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Sermon, August 16, 2026, 1 Samuel 21:1-6, Mike Archer #gbcny † gbcny.org
"A Place at God’s Table"
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Good morning, dear saints. It's always refreshing and sobering, and quite frankly, a very much needed reminder for me, just to remember, even as we just sung, that the Lord Jesus truly is fairest, right?
We live in a time and place, our context saturated with so many distractions, where perhaps more than ever, there are countless things vying for that slot, right? Vying to be, in our hearts, in our eyes, in our estimations, the fairest.
And though many of these things may be good in their own rights, even blessings from the Lord, above all of them stands the one by whom, through whom, and for whom all these things were created, exist, and hold together.
The reality is Jesus is fairer, he is purer and brighter than all the treasures this universe can offer, and certainly than it can boast. Because of that, he to us should remain our soul's glory, joy, and crown, amen?
Amen. Well, I'd like to begin by sort of placing us in the sandals of a man who came from nothing, yet who, in short order, would find himself dining in a place of honor, even among one who held the highest honor in the land at that time.
From relative obscurity to prominence, he rose from a lowly shepherd boy to a commander of a thousand. Moreover, through his valiant military exploits, he would even become the captain of the king's own bodyguard, as well as the son-in-law to the king himself.
He was awarded and designated because of this with a seat at the king's royal table. However, there would come a day when all of that would begin to change, things would take a turn, and before long, the king's unrighteous jealousy over this particular man would transform that same table from a table of welcome to one of worry, of wickedness, and of wrath.
And so, with no place to go, where would he go, this man? What table was there for him now to which he could be received? And our text for this morning answers those two questions and puts into perspective what that answer ought to be for us as well.
And so, if you have them with you, hope you do, I'd ask that you please turn with me in your Bibles to the book of 1 Samuel. We're gonna be in 1 Samuel chapter 21 this morning, and there in the first six verses of 1 Samuel 21, we'll be examining a particular account from the early life of Israel's true and recently anointed king, King David, the youngest son of Jesse from Bethlehem.
Perhaps I know what some of you might be thinking, wow, Mike really loves the Old Testament, I guess, to which I would reply, absolutely, absolutely. As you've probably noticed, most of what you're holding in your hands right now records events, prophecies, and wisdom, which either took place or was penned before the advent of Christ, by at least 400 years at the earliest.
And yet, every ounce of it, to use his own words, bears witness to him, John 539. Moreover, what we call today the Old Testament happens to be the only scripture which Jesus and for some time, the first century believers would have possessed.
And I say this in no way to take away from the glory and value that is revealed to us in the new, we absolutely need that, we're beyond blessed to have it, but hopefully to show that the same God who inspired Matthew to Revelation also inspired what came before those books, thus proving it to be just as profitable for us today, even in the church age, as it was for the saints of old.
And in fact, I'm sure many of you would readily agree with that. But that aside, if you have the text in front of you, again, 1 Samuel 21, verses one through six, I'd ask that you please follow along now as I read.
And the word of the Lord says, then David came to Himalek the priest, and Himalek came to meet David, trembling, and said to him, why are you alone and no one with you? And David said to Himalek the priest, the king has charged me with a matter and said to me, let no one know anything of the matter about which I send you and with which I have charged you.
I made an appointment with the young men for such and such a place. Now then, what do you have on hand? Give me five loaves of bread or whatever is here. And the priest answered David, I have no common bread on hand, but there is holy bread if the young men have kept themselves from women.
And David answered the priest, truly women have been kept from us, as always when I go on an expedition. The vessels of the young men are holy, even when it is an ordinary journey. How much more today will their vessels be holy so the priest gave him the holy bread for there was no bread there but the bread of the presence which is removed from before the Lord to be replaced by hot bread on the day it is taken away.
Let's pray once more. Father God, how desperately we need the bread and the sustenance of your word, oh Father God. How desperately we need for me to step aside, oh Father God, and your spirit, oh Lord, your wisdom, your truth, your power, oh God, to be active in our hearts and minds, oh Lord, in the hearts and minds of your people here and those who are not your people.
Lord, I pray above all else that Christ would be exalted, oh Father God, and everything that is said, oh Lord, that the lost are brought to him, oh Father God, and your church, his bride, is edified, oh Lord.
Please do this, we pray in your son's glorious name, amen. The title of this sermon is Place at God's Table. And what I aim to show by it is that the Lord's mercy, right, the mercy of God abounds towards his people, right?
It doesn't, it's not just that it's there, it overflows. It abounds towards his people, even in their deepest afflictions. Though they come needy, though they come imperfect, and even wrought with guilt and shame and sin, he never turns his own away, rather, in mercy, he makes room for them, even at his very own table.
And to better grasp this, I've sort of apportioned our text using three simple points. Point number one being David's desperation, and we'll see that in the first three verses, David's desperation, verses one through three, followed by point number two, Ahimelech's stipulation, in verses four and five, and then point number three, lastly in verse six, the Lord's dispensation.
So David's desperation, Ahimelech's stipulation, and the Lord's dispensation. Now looking at that first point, point number one, David's desperation, we read again, verses one through three, then David came to Nab, to Ahimelech, the priest, and Ahimelech came to meet David, trembling, and said to him, why are you alone, and no one with you?
And David said to Ahimelech, the priest, the king has charged me with a matter, and said to me, let no one know anything of the matter about which I send you, and with which I've charged you. I have made an appointment with a young man for such and such a place.
Now then, what do you have on hand? Give me five loaves of bread, or whatever is here. Now, as I mentioned a moment ago, though he had been chosen by God, he was already Israel's anointed king, rightful king even, to many in the land, however, he was no such thing, and certainly not to Israel's current sitting king, King Saul.
