There are two kinds of heartache you are likely to experience in this world. The first kind is awful, terrible, horrible but — in the end — it is bearable. It is the kind of heartache that pulls us closer together. You see this when a loved one dies, and the family draws tighter together than ever before. We’re seeing this kind of heartache among those who have lost all their earthly belongings in the wake of Katrina. Families, churches, entire communities are drawing closer together and providing support for one another to get through the heartache that they are all enduring.

But there is another kind of heartache that is far worse than any other. It is the heartache and pushes us farther apart. The heartache of divorce. The heartache of severed relationships is a pain that lingers far longer than any other.

Why should this be so? I think it’s because this second kind of heartache is further outside of God’s will for humanity. God has set out to create community — a group of people rightly related to him and rightly relating to themselves and others. Anything that tears at the fabric of God’s community goes against his will. What God has brought together, let no one put asunder.

Question: Did David love Absalom?

I think it’s obvious that he did. He wept over the death of Absalom and cried out how he wished he had died instead. The problem is that sometimes love isn’t enough. That is, if you define love as a strong emotional feeling, then it is not right to say all we need is love.

Feeling love isn’t enough. Love has to actually do something for it to be enough. And sometimes even then….

I want to pick up the story of King David again, and I want to spend a little time looking at a small episode involving Jonathan’s son, Mephibosheth.

Mephibosheth was five years old when his father and grandfather died. News of this sad event threw the household into a panic. Mephibosheth’s nurse grabbed up the five-year-old and, in her haste, dropped him — crippling him in both feet.

A couple of observations: First, the nurse’s inability to calm her own anxiety made what appeared to be a bad situation much worse. How often in our own anxious reactivity do we just end up further complicating things?

Second, think what was communicated to Mephibosheth. If the new King ever gets his hands on you, he’s going to kill you. David had no such intention, but the five-year-old didn’t know that. Mephibosheth goes on to spend the next 20 years or so hiding from a King who only wanted to show him kindness.

It makes me realize just how important it is to give children accurate information about God. I’ve known so many people who spent decades hiding from God because someone had told them he was angry and cranky and didn’t have their best interests at heart. Because of the nurse’s anxiety, she crippled the boy physically. Because of her misinformation about the King’s true intentions, she crippled the boy emotionally.

What a tragedy it is to know that our false ideas about God’s character and nature often cripple children spiritually as well.

Quick question: Why was Jesus called the Son of David?

By that I mean: why David? Why not the Son of Moses or the Son of Abraham or the Son of Elijah?

David has gone from drifting to blowing through yellow lights. And everything is going according to his plan. He sees Bathsheba, finds out who she is, sends for her, has sex with her and sends her home. Done.

And then the first cracks start to show in his plan.

Bathsheba sends word that she’s pregnant. Up to this point, it’s been David doing the sending. He finds out it’s not so good when you’re on the receiving end. This wasn’t in the script.

How you respond when things start to unravel will determine largely how bad things get.

At this moment David could choose the end the whole thing. Apologize to Bathsheba, her husband, his own family, the nation, God, whomever. He could call the whole thing off and end it right here. But he doesn’t do that.

Instead, David says, “I can handle this. I’m the King. No one needs to know about this. I’ll take care of it.”

Sin always does this. It refuses to stay on the script. It takes on a life of its own and refuses to be controlled by you. You start out being in control of it, but eventually it begins to control you. And it does so by promising the same old thing: You can be in charge. In essence, you can be God.

Here’s David doing all the sending, moving people here and there like pieces on a chessboard. First it’s bring that woman to me. Then it’s bring me her husband, and I’ll fix this mess. Then, when Uriah refuses to cooperate it’s take this letter (which contains your death warrant) to Joab.

The same man who sang praises to God, defied the enemies of the Lord and danced with all his might at the thought of God’s presence is now filled with deceit and hypocrisy and violence. David was thoroughly committed to a strategy of cover-up.

