2 Samuel Chapter 15
Absalom’s Rebellion
A. Absalom’s deceptive take-over
(2 Samuel 15:1–6)
After this it happened that Absalom provided himself with chariots and horses, and fifty men to run before him. Now Absalom would rise early and stand beside the way to the gate. So it was, whenever anyone who had a lawsuit came to the king for a decision, that Absalom would call to him and say, “What city are you from?” And he would say, “Your servant is from such and such a tribe of Israel.” Then Absalom would say to him, “Look, your case is good and right; but there is no deputy of the king to hear you.” Moreover Absalom would say, “Oh, that I were made judge in the land, and everyone who has any suit or cause would come to me; then I would give him justice.” And so it was, whenever anyone came near to bow down to him, that he would put out his hand and take him and kiss him. In this manner Absalom acted toward all Israel who came to the king for judgment. So Absalom stole the hearts of the men of Israel.
Absalom’s rebellion began not with open conflict but with manipulation and deception. The passage reveals a calculated and deliberate strategy by Absalom to undermine David’s authority and gain the loyalty of the people. He provided himself with chariots, horses, and fifty men to run before him, creating an image of grandeur and royal power. This was not for efficiency but for show. Absalom understood the psychology of the people—he knew they were impressed by appearances. This ostentatious display presented him as a man of authority, someone who looked the part of a king. It is telling that the prophet Samuel, who had anointed David, traveled humbly on foot, while Absalom sought to impress with spectacle and prestige. His methods were political, not spiritual.
Absalom rose early and stood by the gate, positioning himself where the people brought their disputes. In ancient Israel, the gate of the city was the place where justice was administered and where the elders met to deliberate. Absalom stationed himself there to intercept those seeking justice from the king. When anyone approached, Absalom would ask where they were from, creating a personal connection. He would then tell them that their cause was just, but that there was no one from the king’s court available to hear them. This statement subtly attacked David’s administration. It painted the image of a government that had grown indifferent and detached from the people’s needs.
Absalom’s words—“Oh, that I were made judge in the land”—revealed his ambition. He framed himself as the champion of justice, suggesting that if he had authority, everyone would receive fair treatment. His deceit lay in pretending that his concern was for the people’s welfare when his true aim was to steal their loyalty from his father. Absalom had personal grievances with David. He remembered that David did nothing when Amnon violated Tamar, his sister, and he felt that David failed as a father and as a king in administering justice. Yet rather than deal with his pain righteously, he used it as fuel to rebel against the one God had placed on the throne.
Absalom also understood the power of gestures. When people came near to bow down before him, he reached out his hand, lifted them up, and kissed them. This was a calculated move to make himself appear humble and approachable, a “man of the people.” However, it was mere performance. Absalom’s pride was legendary—he saw himself as superior in beauty, intelligence, and status. The irony is that while he acted the part of a servant, his heart was full of arrogance. The people, blinded by charm and image, failed to discern his deceit. Ancient Israel, much like modern societies, was often captivated by appearance rather than substance.
The text concludes that Absalom “stole the hearts of the men of Israel.” This phrase describes not only his success in political persuasion but also the spiritual decline of the nation. The people abandoned the king God had appointed and followed a usurper who flattered their pride. The subtlety of Absalom’s rebellion is striking. He did not speak a single word of open treason. Instead, he cultivated an attractive image, worked tirelessly to position himself among the people, sympathized with their frustrations, and subtly implied that he could do better than David. In this way, he created discontent while claiming to promote reform.
Absalom’s strategy followed a clear pattern. He cultivated an appealing image with his chariots and entourage. He worked diligently, rising early. He placed himself in the right location—at the gate, where people’s needs were most visible. He sought out the troubled and the dissatisfied. He listened and sympathized, validating their feelings. He implied that the current administration was failing without directly criticizing his father. He promised a better way, and through this manipulation, he divided the kingdom without drawing his sword.
This narrative reveals how image can eclipse truth when a people’s hearts are not steadfast in loyalty to God. David was Israel’s greatest king, but his moral failures had weakened his reputation, and his advancing age made him less active in governance. The people were drawn to excitement and novelty, and Absalom represented change. Yet in their desire for something new, they turned away from the one whom God had chosen. This foreshadows the later rejection of Jesus Christ, the Son of David, who was despised and rejected by His own people in favor of false leaders who promised worldly glory.
