2 Samuel Chapter 11
David’s Adultery and Murder
“In the whole of the Old Testament literature there is no chapter more tragic or full of solemn and searching warning than this.” (G. Campbell Morgan)
A. David’s Adultery
(2 Samuel 11:1)
“And it came to pass, after the year was expired, at the time when kings go forth to battle, that David sent Joab, and his servants with him, and all Israel; and they destroyed the children of Ammon, and besieged Rabbah. But David tarried still at Jerusalem.”
In the ancient Near East, warfare was typically conducted in the spring, when weather conditions were favorable and travel was easier. It was expected that kings would personally lead their armies into battle, yet David chose to remain behind in Jerusalem. His absence from the field was not a mere coincidence, but a subtle act of negligence toward his divine responsibilities. The previous chapter records that Israel’s victories were decisive only when David himself led (2 Samuel 10:17–19). Therefore, David’s place was with his men in the campaign against the Ammonites. His decision to stay behind set the stage for the moral collapse that followed.
This demonstrates a critical spiritual truth expressed in Galatians 5:16, which says, “This I say then, Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh.” When a believer is not engaged in the work God has called him to, he becomes idle and spiritually vulnerable. David’s idleness left room for temptation, and Satan seized that opportunity. As one commentator observed, “While Joab was busy besieging Rabbah, Satan was besieging David — and far sooner prevailed.”
However, this fall did not occur in isolation. It was the fruit of seeds sown long before. David’s pattern of multiplying wives — seen in 1 Samuel 25:42–43 and 2 Samuel 3:2–5 — already demonstrated his compromise of God’s design for marriage (see Deuteronomy 17:17). His unrestrained desire for women had taken root years prior, lying dormant until the right moment of temptation. As Redpath insightfully wrote, “It did not happen all at once. This matter of Bathsheba was simply the climax of something that had been going on in his life for twenty years.”
Therefore, David’s failure began not on the rooftop, but in his heart — in years of indulgence that desensitized him to sin. Staying home merely gave that inner weakness a stage upon which to act. The lesson is clear: the most dangerous battles are not always those fought with swords, but those waged in the unseen realm of the heart.
(2 Samuel 11:2)
“And it came to pass in an eveningtide, that David arose from off his bed, and walked upon the roof of the king’s house: and from the roof he saw a woman washing herself; and the woman was very beautiful to look upon.”
David’s restlessness that evening was not random. The Hebrew text indicates he “walked to and fro” upon the roof — pacing in unease. When a man of God abandons his duty, peace leaves him. He was uneasy because he was out of the will of God. From this position of vulnerability, David’s eyes fell upon Bathsheba as she bathed within view of the palace.
Bathsheba’s actions, too, reflect a degree of indiscretion. Though it was evening, when most would have retired, she was aware that the palace rooftop overlooked her home. Her immodesty, however, does not excuse David’s sin. Scripture warns in 1 Timothy 2:9, “In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety.” Bathsheba’s carelessness made her an occasion of sin, but David’s transgression lay in his response.
The initial look was not sinful, for it was unintentional. The sin began when David chose to linger. The eyes became the instrument of lust. This echoes the truth of Job 31:1, where Job declared, “I made a covenant with mine eyes; why then should I think upon a maid?” Every believer must learn to turn their eyes away from temptation rather than allow imagination to give birth to sin.
David’s numerous wives did not quench his desire because lust is insatiable. The flesh cannot be satisfied by feeding it; it only grows stronger. Lust is not about desire alone, but rebellion — the assertion of self-will against divine boundaries. David was not content with what God had given him. This dissatisfaction would later be magnified in Solomon, his son, who possessed seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines, yet found no fulfillment. If one woman does not satisfy, a thousand will not.
The verse concludes that Bathsheba was “very beautiful to look upon.” Her beauty was real, yet the danger was not in her appearance but in David’s heart. Temptation’s power depends more on the condition of one’s spirit than on the strength of the allure. David was spiritually weak, and thus temptation found fertile ground. This contrasts sharply with Joseph, who in Genesis 39:12 fled from Potiphar’s wife, saying, “How then can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?” David, unlike Joseph, lingered — and the moment he gazed, he fell.
