Too Big to Miss

1 Samuel 17:41-51

August 7, 2022 • Mount Pleasant UMC

What do you do when you’re halfway around the world, hanging out in a big city and have a free afternoon? Well, if you’re me and you’re in Munich, you go to a church that has a high bell tower and you pay for the opportunity to get a cardio workout. We climbed a whole lot of steps in order to end up 300 feet (about 25 floors) above the city of Munich. St. Peter’s Church is the oldest church in the city and, presumably, the place where the whole city began, and while the tower isn’t as old as the church itself, the steps to the top are certainly not up to current code! They are narrow and winding and steep. There were times we—or at least I—thought about turning around and going back down, but the cheap side of me remembered I had paid for this workout. So on we went, and after a few rest breaks we made it to the top and were rewarded with a fantastic view of the city. It was so much fun we did it again the next day in Innsbruck (albeit with a shorter tower). Sometimes the secret to overcoming obstacles is just continuing to put one foot in front of the other.

This morning, we’re starting a new series focusing on the life of David, the greatest king Israel ever had, but he didn’t become great overnight. Over the next few weeks, we’re going to look at some of the secrets of David’s greatness, but let me tell you from the outset that they really boil down to two important principles. One is that when he was faced with a challenge, he just kept moving forward, putting one metaphorical foot in front of the other. The second principle is found in the series title. I’ve totally stolen the title from a book by Eugene Peterson, which is okay because he totally stole the title from the Bible, specifically from Psalm 18. That psalm was written when David had been delivered from several enemies, and he celebrates how God orchestrated that. In verse 29, he says this: “With you I can attack a barricade, and with my God I can leap over a wall” (Psalm 18:29, CSB). The second principle of David’s life is that he did everything with God and not on his own. He was, as we’re told in the New Testament, a “man after God’s own heart” (cf. Acts 13:22). That doesn't mean he always got everything right; far from it. We’ll see that over the next few weeks as we look at several episodes in David’s life and see how these principles play out in his life—and how they also might play out in our lives. Does David have anything to teach us about “leaping over walls” in our daily lives?

The most famous statue of David is by Michelangelo and it captures a moment from the story we read this morning, as he prepares to fight the giant Goliath. The statue is in Florence, in a museum today though originally it stood in the city square as a reminder to the inhabitants of Florence of David’s strength and resilience in the face of fearful opposition. Today, Michelangelo’s “David” is at the end of a hallway that contains some of Michelangelo’s other works, so-called “unfinished statues” that are really depictions of figures trying to break out of the blocks of stone. It’s almost as if the museum curators wants us to see David as the pinnacle of human achievement, one who was strong enough to “break out” of the marble. That’s kind of ironic since, from the Bible’s standpoint, David didn’t achieve anything on his own. Only with God could he do what he did.

In fact, in our story this morning, David is just a shepherd boy. He’s a nobody, the runt of the litter, the youngest son out of eight boys, from the backwater town of Bethlehem. It’s likely David spent much of his time away from home, as his family job was to take care of the sheep. He could be gone for days or weeks at a time, because you had to take the sheep where there was water and grass, and that’s not real plentiful in the desert surrounding Bethlehem or its neighboring town, Jerusalem. David is the youngest, and honestly his brothers and their father didn’t think he would amount to much of anything. So we can understand why they are shocked when, in the chapter just before this, the prophet Samuel shows up and says one of the eight boys will be Israel’s next king. They’re excited until they find out God has chosen the runt, David, to be the king. So Samuel anoints David to be the next king, and then…well, life seems to just go on as it always had. David tends sheep, and he goes to work for the current king, Saul, but Saul doesn’t seem to notice anything special about him. At the end of today’s story, he doesn’t even recognize this boy, this runt who has been in his service for at least a little while.

So, in the passage we read this morning, David has come to the battlefield—not as a soldier, but as sort of a pack mule. He’s come to bring supplies. Three of his older brothers volunteered to fight in the war against the Philistines, so they were with King Saul on the battlefield in the Valley of Elah. David is sent to bring bread, cheese and roasted grain to them, and to find out for his father how everyone is doing (16:1-19). But when David arrives, he quickly forgets about the food because he’s of what he sees. The Philistines had changed the rules in this battle. Rather than both sides killing each other until no one is left, the Philistines had proposed that each side bring out their strongest warrior and the two of them would fight. The loser’s side would become the servants of the winner’s side. So the Philistines ask for the Israelites’ best warrior, and they send theirs out, a man whose name has become synonymous with “giant.” His name, of course, is Goliath.