When it starts to unravel, when the consequences of your sin first show themselves, you will find yourself in one of two places: honesty and repentance or cover-up and more sin. The path you choose will determine just how bad it’s going to get.

When it comes to yellow lights, there are two kinds of people in this world: those who slow down and those who speed up. I used to be one kind, and then I had kids. Now I am one of the most cautious drivers on the road. I don’t think I’m a hesitant driver, but if it’s close I’m going to err on the side of caution. My cargo is too precious. The stakes are too high.

David sends someone to find out about this woman he sees bathing on the rooftop. The guy comes back and says, “That’s Bathsheba. She’s Eliam’s daughter and Uriah’s wife.”

Translation: Slow down, David. This is someone’s wife and someone’s daughter. You know these guys.

Let me say a word to the men who read this blog: When you find yourself tempted by the form of a woman, stop and remind yourself that you’re looking at someone’s daughter. At some point in time, someone held that tiny baby girl and kissed the top of her head and dreamed dreams of what she would be like when she got older. And they never imagined that she would become an object for you to use to gratify your lust. If you have kids, think forward to a time when someone will want to use your child in that way. What feelings does that inspire in you?

If that’s not a sexual buzzkill — see a counselor.

Usually, when you’re about to take the plunge and do something you know is wrong, there will be a little inner voice, a message from your conscience or the words of a friend ringing in your ears. That’s a yellow light. Be careful here. Proceed with caution.

David comes to this yellow light, and if he was really in a good place with God he probably would have slowed down, thought this through and come to a full and complete stop. But thinking is the last thing David wants to do. He wants to feel something. So, he pushes the accelerator to the floorboard and speeds through the intersection without thinking of what this could do to someone’s wife and daughter — not to mention his own heart and his own family.

Maybe you’ve moved past drifting. You haven’t crossed any lines yet, but you’ve got a plan forming in your mind. And God brought you to this blog to ask you this question: “Will you stop and think about the possible consequences of crossing this line?”

Maybe it’s sex. Maybe it’s a relationship you know isn’t right. Maybe it’s a financial choice. Maybe it’s a vocational decision. Maybe it’s an honesty deal. You’ve got a plan forming in your brain. Will you just stop and think about the potential downside to this? What kind of legacy will this leave for your kids? What will this decision do to your relationships to those closest to you? What could happen to your heart if you go through with this?

I think David’s first mistake could be called drifting. It was spring, and in the spring kings went to war. It was what they did. In fact, the primary reason the Israelites wanted a king was so they’d have someone to to lead them in battle (cf. 1 Samuel 8:19-20). This is what David had done every year, but, for some reason, this year he just didn’t want to. He said, “You guys go on without me.”

He seems bored, listless. The text says, “One evening David got up from his bed.” That’s what I’m talking about. What’s he doing in bed in the evening?

As far as we can tell, David’s about 50 years old now. He’s not a feeble old geezer. But he’s not a young boy anymore, either. His eyes are probably starting to dim a little. His hairline may be receding; his waistline is probably expanding. He’s had them some extra fiber to the royal diet. He’s got a treadmill in his office. Grandmothers come up to him now and say, “When I was a teenager I thought you were so dreamy!”

He was always so passionate — about everything! But he doesn’t feel that passion anymore about anything. He’s restless. He’s drifting.

There may be nothing as dangerous as a passionate man who has lost his passion. He is a danger to himself and to those around him.

The bizarre thing is that he used to talk to God about everything. Good or bad, he’d just bring it right to God. But now…he’s not even talking to God about it. Maybe he doesn’t know what to say. When God finally confronts David about the whole episode (through the prophet Nathan), he says, “I made you king. I protected you from Saul. I gave you this kingdom, and if all that hadn’t been enough — if you’d wanted more — I would have given you more. Why didn’t you come and talk to me?”

