the kitchen long enough to turn its nose up at whatever you’re serving.  When you reach out to ruffle its head in that old affectionate gesture, it twists away from you, then gives you a blank stare as if trying to remember if it has seen you before. 

       “You, not realizing that the dog is now a cat, think something must he desperately wrong with it. It seems so antisocial, so distant, sort of depressed. It won’t go on family outings.

       “Since you’re the one who raised it, taught it to fetch and stay and sit on command, you assume you did something wrong. Loaded with guilt and fear, you redouble your efforts to make your pet behave. 

       “Only now you’re dealing with a cat.  So everything that worked before now produces the opposite of the desired result.  Call it, and it runs away.  Tell it to sit, and it jumps on the counter.  The more you go toward it, wringing your hands, the more it moves away.

       “Instead of continuing to act like a dog owner, you can learn to behave like a eat owner. Put a dish of food near the door, and let it come to you. But remember that a cat needs your help and your affection too, Sit still, and it will come, seeking that warm, comforting lap it has not entirely forgotten. Be there to open the door for it.

       “Then one day your grown up child will walk into the kitchen, give you a big kiss and say. ‘You’ve been on your feet all day. Let me do those dishes for you.’  Then you’ll realize that your cat is a dog again.”

       I like that.  I sure had my cat phase.  That’s what often happens in healthy families.  But David’s family is far from healthy.  And his son Absalom doesn’t turn back into a dog.  He turns into a poisonous viper who tries to kill his own father and take his throne.

       Frederick Buechner describes the situation in this way: "Almost from the start, Absalom was slated for trouble. He was much too handsome for his own good. His special pride was such a magnificent head of hair that once a year when he had it trimmed, the trimmings alone tipped the scales at three and a half pounds. For another thing, David was always either spoiling him rotten or shutting him out. This did not promote stability of character."

       2 Samuel 13 tells how Absalom murders his lecherous half-brother Amnon for assaulting their half- sister Tamar. (We’ll look at this happy story in two weeks.)  When David’s old war-horse General Joab won’t help him patch things up with David afterwards, Absalom sets fire to his hay field!

       All Israel finds this kind of daring-do irresistible, of course. Absalom’s supporters see him as a better version of his father.  Absalom has his father’s looks.  He also has David’s uncanny ability to win people’s affection.  So when Absalom eventually leads a revolt against his father, a lot of people join in. They think it’s time for "with it," approachable Absalom to take the place of the old fossil David.  I mean, David is so 1 Samuel.

       So David suddenly finds himself catapulted from a comfortable and honored throne into the harsh wilderness.  David discovers that Absalom has been undermining his rule.  And David discovers that he has been totally clueless.  Absalom has been plotting for a long time. And now, in the unforgiving wilderness, King David is being hunted down by his son just as years before he had been hunted by Saul.  But David is no longer young.  And it is his own son who is trying to kill him.

       Buechner observes:  “On the eve of the crucial battle, David is a wreck. If he is afraid that he might lose his throne, he is even more afraid that he might lose Absalom. Before the fighting starts, David tells the commanders till they are sick of hearing it that if Absalom falls into their clutches, they must promise to go easy on him for his father's sake.”

       General Joab kept his fingers crossed. He remembered what had happened to his hay field. After the battle, when Joab found Absalom hanging from the branches of an oak tree by his beautiful hair, he had his men kill him.  To Joab the king is being sentimental.  There is even less room for sentimentality in civil war than in ordinary war. Joab thrusts his spear three times into Absalom’s heart. 

       When they break the news to David, it breaks his heart.  He cries out in words that have echoed down the centuries ever since. "0 my son Absalom. My son, my son Absalom! Would that I had died instead of you, 0 Absalom, my son, my son!" 

       David's heart breaks with grief for his loss. And the depth of David’s grief shows why God calls David "a man after my own heart."  David is a man who knows how to rejoice like God. He also knows how to grieve like God.

       The love of David and the grief of David point us to the love and grief of God. But the love and grief of God are far greater than the love and grief of David. God isn't God just because He can out think us and out perform us. God also out feels us. He out-emotions us.

       Listen to the expression of the grief and loss of God through the prophet Hosea. In chapter 9 we hear God's words of judgment on the rebellious people of Israel symbolized by the tribe of Ephraim: "Because of the wickedness of their deeds I will drive them out of my house! I will love them no more! All their princes are rebels.  Ephraim is stricken. Their root is dried up. They will bear no fruit. Even though they bear children, I will slay the precious ones of their womb."

       Those are terrible words of divine judgment. But then in Hosea 11 we hear the voice of fatherly mercy. We hear the cry of God as a father with a broken heart.

       God says, “Yet it is I who taught Ephraim to walk. I took them in my arms; but they did not know that I healed them. I led them with cords of a man with bonds of love, and I became to them as one who lifts the yoke from their jaws and I bent down and fed them."  'How can I give you up, 0 Ephraim? How can I surrender you, 0 Israel? My heart is turned within me. all my compassions are kindled.”

       David cried: "0 my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would that I had died instead of you. 0 Absalom, my son, my son!"

       David meant it of course. If he could have done the boy's dying for him, he would have done it. If he could have paid the price for the boy's betrayal of him, he would have paid it. If he could have given his own life to make the boy alive again, he would have given it.

       But, as Frederick Buechner points out, "Even a king can't do things like. As later history was to prove, it takes a God.”

        It takes a God.  In Jesus Christ God did for rebellious Ephraim and rebellious us what David could never do for rebellious Absalom -- die in our place. David couldn’t do it.  But Jesus did at the cross.  And now Jesus invites us to His table.