I wanted to dabble in biblical fiction for fun, so I wrote the beginnings of a story about David. I never finished it (not even getting to the Goliath part) mainly because I’m not ready to invest a lot of time into writing serious biblical fiction — that’s a goal for my later years. But I had fun writing the first few chapters just to play with the idea.
As a companion to the story, I drew an illustration depicting David fighting the bear in the field.
Prologue
It was high noon. Hot, sticky, sweaty—one of those days any boy, or even man, would want to stay as far away from the murderous sun as possible. Those were the days brothers envied their sisters, who’s work was always inside, sheltered by the roof above their heads.
However, David knew there was no point in wishful thinking, even if he might have been the worst off amongst his entire family. Eliab, he was sure, had been out in the woods all day looking for game, like he always did. People from miles around all declared he was best at his skill, and Eliab was starting to let it go to his head.
David’s other brothers? One could only guess. Some were no doubt in the fields. At least, that’s what they should be doing. Sometimes he doubted if they were as true to their word as they claimed to be. Ah well. When it really mattered, the fields were emptied and either stored or hauled off to the market. They got things done in time.
David squinted up through the leaves above him at the blazing sun. Everyone would be converging for the noon meal soon. Everyone except him.
He let out a heavy sigh through his lips as he leaned back against the tree trunk. Sometimes his friends would tell him how lucky he was to be able to do nothing at all, all day long, every day of the year. He didn’t have to hunt for food, or harvest the fields. He didn’t have to cart things off to the market, or trade, sell and buy new livestock. He had life so easy.
Yeah. Easy. David was quick to remind them that he wasn’t able to do nothing at all, all day long, every day of the year. He had to hike far out beyond his parent’s fields, keep watch, never sleep, not come home till the middle of the night, or sometimes the next day, and never take his eyes off those fluffy white sheep.
Of course, David wasn’t really unhappy with his job. Aside from the heat and sometimes slight sting of loneliness every once in awhile, he was actually quite content with the whole situation. The silence out in the wild let him think. He could write poems and songs. And, of course, practice the harp in peace without his brothers having the chance to criticize his art.
“You’re just jealous you can’t teach yourselves anything musical,” David laughed whenever they did try his nerves. They’d leave him alone after that, not liking that their youngest brother could point out the truth so easily.
The thought made David smile under his tree, staring at the little puffs of white wool walking around and chomping on the grass.
Now there’s some who don’t have to do anything all day long, he thought, watching them lazily meander in front of him. The poor things wouldn’t stand a chance in the cruel world if I wasn’t watching out for them. They got everything they need—grass especially.
Those sheep got David thinking, not uncommon in the wide-open plains. Sheep were so…stupid. They have no idea that anything could possibly want to hurt them. They only see what’s right in front of them, and even then it hardly registers.
“Aren’t I just like that,” he said aloud to himself. “Me and everyone else who lives in this world. So…caught up with ourselves we don’t see any danger until it’s too late. Then Someone’s got to come out and rescue us.”
Smiling slightly to himself, he came to a conclusion. “The Lord is my shepherd…I shall not want.”
He nodded to himself, realizing something was coming to him. He scanned the valley, his eyes flying across the wide greenery and placid stream off to his right.
“He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters.”
Chapter 1
David came to his first writer’s block only after the first few lines. After the Shepherd led him through the paths of righteousness, the inspiration just died. But it didn’t bother him much. He’d written down what he could and assumed more would come later.
He looked out on the field before him again and, out of habit, counted his flock, but as he did so something dark out of the corner of his eye called for his attention. A black shape waded in the trees and brush a few yards off.
David sighed, shaking his head slightly. His flock just proved his point. Poor things needed his help. One of his black sheep wandered off and got himself stuck in some bush again.
Pushing off from the soft earth beneath him, the young shepherd clasped his staff and strode out from under his tree and down a small hill to where the sheep was caught. He glanced back over to the rest of the animals, still gnawing away on the valley’s grass, totally unaware that one of their members was missing—and stuck.
“Remind me never to trust that you’ll ever help me out of a situation,” David joked at the sheep, which ignored him completely.
Only a little ways away now from the dark mass moving about in the shadows, he called out with a chiding tone, “All right, buddy, I’m coming. If you just stayed with your flo—“
But David stopped dead in his tracks, doing a double take on the dark animal in the forest. His knuckles went white around his staff, gripping it with both hands and holding it out in front of him like a weapon. The black animal did not have wool; it had fur.
