1 Samuel Chapter 21

David at Nob and at Gath
A. David meets Ahimelech the priest at Nob.

(1 Samuel 21:1–2)
“Now David came to Nob, to Ahimelech the priest. And Ahimelech was afraid when he met David, and said to him, Why are you alone, and no one is with you? So David said to Ahimelech the priest, The king hath commanded me a business, and hath said unto me, Let no man know any thing of the business whereabout I send thee, and what I have commanded thee: and I have appointed my servants to such and such a place.”

David fled from Saul and arrived at Nob, which at this time was the city of the priests and the location of the tabernacle after it had been moved from Shiloh. In his distress, David sought refuge in the right place, the house of the Lord, where he could find guidance and provision. Nob was only a few miles south of Gibeah, Saul’s hometown, so David was still within dangerous proximity to the king who sought his life. Yet, his heart instinctively turned toward the sanctuary of God. It was a wise decision, though not without flaws in his approach.

Ahimelech the priest was startled when he met David. The text notes that he was afraid when he met him, for it was not customary for a man of David’s rank and fame to travel without escort or company. Ahimelech’s question, “Why are you alone, and no one is with you?” was not merely curiosity, but genuine concern. He perceived something unusual and potentially dangerous in David’s appearance and situation. It is reasonable to assume David’s physical state reflected hardship; his clothes perhaps soiled from travel, his expression weary and burdened, his eyes likely red from tears and exhaustion. Ahimelech’s caution was understandable, for associating with David might bring Saul’s wrath upon him and his household.

When questioned, David replied deceitfully, saying, “The king hath commanded me a business.” This was a fabrication intended to protect himself. He further elaborated by inventing a narrative of secrecy, claiming Saul had sent him on a confidential mission, and by mentioning supposed companions — “my servants” — who were waiting elsewhere. This was untrue, as David was alone. His fear led him to manipulate the situation rather than trust entirely in the Lord’s protection.

From a human perspective, one may sympathize with David. He was a fugitive, hunted unjustly, and desperate for safety and sustenance. In such moments, fear and instinct often overshadow faith. However, this lie would later yield tragic consequences. In 1 Samuel 22:22, David confessed with deep remorse, “And David said unto Abiathar, I knew it that day, when Doeg the Edomite was there, that he would surely tell Saul: I have occasioned the death of all the persons of thy father’s house.” His deception indirectly led to the slaughter of the priests at Nob, a sorrow that haunted him.

This passage teaches the sobering truth that even a man after God’s own heart can falter under pressure. A single lie, though seemingly harmless and pragmatic, can open the door to devastating consequences. As Proverbs 12:19 declares, “The lip of truth shall be established for ever: but a lying tongue is but for a moment.” David’s deceit was short-lived in its protection but long-lasting in its grief. Though we may understand his fear, we must learn from his failure that faith must never yield to falsehood, even under duress.

(1 Samuel 21:3–6)
“Now therefore what is under thine hand? give me five loaves of bread in mine hand, or what there is present. And the priest answered David, and said, There is no common bread under mine hand, but there is hallowed bread, if the young men have kept themselves at least from women. And David answered the priest, and said unto him, Of a truth women have been kept from us about these three days, since I came out, and the vessels of the young men are holy, and the bread is in a manner common, yea, though it were sanctified this day in the vessel. So the priest gave him hallowed bread, for there was no bread there but the shewbread, that was taken from before the LORD, to put hot bread in the day when it was taken away.”

When David arrived at Nob, his first request revealed his condition—he was hungry and desperate. He asked Ahimelech, “Give me five loaves of bread in mine hand, or what there is present.” David’s words show urgency and humility. He did not demand special provision but was willing to take whatever the priest had available. Hunger drove him to depend on God’s house for sustenance, and though his faith faltered in his deception earlier, he instinctively turned to the sanctuary of the LORD for help.

Ahimelech responded that there was no common bread on hand, but there was hallowed bread, meaning the consecrated showbread that was laid before the LORD on the table inside the tabernacle. This bread, also called the “bread of the Presence” or “bread of faces,” symbolized God’s continual fellowship with Israel. As Leviticus 24:5–9 describes, twelve loaves of fine flour were placed in two rows upon the pure table before the LORD every Sabbath day, to represent the twelve tribes of Israel and their covenant relationship with Him. The priests ate the replaced loaves in the holy place, signifying that they partook in God’s fellowship.

