August 23, 2009
What’s Done is Done? - 2 Samuel 18:5-15, 31-33
Pastor: Luke Maybry
DownloadI was out for two Sundays this summer, once on vacation and once on a mission trip, and on both occasions, John McWilliams preached. John is also coming here in late September to help our session with some long range planning. John also led a Bible study here this summer for six weeks, and one of the topics that he covered was forgiveness. I was able to attend that particular class, and he said something in that class that I’m just not so sure that I buy, which — by the way — does not make him wrong, but it poses a good question. He said that when someone wrongs you, that when you forgive that person, it is possible to actually, literally forget the offense. I understand his point, and I understand how he could derive that from Scripture. However, I would have to say that, at least according to my own experience and even also according to Scripture, we cannot forget. Though I have been accused before of having selective amnesia, and though I have acted like I’ve had selected amnesia, I really don’t have it. I would like to have it at times, mind you. Wouldn’t we all like to forget certain things about our past, including offenses against us, and our offenses against others? But Scripture is abundantly clear that only God “remembers our sin no more.” We can forget the debt that the other person owes us, and we may can try to suppress some of our hard feelings, but we don’t have the ability to forget the past, good or bad.
In short, once you say it, or once you do it, it is said and it is done. Or in even simpler terms, what’s done is done. Last week when we talked about King David, he was having an affair with a woman named Bathsheba, and then to cover it up he murdered her husband. He got away with it legally, but God had this to say about it in 2 Samuel 12: now therefore the sword shall never depart from your house. If you read 2 Samuel 13-18, you’ll see exactly how bad that sword was. And you will also see that the turmoil among David’s children was not so much the result of any curse from God, but mostly the natural result of growing up in David’s dysfunctional family. David may have been a great king, but he was a terrible father, and he paid a large price for that.
In this particular passage, David’s son, Absalom, waged war against him and all of Israel in a mutiny to take the throne. And for awhile, Absalom succeeded. This story, like much of David’s story is confusing and graphic. Absalom hated his father, David, because David sat passively by as Amnon (David’s oldest son) raped Absalom’s sister & Amnon’s half sister, Tamar. David had three wives. Amnon was his first son with his first wife. David had two children with his second wife, Absalom and Tamer. Amnon had a crush on Tamar and he took advantage of her and essentially destroyed her. In response, David essentially told Tamar to get over it, that he didn’t have time to deal with it. So Absalom, out of revenge, murdered Amnon and fled from his father. After three years of cajoling, David finally allowed Absalom to move home, but never once in two additional years of being home did David ever even see his son, Absalom, much less try to reconcile with him. And by Chapter 18, it was too late. What was done was done, and not even David could undo it. Of course, whether David actually could have undone it will always remain a question, because David never tried. He had the chance in Chapter 14, but he was too hardheaded. By Chapter 18, when he wanted reconciliation, it was too late.
So when David so pitifully cries out in verse 33 of this passage, “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would I have died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!” his cry was far more than simply morning the loss of his son. It was the incessant regret over the role that David himself played in his own son’s death. There comes a time when it’s too dad-gum late to fix the past. When you say something, regardless of how right you think you are, it is said and you cannot turn around and unsay it. And when you do something, regardless of your justification, you simply cannot undo it. And when you have an axe to grind with somebody, the longer you wait to grind it, the longer you put it off, the worse and harder it’s going to get. At some point, even if you’re King David, it’s too late.
Whether we recognize this or not, whether we appreciate this or not, we are all shaped and formed by what people have said and done to us, or what they have not said nor done to us, in the past. If your parents were great, you are shaped by that. If they were not so great, you’re shaped by that too. We are products of the people in our past, and what they did and said. Furthermore, we are currently shaping our future. I don’t know what you want our future to look like, but I do know that if the way you live your life is not consistent with what you want that future to look like, then don’t be surprised one day to be wondering why things didn’t turn out like you thought they would. Don’t be surprised to say about your own child, “my son, my son, would that I have died instead of you.” Do you realize that the very last verse of chapter 18, after Absalom has died, is the only time in all that we read about David and Absalom that David ever called him “my son?” He had the chance, again, countless times, but he was too hardheaded, and heard hearted. But by Chapter 18, it was too little, too late.
Now I do have a little disclaimer to make. Sometimes things do happen outside of our control. Sometimes we do our very best to say and do the right things, especially to those we love, and things still don’t turn out right. That’s another topic for another day. That’s not what this story about David and Absalom is about. In this case, David had countless opportunities to at least attempt to reconcile with his son. And, of course, Absalom was not completely guiltless in this story either. But, in this case, David had the opportunity to reconcile with his son, but he never tried. In this case, David could very much have contributed to the outcome of this story, and could have made it something other than the bloodbath that it turned out to be. But David never attempted any of that until it was too late.
I have two little girls, ages 2 ½ and 1. I keep my girls on Mondays when I am off and my wife, Leah, works. Most of the day is typically a great day. I love it. I cannot tell you how much I love Mondays. We eat breakfast together and go the park and go to the pool. We have a great time together; tiring, but great. But it never fails that at some point in the day, Caroline (the younger one) starts crying. She wants something, but I can’t figure out what. And so she cries and cries and cries, and I try and try and try to console her, but I fail. And then I guess because she’s not getting any attention, Julia (the older one) starts crying. And then at the height of my frustration, I say something that I should not say. And then, Dada needs a timeout. Whatever it is that I have said, I cannot go back and unsay it. If I want my children to grow up healthy and well-balanced with self control, I need to practice that myself. Maybe I can seek forgiveness from them sometime later in their lives, and maybe they will be gracious enough to grant it, but I cannot go back and redo what I have already done.
Most of you already know that my aunt, Rosanne Maybry, died this week on Tuesday. Her funeral was yesterday. I was very close to her, and I will miss her very much. We have known this day was coming for years. She was only 67, but her health had been declining for a very long time. We should not be surprised, then, that she is dead. But by golly, we are surprised. I still can’t believe that that mound of dirt in Campobello’s cemetery is covering her body. But it is. And whatever I said and did to her, or didn’t say or do, and whatever she did or didn’t say and do, it’s just too late to fix it. It is what it is. I am an amateur family historian. Rosanne was an expert at it. I used to always pick her brain about the family, and I always wanted to write all that down, which of course I never did. I always had more time, you see. I commented to my father on Thursday, as we were in that cemetery in the family plot there where she is buried, that she and I walked that cemetery on many a day. She could tell me all about the people who were buried there. And my father said that so much of the history of our family is now under that fresh pile of dirt.
That’s a harsh kind of reality. And I think it was that very reality that struck David between his eyes in verse 33. Actually, I think that reality probably stuck him harder than that rock that went out of his sling shot struck old Goliath. There are things worse than death, you know. This story out of 2 Samuel 18 is a tragic examples. What we do today and what we say today all matter very much. We may can forget the tough part of the past when the Kingdom comes, but until then we’ve got to live with all that we and others say and do. Until then, to a very large and disturbing extent, what’s done is done. So may God give all of us the grace and the courage to live with that, and the determination to live as though what we say and do today, might have something do with tomorrow, after all.
In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.