Saul, son of Kish from the tribe of Benjamin, was crowned Israel's first actual king in the late 11th century BC, around 1050 or so, and his coronation marked the close of the period of the Judges, from which Samuel was the last.
We get the name of this book that we're in from him, he was the last of the Judges. But beloved as he was in Israel, as Samuel grew old, his sons really didn't follow in his way, and the people cried out for a king.
They wanted something different. However, the reason they demanded a king was so that they might fulfill their misplaced desires and longings of being more like the nations that were around them. We see this in 1 Samuel 8, 5, right?
Their trust for provision, that their needs would be provided for, for protection, that they would be sheltered and guarded from their enemies, for stability, that there would be peace and flourishing in their land, had shifted from what was formerly the sovereignty of God, God's care, God's protection, God's stability, to the agency of man.
Now we want a king. We wanna be like the nations that we see around us. They seem to be doing well. And this is why God would reveal to Samuel that beneath the sentiment was ultimately their rejection of God himself.
Israel was rejecting their God, who had heretofore been their king. He had been their king. He had been their king when he took them out of Egypt, when he guided them through the wilderness, when he allowed them to conquer the nations greater than them in the land, and now they didn't want him anymore.
Nevertheless, God allows it. He allows it, and along comes Saul. Now Saul, who though outwardly showed much promise, he was the tallest in the land, he was the most handsome in the land, possessed one fatal flaw.
He was arrogant. And his arrogance, which stems from pride and unbelief, began to be expressed fairly early on in his reign. Firstly, in 1 Samuel 13, we see it expressed in the form of an unauthorized sacrificial offering.
Despite Samuel's clear instructions for him to wait for his return on the seventh day before offering a sacrifice, Saul takes it upon himself to act as priest when he should have stayed in his lane as king.
Next, in the following chapter, 1 Samuel 14, we see it again with his rash vow, a vow which spoiled a hard-fought victory against the Philistine, and nearly cost his own son, Jonathan, his life. Then, and perhaps most infamously, was the incident following the defeat of the Amalekites in 1 Samuel 15.
There, he again presumes, contrary to God's clear instructions for him, what the best course of action should have been after this victory. And he elects to spare the best of Amalek's possessions, the choice livestock, and even their wicked king, King Agab.
He would even attempt to lie to Samuel about why he chose to disobey. Of course, Samuel found him out. But sadly, this was the straw that sort of broke the camel's back. And not only would this, his anointing for the throne be stripped from him and now given to another, but the Lord's very spirit, whom had previously empowered him for the task of being king, would now depart from him to be replaced by actually a harmful spirit, which would frequently and unexpectedly torment him day after day.
Enter David. Now, David, though just a youth, was the Lord's newly chosen servant, as I mentioned, anointed to be king in the place of Saul. He was the replacement. Interestingly enough, their earliest interactions with one another, Saul and David, they weren't even political at all.
David was discovered to have been, among many other things, very gifted and skillful with this instrument called the lyre. And as a result, he was first summoned into Saul's court to sort of as an intermittent musician, to play some songs for him.
And this playing would drive away the tormenting spirit that Saul had and refresh the king, David still being very young at this time. And Saul grew to love David, so much so that he eventually became sort of his armor bearer.
But then in chapter 17, 1 Samuel 17, would come David's defining moment, the one we all know well, when with a sling, a stone, and of course the spirit of the Lord upon him, he prevailed over a nine foot tall giant, Philistine champion named Goliath.
And because the Lord was with David, and that is the key, he prospered in all that he did. And at first this pleased Saul, I mean, this was certainly helping his kingdom, helping his army, until that is the people's praise of David began to surpass that of his own.
As was commonly sung in those days, Saul has struck down his thousands and David his 10 ,000s, 1 Samuel 18, 7. And to an already arrogant man, clinging to what was left of his royal authority, God had already said, this kingdom is gonna be taken from your hands.
This would have been like fuel to the fire or like salt on the wounds, as if it weren't bad enough that according to God, his royal line would not continue. Now his own servant, one who was subservient to him, David, in his surpassing prestige was only adding sort of insult to injury.
And from then on, Saul would plot to kill David. He would eye him and plot to kill him. First via craftiness, he would hope that he would get him to fall in battle, but eventually outright with little to no hint of shame, restraint or remorse, he would throw his own spear at him on multiple occasions.
However, the Lord continued to protect David and not only that, but he continued to prosper his way more and more. And one of the people he used to that end was Jonathan, Jonathan who was Saul's son, Saul's would be heir.
David and Jonathan would become very close allies. They were actually like kindred spirits. They had a very deep friendship. They were united by covenant as well. And whenever Saul sort of sought to do David harm, Jonathan would continue to reserve faithfulness for his dear friend by standing in the gap.
He would either act as a diplomat, sort of trying to sort of lower the temperatures between Saul and David, or even as just reconnaissance. This is what my father's doing. This is what he's thinking. Watch out.
The Lord even used David's wife Michal, right? Saul's younger daughter to cover for him when Saul sent men to their own home in the middle of the night in order to kill him. And from there, when David fled to Ramah where Samuel lived, even there Saul would attempt to pursue him though to no avail, because again, the Lord was with David.
Lastly, in 1 Samuel 20, we find one final test. The new moon was approaching, marking the beginning of a new month. And with that were customary sacrifices and sort of feasts and festivals that would take place at that time over the course of three days.
David, as an official member of Saul's royal court, even though they're not on the best of terms right now, was expected to participate in those feasts, in those new moon festivals as he always had. But this time David would not be showing up.