Sin always disguises itself. David saw “beauty,” but God saw “ugliness.” What man calls pleasure, God calls poison. The world calls it an “affair,” but God calls it “adultery.” The world calls it “romance,” but God calls it “ruin.” Every forbidden pleasure carries a hidden hook. The bait of sin promises delight but conceals destruction. David’s rooftop gaze, though seemingly harmless, marked the first step toward a tragedy that would devastate his household, stain his reputation, and grieve the heart of God.
(2 Samuel 11:3)
“And David sent and enquired after the woman. And one said, Is not this Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?”
David’s curiosity became desire, and his desire turned to pursuit. Though David could have ended the temptation by walking away, he instead chose to feed it. His act of sending messengers to inquire about Bathsheba was a deliberate step toward sin. This is how temptation progresses—it begins with sight, then moves to inquiry, and finally to indulgence. James 1:14–15 describes this process clearly: “But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.”
When David learned her name, he also learned her background. Bathsheba was the daughter of Eliam, one of David’s mighty men (2 Samuel 23:34), and the granddaughter of Ahithophel, one of David’s most trusted counselors (2 Samuel 15:12). She was married to Uriah the Hittite, another of David’s thirty mighty men (2 Samuel 23:39). This meant that Bathsheba belonged to a circle of men who had served and risked their lives for David. The information he received should have been enough to stop him immediately.
Yet instead of seeing this as a divine warning, David viewed it as an opportunity. Uriah was away at war, serving Israel faithfully while David was idle. The knowledge that her husband was gone made the temptation stronger. David’s heart rationalized sin under the illusion of secrecy—“I could get away with this.” Such thinking reveals the deceitfulness of sin, for every hidden act before men remains open before God. Numbers 32:23 warns, “Be sure your sin will find you out.”
At this point, David had already committed adultery in his heart. Jesus would later define this reality in Matthew 5:28, saying, “But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.” The sin had already taken root internally; the act itself was merely its outward fruit. By ignoring the warnings—the identity of the woman, the loyalty of her husband, and his own conscience—David hardened his heart toward God. In doing so, he not only sinned against Bathsheba and Uriah, but also against Eliam, Ahithophel, and ultimately against the Lord Himself.
(2 Samuel 11:4)
“And David sent messengers, and took her; and she came in unto him, and he lay with her; for she was purified from her uncleanness: and she returned unto her house.”
This verse records one of the darkest moments in David’s life. The man who once refused to harm Saul, the Lord’s anointed, now disregarded God’s moral law entirely. David crossed the line between temptation and transgression. The phrase “he took her” suggests that Bathsheba came willingly, as there is no indication of coercion. Both bore moral responsibility. As Keil and Delitzsch note, there is “no intimation whatever that David brought Bathsheba into his palace through craft or violence.” Yet Bathsheba’s consent did not make the act righteous; she, too, became complicit in adultery.
David ignored every warning God placed before him. His conscience was silenced under the intoxicating pull of passion. He failed to recognize that this fleeting pleasure would sow devastation in his life. If David had paused to consider the cost, he would have seen that this sin would eventually lead to a chain of suffering:
An unwanted pregnancy.
The murder of a loyal friend.
The death of an innocent child.
The rape of his daughter Tamar.
The murder of his son Amnon.
A civil war led by his son Absalom.
A divided kingdom plagued by violence and disgrace.
Sin always costs more than one intends to pay, keeps one longer than one wants to stay, and destroys more than one can imagine. Proverbs 6:32–33 says, “But whoso committeth adultery with a woman lacketh understanding: he that doeth it destroyeth his own soul. A wound and dishonour shall he get; and his reproach shall not be wiped away.”
At this moment, David aligned himself with the world’s definition of sex—seeing it merely as a pursuit of pleasure rather than the holy bond between husband and wife designed by God. The Lord’s intention for marital intimacy is that it serve as a unifying force, the cement of a one-flesh relationship (Genesis 2:24). David’s polygamy had already blurred that design, and now lust further distorted it.