Absalom’s rebellion was rooted in pride and impatience. He could not wait for God’s timing or his father’s natural passing of the throne. His ambition drove him to seize what was not yet his. Like many who seek power through flattery and deception, he was driven by a restless heart unwilling to submit to divine order. Absalom’s story stands as a warning to all generations about the dangers of charm without character, ambition without humility, and rebellion masked as reform.
(2 Samuel 15:7–10)
Now it came to pass after forty years that Absalom said to the king, “Please, let me go to Hebron and pay the vow which I made to the LORD. For your servant took a vow while I dwelt at Geshur in Syria, saying, ‘If the LORD indeed brings me back to Jerusalem, then I will serve the LORD.’” And the king said to him, “Go in peace.” So he arose and went to Hebron. Then Absalom sent spies throughout all the tribes of Israel, saying, “As soon as you hear the sound of the trumpet, then you shall say, ‘Absalom reigns in Hebron!’”
This section reveals the turning point where Absalom’s manipulation transitioned into open rebellion. The passage begins by stating that “after forty years” Absalom spoke to the king. This likely refers not to the length of time since David’s reign began but to a scribal copy error, where “four years” fits better in context. According to early sources like Josephus and the Syriac and Arabic translations, the number was four, meaning Absalom waited a calculated period after returning to Jerusalem before initiating his coup. It shows the patience and methodical nature of his rebellion—he allowed time to win the people’s hearts before moving against his father.
Absalom’s request to go to Hebron was cloaked in the pretense of worship. He told David he needed to fulfill a vow made to the Lord during his exile in Geshur, saying that if God ever restored him to Jerusalem, he would serve the Lord. Hebron held deep symbolic meaning. It was where David himself was first crowned king (2 Samuel 2:1–4). Absalom’s choice of Hebron was intentional, meant to evoke the same legitimacy David once possessed. His pretense of piety served as a cover for his treason. Throughout Scripture, we see this pattern of hypocrisy—men using religion as a mask for rebellion. Absalom pretended to worship God, but his true god was power.
Absalom’s deceit shows how easily false spirituality can manipulate others. Many who rebel against God-ordained authority convince themselves that they are doing God’s will. They speak in the language of devotion while pursuing personal ambition. Absalom may have even believed his own lie, thinking that God was raising him up for righteous reform. This self-deception is common among divisive individuals. They cloak their ambition with religious words, claiming to act for the good of God’s people. They say things like, “I’m only doing this because God told me,” or “I’m standing up for truth.” Yet their actions betray a heart of pride and rebellion. As Scripture warns, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked; who can know it?” (Jeremiah 17:9).
David’s response, “Go in peace,” is profoundly tragic. These would be the last words David spoke to Absalom before the rebellion broke out. David’s trust and leniency, though compassionate, once again blinded him to the danger of his son’s ambition. This echoes David’s earlier failures to act decisively against sin within his own household. His silence toward Amnon and Tamar, his passivity toward Joab, and now his trust in Absalom all contributed to his coming sorrow. The words “Go in peace” are loaded with irony, for Absalom would soon bring anything but peace to Israel.
Absalom’s command to his spies—“As soon as you hear the sound of the trumpet, then you shall say, ‘Absalom reigns in Hebron!’”—was the final stage of his deception. He sent agents throughout all the tribes of Israel to proclaim his reign. This was not merely a military coup; it was a propaganda campaign. Absalom wanted to make his rise appear legitimate, not treasonous. The trumpet blast would symbolize a coronation rather than a revolt, and he banked on the people’s confusion and divided loyalties. Many in Israel, already swayed by his charm and promises, would interpret this as the natural succession of the throne, especially since David was aging and seemingly inactive.
Absalom’s rebellion demonstrates how political and spiritual deception often walk hand in hand. His actions mirror Satan’s tactics—appearing as an angel of light while plotting destruction (2 Corinthians 11:14). He mixed religious language with rebellion, invoking the name of the Lord to justify his sin. Such manipulation of sacred things for selfish ends is among the most dangerous forms of deceit, for it not only corrupts the heart but also profanes the name of God.
