Abigail

1 Samuel 23:24 – 1 Samuel 28:11

One more post written by Brother Butler.  You will love the photo of his son below…

When we lived in Provo, we had the best blackberry garden in the world.

These were no ordinary blackberries.  They had a unique taste.  They had no thorns.  They grew  plump and juicy and plentifully.

Every late summer and early fall the kids would go crazy to pick these blackberries.  We had stained fingers and enjoyed blackberry jam, blackberry tarts, blackberries and milk for breakfast, and blackberry tummy aches all season long.  I am sure blackberries will grow in heaven.

The most unique thing about our blackberry garden was how it reacted to the way I treated it.

Despite the fact that I would forget to water them for days on end, despite the fact that I would never weed them, never mulch them, never fertilize them, and never trim them back season after season, and despite the fact that I would let my toddlers go rampant among their tender roots, they still produced the most delicious berries!

I have killed all the other plants I raised…except these berries.

I have found a scriptural phrase for these berries in our reading today.

They returned good for evil.

No matter how undeserving I was, they offered their fruits.  No matter how neglectful I was, they still provided.  It seems unfair, doesn’t it?

In the midst of the drama of first and second Samuel is an often overlooked type of Christ.

Her name is Abigail.

She is “a woman of good understanding, and of a beautiful countenance,” (1 Samuel 25:3) but is married to the rude, rough, and hard Nabal.  His name means “the fool,” and it is fitting.

Nabal had countless sheep and herders to tend.  He kept his flocks near the fields where David and his men had been camping out.  Because of the goodness of David, he had protected the sheep and their shepherds during the course of their stay, and had become a fine, unobtrusive neighbor to the rich Nabal.

On one particular morning, David and his men were short on food, so he sent messengers to request small amounts of provisions from Nabal’s plenty.

Nabal’s reaction was harsh, and he rebuffed the men and sent them away empty handed with insults to return to the king of Israel.

Perhaps David was tired and hungry.  Perhaps the harsh response came in a moment of weakness.  Perhaps David was reacting in accordance with the law.  When the message was returned to David, in a moment of demanding justice, he ordered half of his men to grab their swords and accompany him on a trip to see Nabal.

This is where Abigail shines.

Aware of her husband’s bitter nature and the approaching king’s army, Abigail makes haste.

She “took two hundred loaves, and two bottles of wine, and five sheep ready dressed, and five measures of parched corn, and an hundred clusters of raisins, and two hundred cakes of figs, and laid them on asses.”  (1 Samuel 25:18)

With food and provisions aplenty, Abigail embarked to intercept an angry David and protect an undeserving Nabal.

When Abigail approached the men of David, she lighted off her animal and fell to the feet of David in a humble and gentle bow.

She plead with David, “Upon me, my lord, upon me let this iniquity be…I pray thee, forgive the trespass of thine handmaid.” (1 Samuel 25:24)

Can you picture this scene?

I love the image of a dusty road at the base of Mount Carmel, with swords raised on one part of the path, and a drunken fool on the other.  I love the image of a beautiful young woman approaching the seemingly justified angry army with wagonloads of gifts, bowing, and begging the king to let his anger go.  And if it means he directs it at her—so be it.

Here, a woman of perfect grace bows before a king, humbly seeking forgiveness for her mistakes.  She stands between two guilty parties, having done no wrong herself, taking the full responsibility.

Forgive me she says.  Blame me.  Direct your anger at my innocence.

David’s heart melts.  How could he not forgive her?  How could he not offer her the praises and the thanks that he will?

And then peace.  Two parties reconciled by virtue of the virtue of the Mediator.

And so we find ourselves out on this same dusty road, and often the character we play switches as each day goes by.

Sometimes we are in the house—foolish, churlish, returning evil when all we have been offered is good.

In those days—which might be most days—the Savior pleads our cause before the Father.

“Behold the sufferings and death of him who did no sin, in whom thou wast well pleased…” “Spare these my brethren…”

He takes the blame.

He offers goodness.  Unfair, yes, but that is what we hope for.

Sometimes our swords are drawn out with revenge and rage.

He pleads for forgiveness for a crime he hasn’t committed.

He bows before me in my moments of hurt and anger, as debasing as it may be, as long as it will melt away my bitterness and douse the flames of revenge in my heart.  As long as his prostration can protect me, He will do it.

Most of the time I am a Nabal.

Sometimes I am a David.

Always, He is my Abigail

 

(Posted by Brother Butler)