The best thing you can do when you’re bored is talk to God about it. But a lot of us are afraid to do that. The reason I have a hard time with this is because of what used to happen when I was a kid. I would tell my mom I was bored, and she would decide that this was a good time for me to clean the bathrooms. Or mop the kitchen. Sometimes I think that if I tell God I’m bored he’ll send me on some horrible errand that I’ll hate and will be tremendously painful.

Do I really trust that God is good and has my best interests at heart?

That’s kind of what it comes down to, isn’t it? If I do, I’ll be more apt to bring all my thoughts and feelings to him. If not, I’ll be more likely to allow myself to just drift. And that’s where the trouble really gets started.

This whole story of David and Bathsheba can be outlined with the use of the word “sent”.

The story starts in the spring. This is when kings were supposed to go to war. It was what kings did. But David decides he wants to stay at home, and he sends Joab out to do David’s job. One evening, David gets up from his bed (what’s he doing in bed in the evening?), sees a beautiful woman and sends someone to find out who she is. After finding out who she is, he sends someone to go get her.

They have sex and David sends her away. A few weeks later, she sends word to David that she’s pregnant. So David sends a message to Joab to have Joab send the woman’s husband (Uriah) home from the battlefront. David sends Uriah to have sex with his wife, but Uriah — who isn’t even an Jewish by birth — proves to be a better Israelite than the king! Drunk Uriah has more self-control than sober David!

So, David sends Uriah back with a message to Joab. He wants Joab to have Uriah killed. Joab does this and sends a messenger back to tell David that the mission has been carried out. The news is broken to Bathsheba that her husband has died in battle (she apparently had no knowledge of David’s plan and believes her husband died as just a natural part of serving in the army). After an appropriate time of mourning, David sends for Bathsheba and marries her.

David thought he was in the clear. He thought he had done it! Through all his crafty manipulation — all his “sending” — he had managed to pull off the perfect crime. Except for one thing: “The thing he had done displeased the Lord” (2 Samuel 11:27b).

There is One who sees all and knows all and will not be sent here and there to do another’s bidding. So, the last time the word appears in the story comes in the first sentence of chapter 12: “The Lord sent Nathan to David.”

As much as David thought he could control the destiny of the people around him, David comes to realize that God is ultimately in control. He is the ultimate sender.

So many applications of this thought process…. What areas of life are you trying to control and manipulate for your own selfish purposes? Is there someone like Joab in your life — someone you get to do the dirty work for you? Are there people you send here and there for no other reason than you enjoy playing God in their lives?

Here’s another one: Is there someone God is sending you to — like he sent Nathan to David?

I’m off to Jacksonville in a few minutes. Pray for them if I find out they’ve cut this year’s budget for family ministry. As tired as I am, I might just speak my mind.

I wanted to say something about yesterday’s post. There are things that David did that I would never in a million years do. But it’s not because I’m holier or more spiritually mature than David.

I like to think that’s the reason, but the truth is that a lot of times what keeps me from really sinning big is that I’m afraid of getting caught. I’m afraid of the embarrassment and the exposure. I’m afraid of what I’d lose. I don’t sin like that because I’m too self-centered.

If I thought I could get away with it…. I don’t even want to think about that.

If you ask the average person on the street about King David, they probably could tell you two stories about him: David & Goliath and David & Bathsheba.

The question few people stop to ponder is, “How does that happen? How does David allow something like that to happen?”

It’s one thing when someone has a pattern of rejecting God’s ways. If this was a story of a godless, womanizing heathen we wouldn’t be surprised. That happens all the time. There are people — we could all name several — who lack integrity and moral values. If we heard that they had done something like this, if we heard that they were guilty of deception, adultery and murder, we might be tempted to say, “Well, what did you expect?”

But this is David. King David. The man after God’s own heart. This is really out of character for him.

He had, after all, loved God his entire life. When he was a small boy, he took care of sheep and knew that God was with him out there. He knew when wild animals came to steal his sheep and he managed to drive them off — that wasn’t his strength. He knew, without a doubt, that God’s protection was with him.