This passage also foreshadows the rebellion of Israel against the Son of David, Jesus Christ. Just as David was betrayed by one close to him, Christ was betrayed by Judas under the guise of loyalty. Both betrayals began with a kiss of false affection and ended with deep sorrow. In both cases, the traitor sought to establish his own version of what he thought was right, apart from God’s will.
In sum, Absalom’s plan reveals a dangerous combination of charm, patience, and hypocrisy. He disguised ambition as devotion, rebellion as righteousness, and treason as worship. His rebellion began not with force but with false religion. What began in deceit would soon erupt into open war.
(2 Samuel 15:11–12)
And with Absalom went two hundred men invited from Jerusalem, and they went along innocently and did not know anything. Then Absalom sent for Ahithophel the Gilonite, David’s counselor, from his city—from Giloh—while he offered sacrifices. And the conspiracy grew strong, for the people with Absalom continually increased in number.
Absalom’s rebellion grew in influence through a careful combination of deceit, association, and spiritual pretense. The text begins by noting that two hundred men accompanied Absalom from Jerusalem, yet these men “went along innocently and did not know anything.” This detail shows Absalom’s manipulative cunning. He understood that to appear legitimate, he needed the support—or at least the presence—of respected men from Jerusalem. These individuals were likely nobles, elders, or officials within David’s administration. Their attendance at Absalom’s gathering gave the illusion of royal approval. Even though they were unaware of his true intentions, their presence would convince onlookers that his movement was sanctioned.
This tactic of drawing in the innocent and uninformed is one of the oldest strategies of division. The naive and unsuspecting, when they accompany the ambitious, lend credibility to causes they do not understand. Their silence becomes consent, and their mere presence becomes endorsement. Scripture warns against such blindness to rebellion, for Proverbs 14:15 says, “The simple believes every word, but the prudent considers well his steps.” When godly discernment is lacking, the innocent can become pawns in the hands of the deceitful. Throughout church history and in modern times, divisive leaders have always surrounded themselves with the unaware, using them as symbols of legitimacy while concealing their true motives.
Absalom also secured the allegiance of Ahithophel the Gilonite, David’s trusted counselor. This defection was not only a political blow but also a personal wound to David. Ahithophel’s wisdom was legendary; Scripture later says, “Now the advice of Ahithophel, which he gave in those days, was as if one had inquired at the oracle of God” (2 Samuel 16:23). His departure would have lent tremendous credibility to Absalom’s cause in the eyes of the people, for when the king’s wisest counselor defects, many assume that the tide of righteousness has turned.
Yet even wise men can fall prey to bitterness and misplaced loyalty. Ahithophel’s betrayal likely stemmed from personal resentment toward David. Scripture identifies Bathsheba, the woman David sinned with, as the daughter of Eliam (2 Samuel 11:3), and Eliam was the son of Ahithophel (2 Samuel 23:34). Thus, Bathsheba was Ahithophel’s granddaughter. David’s sin against Bathsheba and Uriah had left deep scars, and Ahithophel’s defection reveals the lingering effects of unresolved bitterness. While his wisdom remained intact, his heart was poisoned by grievance. Bitterness can make even the wise act foolishly and align themselves with rebellion, thinking they are serving justice. The writer of Hebrews warns, “Looking carefully lest anyone fall short of the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springing up cause trouble, and by this many become defiled” (Hebrews 12:15).
Absalom continued to use religion as a cover for rebellion. The text says he sent for Ahithophel “while he offered sacrifices.” These sacrifices were not expressions of true worship but instruments of deception. Absalom was intent on maintaining the appearance of godliness even while plotting treason. His actions exemplify the form of religion without the power thereof, as Paul described in 2 Timothy 3:5: “Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof.” Many like Absalom convince themselves that outward religious acts sanctify inward rebellion. They believe that God’s blessing can be manipulated through ceremony, ignoring the truth that God looks upon the heart.
