Exegetical and Hermeneutical Commentary of 2 Samuel 23:15
And David longed, and said, Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which [is] by the gate!
15. the well of Beth-lehem ] The traditional “David’s well” is half a mile N.N.E. of Beth-lehem. Ritter ( Geogr. of Pal. III. 340) speaks of its “deep shaft and clear cool water;” but it is too far from the town to be described as “at the gate.”
Fuente: The Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges
A cistern of deep, clear, cool water, is called by the monks, Davids Well, about three-quarters of a mile to the north of Bethlehem. Possibly the old well has been filled up since the town was supplied with water by the aqueduct.
Fuente: Albert Barnes’ Notes on the Bible
2Sa 23:15
And David longed, and said, Oh, that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem.
Craving to enjoy a past comforter
The scene in this chapter was one of the remarkable events in Davids life. While hiding in the cave he saw from its rocky cliffs, across the green landscape, the place of the dear, familiar well whose cooling beverage had often quenched his parched lips when a youth. The picture so revived cravings of his heart that he gave expression to the innermost feelings of his life.
I. The graphic description which David gave of the well.
1. The right appellation was truly stated. The well of Bethlehem. It is the most noted, and appears to have made a deep impression on his mind, which the lapse of years had failed to erase. Is not this illustrative of the well of Bethlehem sunk at the birth of Christ? Before this time men had drunk of impure water, but when God was manifest in the flesh He became the well without an equal. It is the well of mercy, peace, consolation, and love.
2. The distinctive mark was clearly given. Which is by the gate. We need in our longings to do the same, as there are many wells–science, arts, philosophy, and literature, and the well of, salvation. We must be distinct, as our lives can only be satisfied with the well of Bethlehem, whose bubblings are ready to give heavenly refreshment. We find it by the Holy Communion table, the spiritual devotion meetings, etc.
3. The proper occupant was fully proclaimed. The water. Some wells are useless, being filled with rubbish or polluted streams; but the well named by David was faithfully doing its mission. Many wells with us are of no service–empty or impure.
II. The earnest longing which David expressed.
1. The sight rekindled the thought of his heart. We wish to recall hallowed seasons and comforts. The sight of parent, teachers, and friends rekindle our hearts afresh with comfort and joy. We sigh to taste of the old streams, to sit by the side of loving parents, to hear the faithful entreaty of our teachers, to walk with the companions whose society we prized.
2. He gave utterance to the thought of his heart. David had keen aspirations and passionate longings, so that what he felt readily passed into words. He-gave vent to his pent-up feelings. In the midst of the worry and battle of life the scenes of our past days are so vividly portrayed to the mental sight that we crave for the times and enjoyments that are gone. At such seasons we cannot contain our feelings, but give expression to them. In things spiritual it is the same; when we have gone from all the comforts and happiness of religion a time dawns when we cannot any longer keep the state of mind to, ourselves. We cry out to be satisfied with the living water from the well of Bethlehem.
3. The unconscious entreaty for brave help. David knew that Bethlehem had been taken by the enemy. There were great obstacles in the way of obtaining a drink from the well of his ancestors. Probably he little thought that his pathetic wish was heard. We often imperil the lives and characters of others by unconsciously speaking what we feel.
4. The deep craving was of a personal character. David knew what he wanted. It was not that common, foolish wish for something fresh and new, but he sought to taste of that which he had often been refreshed with before. The reason why we have not much enjoyment in this life is because our cravings are indefinite.
Lessons:–
1. We never realise the worth of our best comforts until we are separated from them.
2. After a season of spiritual declension how anxiously we crave to drink again of the eternal spring. (Alfred Buckley.)
The well by the gate
I. The Gospel a well of Bethlehem. David had known hundreds of wells of water, but he wanted to drink from that particular one; and he thought nothing could slake his thirst like that; and, unless your soul and mine can get access to the fountain opened for sin and for uncleanliness, we must die. That fountain is the well of Bethlehem. It was dug in the night. It was dug by the light of a lantern–the star that hung down over the manger. It was dug not at the gate of Caesars palaces–not in the park of a Jerusalem bargain-maker. It was dug in a barn. The camels lifted their weary heads to listen as the work went on; the shepherds, unable to sleep because the heavens were filled with bands of music, came down to see the opening of the well. The angels of God, at the first gush of the living water, dipped their chalices of joy into it, and drank to the health of earth and heaven, as they cried: Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace. Sometimes, in our modern times, the water is brought through the pipes of the city to the very nostrils of the horses or cattle; but this well in the Bethlehem barn was not so much for the beasts that perish as for our race–thirst-smited, desert-travelled, simoom-struck. Oh! my soul, weary with sill, stoop down and drink to-day out of that Bethlehem well.
II. This Gospel is a captured well. David remembered the time when that good water of Bethlehem was in the possession of his ancestors; his father drank there, his mother drank there. He remembered how that water tasted when he was a boy, and came up from play. We never forget the old well we used to drink from when we were boys or girls. There was something in it which blessed the lips and refreshed the brows better than anything we have found since. As we think of that old well, the memories of the past flow into each other like crystalline drops, sun-glinted; and, all the more, we remember that the hand that used to lay hold of the rope, and the hearts that beat against the well-curb, are still now. We never get over these reminiscences. George P. Morris, the great song writer of this country, once said to me that his song, Woodman, spare that tree, was sung in a great concert hall, and the memories of early life were so wrought upon the audience by that song, Woodman, spare that tree, that, after the song was done, an aged mall arose in the audience, overwhelmed with emotion, and said, Sir, will you please tell me whether the woodman really spared the tree? We never forget the tree under which we played. We never forget the fountain at which we drank. Alas! for the man who has no early memories. David thought of that well, and he wanted a drink of it; but he remembered that the Philistines had captured it. And this is true of this Gospel well. The Philistines have at times captured it. When we come to take a full, old-fashioned drink of pardon and comfort, dont their swords of indignation and sarcasm flash? Why, the sceptics tell us we cannot come to that fountain. They say the water is not fit to drink anyhow. Depend upon it that well will come into our possession again, though it has been captured. If there be not three anointed men in the Lords host with enough consecration to do the work, then the swords will leap from Jehovahs bucklers, and the eternal three will descend–God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost–conquering for our dying race the way back again to the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate.
III. The Gospel well is a well at the gate. Do you know that that well was at the gate, so that nobody could go into Bethlehem without going right past it? And So it is with this Gospel well–it is at the gate.
1. It is at the gate of purification. We cannot wash away our sins unless with that water.
2. This well of the Gospel is at the gate of comfort. There is life in the well at the gate. All things work together for good to those who love God.
3. This Gospel well is at the gate of heaven. After you have been on a long journey, and you come in all bedusted and tired to your house, the first thing you want is refreshing ablution; and I am glad to know that after we get through the pilgrimage of this world–the hard dusty pilgrimage–we will find a well at the gate. In that one wash away will go our sins and sorrows. (T. De Witt Talmage, D. D.)