With a deep guttural roar, the mass of fur attacked, springing from its hiding place and dashing out over the valley. It was huge, with paws the size of David’s face, and a body the size of a large calf. In a loping run, the bear charged through the flock, catching up a small lamb in the middle.
“Hey!” Knowing every sheep was important to his family’s welfare, David didn’t hesitate, but jumped up and charged right after the bear.
The sheep scattered to save themselves, leaving the white lamb—only three months old—to fend for its tiny self. David knew that just by running after the beast, he would get there too late. He needed to distract the bear; make it drop its prey for just a second more.
David yanked his sling from off his belt, scooping up a pebble as he ran. With well-practiced skill, he slipped the rock into the leather strip without losing his grip on his shepherd’s crook in his other hand. As soon as the pebble dropped into place, he raised the sling, taking well-placed aim as he slung it above his head—one, two, three times—before he released one end and let the ammo fly.
With an audible crack, the rock hit the bear directly on its temple. Immediately the beast dropped the lamb in its jaws and spun around, black holes for eyes staring at David with a vicious glare.
Heart pounding, but never faltering, David pushed on, now only gripping his staff, heading straight for the predator. The bear roared, its bellow echoing across the valley as it rose on it hind legs, easily eight feet tall.
David sprinted forward, coming right under the animal’s massive paws. It swiped at him and he dove to the ground. The bear prepared to stamp him into the dirt with its front feet falling forward. David rolled out from under them just as they smashed into the earth where he’d only just been.
He held his staff tight, whacking it with all his strength to the black fur covering the bear’s skull where the rock had connected. Already it was gushing dark red blood, and the contact from the staff brought the bear toppling to its side with another mighty roar, sharp spikes of teeth snarling under the beating sun.
David didn’t think; he just prayed and acted. He leapt onto the bear’s black chest, gripping its fur around its neck with frantic adrenaline. He tugged at its hide, pulling and clawing at the fur, stretching it taught around the thrashing animal. With one arm he raised his staff high and plunged it with all his strength into the bear’s throat.
The beast gave a furious, gurgling wail, blood bubbling and squirting into the shepherd’s eyes and mouth. Its paw came up and smacked David clean off his perch on the bear’s breast, causing him to hit the ground and roll several lengths away.
He jumped to his feet, poised and ready to dive in again, but relaxed when he realized the fight was over. The great mass of fur lay in a bloody heap in the center of the valley, unable to finish off his killer.
Chapter 2
Breathing heavily from his deathly battle, David cautiously approached the bear. His shepherd’s staff was still wedged deep in its throat cavity, and blood bubbled and oozed around its worn wood.
Like drawing a sword from a stone, David tugged at his staff, retrieving it and causing a fountain of red liquid to spit out onto the formerly green grass. The boy wrinkled his nose in disgust and began to wipe clean the end of his staff.
His heart was leaping inside of him, doing a victory dance in the center of his chest. He’d killed it. He’d killed it! People were quick to forget, a shepherd’s job was not simply to do nothing at all, all day long, every day of the year.
David turned around, scanning for his sheep across the valley. Sure enough, the animals had scattered, probably getting themselves lost. There was another job of a shepherd: find the lost sheep.
And that was what he had to do for the rest of the day.
* * * * *
The old man sat on a stool, elbow rested on his knee and his chin in his palm in a position of a great thinker. He looked the young, strong man up and down for any faultiness in his built.
The smoke of the burning heifer rolled into the small room from outside. The sacrifice was finished, and now came the real reason he was here. The animal was only a diversion—a reason—for the king to turn a blind eye away from this powerful man.
Eliab was huge. Strong built. Nothing but muscle and strength. His stature was above all the rest that was of the house of Jesse, even his father himself. His might no doubt came from his perfect aim with a bow. He was a skilled warrior. In the old man’s observant eyes, he’d make a fine king.
Thinking of the task before him, Samuel inwardly shuddered. He knew perfectly well what Saul would do if he found the true reason why he’d come to Jesse. The king was a mighty, powerful, and jealous man. He knew his time was short. After all, it was the prophet Samuel himself who brought the embarrassing news to the public.
The Lord has rent the kingdom of Israel from you today and has given it to your neighbor, who’s better than you. That’s what he’d said.
No doubt the words stung, and with added effect, he had delivered them in front of everyone who was there to celebrate Saul’s great triumph over the Amalekites and capture of King Agog.