Finally, the narrative concludes with a chilling statement: “And the conspiracy grew strong, for the people with Absalom continually increased in number.” This reflects a tragic truth about human nature: rebellion gains momentum as others see it growing. Once Absalom’s movement appeared successful, more and more people joined, not out of conviction but out of fear of being on the losing side. People often follow strength rather than righteousness, popularity rather than truth. This is why Scripture repeatedly warns believers to test every movement and spirit by the Word of God rather than by the crowd’s enthusiasm.
Absalom’s rebellion began as a whisper and grew into a storm, fueled by vanity, deceit, and religious hypocrisy. His conspiracy succeeded not because God blessed it, but because people failed to discern evil masked in piety. It is a sobering reminder that every rebellion against God’s appointed order begins subtly—through influence, image, and the misuse of sacred language—until it hardens into open defiance.
B. David Escapes with the Help of Faithful Friends
(2 Samuel 15:13–18)
Now a messenger came to David, saying, “The hearts of the men of Israel are with Absalom.” So David said to all his servants who were with him at Jerusalem, “Arise, and let us flee; or we shall not escape from Absalom. Make haste to depart, lest he overtake us suddenly and bring disaster upon us, and strike the city with the edge of the sword.” And the king’s servants said to the king, “We are your servants, ready to do whatever my lord the king commands.” Then the king went out with all his household after him. But the king left ten women, concubines, to keep the house. And the king went out with all the people after him, and stopped at the outskirts. Then all his servants passed before him; and all the Cherethites, all the Pelethites, and all the Gittites, six hundred men who had followed him from Gath, passed before the king.
When the messenger arrived and told David, “The hearts of the men of Israel are with Absalom,” it marked one of the most devastating moments of his life. The same people who had once hailed David as a national hero had now turned their hearts toward his rebellious son. This was not only a political crisis but also a personal tragedy. David’s own blood had risen against him, and the nation he had faithfully led now chose the side of a usurper.
David immediately responded with urgency and humility: “Arise, and let us flee; or we shall not escape from Absalom.” This decision revealed both his wisdom and his compassion. David understood Absalom’s character—ambitious, cruel, and determined to seize the throne at any cost. He knew that staying in Jerusalem would result in devastating bloodshed. Instead of using the city as a fortress, David chose to leave it in order to protect it. He would rather bear the humiliation of exile than see the capital destroyed by civil war. His statement, “Lest he overtake us suddenly and bring disaster upon us, and strike the city with the edge of the sword,” demonstrates his concern for innocent lives. The heart of a true shepherd was still within him; he placed the welfare of his people above his own comfort.
The loyalty of David’s servants stands in stark contrast to the treachery of the nation. They answered, “We are your servants, ready to do whatever my lord the king commands.” In a moment when others betrayed him, these men proved their allegiance. Their faithfulness was not rooted in David’s power or position, for both had been lost—it was rooted in their love and respect for his person. True loyalty is revealed in times of trial, not triumph.
David then departed from Jerusalem with his household, leaving behind ten concubines “to keep the house.” His decision was likely practical, ensuring that someone would maintain the palace during his absence. However, this detail also reveals a weakness in David’s life. Having ten concubines exposed the indulgence of his passions. While Scripture never portrays polygamy as godly, it was tolerated in Israel’s monarchy. Yet these choices would later bring shame and pain, for Absalom would publicly violate these same women in his bid for power (2 Samuel 16:21–22). The seeds of David’s compromise would bear bitter fruit.
As David left the city, the writer repeatedly emphasized “the king… the king… the king.” Though David was fleeing, he was still God’s anointed ruler. Absalom’s apparent victory did not alter divine authority. This repetition underscores that God’s covenant promise still stood—David was the rightful king, and the throne would remain his in God’s timing. Human rebellion can challenge divine order, but it can never overturn it.
The text also highlights those who accompanied David: “All the Cherethites, all the Pelethites, and all the Gittites, six hundred men who had followed him from Gath.” These were David’s personal guards—battle-hardened men who had been with him since his early days of exile among the Philistines. The Cherethites and Pelethites were likely elite mercenaries from Crete or Philistia, while the Gittites were men from Gath who had pledged loyalty to David when he sought refuge there. Their presence was profoundly significant. Foreigners stood faithfully beside David when his own people had turned against him. These men had no national obligation, no tribal ties to Israel, and yet their devotion was steadfast. The contrast is striking—Gentiles were loyal to the Lord’s anointed, while Israelites betrayed him.