The term “bread of faces” communicates that the bread was to be eaten before the face of God, symbolizing friendship and communion. To share bread in God’s house was to enjoy His hospitality. In the ancient Near Eastern culture, eating together was a sacred act of unity and peace. F. B. Meyer fittingly called it “presence-bread,” emphasizing that it represented a continual, living relationship with the LORD. Furthermore, the showbread was to be kept fresh; each Sabbath, the old bread was replaced with new loaves. The priest’s act of giving David this bread meant David received the old showbread that had just been replaced by new, hot bread. This small detail illustrates a timeless truth—our fellowship with God must always remain fresh, renewed daily, never allowed to grow stale or formal.

Ahimelech added a condition: “if the young men have kept themselves at least from women.” The priest’s concern was ceremonial cleanness. The law stated that the showbread “shall be Aaron’s and his sons’, and they shall eat it in the holy place: for it is most holy unto him” (Leviticus 24:9). While the law did not expressly forbid others from eating the bread, it did emphasize that those who partook must regard it as holy. By asking if David’s supposed men had been pure, Ahimelech ensured the sanctity of the act was respected.

David answered, “Of a truth women have been kept from us about these three days.” Though David was alone, he continued his ruse, speaking as though he had companions. Yet, what he said was true for himself. He affirmed his ceremonial cleanness and argued that “the vessels of the young men are holy, and the bread is in a manner common.” His reasoning meant that although the bread was consecrated in its setting before the LORD, once replaced by fresh bread, it could be regarded as ordinary in its use. The sanctification was tied to its symbolic function, not to the substance of the bread itself.

“So the priest gave him hallowed bread.” Ahimelech’s action broke with priestly custom but not with divine principle. The priest discerned rightly that mercy and human need outweighed ceremonial restriction. The law was given to serve man, not to destroy him. This very episode was later used by our Lord Jesus Christ to defend His disciples when they were accused by the Pharisees of breaking Sabbath law by plucking grain. In Matthew 12:3–4, Jesus said, “Have ye not read what David did, when he was an hungred, and they that were with him; how he entered into the house of God, and did eat the shewbread, which was not lawful for him to eat, neither for them which were with him, but only for the priests?”

By referring to this event, Jesus affirmed the principle that compassion and necessity take precedence over ritual tradition. God’s Word never forbade such an act; it was religious tradition that had added restrictions. To insert the word “only” into God’s command, as though He had said only priests could eat it, was to add to His Word, which is forbidden in Deuteronomy 4:2, “Ye shall not add unto the word which I command you, neither shall ye diminish ought from it.”

The application is profound: the heart of God delights in mercy over sacrifice, in compassion over custom, in human need met according to divine truth rather than rigid formality. Both Ahimelech and later Jesus Christ demonstrated that God’s Word stands above man’s traditions. The priest, acting in good conscience, did what was right before the LORD, and David, though imperfect, was the recipient of divine provision through sacred bread.

(1 Samuel 21:7–9)
“Now a certain man of the servants of Saul was there that day, detained before the LORD; and his name was Doeg, an Edomite, the chiefest of the herdmen that belonged to Saul. And David said unto Ahimelech, Is there not here under thine hand spear or sword? for I have neither brought my sword nor my weapons with me, because the king’s business required haste. And the priest said, The sword of Goliath the Philistine, whom thou slewest in the valley of Elah, behold, it is here wrapped in a cloth behind the ephod: if thou wilt take that, take it; for there is no other save that here. And David said, There is none like that; give it me.”

Here we are introduced to a man whose presence would later bring tragedy upon many innocent lives—Doeg the Edomite. Scripture calls him “the chiefest of the herdmen that belonged to Saul.” The Hebrew word translated chiefest can also mean “mighty,” but often carries the sense of being “violent” or “obstinate.” Doeg’s later actions confirm this characterization, for he would become an instrument of Saul’s cruelty, slaying eighty-five priests of the LORD in cold blood (1 Samuel 22:18–19). Though he was detained before the LORD, there is no indication that his heart was genuinely seeking God. It is possible that Doeg was fulfilling some ceremonial obligation or waiting for purification as part of his official duties under Saul. His presence here was not coincidence but providence, setting in motion consequences that David’s earlier deceit would soon bring to pass.

David, still pretending to be on a royal mission, asked Ahimelech, “Is there not here under thine hand spear or sword?” He claimed to have come in haste, implying he had no time to gather his weapons. This continued his deception. The irony of his words is profound—David said, “the king’s business required haste,” and though it was true that Saul’s business was urgent, that business was not David’s mission but Saul’s pursuit to kill him. David was running from the king, not serving him. His fear was real, but his faith wavered. As Blaikie rightly observes, “It is painful to the last degree to see one whose faith towered to such a lofty height in the encounter with Goliath, coming down from that noble elevation, to find him resorting for self-protection to the lies and artifices of an impostor.”