Memories of childhood
The incident belongs to that period in Davids life when he was an outlaw, when Saul was hunting trim and he was hiding with ills ragged followers in various mountains and eaves.
I. There are times in every life when we are reminded of the well of bethlehem, and wish in vain that we could drink of that well again. A childrens anniversary always brings one of these times to grown-up people. I mean times when our thoughts are carried back to early days, and we almost sigh as David did because we cannot cross over to them again, We have visions of happy wells of which we drank in the dear young days, and from which we are now separated by a barrier of years and other things. And there are other things which we should like to return to if it were in any way possible–the leisure, the golden opportunities, the school days, and the wells of knowledge, the hours which we thought so little of and for the most part wasted when we had them, the books we might have read, the things we might, have learned, the fitness for lifes work we might have gained. Most of us would be glad to have those chances repeated. And we have all longings and regrets sadder than these. All of us, I say, though some have reason to feel them more than others. Certain other things have left us which the child had–a certain stock of happy innocence and purity and simple faith. There were days when we knew little of evil; when we had no thought which we wished to hide, when our feet had not been in any crooked ways; when our minds were not defiled; when no chains of habit held us bound, and no fierce passions within drove us to wrongdoing. It was our Garden of Eden, and the angel with the flaming sword stops our return. This is what we mean by the wells of Bethlehem. Or, as Tennyson expresses it–
The tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
II. We are reminded by this story that there are better things in life than the well of Bethlehem. David here was crying for his vanished childhood, and in a moment certain things happened which proved to him that he was richer as a man than he had ever been as a child. For one thing, he had won friendships that were faithful to him even unto death. There are better things than the glory of childhood, just as the gnarled, strong, winter-worn oak is nobler than the slender sapling with its first shoots of green. God did not send us into the world to be always children, but to be strong, long-suffering, serviceable men and women; to make friends and deserve their friendship; to learn patience through sorrow and courage, by facing difficulties, and take a real soldiers part m the great battle of life. And if we are doing that in a measure there is no need to sigh for our Bethlehem days. (J. G. Greenhough, M. A.)
The memory of boyhood
David was feeling the strong pressure of memory. He was living again in his boyhood days, What he said was no doubt only a sentiment. Other wells were just as refreshing, and their waters as cool as this well of his old home, but for the moment David was living in the past, and his thirst for water, which he drank in childhood could be taken, I think, as a longing for a draught of the purity and the abundance of all that which went to make life happy when he was a boy. Life is not all plain sailing for anyone, and so for a brief hour, amid the pressure of your daily business and toil, you step aside from the hurrying crowds and stop to rest awhile in the presence of God and to think.
1. The old simple faith. The water may be taken as typifying and standing for faith, the faith which the child always seems to drink in from any religious-minded teacher. Those were the days when faith came simply and easily to you; but you have been out into the world since then.
2. The dangers of young manhood. Is there any secret sin in your life, come temptation to impurity, some yielding to that degrading sin of intemperance, some playing with that modern vice of gambling which spoils and mare and destroys so many lifes? Is there anything which you know is fouling the purity of that religious youth that you had as s boy, which is clogging up the stream and making it, alas! very muddy indeed? Well, do you sigh and long to-day like David, for that pure stream, so fresh, so abundant, which satisfies, that deep thirst for God which you had in the days gone by, before sin and doubt had crept in? Thank God if you do, it shows your heart is still in the right place, and that your life is not turned away so much from God as perhaps at times you may have suspected. Will you renew that faith to-day?
3. The one standard. Remember, there is only one standard put before us all, the highest of all standards–the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ. Be ye perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect. (W. F. J. Robberds.)
Costly water
This gift of water was associated with memories of early days. It is wonderful how little sometimes will bring back old times to those who have wandered far, in time or place, from the scenes of childhoods years. It is always so. To this day, says a French writer, wearied with his work in Paris, and thinking longingly of a quiet holiday he once spent in algeria, to this day I cannot think of that siesta in the tent without regret and longing; but on that afternoon, I must own, in that country, I thirsted for Paris. When in Paris he thirsts for Algeria, and when in Algeria he thirsts for Paris. So David, when in Bethlehem as a boy, hoped likely for better days, and now, looking back, he thinks there could not be anything better than those old times over again. Cherish your dreams by all means, but, at the time time, learn to prize the present, and to make the most and best of your opportunities now. Try to see the present–its beauty and its value–as you will be sure to see it if you are spared to look back from after years.
2. This gift of water would always be associated in Davids mind with the love that brought it. What a splendid gift it was! Only a drink of water, but it was turned, as it were, into sacramental wine by the love that brought it. Just so is it that God values our gifts. The best of earthly gifts is poor, but if it is given with a hearty spirit it will be graciously accepted. Some one has said that God cares more for adverbs than for verbs; that is, more for how a thing is done than for what is done. Do it heartily as to the Lord, says St. Paul. The important word is not the verb do, but the adverb heartily.
3. David felt that he must associate this gift in a special way with God. It was one of the finest things he had ever had done to him in his life. Mens lives had been in jeopardy to get it. It was too rich an offering to make use of only for his own gratification, and he poured it out unto the Lord. (J. S. Maver, M. A.)
Fuente: Biblical Illustrator Edited by Joseph S. Exell
Verse 15. The water of the well of Bethlehem] This was David’s city, and he knew the excellence of the water which was there; and being near the place, and parched with thirst, it was natural for him to wish for a draught of water out of that well. These three heroes having heard it, though they received no command from David, broke through a company of the Philistines, and brought away some of the water. When brought to David he refused to drink it: for as the men got it at the hazard of their lives, he considered it as their blood, and gave thereby a noble instance of self-denial. There is no evidence that David had requested them to bring it; they had gone for it of their own accord, and without the knowledge of David.
Fuente: Adam Clarke’s Commentary and Critical Notes on the Bible
Being hot and thirsty, he expresseth how acceptable a draught of that water would be to him, as is usual with men to do in such cases; but was far from desiring or expecting that any of his men should hazard their lives to procure it, as appears from 2Sa 23:17.
Fuente: English Annotations on the Holy Bible by Matthew Poole
15, 16. the well of Beth-lehemAnancient cistern, with four or five holes in the solid rock, at aboutten minutes distance to the north of the eastern corner of the hillof Beth-lehem, is pointed out by the natives as Bir-Daoud; that is,David’s well. Dr. ROBINSONdoubts the identity of the well; but others think that there are nogood grounds for doing so. Certainly, considering this to be theancient well, Beth-lehem must have once extended ten minutes furtherto the north, and must have lain in times of old, not as now, on thesummit, but on the northern rise of the hill; for the well is byor (1Ch 11:7) at thegate. I find in the description of travellers, that the commonopinion is, that David’s captains had come from the southeast, inorder to obtain, at the risk of their lives, the so-much-longed-forwater; while it is supposed that David himself was then in the greatcave that is not far to the southeast of Beth-lehem; which cave isgenerally held to have been that of Adullam. But (Jos15:35) Adullam lay “in the valley”; that is, in theundulating plain at the western base of the mountains of Judea andconsequently to the southwest of Beth-lehem. Be this as it may,David’s men had in any case to break through the host of thePhilistines, in order to reach the well; and the position ofBir-Daoud agrees well with this [VANDE VELDE].