His seat would be empty. And the test here was that if Saul sort of remained unfazed, unbothered by David's absence, even adding a blessing to it, okay, wherever he is, let him go in peace, then all would be well.
The coast would be clear and David could return. However, if Saul was bothered visibly in his own spirit by David's absence, then this would mean and signal to Jonathan, who would tell David that harm was in fact intended for David.
And unfortunately, the latter turned out to be true. And so according to the plan, Jonathan warns David of this by a sort of previously agreed upon method and following a heart-wrenching farewell in that chapter, the two are forced to sort of go their separate ways for a while.
And this is where our text begins. It begins with a man whose entire world has basically just collapsed. He had been the slayer of giants, the celebrated hero of Israel, the commander of the king's armies, and not the least of which, Israel's anointed and future king.
But what now? At the present, it would seem as though he had no home, no army, no supplies, no weapon, no clear plan. His closest and most trusted confidant, Jonathan, has just confirmed his worst fears, that the king was out for his head.
And because of this, David is suddenly ejected from the security of the royal court and begins what will become a prolonged existence as a fugitive, sort of the whole rest of 1 Samuel will be sort of David running from King Saul.
The Puritan theologian, Matthew Henry, captures the irony of this situation quite accurately when in his commentary on the passage, he describes David as the king-elect, right? He is the king-elect who is nevertheless reduced to begging for bread.
Of all the people that would beg for bread, you wouldn't think he would be the king-elect. He then goes on to point out, Matthew Henry, how God's providence, i .e. all that he ordains to be, when we talk about God's providence, can sometimes appear to run contrary to his promises, all that he has sworn to accomplish.
And herein lies a great tension. God has promised David a throne, but David can't even find lunch right now. As believers, sort of we may know something of this tension to a degree. And the tension may go like this.
Lord, you said you love me, your word makes it clear, but if so, why am I here going through this trial? Why have I been languishing with this for so long? Maybe we don't verbalize it, sometimes we may think it.
Or you said you would provide, but then why am I constantly struggling to make ends meet? You said you would never leave nor forsake me, but then why do I feel so alone many times? David possesses a divine promise, a promise that he will be king, that his line will be established, but no visible fulfillment is there yet for him.
However, God who promised David the kingdom had not forgotten about David's need. At the same time, it may be worth noting that David hasn't forgotten about where it is that he should be going in turning in his time of need, and that is to the Lord.
You see, Nob wasn't just any ordinary city, it was a city of priests located halfway between Jerusalem to the south, formerly known as Jebus, and Gibeah to the north, which was at the time Israel's capital.
It was also known for Nob, its religious sort of significance being the resting place of the tabernacle, at least currently. Formerly the tabernacle was in another town called Shiloh, but it was taken from there, there was a whole debacle, and now it's in Nob.
And Ahimelech, who served as the high priest during this time, was the one to whom David came. And so we see sort of a reliance on God, David wanting to seek out God, which is a good sign. And priests were divinely appointed ministers, as you probably know, hailing from the line of Aaron.
Aaron was the brother of Moses. They acted as sort of mediators between God and man. You can think of them as holy go-betweens. Their primary duties were to offer ritual sacrifices, to intercede for the people, offer up prayers for them, provide instruction, teaching, spiritual guidance, to be able to discern and determine for them God's law so that people knew how to interpret it, and also to perform even specific health checks.
High priests, of which Ahimelech was one, as leaders among leaders were tasked with temple oversight, priestly supervision, and sometimes civic authority. Sometimes they would be involved in the workings of the government.
They were endowed with a unique privilege and responsibility of performing sacred rites, like such as on the Day of Atonement, where one day of year, only this man could enter behind the veil of the tabernacle and later temple, where it would be the Holy of Holies, the Ark of the Covenant, the mercy seat, the presence of God, right?
So this was a very special position. And so it would not have been unreasonable for David to presume that if there was anyone to be best equipped to help him in his time of need, it would be the man who, at least theoretically, was closest to God.
This was the high priest. This man actually goes behind the curtain. Let me go to him. And yet in verse one, it records that when Ahimelech came to David, Ahimelech came to David, he did so trembling.
By this point, it would have been well-known to most, if not all in Israel, that David had, for some reason, fallen from the king's good graces. Him and Saul were not on good terms anymore, and the news would have spread.
Thus, Ahimelech's trembling indicates his awareness of the political sort of tension between Saul and David. As a priest, and a high priest no less, Ahimelech would have been concerned about the implications of aiding David, what that might mean for his very own life.
And this reaction reflects the fear and uncertainty prevalent among the Israelites due to the disconnect between Saul's erratic behavior, on the one hand, and also this growing support for David as Israel's anointed future king.
You have Saul saying, this man is a traitor, we gotta get him, and yet people are seeing him as their champion and loving him, and so there's this sort of tension there in Ahimelech's mind. His fear also suggests the potential consequences of being even associated with David, again, as Saul's wrath was unpredictable and often violent, as the following chapter will make abundantly clear.
And so Ahimelech asked, why are you alone? What's going on, why are you here alone, no one with you? I mean, you're the king's right-hand man, where's your retinue? David's solitary arrival was unusual for someone of his status.
It'd be like sort of a mayor or the president just kind of showing up to someone's house alone. It would be odd, to say the least. Typically, as a commander of 1 ,000, he would have been accompanied by a sizable army.
And so Ahimelech's question highlights sort of the abnormality of this situation. It wasn't normal, even the suspicion of David's attention. Is this something bad? In those times, traveling alone often implied secrecy or urgency, which raised concerns about David's motive.
Why was he there? Well, at the same time, his very question actually exposes David's present condition before he ever gets a chance to explain it. The man who once heard crowds singing his praises, David, is now virtually all alone for no fault of his own.
