DAVID AND HONORING A TYRANT
David’s world was no gentle pasture of ease and luxury. He dwelt in a realm of tension, uncertainty, and mortal danger. Though anointed by the prophet Samuel’s trembling hands and sealed with the oil of divine favor (1 Samuel 16:13), David found himself living more like a fugitive than a monarch. He slept in caves still damp with morning dew, hid behind jagged rocks in desolate valleys, and navigated a bleak landscape where every rustle in the brush might herald a band of men commissioned to kill him. His enemy was not some foreign marauder or nameless warlord; it was Saul, Israel’s first king—one who had once been “the Lord’s anointed” (1 Samuel 10:1) but had now devolved into a petty, paranoid tyrant. Saul’s mind teetered between past glories and present fears, and he clutched at his fading crown with a ferocity that deepened his disgrace.
David’s trials were not just an inconvenience. Consider the crushing psychological weight of it all: the one anointed by God as Israel’s true king was forced to crouch in the darkness, straining his ears for the footfall of armed men. David knew he was chosen to lead God’s people, guide them into righteousness, and establish a kingdom founded not on caprice but covenantal faithfulness. Yet he lived as a man hunted, slandered, and pressed on every side. He had every human reason to strike Saul down the moment an opportunity arose. Saul had hurled spears at him, driven him from royal courts, and invaded the sanctuary of his peace. When the king stumbled unknowingly into David’s hiding place (1 Samuel 24), vulnerable and alone, David’s men whispered in his ear that this was providence itself—God handing Saul over for judgment. One swift slash of steel would have ended the tyrant’s tyranny and brought David nearer to his rightful throne. Who could fault him for taking such a step?
But David was governed by a compass that defied the raw impulses of vengeance. He refused to raise his hand against “the Lord’s anointed” (1 Samuel 24:6). Instead, he chose reverence over revenge, forbearance over fury. His blade did not drip with Saul’s blood; it bore only the memory of a garment’s corner, a silent testimony that David’s restraint was not weakness but faith. Faith that God’s justice did not need human rage to complete its course. Faith that a truly righteous king must refuse the paths of cruelty. Faith that the kingdom he would inherit must never be stained by the poison of personal vendetta.
THE CHURCH AS TYPOLOGICAL DAVID
This narrative—a story charged with tension and moral grandeur—is not just historical. It is also typological. It is a living parable for the Church and her posture toward secular Israel. Let me explain.
When the Holy Spirit descended at Pentecost (Acts 2), Christ’s Church emerged as the rightful heir of the covenantal promises made to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The Church became, in Christ, the faithful Israel of God (Galatians 6:16), endowed with the mandate to carry the Gospel to every tribe and tongue. She was anointed like David. The rightful heir to the throne of the world. Yet for decades, this ruddy Church found itself overshadowed by the tyrant whims of Saul — an Old Covenant Judah – who hurled spears at her, pressed her on every side and staggered toward its own covenantal destruction when it fell on its own sword in AD 70. Like Saul, who raged against David, first-century Judaism raged against the Church, flogging, maiming, and murdering Jesus’ bride in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and every diaspora synagogue scattered throughout the Roman world. Believers were hauled before councils, beaten, stoned, and scattered. And, these wounds were not inflicted by distant pagans, but by their own flesh and blood, their own kin according to the flesh (Romans 9:3). The paradox was heart-wrenching: How could the Church honor these persecutors—these spiritual forebears—who now sought its life?
Yet the apostles, like David, chose a path marked not by hatred but heartbreak. They did not resort to the vindictive fury being leveled at them but with tearful entreaty, humility, and honor, marking David as a man after God’s heart.
Consider Paul’s lament: “I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart” (Romans 9:2). This is the cry of a man who would accept a curse upon himself if it could mean the salvation of his Jewish brethren. Was he naive? Hardly. He knew that the old covenant was passing away (Hebrews 8:13) and that there was no salvation outside of Christ.
Yet he also knew that bitterness would not bring redemption. This great pharisee, formerly named “Saul” (ironic?), once hunted down the Church with the same ferocity that his Benjaminite ancestor had for David. He oversaw murders. He chased Christians like dogs from city to city. But, unlike Saul, he laid down his arms in the light of the resurrected Christ. He repented. And he joined the ranks of Christ, becoming one of the persecuted, beaten, and abused in that first tumultuous century.
Yet, no matter how ruthlessly they beat him or the rest of the apostles, they simply heralded the truth with humility and grace. They were unafraid to call Judah to repentance with broken hearts and ribs, praying for their countrymen to repent rather than lusting after vengeance. Like David cutting off only a piece of Saul’s robe, they exposed Israel’s sin without succumbing to the dark allure of hatred, revenge, or indifference.
This is astounding! Usually, when someone is beaten in the cause of doing good, anger, resentment, and frustration will seep into the heart. Yet, just like David, the Lord’s Church, under the power of the Holy Spirit, would not raise a hand against the Lord’s anointed people. Even though they were barreling towards disaster in AD 70, the Church honored them, prayed for them, loved them, and worked tirelessly to evangelize them. This was the attitude of the first-century Church and must be the attitude of all who call upon the name of Christ today.
STONE CHOIR AND ANTISEMITIC TWITTER THUGS
Sadly, this God-glorifying attitude that David demonstrated to Saul, and what the early Church offered to the Jews who were murdering them, is precisely what I have not seen much of today. Sitting in the comfort of their living rooms, men like the rock heads from Stone Choir and the anons who follow them lob one disgusting comment after another onto Twitter, comparing the Jews to vermin, feces, and worse. All Christians, they argue, must hate with perfect hatred, misapplying Scripture to justify their vitriol.