I don’t know what image you have in your mind of Goliath, but the Bible tells us he was “six cubits and a span” (17:4). That’s about nine feet, nine inches tall by modern measurements, almost two Cathys. Add to that his strength; 1 Samuel says he wore armor that weighed about 125 pounds—and that was just on his torso. He also wore protection on his head and legs, and carried a javelin and a spear. The spear point itself weighed over 15 pounds, and on top of all of that, in case his size wasn’t intimidating enough and his armor wasn’t protective enough, he also had a shield bearer that went ahead of him. Goliath is tall, strong and well protected (cf. Baldwin, 1 & 2 Samuel [Tyndale], pgs. 125-126). Now, Saul, the Israelite king, was no slouch. He is described as being “a head taller than any of the others” (10:23), and he had armor that was quite extensive—no doubt, the best in the country to protect the king. So the Philistines probably expected Saul to be the one who would take on their champion. But like his men, Saul is hiding in the tents, maybe muttering, “You can’t make me go out there.” The Bible says he is “dismayed and terrified” (17:11), just like everyone else. Well, everyone except the runt. David is not a trained soldier, also he doesn’t know to be afraid. He just knows that Goliath is cursing Israel and her God and that this has been going on for forty days (17:16). So David says, “Are you going to let him get away with that?”

David’s question is meant to get some action, to get someone, anyone, moving. It’s sort of like: why are you still sitting here, Saul? Why hasn’t someone answered this giant’s challenge? And if they won’t move, David will. Even though his brothers are ashamed of him, David determines that no one is going to mock God or Israel while he’s around. Even when King Saul protests, David insists he is more than able to take on this giant. “The Lord who rescued me from the paw of the lion and the paw of the bear will rescue me from the hand of this Philistine” (17:37). So Saul offers David his own armor—remember it’s the best in the land—but it doesn’t fit. It’s sort of like trying to put an adult’s clothes on a toddler. So Saul agrees to let David confront Goliath on his own terms. Even if David loses, he supposes, they won’t be any worse off. Sure, they’ll be slaves, but at least they’ll all be alive.

And that’s when we find David kneeling down by the brook. He’s testing stones, checking their weight, their balance. He’s vulnerable, unprotected. There’s nothing to stop Goliath from killing him right then and there, but instead Goliath makes fun of David. “Am I a dog,” he asks, “that you come at me with sticks?” (17:43). No, David doesn’t see Goliath as a dog. He sees a man who is mocking everything David believes. He will not allow this idol-worshipper to talk down about the living God. So he carefully selects five smooth stones, and then he stands up and to face Goliath. But he doesn’t boast about himself or his ability. “The battle is the Lord’s,” David says, “and he will give all of you into our hands” (17:47).

How do you respond when you face a giant? Not men ten feet tall; our giants are much more commonplace. Pandemic. Cancer. Joblessness. Racial strife. Family struggles. Grief. Divorce. Loneliness. Economic challenges. Betrayal. Debt. Foreclosure. Death. The list could on and on. The giants we face are common enough, but no less threatening. They don't have spears and swords; they have words. They whisper, “God can’t really get you out of this. God isn’t listening to you. Look at you—all those years of going to church and serving on committees and putting money in the offering plate and see where it's gotten you. God has abandoned you. No one loves you.” Maybe they do more than whisper. Maybe they stand on the hillside and shout at you while you try to hide in the tent. Maybe the voices never quit. You even hear them in your sleep. And you know they are false. You know the words are lies, and yet they are so insistent, so repetitive, that it’s easy to begin to believe them. They seem so much louder than the still, small voice of the one, true God (cf. 1 Kings 19:12). You know Goliath, and maybe you’ve become convinced that you don’t have enough strength to win the battle.