It reminds us that affliction has a way of stripping away the things that we sometimes subconsciously cling to and that we depend on. We need that sort of praise and that affirmation and whatever that is.
However, this can actually be a blessing in disguise. How can that be a blessing in disguise? Well, it can be a blessing in disguise because sometimes God's stripping us of these things, our dependence on these things, can be the only way that we discover his sufficiency.
Because formally, we're hanging on sort of the thoughts and the esteem of people rather than on what God provides, what he offers, what he thinks about me. The Apostle Paul, right, defending his ministry in the latter half of 2 Corinthians chapter 11, he provided a laundry list of sufferings that he endured for the sake of the gospel.
We actually heard this here not very long ago. Sufferings which included imprisonments, beatings, stoning, shipwrecks, betrayal, hunger, exposure to the elements on top of his sort of daily anxieties that he had for all of the churches, churches he planted and also the churches that he visited and was ministering in.
And in the following chapter, chapter 12, for 2 Corinthians, he would go on to speak about how following this vision that he received from the Lord of the third heaven, he was given a thorn in the flesh, likely a metaphor for some sort of permanent affliction.
Now concerning this thorn, Paul on three separate occasions, he's asking the Lord, take it away, take it away, take it away, this is, I can't deal with this. He would plead with God to remove it. However, when it was determined that God would not remove the thorn, Paul resigns and records the Lord assuring him in verse nine that my grace is sufficient for you.
My power is made perfect in weakness, right? Initially, we may not appreciate our trials. We may not appreciate the things that we're going through and we may have been going through them for years. And we may never fully understand why it is exactly that we are even going through them.
We may not even ever understand and we may take it to our grave and not understand. But the one thing we can't forget in the midst of those afflictions, in the midst of those trials, in the midst of that suffering is that the Lord is at work.
He is indeed at work. And through this affliction, he's making us more like his son. We know that, but if we don't know anything else, he's making us more like Jesus, which is why we read in James one, two, four, count it all joy, all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds.
For you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness and let steadfastness have its full effect that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. It's also why Paul would affirm in Romans 8, 28 and 29.
And we know that for those who love God, all things, the good, the bad and the ugly, all things work together for good for those who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew, he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his son, making us more like Christ in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers.
Very few, if any of us would say that we would enjoy being abandoned, we would enjoy having friends flake on us or, you know, plans go awry. But sometimes again, God permits the crowd to thin out in order that we may discover that his presence really was more sweet and was never diminished at all.
David may have been alone, but he was not abandoned. And though Abimelech was clearly afraid of his coming, I have little reason to doubt that David was also afraid because fear is the only thing that would logically explain what he proceeds to do next and say next in verse two.
David tells Abimelech that Saul has secretly sent him on royal business, right? He's saying, I'm here because the king sent me. You know, I'm here for the young men to go to such and such a place. The problem is that wasn't true at all.
Saul was not trying to send David anywhere except to an early grave. And this right here is important for us to see, right? Though a man after God's own heart, who surely expressed greater faith than certainly I or maybe even many of us ever will, David here was desperate.
And as a result of his desperation, David sins. He sins by lying to a priest. And being a flawed man, it would not be the last time he sins, even in grievous ways. And concerning this, I found again, Matthew Henry refreshingly direct.
He says, the scripture does not conceal this. He doesn't conceal this blunder, and we dare not justify it, period. The Bible doesn't need flawless human heroes because its true hero is God. Always was, always will be.
It goes back to what we sang. Jesus shines brighter. Jesus shines purer. He is the fairest. And this should also put to rest any objections of those who might say, oh, you know, accuse the Bible of sort of being biased towards one people group, painting them in a particular light.
People that have that objection haven't read the Bible. It doesn't paint any man in a particular light. It puts us all in an even playing field, and we are all sinners in need of God's redemption. It makes emphatically clear, cover to cover.
But that makes God's mercy all the more profound, all the more sweet, because it isn't merely to David, the anointed provision, that the anointed provision ultimately comes, right? He was anointed, but it's coming to David the frightened.
David, the faltering. David, even the deceptive. God's mercy doesn't come to him because he has performed flawlessly and because he has been right on all counts. No, it comes because God is merciful, and the same is true for us.
How do I know this? Paul writes in Titus of three, verses four through five A, but when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us not because of works done in righteousness.
It's not because you were good. It's not because God was impressed, right? But because according to his own mercy, and thank God for that, because if he was waiting for us to impress him, we would never do it.
Aside from being alone and afraid, David is also hungry. He continues in verse three with a request. He asked, now then, what do you have on hand? Give me five loaves of bread or whatever is here. Desperation has humbled this man, has humbled this anointed king.
And if you think about it, there is something, even about his choice of words, he starts with, you'll notice, what do you have? Rather than here's what I expect you to give me. What do you have? What's available at your disposal?
Again, the future king of Israel is here begging for scraps. He doesn't ask for delicacies. He's not asking for a choice cuts for lobster or oysters or whatever would have been valuable in that time and place.
Nor does he even insist upon the five loaves necessarily, because right after he says, or whatever's here. You don't have five loaves, I'll take whatever. I'll take one loaf. He's willing to take whatever they've got on hand.
In other words, David comes empty-handed, right? And that's how it is that all people, us included, must come to God. We need to become hungry, we need to become desperate, and we need to come empty-handed.
Jesus opens his sermon on the mount by saying, Beatitude number one, Matthew five, three, blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. To be poor in spirit means to be spiritually bankrupt in a nutshell.