When he got a little older, he faced down a giant named Goliath. He did what no other man in Israel would do because he knew God was with him and would deliver him in battle.

When he found himself in a cave faced with an opportunity to kill his rival Saul, he submitted to God’s will in God’s timing. He was so committed to obeying God that he wouldn’t lift his hand against Saul.

He was so passionate about God that the mere thought of God’s presence returning to dwell among the people of Jerusalem inspired him to dance with all his might.

In psalm after psalm, David pours out his heart to God — asking God to search him and know him and give him an undivided heart. He wrote about how much he loved God’s law and how he meditated on it day and night.

And yet…by the end of this story David is guilty of lust, covetousness, deception, manipulation, adultery and murder.

How in the world does something like that happen? You don’t just wake up one day and say, “I think I’ll sleep with that guy’s wife then have him killed.” This kind of thing doesn’t just happen.

I want to talk about how things like this happen. But first, I want us all to think about this: Is there anyone reading this who is so certain of their own spiritual maturity that you know this could never happen to you? Anyone willing to say, “I’m way more spiritual than David ever was because I would never let something like that happen to me”?

As the Apostle Paul wrote:

These are all warking markers — DANGER! — in our history books, written down so that we don’t repeat their mistakes…. We are just as capable of messing it up as they were. Don’t be so naive and self-confident. You’re not exempt. You could fall flat on your face as easily as anyone else.

I hate to interrupt this series of posts on the life of David, but I have a few things on my mind that I want to share with you.

First of all, there’s this whole job thing. Those of you who have been following the blog know that there’s a mystery church out there that has been courting me. Well…mystery over: I will be speaking this Sunday at the Southlake Church outside of Dallas, Texas. We will spend a couple of days there trying to figure out if that’s what God has in mind for the next season of our lives. I would appreciate your prayers for us.

But there’s another church (I’m not sure if they’re comfortable going public with this yet) that has been talking to me, too. In fact, I had a really interesting and uplifting conversation with them yesterday.

And in the middle of all this, FamilyWise — an organization I do a ton of work with already — has asked me to consider a fulltime job with them as Director of Training. That would involve doing a lot more of what I’ve been doing for the past couple of years — namely, helping churches shift their thinking from children’s ministry to family-based ministry.

Needless to say, there are big decisions to be made here.

One final thing: my daughter Anabel is about to start Kindergarten, and it’s an adjustment for everyone. I’m upset because — due to a scheduling and communication mixup — I’m going to be out of town for her first day. Jill’s upset because her baby is one step closer to being launched out into the world. Anabel’s a little anxious — that combination of nervous and excited.

She’s being a little clingier than usual, and this morning as I sat checking my email and trying to get that first cup of coffee down, she walked over and just plopped into my lap. And this is the great thing: she stayed there. She’s so big, so tall, so strong. When did that happen?

We sat there for what felt like a long time, but when it was over…I still didn’t want it to end. I wanted to hold her like that all day. I think most dads experience times like that. Times when you would be content to just stay locked in the sweet embrace of a five-year-old.

When you mention the biblical character David to people, most think instantly of “David and Goliath.” Some think of “David and Bathsheba.” As I get older and watch my kids, I can’t help but wonder about “David and Absalom.” What went wrong there? I’ll be exploring their relationship in a few weeks, but this morning I sat there holding Anabel and thinking about David.

Obviously, David started as a shepherd, became a musician, a warrior, a fugitive and a king. He was a liar, an adulterer and a murderer. He was a great and powerful man with several tragic flaws. And somewhere in all that, he was a dad. I don’t know what his relationship was like with his kids when they were young. But it seemed to be pretty disastrous when they got older.

I sat there with my daughter, and all of this flashed through my mind.

And I caught myself asking God, “Could you please freeze time right here?”