Fuente: Jamieson, Fausset and Brown’s Commentary Critical and Explanatory on the Whole Bible
And David longed, and said,…. It being harvest time, the summer season, and hot weather, and he thirsty:
oh, that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem,
which [is] by the gate! which he was well acquainted with, being his native place; and which might make it the more desirable, as well as its waters might be peculiarly cool and refreshing, and very excellent, as Kimchi suggests. This well was about a mile from Bethlehem, now called David’s well, as some travellers say y. It is said to be a very large well, with three mouths, and lies a little out of the road z; and that there is now near Rachel’s grave a good rich cistern, which is deep and wide; wherefore the people that go to dip water are provided with small leathern buckets, and a line, as usual in those countries a; but Mr. Maundrell b says it is a well, or rather a cistern, supplied only with rain, without any excellency in its waters to make them desirable; but it seems, he adds, David’s spirit had a further aim. Some think he meant by this to get Bethlehem out of the hands of the Philistines, and obtain the possession of it; others, as Jarchi, that he intended to ask some question of the sanhedrim that sat there; and others, that his desire was after the law of God, called waters, as in Isa 55:1; and some Christian writers, both ancient and modern c, are of opinion, that not literal but spiritual water was desired by him, and that he thirsted after the coming of the Messiah, to be born at Bethlehem, and the living water which he only can give, Joh 4:10.
y Egmont and Heyman’s Travels, vol. 1. p. 363. z Le Bruyn’s Voyage to the Levant, ch. 52. p. 204. a Rauwolff’s Travels, part 3. p. 317, 318. b Journey from Aleppo, &c. p. 90. c Ambros. Apolog. David l. 1. c. 7. gloss. ordinar. & Schmidt in loc. Pfeiffer. Difficil. Loc. Script. cent. 2. loc. 91. Horn. Dissert. de desiderio David. sect. 10.
Fuente: John Gill’s Exposition of the Entire Bible
(15) The well of Bethlehem.There are now no wells of living water at Bethlehem itself, the town being supplied by an aqueduct. Robinson could find none in the neighbourhood, and was assured that none existed (Bib. R. ii. 157-163); but Ritter (Geog. of Pal. iii. 340) says that a little north of the town is Davids well, with its deep shaft and its clear cool water.
Fuente: Ellicott’s Commentary for English Readers (Old and New Testaments)
15. Which is by the gate Well known to David, who had spent all his boyhood near the place. Tradition has given the name of “David’s well” to a cistern a little northeast of Beth-lehem, and Ritter describes it as deep, and supplied with clear, cold water.
Fuente: Whedon’s Commentary on the Old and New Testaments
DISCOURSE: 327
DAVIDS DESIRE FOR THE WATER OF THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM
2Sa 23:15-17. And David longed, and said, Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate! And the three mighty men brake through the host of the Philistines, and drew water out of the well of Beth-lehem, that was by the gate, and took it, and brought if to David: nevertheless he would not drink thereof, but poured it out unto the Lord. And he said, Be it far from me, O Lord, that I should do this: is not this the blood of the men that went in jeopardy of their lives? therefore he would not drink it.
THE best of men are liable to err: but in this they differ widely from the ungodly, that they are glad, as soon as they find out their error, to have it rectified. David inconsiderately expressed a wish for some water out of the well of Bethlehem; but when he saw what his inconsiderateness had occasioned, and especially what might have arisen from it, he was grieved at himself for what he had done, and rejected with abhorrence the gratification which he had before desired.
This anecdote respecting him may appear unworthy of a distinct consideration: but it is in reality very instructive. Let us consider,
I.
This wish of Davids
To view it aright, we must notice it,
1.
As foolishly indulged
[That water was not necessary to him; for his army was not at all reduced to straits for want of water: and by the circumstance of its being in the possession of his enemies, it was unattainable, unless his enemies should be first subdued. To wish for it therefore merely to gratify his appetite, was foolish; and to express that wish to others was wrong. But in him we see a picture of human nature in general: all are wishing for something which they do not possess, though it be neither necessary to their welfare, nor easy to be attained. Ye desire and have not, is the account given of men by the voice of inspiration [Note: Jam 4:2. See the Greek.]; and it characterizes all from early childhood, till age or infirmity has cured the disease This tendency of our minds is decidedly sinful, inasmuch as it argues discontent with the lot assigned us by Providence, and too high an estimation of the things of time and sense [Note: Num 11:4-5.]. God, and heavenly things, may be desired with the utmost intenseness of our souls [Note: Psa 42:1-2; Psa 63:1.]: but earthly things, whatever they may be, are no further to be desired than as God may be enjoyed in them, or glorified by them [Note: Psa 73:25.]: and, as David in this wish had respect to nothing but mere personal gratification, he so far acted in a way unworthy of his high character.]
2.
As rashly countenanced
[Three of his most distinguished warriors determined, if possible, to gratify his desire; and, of their own accord, without any order from him, cut their way through the Philistine army, drew the water, and brought it to him. This was rash and presumptuous in the extreme. Had they been moved to it by God, as David was to go against Goliath with a sling and a stone, or as Jonathan was to climb up a rock, and, unsupported by any one but his armour-bearer, to attack a Philistine garrison, they would have acted right; because in executing the divine will they might expect the divine protection: but to go on such an errand without any command either from God or man, was to expose themselves unnecessarily to the utmost peril, and in reality to tempt God. Doubtless a contempt of danger is a great virtue in a soldier; but it may be unduly exercised: and we are persuaded that, before men put their lives in jeopardy, they should inquire, whether the occasion be sufficiently important to demand it, or, at least, whether they be called to it in the way of duty.]
3.
As piously suppressed
[When the water was brought to him, he refused to drink of it; and, with a mixture of shame and gratitude, poured it out as a drink-offering unto the Lord. To him it appeared, that the drinking of it would be like drinking the blood of his most faithful servants: and therefore, much as he had desired it before, he would on no account gratify his appetite at such an expense. This argued true love to those who had served him at so great a risk, and genuine piety towards God, whose merciful kindness he thus gratefully acknowledged. But how little of such self-denial is there in the world! how few, when a desired gratification is within their reach, will abstain from the indulgence of it, from the consideration of the evils which may accrue to the object that administers to their delight! If however we condemn David for cherishing such a wish, we cannot but applaud the forbearance he exercised in reference to it, when it was obtained.]
Let us now contemplate,
II.
The lessons to be learned from it
1.
How strong a principle is love!
[Love dictated the measure which these soldiers took: whilst therefore we disapprove the act, we must admire the principle from which it proceeded. It is a principle strong as death; nor can many waters quench it. It is a principle also by which, not soldiers only, but persons in every situation and relation of life should be actuated: and how happy would it be for the world, if it operated universally in its full extent! How happy if, in our social and domestic circles, the only contest was, who should shew most love, and exert himself in the most self-denying way for the good of others! This is the spirit which God himself approves [Note: Heb 10:24.]; and the Lord grant it may increase and abound amongst us more and more [Note: 1Th 3:12.]!]