The statement that Bathsheba “was purified from her uncleanness” refers to the ceremonial cleansing following her menstrual cycle, confirming she was not pregnant before this act. This also highlights the deceit of sin—it can appear to go unnoticed for a time, even seem consequence-free. But divine silence is never divine approval. As Ecclesiastes 8:11 warns, “Because sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil.”
(2 Samuel 11:5)
“And the woman conceived, and sent and told David, and said, I am with child.”
Sin that begins in secrecy rarely stays hidden. The physical consequence of David’s act surfaced quickly—Bathsheba conceived. What was meant to be a private indulgence now became a public problem. The pregnancy exposed the reality that their sin could not be concealed. Both David and Bathsheba must have been overcome with fear and shame.
Bathsheba’s message to David was not simply informational but an appeal for action. Under the Law of Moses, both the adulterer and the adulteress were to be put to death (Leviticus 20:10). She likely expected David to protect her and find a way to conceal the sin. This moment became the pivot point where David’s moral failure would deepen. Instead of repentance, he chose to cover his sin through deceit and murder. Proverbs 28:13 declares, “He that covereth his sins shall not prosper: but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy.” David would soon learn this truth through devastating experience.
The pregnancy was God’s sovereign way of bringing sin to light. What David thought he had done in secret was now exposed by divine providence. Numbers 32:23 again rings true—sin always finds the sinner out. From this moment, David’s life would never be the same. The man after God’s own heart had fallen, and though God would forgive him, the scars of his disobedience would remain for the rest of his life.
B. David Murders Uriah
(2 Samuel 11:6–11)
“And David sent to Joab, saying, Send me Uriah the Hittite. And Joab sent Uriah to David. And when Uriah was come unto him, David demanded of him how Joab did, and how the people did, and how the war prospered. And David said to Uriah, Go down to thy house, and wash thy feet. And Uriah departed out of the king’s house, and there followed him a mess of meat from the king. But Uriah slept at the door of the king’s house with all the servants of his lord, and went not down to his house. And when they had told David, saying, Uriah went not down unto his house, David said unto Uriah, Camest thou not from thy journey? why then didst thou not go down unto thine house? And Uriah said unto David, The ark, and Israel, and Judah, abide in tents; and my lord Joab, and the servants of my lord, are encamped in the open fields; shall I then go into mine house, to eat and to drink, and to lie with my wife? as thou livest, and as thy soul liveth, I will not do this thing.”
When David received Bathsheba’s message that she was with child, he faced a crucial decision—repentance or concealment. A man after God’s own heart would have fallen on his face in confession and sought mercy immediately. Instead, David chose deception. He sent for Uriah, hoping to manipulate circumstances to make the pregnancy appear legitimate.
The plan was simple: bring Uriah home under the pretext of military consultation, send him to his wife, and let nature take its course. In David’s mind, this would cover the evidence of sin. But as Proverbs 28:13 warns, “He that covereth his sins shall not prosper: but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy.” The attempt to hide sin always leads to deeper sin.
David’s first step was hypocrisy. He greeted Uriah with the appearance of royal concern, asking about Joab, the army, and the battle. Yet his words were empty and self-serving. This shows how sin erodes sincerity; David played the role of a godly king while concealing wicked motives. Nothing is more hollow than religious formality in the presence of unconfessed sin. David’s conduct demonstrates that a believer can appear composed outwardly while rotting inwardly.
David then encouraged Uriah to “go down to thy house, and wash thy feet.” In Hebrew idiom, this phrase implied rest, refreshment, and intimacy. David even sent a royal meal to ensure Uriah’s comfort, all in hopes that he would spend the night with Bathsheba and unwittingly cover David’s guilt. Adam Clarke rightly notes that David’s design was to preserve Bathsheba’s honor and conceal his crime; at this point, he had no intention of killing Uriah. His goal was simply to erase evidence of sin and maintain appearances.