In response, Ahimelech mentioned that the only weapon available was “the sword of Goliath the Philistine, whom thou slewest in the valley of Elah.” The sword had evidently been kept as a sacred memorial of God’s great deliverance through David. It was wrapped in a cloth and placed behind the ephod, likely as a trophy of divine victory, a reminder of how faith in the LORD had triumphed over the might of the enemy. When David heard this, he eagerly said, “There is none like that; give it me.” The sword represented victory, courage, and the power of God. Yet, as David held it again, it should have reminded him not of his own strength, but of the God who gave him the victory.

When David first defeated Goliath, his confidence was not in a sword or spear, but in the LORD. As he boldly declared to the Philistine in 1 Samuel 17:45, “Then said David to the Philistine, Thou comest to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with a shield: but I come to thee in the name of the LORD of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied.” Now, however, David’s faith had faltered, and rather than trusting God to deliver him as before, he clung to a symbol of his past victory. The same sword that once lay powerless in Goliath’s hand could not deliver David now apart from faith.

Redpath insightfully noted, “David lost confidence in God and in the fulfillment of God’s purpose for his life which had been revealed to him. He went to God’s house for comfort and help and guidance, but he was detected as being wrong in his soul. Instead of acknowledging the truth to the only One who could help him and confessing that he had been telling a lie, he ran for his life again.” The tragedy is not that David sought the sword, but that he failed to seek the strength that once guided his hand to victory.

When David said, “There is none like that; give it me,” his words carry a spiritual lesson. Just as he treasured that sword as unique, so should we treasure the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. As Ephesians 6:17 says, “And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.” The Word of God is without equal, powerful, living, and sharper than any two-edged sword (Hebrews 4:12). Charles Spurgeon once remarked, “There are some who are bent on taking away the Word of God. Well, if they discard it, ‘Give it to me.’ There are some who want to put it up on the shelf, as a thing that has seen its best days. They suppose the old sword is rusty and worn out, but we can say, ‘There is none like that; give it to me!’”

The sword of Goliath served as a reminder that God delivers not by might nor by power, but by His Spirit. David possessed the weapon that once symbolized victory, yet lacked the faith that had made that victory possible. Faith, not force, was the true weapon that brought down the giant.

B. David at Gath

(1 Samuel 21:10)
“And David arose, and fled that day for fear of Saul, and went to Achish the king of Gath.”

David fled that same day, realizing that his attempts to secure safety through deception had failed. His lies had not brought peace, only greater danger. When a believer departs from simple faith in God and resorts to human cunning, the result is never lasting stability. David’s flight to Gath shows both his desperation and his spiritual confusion. Gath was one of the principal Philistine cities and the hometown of Goliath, the very man David had slain. Carrying Goliath’s sword into Gath, David likely thought he could find refuge by presenting himself as a fugitive from Saul. Yet, it was a strange and compromising choice for the man after God’s own heart to seek safety among Israel’s sworn enemies.

It did not make sense for the man who had killed Goliath to go to Goliath’s hometown. It did not make sense for one sustained by the showbread of God’s presence to now seek favor from pagan kings. It did not make sense for a man chosen and anointed by God to abandon his calling and find refuge in the camp of the ungodly. But discouragement often clouds spiritual judgment. When fear drives a man instead of faith, he can find himself walking straight into enemy territory.

(1 Samuel 21:11–12)
“And the servants of Achish said unto him, Is not this David the king of the land? did they not sing one to another of him in dances, saying, Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands? And David laid up these words in his heart, and was sore afraid of Achish the king of Gath.”

David’s arrival did not go unnoticed. The servants of Achish immediately recognized him, saying, “Is not this David the king of the land?” These Philistines, though pagans, understood David’s destiny better than Saul did. Even the enemies of Israel could perceive that God’s hand was upon David and that he would one day reign over the nation. Ironically, the man who fled from Saul’s persecution to hide among idolaters was called “king of the land” by them.

The servants of Achish recalled the song that had swept through Israel after David’s victories: “Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.” This refrain, originally sung by the women of Israel in 1 Samuel 18:6–7, had become so famous that even the Philistines knew it. David now realized that his reputation, once a source of honor, had become a liability. Fame brought him no safety—only exposure. His achievements in battle were known everywhere, and his face was far from forgotten. The price of renown was now fear, for David understood that the Philistines of Gath had every reason to seek vengeance.

The Scripture says, “David laid up these words in his heart, and was sore afraid.” Fear overwhelmed him, and his courage failed. He who once stood fearless before the giant now trembled before a foreign king. This moment captures the deep humanity of David. Even a man after God’s own heart is not immune to fear when his confidence shifts from the LORD to his circumstances. His earlier faith that declared, “The LORD that delivered me out of the paw of the lion, and out of the paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of the hand of this Philistine” (1 Samuel 17:37) had given way to dread and doubt.