2.
How should we delight to exercise love towards our Lord Jesus Christ in particular!
[He is the Captain of our salvation, and of all the hosts of Israel: and he has opened to us access to the waters of life, of which whosoever drinketh shall never thirst [Note: Joh 4:10; Joh 4:13-14.]. Moreover, to effect this, he has not merely jeoparded his life, but actually laid down his life: knowing assuredly all the sufferings he must endure in order to procure these blessings for us, he voluntarily undertook our cause, and never drew back, till he could say, It is finished. Is He not then worthy to be loved by us? Yea, should there be any bounds to our love to him? Should we not be willing to be bound, or even to die, for his sake? Surely, whatever dangers we may be encompassed with, we should say, None of these things move me, neither count I my life dear unto me, so that I may but fulfil his will, and promote his glory.]
3.
With what grief and indignation should we mortify every sinful desire!
[When once we see what sin has done, we shall see what it merits at our hands. It was to counteract the effects of sin, that Jesus shed his blood. Shall we then indulge sin of any kind? However gratifying it may be to our feelings, should we not say, like David in our text, Is not this the blood of Gods only dear Son, even of my best Friend, who laid down his life for me? I will not drink it; I will sacrifice my every lust unto the Lord. Ah, Brethren! look at sin in this view: and if it be dear to you as a right eye, or apparently as necessary as a right hand, do not hesitate one moment to cast it from you with abhorrence; humbling yourselves for having ever conceived a desire after it, and adoring your God that it has not long since involved you in everlasting death and misery.]
Fuente: Charles Simeon’s Horae Homileticae (Old and New Testaments)
2Sa 23:15 And David longed, and said, Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which [is] by the gate!
Ver. 15. Oh that one would give me drink of the water, ] q.d., If wishing were anything, I had as lief as any good, &c. Id certe mallem, quam multum argenti accipere. a He had like longings after God. Psa 42:1-2 ; Psa 119:5 ; Psa 119:20
a Joseph.
Fuente: John Trapp’s Complete Commentary (Old and New Testaments)
2 Samuel
A LIBATION TO JEHOVAH
2Sa 23:15 – 2Sa 23:17
David’s fortunes were at a low ebb. He was in hiding in his cave of Adullam, and a Philistine garrison held Bethlehem, his native place. He was little different from an outlaw at the head of a band of ‘broken men,’ but there were depths of chivalry and poetry in his heart. Sweltering in his cave in the fierce heat of harvest, he thought of his native Bethlehem; he remembered the old days when he had watered his flock at the well by its gate, or mingled with the people of the little town, in their evening assemblies round it. The memories of boyhood rose up radiant before him, and as he was immersed in the past, the grim present, the perils that threatened his life, the savage, gaunt rocks without a trace of greenness that girded him, the privations to which he was exposed, were all forgotten, and he longed for one more draught of the water that tasted so cool and sweet to memory. Three of his ‘mighty men,’ bound to him by loyal devotion and unselfish love, were ready to die to win for their chief a momentary gratification. So they slipped away from Adullam, ‘brake through the host of the Philistines,’ and brought back the longed-for draught. David’s reception of the dearly-bought, sparkling gift was due to a noble impulse. The water seemed to him to be dyed with blood, and to be not water so much as ‘lives of men.’ It had become too precious to be used to satisfy his longing. It would be base self-indulgence to drink what had been won by such self-forgetting devotion. God only had the right to receive what men had risked their lives to obtain, and therefore he ‘poured it out unto the Lord.’
The story gleams out of the fierce narratives in which it is embedded, like a flower blooming on some grim cliff. May we not learn lessons from it?
I. David’s longing.
II. The three heroes’ devotion.
They stand as grand instances of the height of devotion of which the rudest nature is capable, when once its love and loyalty to the Beloved are evoked.
How such deeds ennoble the lowest types of character, and make us think better of men, and more sadly of the contrast between their habitual characteristics and the possibilities that lie slumbering in their ignoble lives! There are sparks in the hard cold flint, if only they could be struck out. There is water in the rock, if only the right hand, armed with the wonder-working rod, smites it.
Let us not judge men too harshly by what they do and are, but let us try to bring their sleeping possibilities into conscious exercise.
Let us remember that love and self-sacrifice, which is the very outcome and natural voice of love, ennoble the most degraded.
But these heroic three may suggest to us a sadder thought. They were ready to die for David; would they have been as ready to die for God? These noble emotions of love, leading to glad flinging away of life to pleasure the beloved, are freely given to men, but too often withheld from God, We lavish on our beloveds or on our chosen leaders, a devotion that ought to shame us, when contrasted with the scantiness of our grudging devotion and self-surrender to Him. If we loved God a tenth part as ardently as we love our wives or husbands or parents or children, and were willing to do and bear as much for Him as we are willing to bear for them, how different our lives would be! We can love utterly, enthusiastically, self-forget-tingly, absorbed in the beloved, and counting all surrender of self to, and the sacrifice of life itself for, him or her a delight. Many of us do love men so. Do we love God so?
But these heroic three may suggest another thought. Their self-sacrificing love was illustrious; but there is a nobler, more wonderful, more soul-subduing instance of such love. They broke through the ranks of the Philistines to bring David a draught from the well of Bethlehem. Jesus has broken through the ranks of our enemies to bring us the water of which ‘if a man drink, he shall live for ever.’ If we would see the highest example of self-sacrificing love, we must turn to look, not on the instances of it that shine through the ages on the page of history, and make men thrill as they gaze, and think better of the human nature that can do such things, but on the Christ hanging on the Cross because He loved those who did not love Him, and giving His life a ransom for sinners.
III. David’s reception of the water.
We may separate into its two parts the generous impulse which sprang as one whole in David’s breast. There was the shrinking from using the water to slake his thirst merely, and there was the resolve to pour it out as a libation to God. Both parts of that whole may yield us profitable thoughts.
To risk their lives for the water was noble in the three; to have quaffed it as if it had been drawn like any other water from a well, would have been ignoble in David. There are things that it may be noble to give and ignoble to accept. There are sacrifices which we are not entitled to allow others to make for our sakes. Gratifications which can only be procured at the hazard of men’s lives are too dearly bought.
Would not a civilisation, that draws much of its comforts and appliances from ‘sweated industries,’ and is languidly amused by seeing men and women performers peril their lives nightly, and lose them too, for its gratification, be the better for copying David’s recoil from drinking ‘the blood of men that went in jeopardy of their lives’? Is there not ‘blood’ on many a woman’s ball-dress, on many an article of luxury, on many an amusement?