Yes, that celebration should never have taken place—at least as the way it did. Agog captured and bound, but still alive. Along with all the best flocks and herds from the camp. Directly disobeying the voice of the Lord. Disgusting.
Now Agog was dead, but it was not because Saul realized his sin, and now Samuel had to find a man after God’s own heart.
Which brought him back to Eliab. He was the oldest of Jesse’s sons and could easily be Israel’s next king. This had to be the one.
Samuel slid his tongue over his teeth, preparing to make a decision, when he realized he’d not asked God Himself what He thought. This mission, after all, was God’s calling.
He looked at Eliab’s feet, not seeing what was in front of him, lost in conversation with God. He heard the Almighty’s opinion on Jesse’s son and realized that Samuel had been looking on the outward appearance. Only God could see the heart.
Samuel at last shook his head, giving one last look at Eliab. Then he turned to Jesse who was standing beside him. “This is not the Lord’s will,” Samuel said simply.
A cloud fell over Eliab’s face, and he marched out of the room without a word. Samuel nodded again as he watched the man go and said, more to himself than Jesse, “Yes, not the Lord’s will.”
This happened six times more. One would come in and stand before God and Samuel, then would walk out looking lost, and, more confused as the candidates grew younger. No doubt the thought running through all their minds was, “Who else? What younger brother could possibly be king over me?”
Down the line it went: Eliab, Abinadab, Shammah, Nethaneel, Raddai, Ozem, Elihu. All of them were strong and muscular—no doubt, they had the look of a king, but every one of them God refused to have reign over His chosen people.
By now even Samuel was pondering the question the others were thinking: Who else? But God had a plan, and he had told Samuel to go to Jesse’s house in Bethlehem to anoint a new king. Samuel now stood and turned to the father.
“Are all your sons here?”
Jesse shook his head, not without a slight smile on his face. “There’s the youngest. He’s just a shepherd down in the valley. He couldn’t be—“
“Send someone to get him,” Samuel said, cutting Jesse off abruptly. A thrill was rising deep inside him. He knew God would reward this search. A new king would be chosen this day. “We won’t sit until he comes.”
“But Samuel,” Jesse protested, “he’s far out in the valley, and not due to come home until tomorrow. Spend the night here, and we’ll talk to him when he gets back.”
Samuel could see the hesitancy in Jesse’s eyes, the doubt. Of course he loved all his sons, but he couldn’t fathom the youngest being chosen above the oldest. Surely there had to be some mistake.
“God makes no mistakes,” Samuel said evenly. Jesse jumped slightly, wary of the prophet’s seemingly skill to read his mind.
“Eliab!” he called, still watching the prophet. His oldest son appeared immediately, hope redawning in his eyes.
“Yes, Father!”
“Send for David.”
A confused look contorted around Eliab’s face. “But, Father…he’s out keeping the sheep.”
“I know he is,” Jesse replied. “But Samuel wants to speak with him at once.”
Eliab’s glimmer of hope then confusion crashed into a crestfallen state of disbelief. However, he said nothing but “Yes, Father” and left the room.
Chapter 3
David heard the running footfalls before he saw the runner. The breeze was flowing down into the valley from the sharp ridge above him, bringing the sound of clamoring feet.
“David!” a voice called. A silhouette against the dying sunlight stood atop the ridge, waving vigorously.
The shepherd boy squinted into the sunset, trying to figure out who could possibly be calling for him, but he recognized the voice easily.
“Eliab?” he called back, holding his hand on his brow to shield the bright sky.
“Father wants you!”
The words caused David to go silent for a moment. Why would his father Jesse call him away from his duties in the valley? He’d be home the next day, and Jesse wouldn’t be calling unless it was urgent.
“What’s wrong, brother?”
Eliab’s voice gave way to a change in the wind, and all David could catch was a single word:
Prophet.
* * * * *
Now David climbed to meet his older brother, who had not bothered to make the laboring journey to meet him halfway. In front of him were the sheep, slowly making their way up the ridge, not knowing—or caring—why they were being led away so early.
The sun was just sinking out of sight, its last blips of sudden brightness peaking out behind the mountains in the distance, when David reached the top. His brother Eliab was sitting nearby on a rock, chin in hands and staring with unfocused eyes at a pebble in front of him.
“Eliab!” David said, snapping his brother out of his thoughts and causing him to look up. “What’s happened? You said something about a, a prophet. Here?”