Yet, this was not the end of David’s faith, only a low point. We gain further insight into his heart from Psalm 56, which bears the title, “When the Philistines took him in Gath.” That psalm reveals that David was indeed captured when he came to Gath. It records his prayer and restoration of trust: “What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee. In God I will praise his word, in God I have put my trust; I will not fear what flesh can do unto me.” (Psalm 56:3–4)

Psalm 56 shows David’s recovery from fear to faith. The decline that began when he fled from Jonathan and lied to Ahimelech reaches its low point in Gath—but here, under pressure, David turns back to God. This is what distinguished David from Saul. Both men sinned and stumbled, but Saul never turned back to the LORD, while David’s heart remained soft and repentant. When he fell, he did not stay fallen. Through his fear, humiliation, and captivity, David rediscovered the only true refuge—the mercy and faithfulness of God.

(1 Samuel 21:13–15)
“And he changed his behaviour before them, and feigned himself mad in their hands, and scrabbled on the doors of the gate, and let his spittle fall down upon his beard. Then said Achish unto his servants, Lo, ye see the man is mad: wherefore then have ye brought him to me? Have I need of mad men, that ye have brought this fellow to play the mad man in my presence? shall this fellow come into my house?”

Having been discovered in Gath, David found himself in a desperate situation. The same people whose champion he had slain now held him in their hands. He could not fight his way out, for that would be suicide, nor could he reveal his true identity without facing vengeance. So David changed his behavior and pretended madness, scratching on the doors of the gate and allowing saliva to run down upon his beard. In the ancient Near East, insanity was viewed as both shameful and pitiable, and men took care to avoid insulting or harming those deemed insane, lest they incur divine wrath. David used this to his advantage, humbling himself to an extreme degree to preserve his life.

The beard, regarded as a symbol of dignity and honor among Eastern men, made the act even more convincing. No sane man of that culture would allow his beard to be defiled in such a manner. As Jamieson, Fausset, and Brown note, “An indignity to the beard was considered an intolerable insult and would not have been permitted by a normal person.” David’s humiliation before the Philistines was complete. He who had once stood as Israel’s champion now acted like a lunatic to avoid death. Yet even in this, we see the mysterious hand of God turning David’s foolish choices into a means of escape.

Achish, deceived by the act, said to his servants, “Lo, ye see the man is mad: wherefore then have ye brought him to me? Have I need of mad men?” His tone carried both annoyance and mockery. Kings of the time often employed fools or jesters, but Achish wanted none of this “madman” in his court. David’s plan worked. The Philistine king dismissed him, and thus God delivered David from the hands of his enemies through an unlikely and humbling method.

The question arises—was David walking in the Spirit or in the flesh when he pretended madness? At first glance, this act appears to be the product of desperation and fear, not faith. Yet Psalm 56, written during this time, shows a transformation within David’s heart before his release. He wrote, “What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee. In God I will praise his word, in God I have put my trust; I will not fear what flesh can do unto me” (Psalm 56:3–4). David’s repentance and renewed faith likely occurred while in captivity. The Lord, in His grace, allowed David to continue his act of madness as the very means of escape. It is as though God said, “You have been acting like a madman by seeking refuge among My enemies; continue your act, and I will turn your shame into deliverance.” What had begun as deceit ended as divine rescue.

David later reflected on this episode with deep gratitude in Psalm 34, titled “A Psalm of David, when he changed his behaviour before Abimelech; who drove him away, and he departed.” This Abimelech is another name for Achish, likely a royal title used among Philistine rulers. In Psalm 34, David rejoiced in God’s mercy, saying, “I will bless the LORD at all times: his praise shall continually be in my mouth. My soul shall make her boast in the LORD: the humble shall hear thereof, and be glad. O magnify the LORD with me, and let us exalt his name together. I sought the LORD, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears” (Psalm 34:1–4).

David marveled not only that God delivered him but that He delivered him from a calamity of his own making. He had sought refuge in enemy territory and resorted to deception, yet God’s mercy reached him there. Psalm 34 continues, “This poor man cried, and the LORD heard him, and saved him out of all his troubles. The angel of the LORD encampeth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them” (Psalm 34:6–7). David understood that his deliverance was not deserved—it was grace upon grace.

This scene is both sobering and comforting. Sobering, because it reminds us that even great men of faith can stumble when fear replaces trust; comforting, because it shows that God’s mercy is not withdrawn when His servants fail. The Lord can turn even our humiliation into a channel of redemption. What Satan intends for shame, God can transform into testimony.