There are sacrifices which we have no right to accept from others. The three had no right to risk life for such a purpose, and David would have been selfish if he had drunk the water. Do not such thoughts lead us by contrast to Him who has done what none other can do? ‘None of them can by any means redeem his brother, nor give his life a ransom for him’; but Jesus can and Jesus does, and what it would be impossible, and wrong if it were possible, for one man to do for another, He has done for us all, and what it would be base for a man to accept from another if that other could give it, it is blessed and the beginning of all nobleness of character for us to accept from Him. David would not drink because the cup seemed to him to be red with blood. Jesus offers to us a cup, not of cold water only but of ‘water and blood,’ and bids us drink of it and remember Him.
The generous devotion of the three kindled answering emotions in David’s breast. It would be a churlish soul that was not warmed into some faint replica of such self-sacrifice, and most of us would be ashamed of ourselves if we were unmoved by such love. But does the supreme example of it affect us as much as the lesser examples of it do? How many of us stand before it like the peaks of the Alps that front full south, and lift an unmelted breastplate of snow to the midday sun! How many of us have lived all our lives in presence of Jesus’ infinite love and self-surrender for us each, and never have felt one transient touch of answering love!
The other part of David’s impulse was to offer to God what was too precious for his own use. That is the fitting destination of our most precious and prized possessions. And whatever is thus offered becomes more precious by being offered. The altar sanctifies and enhances the worth of the gift. What we give to God is more our own than if we had kept it to ourselves, and develops richer capacities of ministering to our delight. It is so with our greatest surrender, the surrender of ourselves. When we give ourselves to Jesus, He renders us back to ourselves, far better worth having than before. We are never so much our own as when we are wholly Christ’s. And the same thing is true as to all our riches of mind, heart, or worldly wealth. If we wish to taste their most delicate and refined sweetness, let us give them to Jesus, and the touch of His hand, as He accepts them and gives them back to us, will leave a lingering fragrance that nothing else can impart. Was not the water from the well of Bethlehem sweeter to David as he poured it out unto the Lord than if he had greedily gulped it down?
Fuente: Expositions Of Holy Scripture by Alexander MacLaren
The Well by the Gate
And David longed, and said, Oh that one would give me water to drink of the well of Beth-lehem, which is by the gate!2Sa 23:15.
There are stories in the Bible which we are almost afraid to touch for fear of spoiling them. Although we cannot exactly say that they teach us any lesson, the mere reading of them makes us feel better. They lift us into a region high above our ordinary life, and make us breathe a purer atmosphere than that which is generally around us. Like a fine piece of music or a fine autumn evening, they take us out of ourselves and awaken in us vague, big thoughts and lofty feelings, and touch us with a sense of the grandeur and sacredness of our destiny. Such a story is this of David and the Well of Bethlehem. It makes an irresistible appeal to our better feelings, makes us think more worthily of man, and brings us nearer to God.
David was a fugitive, hiding in caves and lurking in woods, with a rather disorderly and disreputable troop of followers, in constant peril of his life, and in constant risk of being caught by his deadly enemy, king Saul. He was still a comparatively young man; yet he was outlawed. From the jealousy of Saul he had sought shelter at the court of Achish at Gath; but there, too, he had found himself surrounded by danger, and, having feigned madness, he had fled to the cave of Adullam, and after that to the hold on the hill above the cave.
As he now looked forth, the whole country round was full of rich memories. Just at the foot of the hill he had fought the famous battle with Goliath which had marked him out as the future monarch of Israel. At no great distance was Bethlehem, the village in which he had been born and bred, and almost within sight were the slopes where David as a shepherd lad had watched his fathers sheep; while down between the summits of those distant hills was the gate of Bethlehem, near which was the well where David had quenched his thirst a thousand times in those early and happy days. Now he was a hated outlaw. Saul and Achish alike sought his life. Moreover, between him and the well was the camp of the Philistines, who had just invaded that rich, fertile plain, as was their wont at harvest-time, to plunder it of the grain which was now ripe for the sickle.
I
David Longed
There came upon David a consuming desire for a taste of that water which was at the gate-side of the little town, so few miles away, where once had been his home. He was looking down upon scenes familiar since his boyhood; he suffered from the burning thirst of an Oriental summer day. Overpoweringly he remembered the days when his now bronzed face was ruddy, the evenings when he piped the sheep to their foldall that dear domestic life, with its rural duties and its untroubled faith. The burning sun, the excitement of the hour, and the contiguity of the well increased his thirst; all the memories of his boyhood connected with that well now crowded upon him. And, thinking of it all, David longed, and said, Oh that one would give me water to drink of the well of Beth-lehem, which is by the gate! It was the cry of a homesick heart, and the incident is the sweetest thing in Davids life. Never was David more manly or more truly human than when he longed for a drink from the old well of his boyhood.
1. This is the longing of an essentially good man for the things of his childhood. David was no disappointed worldling. But the troubles and trials, sorrows and disappointments of life had begun to close around him. The days of youth were over for him. He was a grown man, a marked man, a famous captain, the pride of Israel, one on whom the eyes of the nation were fixed. But he was a wanderer, driven from place to place by the moody temper and the jealousy of king Saul, insecure of his life from day to day, hunted, as he himself said, like a partridge on the mountains. The beautiful boy, the youth of a ruddy countenance, was now a bearded, careworn man, tried by watchings, fastings, and perils alike in the city and in the wilderness. Then, it seems, in an hour when the heart of David was probably burdened with the sense of lifes disillusionments, when days were dark and friends were few, when experience had brought to him a feeling of the mystery that covers the ways of God, and of the sorrow that haunts the steps of manthen, we are told, the thoughts of David went back, with a great tenderness and yearning to the far-off days of youth and the scenes of childhood, and the cry broke from his lipsOh that one would give me water to drink of the well of Beth-lehem, which is by the gate!
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.1 [Note: Tennyson.]
2. It is the longing of a successful man. David was not one of lifes failures, who had run the race of life in vain aud now looked back sadly to the promising start. He had run the race well; he had outstripped all his rivals, and he had risen higher than the most venturesome hopes of boyhood dared to soar. All of honour and wealth and power the world had to give, it had given to him, for he had been taken from following his fathers sheep to sit upon the throne of Israel; and no forsaken outcast, but a king, is he who in the cave of Adullam longs for water from the well of Bethlehem. The world had given to this man all it has to givegiven what it can give but seldom and only to a fewand he had longings still. For there in the cave of Adullam he thought not of the shouts of the army of Israel or of the rejoicing songs with which he was welcomed by Israels daughters; nor did he think there of the honour to which he had been raised, or of the house of cedar he had built for himself. His weary spirit fled away for rest back to the days when he drank of the well of Bethlehem; and all of his life that the world would have thought worth living he would willingly have unlived, and all his honours, his rank, and his possessions he would willingly have laid aside for the light heart and the cloudless days of youth.
A friend told the writer of a visit he made one summer to the home of his childhood. He had not been back for many years. The old place had passed into the hands of strangers. The present occupant took him from room to room until he had reached the attic. There, draped in cobwebs, stood an old spinning-wheel. At sight of it his heart went to his throat. It is my mothers spinning-wheel, he said. If you will look just there you will a blood mark. One day, when a little boy, I cut my finger and the blood trickled down on the spot while my mother tied up the wound. You must let me have this old wheel to take to my home and to my children. It brings back to me my mother and my childhood as nothing else has done.