Yet God thwarted David’s plan through the integrity of Uriah. Rather than indulge himself, Uriah slept among the king’s servants at the palace entrance. His reasoning was noble: “The ark, and Israel, and Judah, abide in tents.” Though a Hittite by birth, Uriah’s heart was devoted to Israel’s God and army. He refused to enjoy comfort while his fellow soldiers were exposed to hardship. This demonstrated not only loyalty to Joab and his comrades but deep reverence for the ark of God, which symbolized the Lord’s presence.
Uriah’s words should have pierced David’s heart. Here was a Gentile convert showing more honor and restraint than the anointed king of Israel. While David was indulging in secrecy, Uriah was practicing self-denial. David expected Uriah to act as he himself had acted, indulging in pleasure when given the chance, yet Uriah proved to be a man of integrity. As Joyce Baldwin observed, “David had expected and hoped that Uriah would prove to be like himself; instead he proved to be a man of integrity, whose first loyalty was to the king’s interests rather than to his own pleasure.”
This episode highlights the futility of concealing sin. Sin multiplies through lies, deceit, and manipulation. What begins as a private failure soon spreads into public hypocrisy. David’s soul was now entangled in a web of his own making. His sin with Bathsheba was bad enough, but now his deliberate cover-up revealed how far a man can fall once he begins to compromise with sin.
The true tragedy lies in David’s spiritual blindness. While he once sought the Lord before every battle, now he schemed in the shadows, attempting to outwit divine justice. Had he stopped here and repented, the story might have ended differently. But as with all sin, the desire to hide led to a darker path.
The proper response to guilt is always confession and repentance. Psalm 32:5 captures the lesson David would later learn: “I acknowledged my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin.” Confession opens the way for restoration, but concealment leads to corruption. David’s concealment would soon evolve into conspiracy, proving that sin, once hidden, never stays buried.
(2 Samuel 11:12–13)
“And David said to Uriah, Tarry here to day also, and to morrow I will let thee depart. So Uriah abode in Jerusalem that day, and the morrow. And when David had called him, he did eat and drink before him; and he made him drunk: and at even he went out to lie on his bed with the servants of his lord, but went not down to his house.”
David’s first scheme failed, but instead of confessing his sin, he redoubled his efforts to conceal it. Sin never stands still; it either gets confessed or it grows. David lied to Uriah, pretending to delay his return to battle for reasons of counsel or reward. In truth, David wanted to manipulate circumstances yet again, hoping that Uriah would view his last night in Jerusalem as an opportunity to enjoy his wife before departing for war.
David’s deceit deepened as he invited Uriah to dine and drink with him. The king’s goal was to weaken Uriah’s noble resolve through intoxication. He reasoned that if Uriah’s conscience held firm while sober, perhaps liquor would dull it. The once upright shepherd-warrior of Israel now plotted to exploit another man’s loyalty.
Yet even in drunkenness, Uriah proved more righteous than David. He refused to go down to his house, choosing instead to sleep with the servants at the palace gate. Uriah’s sense of duty remained steadfast. His self-discipline and integrity stood as a living rebuke to David’s deceit.
Uriah’s loyalty is a model of how believers should conduct themselves in spiritual warfare. Romans 12:15–16 instructs, “Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. Be of the same mind one toward another.” Uriah’s solidarity with his fellow soldiers reflects the unity that should characterize the church — no one should indulge in personal comfort while others struggle on the field.
David’s behavior was the opposite. He had been “drunk with lust” when he took Bathsheba, and now he sought to make Uriah drunk with wine to produce the same outcome. It was a perverse manipulation of circumstances. The same spirit of indulgence that destroyed David’s moral clarity now corrupted his conscience. Galatians 6:7 warns, “Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.”
Some commentators have speculated that Uriah may have suspected infidelity. As John Trapp observed, “It is like he smelt something.” Whether or not that was true, his refusal to return home demonstrated character beyond reproach. The irony is painful: Uriah’s righteousness magnified David’s sin. When the godly fail to repent, the faithfulness of others only exposes their fall more clearly.