Essentially, it's to say that with one's heart and life, as the hymn goes, Rock of Ages, nothing in my hand I bring, simply to thy cross I bring. I don't have anything to offer you, God. Your cross is everything.
Your gospel is everything. Your son is everything. Three verses later, Matthew five, six, he says, blessed are those who hunger and thirst for what? For righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. That is to own, as he did during his temptation in the wilderness, that man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word which proceeds from the mouth of God.
We need bread, and the Lord knows that. He knows our needs. But he knows ultimately what we need most is him. We need more of him. We need to know more of what he's like, what he says, what he intends for us to live and do and to believe.
Some people suppose that God's table is reserved for those who arrive full, right, full of faith, full of righteousness, full of courage, full of piety, full of spiritual achievement, full of the sort of list of all the things that I've done right in my life.
But in truth, God's table is for any and all, and really only those who know that they're hungry. Jesus says, I didn't come, you know, the physician doesn't come for those who are healthy, for those who are sick.
They're the ones who know that they need a doctor. And the hungry are the only ones who know that he can satisfy their hunger. Perhaps, my friends, you may find yourself in a season of desperation even now, a season where you don't know when you will next be refreshed but allow me to encourage you by saying as painful as the weight may be, as the circumstances may feel, your desperation does not disqualify you from God's table.
Rather, it may be the very thing that he is using to point you to it, to point you to your need of him. Of all the places David could have turned to help, and there's probably many. I mean, imagine all the favors he could have called in, all of the connections that he made in his military exploits.
He turns instead to the house of the Lord and the place where God's presence has been manifested among his people. And that speaks volumes. However, there arose one potential issue which, if not handled rightly, could have precluded him from the blessing that he so desperately required, and this brings us to our second point, point number two, a Himalayan stipulation.
There we read again in verses four through five, and the priest answered David, I have no common bread on hand, but there is holy bread if the young men have kept themselves from women. And David answered the priest, truly women have been kept from us as always when I go on an expedition.
The vessels of the young men are holy even when it is an ordinary journey. How much more today will their vessels be holy? David has come asking for ordinary bread, but Ahimelech doesn't have any. He doesn't have any just common bread.
It's understandable. We really would have only been primarily priest ministering there, and they were allowed to eat the holy bread. And this was the only bread available. And what's important to note about this exchange is that while Ahimelech, you know, he's about to bring up some conditions, he doesn't immediately say no.
He doesn't just say, no, there's nothing for you. Neither does he casually say, sure, just take whatever you want. Go walk in the tabernacle right now, and whatever you see on that table is yours. And what this tells us and what we see here is that there is some tension between holiness and need.
For one, this bread really was holy. Therefore, Ahimelech's hesitation about it wasn't merely preferential. It wasn't just, you know, this is really just for us. You know, you shouldn't have it. This bread was holy.
It was set apart, actually rooted in the law of God. Leviticus 24, verses five through nine provides the background. You can feel free to turn there if you wish. But Leviticus 24, five through nine, there we read, you shall take fine flour and bake 12 loaves of it from two ethers, from two tenths of an ether, and it shall be in each loaf.
And you shall set them in two piles, six in a pile, on the table of pure gold before the Lord. And you shall put pure frankincense on each pile that it may go with the bread as a memorial portion, as a food offering to the Lord.
Every Sabbath day, Aaron shall arrange it before the Lord and the Lord, before the Lord regularly. It is from the people of Israel as a covenant forever. It shall be for Aaron and his sons, and they shall eat it in a holy place since it is for him a most holy portion out of the Lord's food offerings, a perpetual due.
And so, as we see these 12 loaves, which in some way represented the 12 tribes of Israel, Israel as a whole, before the presence of God, they were placed before the Lord continually, week after week, and as it was replaced with new bread, the old bread was to be reserved for Aaron and the priestly line and his household.
They were also to eat it in a holy place. They couldn't just take it anywhere. And so the restriction was real, and this bread was normally reserved for priests alone. Was David a priest? No. Not by function.
Therefore, Ahimelech is forced to wrestle with a legitimate theological difficulty, right? That being, how do I honor the holiness of God who I've taken an oath to serve faithfully in his commands while at the same time responding to this very real need right in front of me?
There's a hungry man here, one of my brothers of Israel, not only that, an anointed king. What do I do here? And this is an important question for us to reconcile as well, because while biblical mercy is never indifference to holiness, we don't just sort of throw holiness sort of out the window, if you will.
At the same time, biblical holiness is never indifference to suffering, right? Biblical mercy is never indifference to holiness, and biblical holiness is never indifference to suffering. We don't then say, oh, this must be holy.
I'm gonna turn a blind eye to all that I see. Holiness first, mercy second. Secondly, we see that Ahimelech seeks purity over pedigree, right, purity in terms of ceremonial purity over the role that David had, not as a priest.
Notice what he doesn't say. He doesn't say to David, you know, you aren't a priest, therefore leave, get out of here. Instead, he asks about their ceremony of cleanliness, his ceremonial cleanliness, and also the ceremonial cleanliness of the men that David was with or that David would be going to.
He stipulates, right, he says, if the young men have kept themselves from women, and this condition reflects the requirement of ritual purity, especially as it pertains to dealing with holy things, right, handling or consuming sacred items.
These were special, and you had to approach it in a special way in this time. Abstaining from sexual relationships, even between husband and wife, was, in that context, a common practice for maintaining ceremonial cleanness.
You may recall in Exodus 19, prior to the Lord descending sort of in fire upon Mount Sinai, where he would give the law to Moses, that Moses was commanded to consecrate, that is, to set apart or to make holy the people.
And one of the things he commanded them, in Exodus 19 .15, was not to go near a woman. That's how serious it was. God was coming, cut that out. And David, who I believe understood this, answers to him in the affirmative.