3. It is a longing we can all more or less understand. David, like a true poet, felt and experienced the thoughts and feelings that stir in hundreds and thousands of minds, though only the one man has the gift of putting them into speech.
There is no man or woman who does not say occasionally or feel with Job, Oh that I were as in months past! We have visions of happy wells of which we drank in the dear old days, and from which we are now inevitably separated. We think of the time when everything was new to us and the world crammed with glory, when perfect health was in our veins and our heartbeats were all music, and we had no heavy burden of care to carry, and sorrow had not brought the shadows, and we hardly knew what it was to be weary, and no day was ever too long, and we wanted no heaven beyond because it was all heaven below.1 [Note: J. I. Vance, Royal Manhood, 159.]
Four ducks on a pond,
A grass bank beyond,
A blue sky of spring,
White clouds on the wing.
What a little thing
To remember for years,
To remember with tears!
II
What did He Long for?
1. David thirsted, and he longed for water. But any water would not satisfy him. He longed for water from a particular wellfrom the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate. The traditional Davids Well is half a mile N.N.E. of Bethlehem. Ritter speaks of its deep shaft and clear cool water. A picture of it rose before David nowthe sweet, cold water which he used to drink when he was a boyand he longed for it. But why did he long for it? Was there no other fountain in all the neighbourhood from which there might have been brought for the weary king a draught as pure and cool, no other fountain whose waters could have quenched his thirst? What possible difference could it make to David whether he drank water from the well by the gate of Bethlehem, or from the spring by the cave where he lay? Thirst is thirst, and water is water. If you drink the water you slake your thirstand that is all there is in it. What difference is there?
2. What David really desired was not mere water, or even water from the well of Bethlehem, but to drink its water as he had done in other daysto drink it with the feelings of childhood. He wished to be again the shepherd boy passing in and out at the gate of Bethlehem, free from care as in the days of other years. It was natural, but it was vain. When he longed for the water of the well of Bethlehem he forgot to consider how, though the well might be the same, he was changed; how, even if its waters were given him clear and cool as in days long ago, he must drink of it now no longer as the light-hearted boy of Bethlehem, but as a careworn man.
3. David wanted, not what he thought he wanted and asked for so importunately, but his childhood. We easily read enough between the lines of the incident to comprehend that the thirst was not so much in this mans throat as in his heart. Amid these deeds of arms his spirit was wounded and parched. Near his native place, within sight of the hills on which he kept his fathers sheep, he was thinking of his boyhood, and his longing for the dear old well was a home-sickness. Worn out with his manifold troubles and anxieties, he wished to be a child again, and the well round which he used to play seemed a kind of fountain of youth. If he could only drink of its water, all the heavy weight of the years would fall off his spirit and he would become young again, with all the fresh hopes that animated him in lifes morning.
Ye see me now an ould man, his work near done,
Sure the hair upon me heads gone white;
But the things meself consated or the time that I could run,
Theyre the nearest to me heart this night.
Just the daisies down in the low grass,
The stars high up in the skies,
The first I knowed of a mothers face
Wi the kind love in her eyes,
Och, och!
The kind love in her eyes.1 [Note: Moira ONeill, Songs of the Glens of Antrim.]
III
Why did He Long for it?
1. David was feeling the strong pressure of memory, the strength of association with a happy past; the force of that strongest of all the associations which bind a man with unalterable piety to the scene of a happy boyhood. It was merely a sentiment; there were other wells as refreshing, other waters as cool, as that which trickled forth at Bethlehem. But the well of Bethlehem surely reminded him of the early days, with all their glad, free innocent ways, when he was a simple-hearted, God-fearing child, knowing little of evil and nothing of fighting and sorrow and lifes rough work. Now his hands had shed blood; his heart had been torn with fierce passions. It was not as in the olden days. He had lost much. He had gained much also, but it was the loss that he thought of now.
2. Why is it that men turn back thirsty and weary to the streams of their boyhood, and lighten up the darkness of their cave with the glory of memory? Because there are losses connected with the passing of youth which can never be repaired and made good. Other good gifts may come in the place of the gifts of youth; but David showed in that cry for the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate, that he was conscious of the loss of something which was absolutely past recovery. The feeling has been expressed in most beautiful verse by Wordsworth. He says that with youth something was gone from him which could never be restored.
Nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
(1) David was thinking of his lost enthusiasms. He had not reached his prime, yet life seemed to be closing in. There were withdrawals and impoverishments about his life which perplexed that large spirit within him, as it yearned for wider scope, fuller liberty, and nobler attainments. He yearned for the ampler liberties of youth, the wild free play of childhood. He longed for those days when mankind appeared as one brotherhood; when the thought of hating, or being hated, had never crossed his mind, but when all men appeared to be one loving confederacy.
How strong the memory of victorious enthusiastic youth was in David! The first encounter with the lion and the bearwhat strength it gave him! What a force it was! That great encounter with the Philistines, when in his generous, boy-like ardour he could not understand how men who believed in God could cower before a bully giant, or acquiesce in a living degradation! See again how this lived with him into darker years! See him take the sword of Goliath from the sacred precinct where it had been laid up as a consecrated relic, and say, There is none like that; give it me!
It constitutes the great and magnificent quality of youth that it can glow and blaze. It is a very commonplace thought after all that when men are old they will take things more calmly, meaning only that the fires will have burned low. Cynicism is a poor exchange for enthusiasm. There are many and manifest temptations of youth, such as rashness, both of judgment and of conduct, hotheadedness, passion, unbalanced zeal, but these are all the extravagances of what is its finest quality. The world needs the strong hopefulness and buoyancy of youth, as well as the large experience and cautious wisdom of age. Youth is the motive-power of the world, driving it to new ends, and bringing to it new hopes.1 [Note: H. Black.]
How good is mans life, the mere living! how fit to employ
All the heart and the soul and the senses, for ever in joy!2 [Note: Browning, Saul.]
(2) David was thinking of his lost ideals. In life, with its failures and disappointments, its cruel blows, its dread sufferings, we are all too apt to become flat and weary, stale, unprofitable, quenched in our enthusiasm, blinded in our hopes, blunted in our enterprises. We want, like David, draughts from the water of the well at Bethlehem, where we can renew our youth, and forget the darkness of the cave, the heartlessness of the foes, and the dull weight of defeats, which lie between us and the past.
A boy at school has not yet become, thank God, a bankrupt in spent pleasures. He is not that miserable creature whom you see lounging round the amphitheatre of life, languidly wondering whether the prizes which it offers are after all worth the trouble of contesting them. He is not that pitiable being who has lost all beauty out of nature, all refinement from art, all the subtler joys of simple life, in the frantic plunge after pleasure, followed by a brutal incapacity for enjoyment, and who sees a blight in every flower, a canker in every fruit, and a baldness on the head of every prophet.1 [Note: Canon Newbolt.]