Eliab nodded. “Yes, and he wants to see you.” The older brother spoke curtly, and without explanation. Eliab was a man of few words, yet something was clearly bothering him.
“The prophet? Samuel, God’s chosen seer?” David spoke in disbelief. “Why would a—a prophet—ever want to see me? I’m a shepherd! I guard the sheep!” David didn’t think his next words through carefully enough and said hesitantly, “Didn’t he want to see you?”
Eliab jumped to his feet, bitter anger in his dark eyes, his fingers curled into two fists. “Why don’t you go ahead and ask him, shepherd boy?”
David nodded and fell silent, sensing Samuel’s presence at their house was not creating the best of moods for his older brother. The two made their slow way back to the house of Jesse without another exchange of words, although David sensed from the corner of his eye Eliab looking at him up and down like he’d never seen him before. He tried to ignore it and keep his eyes on the flock of sheep meandering in front of him.
By the time they reached the house, the sun was completely gone, replaced by millions of stars sparkling in the deep blue sky. Every time he looked up at them, alone in the valley, David would remember Abraham and God’s promise to make of him a “great nation” that was “as numerous as the stars.” The vastness of it all made him dizzy, feeling so small he’d fall right off the world his feet always stood on.
After counting the flock and shutting them safely in their sheep pen, David went in—with more than a few butterflies in his stomach—to see Samuel: the prophet of God.
Samuel took a quick once-over at David’s appearance—his ruddy countenance, dark wavy hair and strong forearms, but it looked to David that he was hardly seeing him. Then Samuel looked to the ground, eyes half-lowered in prayer.
David sensed his brother’s eyes all glued to his back. He didn’t really comprehend what was going on. Was Samuel here to bring judgment on him and his future family? Maybe death? Had he done something wrong that God was meaning to punish? He ran his mind over all the things he’d said, done or thought. He’d done his share of sins, easily. All men sinned. He’d had his quarrels with his brothers, done things he’d ought not to, but he couldn’t think of something that a prophet would have to come and handle.
He swallowed hard, and tried to stand as still as possible.
Finally, Samuel looked up, and for the first time looked David in the eyes. He smiled briefly, then turned to face Jesse with a clap of his hands.
“This is he,” Samuel said, not shedding any light on what he meant to David, who still stood awkwardly silent. He sensed his brothers’ disbelief behind him, their irritated sighs and quiet whispers.
Samuel and his father both looked overjoyed, and he couldn’t understand why. He bit his lip and cleared his throat.
“Sir,” he spoke slowly, not quite sure how to address a prophet, “forgive my asking, but…what…am I?”
The old man paced over to David and clasped him tightly on both shoulders, looking at him with a beaming smile.
“You, my boy, are the next king of Israel.”
A stunned David couldn’t think; he jumped back out of the prophet’s arms, bewildered at the words. King? But Saul was king! God chose Saul to rule the land, and the man was hardly decrepit and unfit to rule. He still had years left in his life—and a son!
What should I say? he thought. You must be mistaken? That’s practically arguing with God!
“But, Sir—“ David faltered, not sure how to respond, “King Saul—he’s—“
“Lost his kingdom,” Samuel finished gravely. “God has torn it from him for his disobedience. The Lord wants a new king: one that will lead our nation the way God wants him to lead it.”
David couldn’t help but take a sweep of his brothers’ faces. Wouldn’t God go to his brothers? They were older, stronger, and he was the very youngest—the runt. He was hardly seventeen.
“Man looks on the outside, David,” Samuel said slowly. “God looks on the heart. Now,” the prophet came toward him again, gesturing to kneel before him. David watched as the prophet took a ram’s horn from his things nearby and waited.
Heart beating fast as he began to realize what was taking place, David fell to his knees, tilting his head forward. He sensed Samuel looming over him, holding the ram’s horn, which he now knew was full of oil.
A slow drizzle contacted with the top of his head as the prophet spoke. “I, Samuel, God’s prophet, anoint you, David, son of Jesse, to be the second king of Israel!” He said it with power and excitement, like it was the greatest joy he could ever be given—to follow God’s perfect plan.
The slow drizzle spread out over his head and slithered down his forehead and along the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes to shield them from the thick fluid and let it wash over him. It ran past behind his ears, which were thumping loud pumps of blood, and down the back of his neck and back, causing him to shiver in the cool air.