(2 Samuel 11:14–17)
“And it came to pass in the morning, that David wrote a letter to Joab, and sent it by the hand of Uriah. And he wrote in the letter, saying, Set ye Uriah in the forefront of the hottest battle, and retire ye from him, that he may be smitten, and die. And it came to pass, when Joab observed the city, that he assigned Uriah unto a place where he knew that valiant men were. And the men of the city went out, and fought with Joab: and there fell some of the people of the servants of David; and Uriah the Hittite died also.”
Morning came, and with it, a darker resolve. David’s deceit had failed; now he chose murder. Instead of humbling himself before God, David hardened his heart and plotted death to preserve his reputation. He wrote a letter to Joab ordering Uriah’s death and sent it sealed — in Uriah’s own hand. The trust David placed in Uriah’s integrity was perverse. He knew the man would never open the king’s letter, even if it contained his death warrant. Adam Clarke rightly declared, “This was the sum of treachery and villainy. He made this most noble man the carrier of letters which prescribed the mode in which he was to be murdered.”
Joab, ever the hardened general, obeyed. He placed Uriah in the fiercest part of the battle, then pulled back, ensuring his death. The method cloaked the murder under the chaos of war, but before heaven it was still deliberate killing. David’s hand was as guilty as if he had thrust the spear himself.
Proverbs 28:17 says, “A man that doeth violence to the blood of any person shall flee to the pit; let no man stay him.” David, once the champion who refused to kill Saul out of reverence for God, had now become a conspirator against an innocent man. Trapp noted, “David was better while a servant than when a king; for being a servant, he feared to kill Saul his adversary, but becoming a king, he basely slew his most faithful friend and dutiful subject.”
This act revealed the full descent of David’s sin. What began as lust grew into deceit, and deceit grew into bloodshed. Sin progresses in stages—first it fascinates, then it dominates, and finally it destroys. Satan never tempts with the whole picture; he lures step by step until the conscience is numb and the soul enslaved.
Charles Spurgeon, though mourning David’s sin, saw divine purpose even in the tragedy: “Though we mourn over David’s sin, yet we thank God that it was permitted, for if he had not so fallen, he had not been able to help us when we are conscious of transgression. He could not have so minutely described our griefs if he had not felt the same.” Through David’s failure, God would later bring forth deep repentance and inspired psalms of confession that still bring healing to penitent hearts.
Uriah’s death marked the climax of David’s rebellion. The man after God’s own heart had become an adulterer, liar, and murderer. Yet even this was not the end. God’s mercy would still reach into this darkness, though judgment would first come. What David thought was a secret sin would soon be declared from the housetops.
(2 Samuel 11:18–25)
“Then Joab sent and told David all the things concerning the war; And charged the messenger, saying, When thou hast made an end of telling the matters of the war unto the king, And if so be that the king’s wrath arise, and he say unto thee, Wherefore approached ye so nigh unto the city when ye did fight? knew ye not that they would shoot from the wall? Who smote Abimelech the son of Jerubbesheth? did not a woman cast a piece of a millstone upon him from the wall, that he died in Thebez? why went ye nigh the wall? then say thou, Thy servant Uriah the Hittite is dead also. So the messenger went, and came and shewed David all that Joab had sent him for. And the messenger said unto David, Surely the men prevailed against us, and came out unto us into the field, and we were upon them even unto the entering of the gate. And the shooters shot from off the wall upon thy servants; and some of the king’s servants be dead, and thy servant Uriah the Hittite is dead also. Then David said unto the messenger, Thus shalt thou say unto Joab, Let not this thing displease thee, for the sword devoureth one as well as another: make thy battle more strong against the city, and overthrow it: and encourage thou him.”
Joab, though complicit in the crime, understood that David’s command would likely cause other soldiers to die as collateral damage. To protect himself from possible royal anger over the reckless loss of life, Joab prepared his messenger with a strategy. He anticipated David’s response, knowing the king would question why the troops ventured too close to the walls of Rabbah—a tactic considered foolish because archers atop the wall could easily strike them. Joab referenced the example of Abimelech the son of Jerubbesheth from Judges 9:50–57, who was killed by a woman who dropped a millstone on him from the city wall. By recalling this ancient lesson, Joab demonstrated that his move was militarily unsound but done in obedience to David’s secret command.