He doesn't say, you know, does that really matter? Or, you know, can't you just give me a break? No, he states that he and his young men have kept themselves pure, as was their custom, on any journey they took.
And though his sort of previous statements, for the reason, for example, of his visit, were untrue, there's little reason to believe that what he was now saying was a lie as well. Why do I say that? Well, excluding the occasional and sometimes, sadly, grievous moments in David's life, and we can hold a mirror to ourself and see all of that, deceitfulness really wasn't part of David's general M .O.
He wasn't a man that you would say, and look at him and say, this is a man that is just deceitful in practice, deceitfulness. And we see that throughout his Psalms. We see that in his life, in his service to the Lord.
And he prefaces his response in verse five here in our text by saying, truly, right, truly, some of your versions might render, indeed, or surely, or you rest assured, women have been kept from us, as always, when I go on an expedition.
I believe he was being sincere. But regardless of what we may make of that, the basic movement is clear. Hamilech is earnestly looking for a way to preserve the sanctity of these elements, of this bread, while simultaneously sort of meeting the genuine need of the man before him.
He doesn't wanna compromise. He's trying to find a way to make both work, and that's significant. Hamilech is not a fault finder. What I mean by that? He's not trying to find any little reason to deny mercy.
Oh, well, you did that? Oh, well, I don't know, did you do that today? Oh, no, you can't have it. Rather, he's trying to find a righteous way to extend mercy under these very special circumstances. A legalistic heart asks, how can I use this rule or this law to bar entry?
How can I sort of keep those who I deem unworthy out or make them feel less than? That's a legalistic heart. But a merciful heart asks, how can I honor God while freely helping others in, allowing them to see his mercy?
If by grace, dear saints, we are able to think according to the latter, thinking more towards mercy rather than legalism, I think we'll find that we won't have to sort of abolish standards. We won't have to put God's law aside or what he wants for us aside, because what we'll discover is that mercy and holiness aren't really at odds with one another at all.
They never were. And I would like to develop this thought for a moment, because ultimately, it comes down to this idea of the spirit of the law versus the letter. Leviticus 24, right? It restricted holy bread to the priest.
That's true. Yet Ahimelech gives it to David. Centuries later, Jesus himself brings up this very incident, which we read in Matthew chapter 12, right? As we read earlier in Matthew chapter 12, Jesus' disciples, who were also hungry, they proceed to pluck a bit of grain.
It's the Sabbath day, and the Pharisees, watching their every move, are witnessing this. And they accuse them, therefore, of breaking the Sabbath and for Jesus, for allowing it. But Jesus responds in verses three and four of Matthew 12, have you not read what David did when he was hungry, and those who were with him, how he entered the house of God and ate the bread of the presence, which it was not lawful for him to eat, nor for those who were with him, but only for the priests.
Then in verse seven of that same chapter, that same passage, Jesus utters something really profound, citing Hosea 6 .6, when he says, and if you had known what this means, I desire mercy and not sacrifice, you would not have condemned the guiltless.
So you see that? Jesus, the incarnate word of God, the one who has all authority to interpret the word and the law, gives the inspired theological lens through which we can understand 1 Samuel 21, where we're at.
Right, again, Matthew Henry, I realize I relied upon him a lot during this message. He summarizes this succinctly. He says, mercy is to be preferred rather than sacrifice. It's to be preferred to sacrifice.
And it's not because sacrifice is wrong. It's not because sacrifice has no place, again, talking in the old covenant context, nor because God's commands are disposable, but because these ceremonial ordinances, only the priest could have the bread, you gotta be clean, all this, were never intended to become instruments of cruelty.
They were never intended to withhold mercy from those who need it. Hamilet rightly recognized that the law was given for life rather than to prevent the aid of the genuinely needy. That wasn't its purpose.
It's why Jesus said in Mark 2, 27, along these same lines, the Sabbath was made for man and not man for the Sabbath. Right, in Jesus' time, men were subservient to the Sabbath. It had become a burden, as did all of the laws that they tried to keep.
But that wasn't even the purpose of the Sabbath. It was so that they could have rest. In short, God's mercy never contradicts God's law, rather it reveals the heart of the God who gave the law. Micah 6, 6, 6 -8, familiar passage, says, with what shall I come before the Lord and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with tens of thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression or the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?
Verse eight, he has told you, old man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness, some versions have mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. In light of all this, we gotta be careful, right, to watch for things like legalism, even amongst ourselves, perhaps especially amongst ourselves.
It's possible to defend things like doctrinal correctness, church procedures, favored traditions, long-held standards, personal preferences, and et cetera, yet become increasingly insensitive to the suffering person that may be sitting right amongst us where we're so focused on the jot and tittle, which I'm not saying is of no importance, but we need to be able to balance that out.
Hear me out, the answer is not less holiness. The answer is holiness that resembles God and Christ. How can Christ be perfectly holy in all that he did and said, and yet still show such compassion and mercy, even on multitudes that came to him when he was probably tired, when they probably said things that were wrong and untrue, and yet he's still able to show that mercy.
It doesn't nullify. Perhaps start by asking yourself, has my orthodoxy, my pursuit for upholding these truths made me more merciful, because it should, or less? Is growing in the knowledge of God's word making me more compassionate, as it should, or less?
When broken people approach me, do they encounter merely a wall of rules and regulations, or do they get a taste of God's mercy? Do they get a taste of the goodness of God, even as they do truth? At the end of the day, the God who declared the bread holy was also the God who saw David, the hungry man.
And so, despite David's desperation in verses one through three and Hamilech's stipulation in verses four through five, we come at last to our final point, point number three, the Lord's dispensation, which we see in verse six.