As the procession left Jerusalem and paused at the outskirts, David watched his followers file past. The sight must have broken his heart. The once-great king was now a fugitive again, retracing the steps of his youth when he fled from Saul. Outwardly, this appeared to be defeat, but spiritually it was refinement. God was humbling His servant, stripping away the pride that years of success had built.
David’s emotional turmoil during this time is preserved in the Psalms he composed in exile. In Psalm 55:4–8, he wrote:
“My heart is severely pained within me, and the terrors of death have fallen upon me. Fearfulness and trembling have come upon me, and horror has overwhelmed me. And I said, ‘Oh, that I had wings like a dove! For then I would fly away and be at rest. Indeed, I would wander far off, and remain in the wilderness. I would hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest.’”
These verses capture the anguish and fear David felt as his world collapsed around him. He longed for escape from betrayal, heartache, and danger. Yet even in his despair, he turned to the Lord.
In Psalm 3:1–6, written while fleeing from Absalom, David declared his faith:
“LORD, how they have increased who trouble me! Many are they who rise up against me. Many are they who say of me, ‘There is no help for him in God.’ But You, O LORD, are a shield for me, my glory and the One who lifts up my head. I cried to the LORD with my voice, and He heard me from His holy hill. I lay down and slept; I awoke, for the LORD sustained me. I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people who have set themselves against me all around.”
This Psalm demonstrates David’s unshakable trust in the Lord amid overwhelming odds. Though rejected and hunted, he found comfort in knowing that God still shielded him.
Several other Psalms—41, 61, 62, and 63—were also written during this dark chapter. Each one reveals a progression from fear to faith, from sorrow to surrender. These songs of suffering would later inspire countless believers who endure betrayal and trial.
David’s flight from Jerusalem teaches vital spiritual truths. It reminds us that even the most godly leaders can experience seasons of humiliation and loss. It shows that faithfulness to God sometimes means accepting apparent defeat for the sake of righteousness. It demonstrates that loyalty and faith often come from unexpected places, and that true strength lies not in force but in trust. Above all, it reveals that even when the hearts of men turn away, the heart of God remains steadfast toward His anointed.
(2 Samuel 15:19–23)
Then the king said to Ittai the Gittite, “Why are you also going with us? Return and remain with the king. For you are a foreigner and also an exile from your own place. In fact, you came only yesterday. Should I make you wander up and down with us today, since I go I know not where? Return, and take your brethren back. Mercy and truth be with you.” And Ittai answered the king and said, “As the LORD lives, and as my lord the king lives, surely in whatever place my lord the king shall be, whether in death or life, even there also your servant will be.” So David said to Ittai, “Go, and cross over.” Then Ittai the Gittite and all his men and all the little ones who were with him crossed over. And all the country wept with a loud voice, and all the people crossed over. The king himself also crossed over the Brook Kidron, and all the people crossed over toward the way of the wilderness.
As David fled Jerusalem, he encountered a man named Ittai the Gittite, a Philistine from Gath. This was the same city where David had once sought refuge during his flight from Saul. It is striking that a foreigner, once part of Israel’s enemies, now stood among the few who remained steadfastly loyal to the true king. David, recognizing Ittai’s foreign origin and recent arrival, was astonished at his devotion. He asked, “Why are you also going with us?” David knew that following him meant hardship, uncertainty, and danger. Ittai had no obligation to suffer exile alongside him, yet his loyalty was unwavering.
David told Ittai, “Return and remain with the king,” referring to Absalom. This statement reveals David’s humility and surrender to God’s providence. At that moment, it appeared as though Absalom’s rebellion had succeeded. Rather than resist what seemed inevitable, David yielded the matter to the Lord. He would not cling to power that God Himself had given, nor would he attempt to defend his crown through pride or force. His trust rested entirely in the Lord’s will, echoing the spirit of Job 1:21: “The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.”