The voices echo through our soul, maybe even from well-meaning “friends.” That’s the way it was for David. The same sort of voices that treated Goliath as important and powerful and undefeatable also treated David as insignificant. His own family tells him he can’t win. After forty days of listening to Goliath’s voice, they’ve begun to believe he is invincible. His truth has become their truth, but that doesn’t make it the real truth. As Eugene Peterson puts it, “The moment we permit evil to control our imaginations, dictate the way we think, and shape our responses, we at the same time become incapable of seeing the good and the true and the beautiful” (Leap Over a Wall, pg. 39). And so David kneels at the brook, looking not for bigger weapons, but for five smooth stones. As the prophet Zechariah once said, the battle is won “not by might, nor by power, but by God’s spirit” (Zechariah 4:6). That is the only way the battle is won.

Several years ago, there was a movie telling the story of baseball legend Jackie Robinson. The film was 42, and Robinson was played by the late Chadwick Boseman. Many of you know the story, even if you haven’t seen the film. Robinson was the first black player in major league baseball, and he faced a giant called racism. His manager, Branch Rickey (played by Harrison Ford in the film), was motivated by his faith in God to bring Robinson up into the big leagues. He believed it was the right thing to do and it would make a difference for generations to come. Rickey was right, of course, but that didn’t make it easy. Together, Rickey and Robinson faced Goliath—multiple Goliaths—as they worked to end discrimination in baseball. There are many great scenes in the film, but this scene probably best sums up the way Rickey in particular took on the giant. Take a listen.

Robinson, of course, proved himself and now is regarded as one of the best of all time. His work didn’t end racism, but it brought it out in the open for what it was: a giant that threatened but had no lasting power. That’s what giants such as Goliath are like. So David goes out, puts one stone in his sling and hurls it toward Goliath. This would not have been a slingshot like you might have played with as a child. It would have been a leather strap, folded in half, with the stone in the middle. The first time I was in Israel, a man in the town of Bethany had a sling that was like David’s and he demonstrated how it worked by putting a stone in it, swinging it around a couple of times, then letting one end of the sling go. The stone went flying a long distance over the houses of Bethany. The man smiled and said, “My mother-in-law lives over there.” I wouldn’t have wanted to be where it landed!

So David hurls the stone at his enemy. Everyone else thought this enemy was too big to take on, too intimidating, too scary. But David saw this enemy, this giant as being “too big to miss.” Now, some commentators downplay what happens here. The sling, they say, would have allowed David to operate quite a distance away, outside the range of Goliath’s weapons, that Goliath couldn’t reach him. And, they say, it was really all about David’s skill, that he managed to hit the only vulnerable spot in Goliath’s armor—his forehead (cf. Baldwin 128). And undoubtedly David was very skilled, but that misses the main point of the story: David is not fighting for himself or even really for Israel. David is taking on the giant so he can defend God’s name, God’s reputation. The only reason he stood up to the giant in the first place is that he believes no one should be allowed to speak ill of the God who has walked with him from early in his life. It’s his faith in God that gives David the courage to confront the giant. It’s a story that is so well-known that it’s often used today as a metaphor any time a smaller opponent takes on a much larger one. Not long ago, a Florida candidate for the senate was told he was the David in the election, the underdog, and he responded, “Remember, David won” (cf. Goldingay 83). And so David did (I don’t know about the politician).

But I believe David really won long before the stone was put in the sling, long before he let it go, long before the stone impacted Goliath’s forehead. David won when he recognized what was really going on here, that this wasn’t a physical battle; this was a spiritual battle. Israel had forgotten God. The king had forgotten God. The army had forgotten God. David won when he helped them remember God. And David won when he stepped out of the king’s armor. For David to try to go out into battle with someone else’s armor would have been a disaster. Can you imagine little David trying to wear armor designed for a man who stood head and shoulders above most other men? David needed to enter the battle in a way that was authentic to him. That’s why he was by the brook, and that’s where he really won the battle. Down on his knees, refusing to use weapons that the world thought were appropriate. David’s looking for five smooth stones because that’s who he was (Peterson 42).

David pulls five smooth stones out of the water, but he only needs one.   He’s not just looking for stones, sifting through the mud there by the brook. He’s remembering who he is, and whose he is. When he stands up, he’s ready to face Goliath. “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin,” he says, “but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will deliver you into my hands” (17:45-46). While David was kneeling at the brook, he was praying, asking God for the strength to stand up for what was right. And that’s when David won the battle, kneeling by the brook. Whether he lived or died (though he was pretty sure he would live), it didn’t matter. In that moment, on his knees, in the presence of his God, he was who God wanted him to be, who God made him to be.