When the messenger relayed the news, David heard the phrase “Thy servant Uriah the Hittite is dead also.” Those words, which should have cut him to the heart, instead brought him momentary relief. Sin had so hardened David’s conscience that he greeted the death of a faithful friend as a convenience rather than a tragedy. His calculated reply, “Let not this thing displease thee, for the sword devoureth one as well as another,” cloaked cold-blooded murder in the language of fatalism. He was essentially saying, “These things happen; men die in war.” Yet this proverb, though sounding stoic and practical, was a self-justifying lie whispered to his own guilty soul.
David’s words were not those of a grieving commander, but of a man trying to quiet conviction. He spoke as much to himself as to Joab, soothing his conscience with excuses. In that moment, the shepherd of Israel had become a calloused hypocrite, using pious pretense and authority to mask wickedness. He told Joab to “encourage thou him,” as though to lift the general’s spirits after a costly skirmish. In truth, David’s own spirit was the one in need of awakening. God had been silent thus far in the narrative, but heaven had taken full account of every deed and motive.
(2 Samuel 11:26–27)
“And when the wife of Uriah heard that Uriah her husband was dead, she mourned for her husband. And when the mourning was past, David sent and fetched her to his house, and she became his wife, and bare him a son. But the thing that David had done displeased the Lord.”
When Bathsheba heard of Uriah’s death, she entered a customary period of mourning. Scripture does not specify the length, but such periods often lasted seven days. There is no evidence that she knew David orchestrated the murder. Still, human nature suggests a complex mixture of emotions — grief mingled with relief. As Trapp remarked, “There is little doubt to be made but that she was inwardly glad, considering her danger of being punished an adulteress, and her hopes of being now made a queen.”
When her mourning was over, David wasted no time. He took Bathsheba into his house, made her his wife, and she bore him a son. To the watching nation, it may have appeared as an act of compassion — a benevolent king marrying the widow of a fallen hero. As Chuck Smith insightfully observed, “David is sort of a hero now, in the eyes of the people. He has taken into his harem the poor, pregnant wife, the widow of one of his fallen captains. The people say, ‘Look at the way he stands behind his men! He takes care of their widows when they are killed in battle.’” Outwardly, David appeared noble; inwardly, he was guilty of adultery and murder.
Yet, “the thing that David had done displeased the Lord.” This solemn line marks the first explicit mention of God’s response in the chapter. Though the Lord’s name was absent from the narrative until now, His eyes were upon every action. The sin that David thought was concealed beneath deception, lust, and power was fully exposed before the throne of heaven.
During the year that followed, David’s life was marked by inward torment. Psalm 32:1–5 reflects his state:
“Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no guile. When I kept silence, my bones waxed old through my roaring all the day long. For day and night thy hand was heavy upon me: my moisture is turned into the drought of summer. I acknowledged my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin.”
During that period of silence, David experienced physical, emotional, and spiritual deterioration. His guilt drained his vitality, and he lived in the misery of a double life. As F. B. Meyer observed, “The better the man, the dearer the price he pays for a short season of sinful pleasure.” David’s greatness of spirit made his fall all the more grievous.
Spurgeon described David’s condition well: “David was in that terrible place where he had too much sin in him to be happy in God, but too much of God in him to be happy in sin.” His heart was divided — seared by guilt, yet not hardened beyond grace. God would not leave His servant in that condition. In the coming chapter, the prophet Nathan would confront him with divine truth, and David would finally break under the weight of conviction, crying out the words that became Psalm 51, the great psalm of repentance.
The lesson here is eternal: sin always displeases the Lord, no matter how cleverly disguised or outwardly justified. God is never deceived by appearances, and though He may delay judgment, His holiness will not overlook rebellion. The covering of sin by deceit leads only to misery; the covering of sin by confession leads to mercy.