Yet Ittai’s response revealed where the true throne still stood. He said, “As the LORD lives, and as my lord the king lives, surely in whatever place my lord the king shall be, whether in death or life, even there also your servant will be.” His words were solemn and covenantal. By invoking the name of the LORD, Ittai swore an oath of absolute loyalty to David, recognizing him—not Absalom—as the legitimate, God-appointed king. His devotion went beyond mere allegiance; it was a vow of companionship in both life and death.
This moment stands as one of the most profound declarations of loyalty in all of Scripture. Ittai’s commitment was not born of convenience or self-interest. It was forged in conviction and courage. True loyalty, as this passage teaches, is tested and proven only when it costs something. Ittai chose to follow David at his lowest point, when all visible glory had faded. His faithfulness reflects the kind of discipleship Christ later demanded when He said, “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me” (Luke 9:23).
David then responded, “Go, and cross over.” This affirmed Ittai’s decision and accepted his loyalty. The passage continues, noting that Ittai the Gittite and all his men and all the little ones who were with him crossed over. This shows that Ittai’s commitment was not solitary; he led his entire household and followers into exile. His loyalty was contagious, influencing not only soldiers but families to stand with the anointed king. This image of faithful companionship in hardship deeply moved the people, for the text records that “all the country wept with a loud voice.”
The sight of David, once Israel’s greatest hero, crossing the Brook Kidron was a moment of profound sorrow. This same brook would later be crossed by the Lord Jesus on the night of His betrayal (John 18:1), linking David’s suffering to the greater suffering of the Son of David. Both left Jerusalem betrayed by those closest to them, and both went toward the wilderness and the cross to fulfill God’s plan. The parallel underscores the typological connection between David’s rejection and Christ’s rejection by His own people.
David’s journey “toward the way of the wilderness” had both historical and spiritual significance. Many years earlier, God had used the wilderness to refine David’s faith while he fled from Saul. Now, once again, the wilderness became his place of testing and purification. God often brings His servants back to the wilderness to strip away every dependence except Himself. In the wilderness, pride dies, and trust in God deepens.
Charles Spurgeon captured this truth beautifully: “Ah! We do not like going over Kedron. When it comes to the pinch, how we struggle against suffering, and especially against dishonor and slander! How many there were who would have gone on pilgrimage, but that Mr. Shame proved too much for them; they could not bear to go over the black brook Kedron, could not endure to be made nothing of for the sake of the Lord of glory, but they even turned back.” The “black brook Kedron” symbolizes the path of humiliation that every true servant of God must cross. To follow the King—whether David or Christ—requires a willingness to be despised, to suffer reproach, and to lose worldly security.
Ittai’s faithfulness serves as a timeless example for believers. His devotion was decisive, not hesitant; voluntary, not coerced; public, not secret. He followed David despite his foreign origin, limited knowledge, and the promise of hardship. Likewise, Christians are called to follow Christ with the same resolute spirit. If a Philistine warrior could pledge his loyalty to an exiled king, how much more should the redeemed of the Lord commit themselves wholly to the King of Kings. As Spurgeon observed, “If Ittai, charmed with David’s person and character, though a foreigner and a stranger, felt that he could enlist beneath his banner for life—yea, and declared that he would do so there and then—how much more may you and I, if we know what Christ has done for us, and who He is, plight our troth to Him and vow, ‘As the Lord liveth, surely in whatsoever place my Lord and Savior shall be, whether in death or life, even there also shall His servant be.’”
This scene, therefore, not only records an act of loyalty in Israel’s history but also prefigures the devotion every believer owes to Christ. To follow Him means to share in His sufferings, to stand with Him when the world turns away, and to walk with Him even when the path leads through the wilderness.
(2 Samuel 15:24–26)
There was Zadok also, and all the Levites with him, bearing the ark of the covenant of God. And they set down the ark of God, and Abiathar went up until all the people had finished crossing over from the city. Then the king said to Zadok, “Carry the ark of God back into the city. If I find favor in the eyes of the LORD, He will bring me back and show me both it and His dwelling place. But if He says thus: ‘I have no delight in you,’ here I am, let Him do to me as seems good to Him.”