When the giants come after us, we have only two choices: fear or faith. The battle is not won by summoning up within ourselves some sort of self-confidence masquerading as faith (as the self-help gurus would tell us). No, the one “stone” we need is prayer, because that’s what connects us to the God who is bigger than any giant that will come our way (cf. Lucado, Facing Your Giants, pg. 168). Paul says, “Pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying” (Ephesians 6:18). We can only face the giants on our knees; no one else can defeat our giants for us. A counselor can’t, a pastor can’t, a good friend can’t. We have to face our giants on our knees. Others can pray for us, can listen to us, can counsel us, walk with us, but we can only fight the giants on our knees. When the giants come, will we be shaped by our fear of Goliath or our faith in God?

One of the big themes of the Bible is that God delights to turn the odds upside down (Goldingay 84). Over and over again, the one who shouldn’t win does and the one who is the “least of these” becomes the greatest (cf. Luke 9:48). The biggest example of this, of course, is Jesus’ crucifixion. To the world, it was a shameful death. To the world, it was the end. Death was the end. The rulers and powers of this world had finally silenced this one who threatened them so much, and when the stone was sealed in front of his tomb, they thought it was done. He was done. They wouldn’t be bothered by Jesus anymore. But God always takes those odds and turns them around. God brings life out of death. Paul put it this way: “God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong” (1 Corinthians 1:27; cf. Arnold, NIV Application Commentary: 1 & 2 Samuel, pg. 264). Before too long, the shepherd boy who was kneeling by the brook is standing over the giant. The giant is dead, and God is not. We have only two choices in the face of posturing giants: fear or faith.

What is your giant? What is it that’s facing you, intimidating you, telling you that you can’t make it? What threatens you? In just a few moments, we’re going to have holy communion, and during that time, you're invited to come to the front and write your giant on one of these canvases. Just pick a short name for your giant. Some will be easy to describe: “cancer” or “health,” “family” or “stress.” Others may not be so easy to name; some may be too personal. You may just need to write “Goliath” on the canvas. But this morning, as you come, this is an act of faith, of facing down the fear that surrounds that giant. Sometimes we just need to name it because the giant has been hiding in the shadows and yelling at us from the sidelines, and it’s time to put a stop to that nonsense. The canvases provide a place for you to name it, and then after worship we’re going to put these out in the foyer for a couple of weeks as a reminder for you to pray for your brothers and sisters in Christ who are facing giants. Every time you pass these, when you’re in the building, lift up a quick prayer. I encourage you to pray this morning as well, to get on your knees like David did and place your trust in the God who will not fail you. The bread and the cup this morning serve to remind us that God loves to overcome the odds, that God always brings life out of death, that no giant can stand up against the God of the universe.

Now, let me also say this: you may find yourself facing that giant again and again. Just naming it here may not take away the fear immediately. There will be times that giant peeks his head around the corner, when you need to remember (again) that God is bigger than the giants, and that there is no evil he can’t defeat. That assurance will only come through prayer and a lot of patience and perseverance. You may need someone to walk with you, to pray with you, to remind you to be on your knees. You may need to utilize our prayer chapel during the week if you need a quiet place to connect with God. Or come to our Saturday morning prayer time and that group would be glad to pray with and for you. Or share your giant with your small group, ask people who already love you to pray for you. Take a friend to coffee and ask for help as you face the giant. We weren’t meant to have it do it all by ourselves. That’s what the body of Christ is for.

In the coming weeks, we're going to be looking at David’s story even more closely, and we’ll learn that Goliath is not that last giant he faces, but it is here, in the Valley of Elah, where he learns what it takes to defeat the foes that face him. David is a man after God’s own heart, and when the giants come, as they will, he constantly returns to prayer, because he knows, as John would later write, that “the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world” (1 John 4:4). That giant isn’t too big to face; he’s too big to miss. In that confidence, you’re invited to come this morning; receive communion, name your giant and pray. Let’s prepare our hearts for holy communion.