And they were given to read, so the priest gave him the holy bread, for there was no bread but the bread of the presence, which is removed from before the Lord to be replaced by hot bread on the day it is taken away.
As it turns out, there was a place at God's table for David, and it wasn't reserved because the circumstances were neat or because David belonged to the priesthood, nor because he acted rightly in every instance.
As we've seen, David arrives frightened, he arrives hungry, displaced, and morally compromised, but nevertheless, he leaves fed. And there are at least three encouraging truths we can observe from this verse alone, many more, I'm sure.
But firstly, we see that God's provision is often sort of hidden until necessity reveals it. God may provide things that we may not sort of see in full until the time comes when we need it. The thing about this exchange, right, is that, what's abundantly clear, actually, is that there is no other bread, there's no other bread, there's no common bread, there's only holy bread, right?
And nowhere in this passage, if you look at it, does David ever take it upon himself to ask for what he knows belongs to God, right? There's only holy bread, oh, give me that then. He doesn't take it upon himself to ask for what he knows belongs to God and his priest.
From David's perspective, if there's no common bread, then there's no bread at all. Keep it moving. However, from God's perspective, there was bread, right? David just didn't understand how it was that God would get this to him, right?
How he would provide it. And thankfully, he did so through the faithfulness and mercy of his priest. And how, oh, how we need to recognize this sort of disconnect. Think about how often we define God's resources according to what's visible or what's conceivable or imaginable by us.
You know, we look at, you know, I don't see a way out. I don't see a way out of this situation, right? Will we just put God in a box? I don't see a way that he can get me out of this. Maybe we don't add that last part, but if God is sovereign, why would we think like that?
Or, you know, I just don't have it. I don't have it, there's no money. I don't know how ends are gonna meet. The opportunity has not presented itself. I don't know how I'm gonna be able to engage with this person or undertake this thing.
There's just no answer. There's no right answer to this. Or I don't see how this can possibly end well. And yet, heaven's repeated answer is, as the Apostle Paul wrote in Philippians 4 .19, and my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches and glory in Christ Jesus.
That's a promise. That's a promise that should counter all of those things. And when David asked earlier, what do you have on hand? God's answer here in giving the bread was more than enough. More than enough.
Yes, for five loaves, there would have been 12 loaves on that table. Secondly, you'll notice that the bread David receives had been removed from before the presence of the Lord, which implies that it was previously in God's presence, at least symbolically.
Hence the name, the bread of the presence, the show bread. And that's really quite remarkable when you give it some thought, right? From where does provision come for this fugitive king, this fugitive King David?
It comes from before the very presence of God. It doesn't just come from the fields or from the people who harvested or the people that baked it. It comes ultimately from God. The literal table, this gold table on which this bread rested associated with God's presence becomes the exact means by which God would provide for his needy servant and sustain him.
Thus David here discovers that even when Saul's table, the table that he thought he could anchor on and trust and thought that he would be rising up in, even when that table had become dangerous and unlivable, his own table, which even his own table at home where he had to flee was desolate, there was still bread for him at God's table.
Thirdly, we observe that while God's providence often provides, that God's providence often provides differently than we might expect. It may not always come in the ways that we would have imagined it.
David wanted common bread and would have been more than happy to accept common bread or anything they had, but God gave him something better. He gave him holy bread. The Lord doesn't always provide what we might envision.
We may ask for something and think that that's the thing. That's the thing that I need. That's the thing that I should have. And sometimes maybe we're right, but he doesn't always provide what we envision.
And that's actually a good thing because quite frankly, if we're honest, more often than not, we sometimes ask for things that probably would do us little good, wouldn't be very profitable in terms of our growth in Christlikeness, though not everything, but some things.
And so though sometimes God's provision may seem peculiar, it may seem odd or strange or unexpected, his provision is always better than what we initially requested because he is holy, right? David couldn't have anticipated the answer.
He couldn't have said, oh, they're just gonna give me the bread of the presence that's before the Lord, only eaten by the priest. I don't think he could have anticipated that. And yet the bread that seemed unavailable to him becomes the very bread by which he survives.
If he doesn't eat, he's starving. Now, what we need to keep in mind is that this remarkable act of mercy doesn't then mean that David's earlier lie, going back to point number one, didn't matter, right?
In the next chapter, and I kind of alluded to this second Samuel 22, the situation at Nob, the cities that he's in, it devolves into something horrendous, horrific even. A foreign-born servant of Saul's named Doeg, who had been present in Nob when David is there, who's watching, who's seeing, who's observing what David is saying, supposedly speaking on behalf of the king, he reports, Doeg reports what he saw to Saul, and Saul orders virtually all of the priests to be slaughtered, 85 men in total, that war the Linenifer, the word says.
Moreover, the entire city of Nob, it's not, it wasn't just the priests, then he took it a step further, that entire city was then subsequently devoted to destruction, and that's just mind-blowing when I thought about that, and entirely ironic, because when we go back to 1 Samuel 15, with Saul with the Amalekites, God's actual enemies that God not only sanctions, but commands him to wipe out, because I'm giving you this land, wipe them out, he doesn't do that.
He saves some of the livestock, he even saves their king, but these God's own people, the priests, this man wipes out, this man wipes out, and sadly, David, he's grieved because he realizes that he had some part to play in that, and he says that himself in the end of chapter 22, he takes some responsibility for his role in what happened, had he not been there, or had he seen Doeg, he probably would have left or moved on, not wanting to put them in harm's way, but what does this mean for us?