As David fled from Jerusalem, his faithful priests, Zadok and Abiathar, came after him, carrying the ark of the covenant of God. This sacred object symbolized God’s presence among His people. In earlier years, the ark had been carried before Israel in times of battle, such as when the walls of Jericho fell (Joshua 6), or when it rested in Shiloh as a sign of divine favor. Its presence among David’s fleeing band must have seemed like a reassurance of God’s continued support. Yet David’s reaction revealed the depth of his spiritual maturity at this stage in his life.
The text notes that Zadok also, and all the Levites with him, bearing the ark of the covenant of God, stood by David’s side in this moment of crisis. These priests risked their lives to identify with him. Their loyalty was not political—it was spiritual. They recognized that David was the man chosen by God, despite his failings, and they discerned the evil of Absalom’s rebellion. Their allegiance cost them something; had Absalom’s coup succeeded, they would have been executed as traitors. This shows that true spiritual men are guided not by convenience or fear but by principle and faithfulness to God’s anointed.
David, however, refused to use the ark as a talisman of victory. He told Zadok, “Carry the ark of God back into the city.” This was a remarkable display of faith. David understood that God’s presence could not be manipulated or contained in an object. The ark symbolized the covenant, but the Lord Himself was not bound to it. Earlier in Israel’s history, during Eli’s priesthood, the Israelites had carried the ark into battle against the Philistines, believing its presence would guarantee success—but their superstition led to disaster (1 Samuel 4). David had learned from that history. He would not repeat Israel’s mistake by using the ark as a charm to force God’s favor. Instead, he demonstrated a faith that rested not in symbols but in submission to the sovereign will of God.
David’s words to Zadok are among the most profound expressions of humility and trust in Scripture:
“If I find favor in the eyes of the LORD, He will bring me back and show me both it and His dwelling place. But if He says thus: ‘I have no delight in you,’ here I am, let Him do to me as seems good to Him.”
Here David placed his entire future in God’s hands. He did not demand restoration, nor did he cling to the throne as his right. He recognized that both the kingdom and his life were in the hands of the Lord who gives and takes away. This was not fatalism but faith. David’s submission was active—he continued moving forward and making decisions—but his heart was surrendered.
These words reflect the chastened spirit of a man who had learned through failure that God is righteous in all His dealings. The same David who once sinned grievously with Bathsheba and arranged the death of Uriah now accepted whatever chastening God would bring. His posture echoes the words of Eli when faced with divine judgment: “It is the LORD; let Him do what seems good to Him” (1 Samuel 3:18). David’s response showed that repentance had produced true humility within him. Rather than asserting his own worthiness, he appealed solely to grace—“If I find favor in the eyes of the LORD.”
This spirit of surrender mirrors the attitude of the Lord Jesus Christ in Gethsemane when He prayed, “Nevertheless not as I will, but as You will” (Matthew 26:39). Just as David crossed the Brook Kidron in sorrow and submission, Jesus crossed the same brook on the night of His betrayal. Both scenes demonstrate that the pathway to restoration always runs through submission to the Father’s will. David’s willingness to let God determine the outcome is what ultimately distinguished him from Saul and Absalom. Both of those men tried to hold on to power through manipulation and pride; David relinquished it through faith.
David’s submission teaches every believer that the true measure of faith is not found in prosperity but in surrender. When chastening comes, when loss or humiliation falls upon us, faith is proven not by resistance but by acceptance. David’s heart had finally reached the place where he could say, “Whatever God chooses for me is good.” This is the posture of one who truly knows the Lord.
(2 Samuel 15:27–29)
The king also said to Zadok the priest, “Are you not a seer? Return to the city in peace, and your two sons with you, Ahimaaz your son, and Jonathan the son of Abiathar. See, I will wait in the plains of the wilderness until word comes from you to inform me.” Therefore Zadok and Abiathar carried the ark of God back to Jerusalem. And they remained there.
Having sent the ark back to Jerusalem, David gave Zadok and Abiathar a new task. He said to Zadok, “Are you not a seer?” The word seer refers to a prophet—someone endowed with spiritual discernment and divine insight. David recognized that Zadok’s priestly office was not only sacred but also strategic. God had placed Zadok and Abiathar in positions where they could serve both the spiritual and practical needs of David’s cause. David instructed them to return to Jerusalem with their sons, Ahimaaz and Jonathan, to act as messengers who could bring word of Absalom’s movements.