3. There are some persons, no doubt, who tell us that all this is mere sentimentality, that it is all a mistake, that people regard the days of youth with affection only because they are far off and out of reach; or that, at any rate, it is very foolish and very unprofitable to cry over what is past recall, and to indulge in feelings which are weak and enervating, and which may unfit them for the practical business of the present hour. Well, no doubt it is possible to be mawkish and feebly sentimental about the past, and to waste to-day in useless regrets for that which is beyond recovery. But we pity the man or woman who cannot feel, at moments, as David felt, when he turned from the heat and burden of a busy, harassed life, and thought of the quiet fields of Bethlehem and the sheepfolds, and of the sweet cool water of the well by the gate, and the dear memories of childhood, youth, and home. Do you suppose David was unnerved and enfeebled and rendered less capable of facing the rough, hard cares and troubles and difficulties of life because his mind was carried back, with a great rush of love, to the days that were no morethe golden days of the morning of life?
Far from that. It is well now and then to go back in thought, and drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem that is by the gate. It is well to go back to the unstained memories and associations of the dawn of life; to recall the glowing dreams and visions of boyhood and girlhood; to think of the time when the mind first awoke, and the mystery and splendour of life lay unfolded before us; to rebuild in fancy the world where we first began to know and understand the high lessons of duty and obedience, and received on our souls the first impress of those Divine truths which wake to perish never, and remain
The fountain-light of all our day,
The master-light of all our seeing.
To think of these things when the cares and troubles of life press heavily on us, and when the heart is sore, and the feet are weary, and the world grows cold and grey, is often to find new strength and hope and courage for the necessary work of life.
Forty years after Dr. Kidds death, my father was stopped by an elderly woman as he was walking in the neighbourhood of Rose Street, Dundee. She wore an apron, under which she seemed to carry a parcel. This she took from its hiding-place just as my father and she met each other. It was a little portrait in a paltry frame, the same likeness of Dr. Kidd that does duty as a frontispiece of some of his books. Youll mind wha that is, said she. My father looked at the engraving, and replied that he well remembered the Doctor. Im but a puir body, continued the woman, I get aff the Buird (the Parochial Board), but I saw the pictur a while syne in a brokers shopit was ninepence, and I saved up till I was able to buy it. And then she told how the Doctor used to preach in the Chapelshade Kirk on fast-days or communion Sabbaths when she was a lassie, and how much spiritual good she had got from his ministrations there, few and far between as his appearances must have been. I sometimes think, added she, that I can hear his voice reading in the Revelations yet. 1 [Note: Dr. Kidd of Aberdeen, 305.]
We leave the simple master-words of life
Behind us with the toys of childhoods years,
Whilst in the book-bound wisdom of the seers
We seek some scant equipment for the strife.
All natures lore and tenderness we spurn,
Alone fare forth in search of gold or fame,
And then look backward through the dust and shame,
Knowing that we can nevermore return.
Yet now and then a sunset or a flower,
Or some old haunt revisited once more,
Or the seas story whispered to the shore,
Or the winds music in a listening bower,
Will bring again the unalloyed delight
We knew before our life had held a wrong,
Recall the refrain of a cradle-song,
And lift the shadows from our saddened sight.1 [Note: Percy C. Ainsworth, Poems and Sonnets, 31.]
IV
How was the Longing Satisfied?
1. Water was brought to David from the very well of which he desired to drink. Three of these mighty men overheard that longing as it broke forth from his weary spirit. They waited for no command, they sounded no trumpet, they summoned no companies, but forth they went and perilled their very lives that David might have his wish. They fought their way to the well of Bethlehemthe well by the gate; they drew for their master; with their swords they cleared their way as they returned to the cave of Adullam, and there they presented the crystal draught the king had longed for. But the pure sweet water he had longed for above all things was now nothing to him in itself though he had it in his hands. He would not drink it. He knew now that he wanted it no more; or rather he knew that deeper than the thirst for water had been the longing of his wearied spirit which mere water could not satisfy.
2. If David could have gone back to the actual scenes of his childhood, he would still have been unsatisfied. He might have returned to the home of his boyhood and revisited scenes amid which he had wandered free from care, and the fields and the trees and the streams which he loved might have been around himthe same, yet how different! The charm is gone. He has returned to the home; but he can never return to the feelings of his youthful days. There is no actual going back. We cannot begin again, start afresh, make a new attempt, with the added experience of life, as many of us would like to doTo the land whereunto they desire to return, thither shall they not return. We cannot now re-write the story of our lives. The record, with all its faults, mistakes, confusions, sins, must stand. Nor can we replace the losses of the heart, the separations of death, and alas! the separations of life.
We return to a memory-haunted scene, and how strangely the hills, the streams, the streets have dwindled and shrunk together. Size is relative to that central affection which magnifies all its store of surroundings. That which is about us has its perspective, not in fact, but in loves wiser fancy. We cannot restore the outer ratio of what made lifes earliest impressions. A secret and vanished beauty fails of reattachment to visible things. The lute is hushed, the chairs are vacant, and Charles Lambs plaint rises to pallid lips:
Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood,
Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse,
Seeking to find the old familiar faces.
The well is shallower. The waters that were wont to go warbling so softly and well do not flow as they used to flow. Their gush and sparkle have escaped, and something insipid and tasteless has come. The sweetness was about, not in, the draught. The taste was in the tongue and the lips that have changed.1 [Note: M. W. Stryker.]
3. David here was crying for his vanished childhood, and in a moment certain things happened which proved to him that he was richer as a man than he had ever been as a child. He had won friendships that were faithful to him even unto death. Three men among his followers, as soon as they heard his cry, went off, without a moments doubt, to obey; they broke through an army, their lives hanging by a hair at every turn, on the mere chance of bringing him a draught. It was surely more than all the delights of childhood to have gained such devotion, such love, as that! It was brought home to him that even here, in dreary Adullam, with its bitter experiences and brackish water, he had what not even Bethlehem with all its wells could give him. He had gained much, though he had lost much. He had gained more than he had lost.
There are better things than the glory of childhood, just as the gnarled, strong, winter-worn oak is nobler than the slender sapling with its first shoots of green. God did not send us into the world to be always children; but to be strong, long-suffering, serviceable men and women; to make friends and deserve their friendship; to learn patience through sorrow and courage by facing difficulties, and to take a real soldiers part in the great battle of life. And if we are doing that, there is no need to sigh for our Bethlehem days. A man, if he has grown with some sense of duty, with some fear of God, and in a religious way; if he has fought with temptation and not always yielded; if he has learned some of the finer lessons which experience teaches, is in all ways richer than he was as a youth or a little child. His thoughts are larger and wiser; his whole conception of things is more Godlike; his sympathies are wider; his world is a bigger place. He loves and pities his fellow-men more; his hands and brain and heart are fitter for work; his influence is greater; and the world which thanks God for the children ought to thank God even more for him.
