Lame But Accepted

One of my favorite
relationships in the Old Testament belong to David and Jonathan. Jonathan was
the son of King Saul. Next in line for the throne.

But
David was anointed king.
Not because Jonathan
would have been a pitiful choice. He wasn’t like his father, Saul–arrogant,
prideful, selfish.
“Then Jonathan said to the young man who bore his
armor, “Come, let us go over to the garrison of these uncircumcised; it may be
that the LORD will work for us. For nothing restrains the LORD from saving by
many or by few.” 1Samuel 14:6
Jonathan knew the Lord,
knew His power and knew He was in charge. He respected God’s choice.
And
Jonathan loved David.
“Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he
loved him as his own soul.” 1Samuel 18:3 I don’t know what it is about
this verse, about these men who loved each other as brothers but when I read
this, I cry. Every time. Every. Single. Time. It moves me. So much so, I wrote
a novel using this parallel.
Maybe because I know
how it ends.
“Then
the Philistines followed hard after Saul and his sons. And the Philistines
killed Jonathan, Abinadab, and Malchishua, Saul’s sons.” 1Samuel
31:2

And a servant came…
Then
David said to him, “How did the matter go? Please tell me.” And he answered,
“The people have fled from the battle, many of the people are fallen and dead,
and Saul and Jonathan his son are dead also.” 2Samuel 1:4
Denial
cloaked David. Maybe…maybe it was a rumor. Not Jonathan. Not his beloved friend.
… “How
do you know that Saul and Jonathan his son are dead?” 2Samuel
1:5

The servant told him what happened.


“And
they mourned and wept and fasted…” 2Samuel 1:12
David
wrote a song and lamented about Saul and Jonathan, with fierce sorrow. In
public. Jonathan, a friend who loved him enough to save him to be king. When he
could have killed him.
David
never forgot Jonathan and his friendship or their covenant with each other.
“Now
David said, “Is there still anyone who is left of the house of Saul, that I may
show him kindness for Jonathan’s sake?” 
2Sameul 9:1
 “And
Ziba said to the king, “There is still a son of Jonathan who is lame
in his feet.” 2Samuel 9:3
That’s
right! 

“Jonathan, Saul’s son, had a son… He was
five years old when the news about Saul and Jonathan came from Jezreel; and his
nurse took him up and fled. And it happened, as she made haste to flee, that he
fell and became lame
. His name was Mephibosheth.” 2Samuel 4:4

Mephibosheth.
“Now
when Mephibosheth the son of Jonathan, the son of Saul, had come to
David, he fell on his face and prostrated himself. Then David said,
“Mephibosheth?” And he answered, “Here is your servant!” 2Samuel 9:6
Servant? Did he think David was going to put him into bondage–a slave/servant?
Mephibosheth
a boy, who beyond his own control, was
hurt. Ruined. His father ripped from him.
His legacy…destroyed. Unable to walk. Unable to be king.
No one.
Broken.
Forgotten.
But David….a man after God’s own heart…

Not a slave. Not forced into servitude. 

Saved.

Remembered.

Taken care of.

“So Mephibosheth dwelt
in Jerusalem, for he ate continually at the king’s table. And he was lame in
both his feet. ” 2Samuel 9:13

The
king’s table. A place he had no business being. Not with lame feet. Not someone
who should be the king’s enemy.
“But God demonstrates His own love toward
us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for
us.” Romans 5:8
“For
God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the
world through Him might be saved.” John 3:17
 “He
heals the brokenhearted And binds up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3
Like
Mephibosheth, maybe you’ve been hurt, broken. Things spiraled out of control
and you found yourself forgotten, alone, your future gone.
God has not forgotten you.
He wants
to bring you to His table.

Time is
valuable, but one of my very favorite bands of all time, Leeland, says it so much better
than I ever could. Please take a minute and listen.

Have you felt lame? 
Unaccepted? Lost?
 How has God made a place for you? 


I’m hosting at Living by Grace today! Come by! 

I Walk With a Limp

Every day I gun it to my son’s school, just so I can watch a woman with a limp walk down the sidewalk, across the street, and up the hill.

It’s fascinating.

It causes me to inch too close to the vehicle in front of me, or lag behind and leave gaping spaces between. Depends on the day and how long it takes for the car behind me to honk.

About the time I turn the corner, she’s walking around the one across the street. Her right leg has a bend in it that has to have been there since birth. I haven’t noticed any scarring, so I’d say she’s never had surgery.

So why does this woman fascinate me?

Oh I forgot to tell you, it’s not her alone; she’s walking with her husband and her little girl who’s in kindergarten. I know this because of the building they walk her to. (I’ve had experience in stalking.)

Their appearance shows they’re not wealthy. And if it wasn’t for her limp, I’d have never noticed them. I’d probably be watching the woman who wears the exact same pajamas to walk her kid to school in every day. I’m not kidding. The same ones. Every. Single. Day.

They swing around the corner, the little girl holding on to her daddy’s left hand, while he holds his wife’s in his right.

There’s something about that, that touches me. He doesn’t really walk any slower, in fact sometimes I giggle as I watch the little girl try to keep up, her Dora backpack bouncing around behind her, it’s literally as big as she is.

He doesn’t seem to feel sorry for his wife, he hasn’t enabled her by bringing their child to school and allowing her to stay home. Who knows? Maybe she’s a fighter and begs to walk the distance. It’s a stretch to walk.

He holds her hand, and they fall into step together. I love it. I can’t explain it any better than I have. Other than it reminds me a lot of how I see myself with God.

No, I don’t picture him in black work pants and a sleeveless shirt. In fact, I never see Him in worn workboots or tattooed. Scarred, in riding boots–awaiting the day He can jump on His horse and rescue me, yes. A robe. Absolutely.

See, I have a limp, too. A spiritual limp.

I’ve had it from birth. One day, I’ll have surgery and it’ll be perfected.

Some days I don’t want to go out of the house. I don’t want to be seen. Some days, I don’t want my weakness to slow me down from the journey before me.

But my Husband, He takes my hand, and He walks beside me. We walk around the corner, across the street, and up the hill. We do it every day. I trust Him to go the distance with me.
He’s never impatient, angry, or annoyed.

He simply strolls beside me. Holding my hand, occasionally squeezing it. Letting me know, He’s able to catch me if I stumble.

I love watching that woman with the limp. It reminds me of me. It reminds me, when I don’t think I have a single step left, I do. It may not be an even step, probably won’t be.

But I’ll be moving forward.

How about you?

“Then great multitudes came to Him, having with them the lame, blind, mute, maimed, and many others; and they laid them down at Jesus’ feet, and He healed them.” Matthew 15:30