Instead of the patience, long-suffering, and silence of Christ before His accusers, their poison is exposed by the very words they use. One tweet declares that the Holocaust is nothing more than a fabricated ‘anti-German blood libel,’ while another goes further, mocking Holocaust memorials as meaningless artifacts – sarcastically mocking the absence of bodies. They encourage Christians to respond to Jewish voices with the words ‘Shut up, Jew,’ as a weapon against the ‘enemy.’ Such vile cynicism not only dismisses the suffering of real people but exposes a heart that is devoid of compassion or the Gospel’s transformative power.
Even more shocking, they twist Scripture to promote racial hatred, alleging that ‘God made greater and more lasting promises to the White race than He ever made to the Jews.’ They mock Africans and claim that God’s grace does not elevate the African people to an IQ over mental retardation and refer to interracial marriage as “worse than murder.”
The heart of these comments (and countless more) reveals itself in their utter disdain for the Gospel’s message of hope, grace, and redemption. Instead of calling modern-day Jews, or anyone else for that matter, to repent and turn to Christ, they weaponize Scripture to justify their hatred and excuse their ignorance as virtue. This is not masculinity. This is not Christianity. It is a perverse, hollow shell of faith that replaces the Savior’s cross with a sword of malice.
This is the sad reality of many today who bear the name of Christ but replace His love with their moral putrescence. Rather than emulate the example of Stephen, who prayed for those stoning him, they wield their keyboards like clubs, pounding out hatred in Jesus’ name. May God rebuke this evil, and may these men repent of their sins before the judgment they so carelessly invoke comes upon them.
THE RIGHT APPROACH
The actions of David toward Saul and the early Church toward Old Covenant Israel present us with a profoundly biblical model: one of truth spoken with reverence, correction offered with humility, and confrontation undertaken with a heartbreaking for the lost. This is the model we are called to emulate, especially when dealing with those who are enemies of the Gospel.
Yet, tragically, this model is precisely what is absent in the venomous rhetoric of groups like Stone Choir and their Twitter acolytes. They embody the antithesis of David’s restraint and the apostles’ sorrowful love for their persecutors. Instead of wielding the delicate scalpel of truth with care, they thrash about with the blunt cudgel of tribal animus, delighting in disdain rather than grieving for the lost. Their proclamations do not carry the sorrowful weight of David’s refusal to harm Saul or Paul’s anguish for his Jewish brethren (Romans 9:2); instead, they echo Saul’s manic paranoia and fury—a ferocity that consumes both persecutors and persecuted alike.
David’s refusal to strike Saul was not weakness but faith—a trust in God’s justice that needed no human vengeance to complete its course. Similarly, the apostles, battered and bloodied by their Jewish persecutors, chose to herald the Gospel with tearful entreaty rather than seething rage. They exposed sin without hatred, called for repentance without cruelty, and mourned the spiritual blindness of their own kinsmen according to the flesh (Romans 9:3).
Stone Choir and its ilk, however, offer no such model. Instead, they wield Scripture as a weapon for arrogance, not redemption. Their comments, rife with racial slurs and derisive mockery, expose a heart far removed from the Gospel’s transformative power. Rather than calling the Jewish people—or anyone else—to repentance in Christ, they use the language of Scripture to justify their hatred and veil their ignorance as virtue. This is not the way of David, the apostles, or our Lord. It is a hollow faith that trades the Savior’s cross for a sword of malice.
We must denounce such rhetoric for what it is: a betrayal of the Gospel. Yet, in doing so, we cannot abandon the biblical model of sorrowful correction. David did not exult in Saul’s downfall, nor did the apostles rejoice over the judgment that befell Old Covenant Israel in AD 70. Their hearts broke for their enemies, even as they stood firm in truth. And this must be our posture today.
Proclaiming Christ as the fulfillment of God’s covenant promises is not anti-Semitic; it is a faithful expression of the Gospel. Scripture affirms that while Israel played a profound role in redemptive history, the covenantal promises now find their complete realization in Christ alone (Acts 4:12; John 14:6). To deny this truth is to deny the Gospel itself. It is not slanderous to expose the sins of modern Judaism—such as its vehement rejection of Christ, the evils of the Talmud, its hatred of His Church, and its delusional claims to covenantal status apart from Him (John 14:6; Hebrews 8:13). Nor is it hateful to declare the truth: salvation is found in only one name under heaven, and that name is Jesus Christ (Acts 4:12). To proclaim these truths boldly is not an act of hatred, but the most loving and biblical thing we can do. However, to proclaim them without the sorrowful longing seen in David, Paul, and even Jesus is to distort the very heart of the Gospel. Such arrogance replaces the healing balm of grace with a weapon of pride, leaving no room for redemption and inflicting only wounds.
David’s blade did not bathe itself in Saul’s blood, just as the apostles’ tongues did not drip with hatred for the Jews who persecuted them. Instead, both bore witness to the power of grace, the hope of redemption, and the justice of God. In an age where the temptation to simplify—either to silence false religion or attack it with scorn—is all too real, we must resist both extremes. We must follow the biblical model: proclaim the exclusivity of Christ as the only way to salvation while longing, fervently and earnestly, for the repentance and restoration of the lost.
This is the shape of true Gospel fidelity: truth spoken with reverence, correction offered with humility, and confrontation undertaken with a heart that weeps for those in darkness. May we, like David, refuse the paths of cruelty and vengeance. May we, like the apostles, bear witness to the power of grace even under persecution. And may we, like our Lord, love even those who reject Him, praying for light to break through their darkness.