The regret we have for our childhood is not wholly justifiable: so much a man may lay down without fear of public ribaldry; for although we shake our heads over the change, we are not unconscious of the manifold advantages of our new state. What we lose in generous impulse we more than gain in the habit of generously watching others; and the capacity to enjoy Shakespeare may balance a lost appetite for playing at soldiers.1 [Note: R. L. Stevenson, Childs Play.]
Let us never fancy that the path of life is a path that steadily declines and slopes downward. It is true heaven lies about us in our infancy. It is true that the vision splendid is often unveiled to young eyes. But it is still more true that heaven and God and the vision splendid are far nearer and closer to the man or woman who, in the battle of life, holds fast by truth and right and holiness, and pushes on, carrying a daily cross, along the rough, painful road of duty and faith and earnest living. It is a cruel mistake, and a most faithless one, to suppose that the beginning of life is better than the end of life, and that the days of youth are purer and better and of more value than the days of mature manhood and experienced old age.
The David whom we love and admire, the David who has helped and enriched countless souls, and sent the echo of his song down through the centuries and won for himself deathless glory and fame in the Church of God, is not the boy of Bethlehem, dreaming in the fields and sitting by the well at the gate in all the charm of golden youth. The David who helps us and bids us be of good cheer is the man of many trials and many troubles; the man of vast experience, much sorrow, much prayer; the man of a broken and a contrite heart, wounded and showing the scars of many a fight. David is dear to us because he stands before us as one who, with infinite toil and labour, and with sweat of brain and heart, gained the mastery of himself; and who, in spite of defeats, failures, and sins, held fast, sometimes almost with desperation, by what is best and highest; and so found at last the true end of life, which is the knowledge and peace of God.1 [Note: W. Harrison.]
It is the experiences of our lives that are truly valuable. It is our sorrows and our joys, our exaltations and enthusiasms, that are really so much to us. Lives grow richer as they grow older. So long as a man really lives, he is continually establishing new relations with all the things about him. Every year some new object becomes representative and suggestive of some deep experience of life. One year his business becomes glorified with all the spiritual discipline of threatened failure and restored prosperity. Another year his family life is deepened and softened by bereavement. Again, his countrys danger lifts patriotism into a passion. And yet again his body grows sacred to him by the mysterious touch of God in sickness. Always there is a new value coming into things which sinks the old and makes them new to him.2 [Note: Phillips Brooks.]
4. When David realized the gain that the years had brought, he thanked God and was satisfied. For David the water of the Bethlehem well had become winethe red wine of the sacrament of selfless love. He could no longer think of himself, but of these three devoted hearts and of the God to whom he felt he in the long-run owed the priceless draught of human affection which had so mightily refreshed his weary soul. Their unselfish readiness to sacrifice themselves in order to gratify a chance wish, uttered in a despondent hour, made him unselfish toonay, made him more than unselfish, made him go straight to God in a fervour of thanksgiving, and talk about it to Him as if He would be sure to understand it, and recognize its true value. In that moment David rose again to the stature of a man of God. He could thank God for what the years had brought; he could thank God for the losses they had brought as well as the gains.
An easy thing, O Power Divine,
To thank Thee for these gifts of Thine!
For summers sunshine, winters snow,
For hearts that kindle, thoughts that glow.
But when shall I attain to this
To thank Thee for the things I miss?
For all young Fancys early gleams,
The dreamed-of joys that still are dreams,
Hopes unfulfilled, and pleasures known
Through others fortunes, not my own,
And blessings seen that are not given,
And never will be, this side heaven.
Had I too shared the joys I see,
Would there have been a heaven for me?
Could I have felt Thy presence near,
Had I possessed what I held dear?
My deepest fortune, highest bliss,
Have grown perchance from things I miss.
Sometimes there comes an hour of calm;
Grief turns to blessing, pain to balm;
A Power that works above my will
Still leads me onward, upward still:
And then my heart attains to this,
To thank Thee for the things I miss.1 [Note: Thomas Wentworth Higginson.]
5. There is something better than looking back with longing to the days of youth. It is thisto realize that true life, the life of the soul, never grows old, although it grows up. Our true home never is, never was, amid the symbols and shadows of time, but in the grand reality of eternity. The well of Bethlehem in the morningthere is no turning back to it in the afternoon. There is a farther, a more glorious morning, a deeper, a nobler, a purer draught from the waters of God, the waters of rest. The soul in growing older is not farther from God than in the days of sweet innocence. To turn in simplest, most childlike trust to God, truth, heaven, wherever you are and however you are, is to drink deep of the water of ageless life.
Gray distance hid each shining sail,
By ruthless breezes borne from me;
And, lessening, fading, faint and pale,
My ships went forth to sea.
Where misty breakers rose and fell
I stood and sorrowed hopelessly;
For every wave had tales to tell
Of wrecks far out at sea.
Today, a song is on my lips:
Earth seems a paradise to me:
For God is good, and lo, my ships
Are coming home from sea!1 [Note: George Arnold.]
Literature
Ainsworth (P. C.), The Pilgrim Church, 147.
Aked (C. F.), Old Events and Modern Meanings, 45.
Banks (L. A.), David and His Friends, 236.
Brooks (P.), Christ the Life and Light, 227.
Burrows (H. W.), Lenten and other Sermons, 139.
Campbell (R. J.), Sermons addressed to Individuals, 191.
Davies (D.), Talks with Men, Women and Children, iii. 502,
Greenhough (J. G.), Half-Hours in Gods Older Picture Gallery, 132.
Harrison (W.), Clovelly Sermons, 88.
MacArthur (R. S.), Quick Truths in Quaint Texts, ii. 87.
Maclaren (A.), Expositions: 2 Samuel, etc., 141.
Macleay (K. A.), The Never-Changing Creed, 209.
Macmillan (H.), The Clock of Nature, 328.
Maver (J. S.), The Childrens Pace, 89.
Miller (J. R.), Our New Edens, 123.
Newbolt (W. C. E.), Words of Exhortation, 332.
Nicholson (M.), Redeeming the Time, 180.
Speirs (E. B.), A Present Advent, 292.
Stryker (M. W.), The Well by the Gate, 3.
Talmage (T. de W.), Sermons, vii. 170.
Christian World Pulpit, liv. 287 (Maver); lxv. 317 (Robberds).
Fuente: The Great Texts of the Bible
longed: Num 11:4, Num 11:5, Psa 42:1, Psa 42:2, Psa 63:1, Psa 119:81, Isa 41:17, Isa 44:3, Joh 4:10, Joh 4:14, Joh 7:37
Bethlehem: Bethlehem signifies the “house of bread,” and the place was likewise noted for excellent water. There Christ was born, who is the “bread of life,” and who also gives us the “water of life.” “The water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” Joh 4:14
Reciprocal: Deu 12:20 – I will Jos 19:15 – Bethlehem 1Ki 21:16 – Ahab rose up 1Ch 11:17 – longed Pro 25:25 – cold Joh 4:7 – Give Rom 1:11 – I long
Fuente: The Treasury of Scripture Knowledge
23:15 And David {i} longed, and said, Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which [is] by the gate!
(i) Being overcome with weariness and thirst.