Well, firstly, let's consider what it doesn't mean. Firstly, it doesn't mean that sin doesn't matter, because God is merciful. God is merciful, but sin still matters, right? It also doesn't mean that if God provides for us after the fact, after our sin, that he shows some sort of kindness, that our prior actions, if sinful, were acceptable.
Okay, well, God provided, so that means that thing I did wasn't that bad, you know? Rather, what I believe it means is that God's mercy is so great that even our failures cannot exhaust it for we who are his, or belong to him.
David's sin had real-world consequences. People died because of his actions, as do ours. Our actions have real-world consequences, things we see, things we may not see. Nevertheless, his sin did not nullify God's covenant faithfulness, and neither will it nullify his faithfulness towards you if you belong to him.
And so what does David discover when desperation drives him to the house of God? He discovers that despite what things might have looked like on the surface, what he was seeing, and things looked bad, and despite what he had to leave behind, you know, I had all this, now what do I have?
I'm running, you know, what about God's promise? There was still a place for him at God's table. Similarly, when we're brought to the end of ourselves, right, when we're at the end of ourselves, and we come to a place sort of in our own souls, in our own hearts, where we find ourselves desperate, we find ourselves deficient, undeserving, again, poor in spirit, there it is that we discover that God's mercy is actually greater than our circumstances.
It's greater than what's going on. It's greater than our sin, even, and deeper than any outward ritual that we might cling to. And as I mentioned earlier, not only does this episode allude to Jesus, but it was, again, directly cited by him, in all three of the Synoptic Gospels.
And there, Jesus explicitly identifies himself with this episode, and the connections are striking. On the one hand, we have David, right, who is God's anointed king. He's rejected by the ruling authorities, Saul and his court, accompanied by followers.
He has these young men with him, later David's mighty men. He's hungry, and he's accused of implicitly transgressing the sacred regulation. Have the young men been cured? And then comes the son of David, right, Jesus, who likewise is all of those things, but to a greater degree.
God's true anointed king, he is, one whom David even writes about in Psalm 2. Rejected by Israel's authorities, accompanied by disciples, often hungry, and accused of violating religious tradition, which favors man's ways over God's anyway.
And yet, Jesus is greater than the temple. Jesus is Lord of the Sabbath. Jesus, beyond that, he's the bread of life. Life comes from him. And while David came looking for bread, Christ comes declaring, John 6 .35, I am the bread of life.
Whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst. David received bread from before the presence of God, but Christ says, in John 6 .35, for the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.
Why do sinners have a place at God's table? Why do we? Why have we been invited? What made us eligible? It's not because sin doesn't matter. It's not because God said, eh, don't worry about it. Quite the contrary.
Our place at God's table for we who believe, we who trust and are anchored in Christ exists because he took our place under judgment. He took our sin. He bore our sin in his body on the cross, and in exchange, he gave us the perfect righteousness which only he could merit and which we fail to do daily, from womb to tomb.
And because of this, we can be forgiven. Because of this, we can be reconciled to God. We don't come to Christ because we're worthy. We come to Christ because he is worthy. That's why we sing his praises.
That's why we gather. That's why we seek to do his will. We wanna follow him. Generations upon generations of Christians for 2 ,000 years. It's because he's at work building his church, and we wanna be a part of that because of what he's done for us.
David came compromised, and so ought we. We're compromised, and our compromise shouldn't keep us from coming. It should actually propel us to come. David came needy, and so must we. David needed mercy, and so does everyone in this room, myself especially.
And that's the beauty of the gospel. And when you recognize, when you're brought to a place where you recognize your own sin before a holy God, and recognize the sort of utter futility in your attempts to do anything that would make that relationship right, that, again, spiritually bankrupt, Lord, I can do nothing, you have done it all.
Until we are brought to that place, we're not gonna run after him. But we can. You can shift your gaze to, again, the fairest Lord Jesus, who says in John 6 .37, all that the Father gives to me will come to me, and whoever comes to me, I will no wise cast out.
I will never cast out. That's a promise. If you've done this this day, if you are his, then blessed are you. And may you be continually satisfied by the bread of life. May you be continually assured that you have a place at God's table, and from that, just run for him.
Run for him. Run this race boldly for him, knowing that you are his. However, if you have not placed your trust in him this morning, this day, then you remain sort of without a table. There's no reservation for you anywhere.
Things may seem nice. Your life may look pretty pleasant right now. It may seem like nothing's wrong, but you're starving. You have no table. You have no bread. And you will starve to death, unless and until you cry out for that bread.
Know for sure there will come a day when everything that you think is well and fine will come crashing down. There's a day for all men, and there's certainly a day of judgment. Cry out for mercy. Cry out to God to forgive you for your sin.
Don't think that I need to be at a certain level then, or I'll wait until this, then I'll come to him. Cry out now. Know that you need him. Know that God, he takes sin very seriously, so seriously that he sent his son into this world to bear it, to die for it, and to rise so that you would have life in him.
Come hungry, come weary, come ashamed, come bruised even by affliction. Come confessing your sin, but by all means, come because through Christ, there's a place at God's table, amen? Father, we're worth, we're worth, we're worth, but we just cannot express, Lord, how grateful we are, Lord, that you have been so gracious to us to give us a place at your table, Lord, a place in your family, oh God.
Though you're servants, and we are glad to be, Lord, we're also your children, Lord, and yet there are many who do not have that relationship with you, oh Lord, who do not know you as a father, oh God, and we pray that in your mercy and in your great grace and kindness, oh Lord, that you would bring them into your fold, oh Lord, and above all, oh Father God, whether you build up your saints, oh Father God, or evangelize the lost through the gospel that is preached, we pray that the name of Christ would be exalted, oh Lord, and we thank you so much in his precious name, amen.