The second king of Israel. Even now, as the anointment oil spread out over his skull, the shepherd boy could not fully comprehend it. With the oil brought a great burden on his shoulders as he realized he’d have to lead men in battle, make decisions for the nation that would affect the very history of the world, and he’d need a great amount of wisdom and bravery from God if he would ever succeed.
Chapter 4
Samuel had not stayed long after that. He hastily warned David of the trials ahead in the boy’s life, and reminded him to follow God with all his heart. With hardly more than a few hours’ sleep and a brief meal, the prophet disappeared on the horizon facing Ramah, and the future king of Israel returned to his flock.
Howbeit, the stillness of the days did not last long. David’s way to ruler was already being paved by the Lord. His Holy Spirit quickly left King Saul, refusing to use the mighty man any longer in His omniscient plan.
The Lord’s presence was replaced by a troubling, evil spirit that tore at Saul’s fractured conscience. The man would neither eat nor sleep, twisting in almost physical pain upon his bed, cold sweat washing his forehead and down his back.
A boy—no older than David himself—knelt beside his father’s bed, anxiously gripping the king’s sheets, his eyes darting over the tormented monarch and parent. A cold platter of venison and bread sat cold and untouched beside the boy.
“Father,” Jonathan, son and heir to the throne of Israel cried, near tears now. “Father, please, tell me what’s wrong. Are you sick? Are you hurting?”
Saul simply cried out in a wail, moaning the prophet’s name, Samuel, over and over again. Jonathan caught the words “sheep” and “Agag” in his befuddled dialogue. Saul screamed into the air, demanding that God would listen to him, but no answer came.
Jonathan sensed someone enter the room and suddenly looked up into the face of an old, wise servant flanked by two younger men, also servants. The first man’s grim complexion and hardened eyes shifted from Saul to his son and back to the king.
The young prince leapt to his feet, fingers doubled into fists with stress and fear. He stared hard at the servant, wondering if the man had any information on his father’s sudden behavior. A fleeting thought had passed before his mind that chilled his soul: had his father been poisoned?
“What is wrong with him?” Jonathan demanded. His fear wouldn’t allow him to ask any more intelligent question, so he just repeated, “What is wrong with him?”
The servant locked eyes with King Saul, watching him through his sober eyes. The monarch had gone still, watching the man with a wide-eyed stare.
“My lord,” the servant began, “the men have been talking. We are all in agreement. Look at yourself, an evil spirit from God is troubling you.”
Saul’s face scrunched up like a dried date and he buried it in his bed sheets. What the servant said was true, but it was no demon that possessed Saul. God was fiddling with the king’s conscience, reminding him of the mistakes that rent his kingdom from him. It was only a matter of time now, but he was determined not to let that happen.
The servant’s face turned from grim to pleading. He begged Saul, “Let our lord command your servants, which are before you, to seek out a man, who is a cunning player on a harp, and whenever the evil spirit is with you, he will play with his hand, and you will be well.”
Saul nodded, forcing himself to sit up. He was looking like a fool to his people and to his son. In the most commanding voice that he could muster, the king commanded his servants to make it so. “Be sure that he can play well!”
One of the younger men standing beside the obvious leader of the three, spoke up for the first time in a slightly hesitant tone. He knew how Saul’s moods swung so easily.
“I have seen a son of Jesse the Bethlehemite, that is very good at playing. He’s also a valiant man, a man of war and prudent in matters. He’s not all that bad looking either. Plus, the Lord is with him.”
“Then get out of my sight and go find him!” Saul roared, clenching his fist in front of his face for emphasis. The servants didn’t need to be told twice. With a swift, nervous bow, the three practically fled from the room to seek this son of Jesse, called David.
* * * * *
David was again with his sheep under his tree and was grinning from ear to ear. He’d finally finished his poem he’s started that day of the bear attack. Even though his brothers wouldn’t appreciate the carefully thought out words, he thought his father might, and couldn’t wait to recite them.
“David!” came a shout up from the cliff above him. The shepherd stood from the grassy spot under the tree and looked up, shielding his eyes as he did so. Now what?
A silhouette stood in sunlight, blotting out his facial features, but David could see by his build that he was Elihu, Jesse’s second youngest son. Elihu wasn’t very big, but certainly larger than David was. The man was extremely thin in many places, but where he wasn’t, muscles bulged. Of course, he didn’t compare to Eliab, the oldest.
David began to scramble up the steep incline toward his brother, shouting as he climbed, “Elihu! What is it? The sheep need to be watched!”
“And if I had my way, they would be!” Elihu snapped. David was at an angle where he could see his brother better. He looked very worn from the trek down into the valley, and his frown was obvious on his face.
David halted his clamber, biting his lip. What was it this time? Samuel had done his business. This wasn’t time for him to take the thrown now, was it?
“It’s the king!” Elihu continued. “His servants are at the house. Our parents are trying their best to make them comfortable while they wait for you!”
“Me?” David croaked. His voice cracked unexpectedly, not something he was too thrilled about happening in front of his older brother. The king’s servants? Here? Looking for him? A sudden fear gripped David’s stomach: had Saul found out about the prophet’s secret mission and was now here to destroy him before he ever became king?
“What do they want?” he said finally.
He saw Elihu toss his shoulders in an irritated shrug. “I don’t know, but if they’ve found out about that prophet and are here to kill you, I’m going to make it known I had nothing to do with it.”
David frowned in the shadow of the slope. “I’m sure the servants would believe you,” he said smoothly. Before Elihu had a chance to reply, he added, “I need to get the sheep.”
* * * * *
As Elihu and David walked in silence back towards the house, David could not help but feel a heavy sense of déjà vu hanging over him. The closer they got to the house, the sweatier his shepherd hands became.
Before he went inside to face his fate, he shut the sheep back into their pen, counted every one twice to make sure they had all made it home, and locked the gate. Then he turned toward the house.
Around the front, he could see three men atop large, royal horses, highly decorated with the king’s colors. Sharp swords gleamed at the men’s sides, making David wary to approach them. They sat atop their steeds with straight posture, looking down on the small little home in Bethlehem.
Jesse was standing outside with David’s brothers. He couldn’t see his two sisters and suspected Jesse had told them to stay out of sight. No one knew why these men were here, but all feared it was because of Samuel.
As the secret anointed approached with his older brother by his side, he took in this tense scene with a cold chill in his innards. David and Elihu bowed quickly in respect, flashing worried looks at their father Jesse.
The men atop their horses stared down Elihu, pausing slightly before one asked, “Are you David?”
Immediately, Elihu jumped back, throwing his hands up and shaking his head. “No, masters, no,” he said quickly. “I’m not David. He is.” He pointed to his younger brother.
The man shifted his gaze from Elihu, causing his shoulders to sag with a sigh. Another long stare passed from the horseman. “The king calls for you. He wants someone who can play the harp well. An evil spirit is causing him a lot of trouble and demands music to sooth his soul.” The messenger’s words were short and quick, wasting no time on detailed explanation.
David’s fingers tightened around his instrument he’d been holding in his sweaty paws. Play for the king of Israel? He wanted to pinch himself to see if he might have fallen asleep under a tree in the valley while he watched his flocks, but somehow he knew this was no dream.
Elihu let his jaw drop a little, looking furious with himself and like he wanted to catch his words in mid-flight and reign them back into his mouth instead of give his brother a free ticket to the palace.
Jesse, however, beamed at his youngest son, remembering the secret anointing by Samuel not long ago. Maybe this was the way God had chosen David to get familiar with royalty.
The messenger who had just spoken let his gaze glide over everyone standing below him from atop his steed. Gathering the reigns into his fists impatiently, he snapped, “The king wants the son of Jesse to come to the palace now! He does not want to be kept waiting.”
Jesse immediately jumped to it, with a quick and respectful bow to the messenger, he dashed back into the house, calling for David’s sisters to make preparations for David and his long journey, but not before giving Elihu a sharp look as if to urge him to hospiatlize their royal guests until David was ready. Elihu hid a scowl and proceeded to offer the men anything to eat.
Jesse sped off to the pen of animals he and his family kept for the fields. There he had a donkey—one of many—that he chose to bear David’s provisions to the palace. Although this father was endearingly proud of his son and the opportunity he would get to play before the king’s presence, Jesse also feared for David. The king was known to have a quick temper and a bad mood from the king could mean instant death if you breathed incorrectly. What if Saul didn’t like David’s playing?
As he led the donkey, which was contentedly chewing a mouthful of hay, out of the pen, Jesse let out a deep sigh and sent a prayer up to the Lord to protect his youngest son. He knew David was in line for the next king of Israel. He had to remember that. God would protect him. But he also couldn’t help but think of his wife’s response to when she would hear the news. Again, Jesse prayed.