This was a wise and measured decision. David did not sit idly in his submission to God; he trusted the Lord but still exercised prudence. Faith never excludes reason. David’s plan balanced dependence on God with responsible leadership. He would wait in “the plains of the wilderness” until news came from his loyal priests. This demonstrated both patience and confidence that God would act in His time.
Zadok and Abiathar obeyed immediately, carrying the ark back to its rightful place in Jerusalem. Their obedience illustrates the proper relationship between faith and obedience: trust in God’s sovereignty always manifests in submission to His order. Though outwardly it seemed that Absalom held the throne, spiritually the presence of the ark in Jerusalem testified that God’s covenant purposes were not finished. The priests remained in the city as silent witnesses that the Lord’s chosen king, though in exile, was still under divine protection.
In these verses, David’s humility, faith, and discernment shine brightly against the backdrop of betrayal and chaos. He neither clung to symbols of power nor resorted to worldly schemes for restoration. Instead, he entrusted himself entirely to the justice and mercy of God, demonstrating what true repentance and faith look like in the life of a believer.
(2 Samuel 15:30)
So David went up by the Ascent of the Mount of Olives, and wept as he went up; and he had his head covered and went barefoot. And all the people who were with him covered their heads and went up, weeping as they went up.
The image of David ascending the Mount of Olives weeping, barefoot, and with his head covered is one of the most poignant moments in all of Scripture. The great king who once entered Jerusalem in triumph now departs in humiliation. His tears flow freely as he climbs the ascent eastward from the city, a path marked by grief, repentance, and submission to God’s chastening hand. His outward appearance reflected the sorrow and shame within his heart. He wore no crown, no royal garments—only the marks of mourning and humility before the Lord.
The Mount of Olives holds deep biblical significance. Many centuries later, the Lord Jesus Christ would walk this same path after the Last Supper, descending into the Garden of Gethsemane where He too would weep, praying in agony before His betrayal (Luke 22:39–44). Both David and Jesus crossed the Brook Kidron and ascended or descended the Mount of Olives in sorrow. Yet their sufferings were different in kind. David suffered because of his own sin, bearing the temporal consequences of his moral failure. Jesus suffered for the sins of others, bearing the eternal punishment of mankind upon Himself. The parallel is purposeful: David’s grief foreshadowed the greater anguish of the Son of David, who would redeem what his ancestor had lost through sin.
David’s head covered and his bare feet were traditional symbols of mourning and repentance. Covering the head indicated shame and grief, while walking barefoot showed humiliation and penitence. The king of Israel, once exalted by God, now humbled himself completely before the Lord. This was not the display of a proud man lamenting his lost power—it was the brokenness of a redeemed man acknowledging divine justice. David wept not only for his suffering but also for the sorrow his sin had brought upon his people, his family, and his nation.
Commentator Alexander Maclaren observed that David’s tears were not those of self-pity but of penitence: “He is crushed by the consciousness that his punishment is deserved—the bitter fruit of the sin that filled all his later life with darkness. His courage and his buoyancy have left him.” This was the chastened spirit of a man who had learned that the wages of sin are grievous, yet that mercy remains for the contrite. Similarly, G. Campbell Morgan wrote, “In light of all the facts it is almost certain that the tears David shed as he climbed Olivet were rather those of humiliation and penitence than those of self-centered regret. For Absalom there was no excuse, but David carried in his own heart ceaselessly the sense of his own past sin.”
This distinction is vital for understanding godly sorrow. David’s grief was not despair but repentance. It was not rebellion against God’s chastening but acceptance of it. He knew the pain was deserved, yet he trusted that God’s mercy remained. In this we see the mark of true redemption. Though forgiven, David never took grace lightly. The memory of his sin remained ever before him, as he confessed in Psalm 51:3, “For I acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.” The man who once hardened his heart now walked barefoot in humility, weeping over what his pride had cost.
This passage demonstrates that forgiveness does not erase the consequences of sin, but it transforms how those consequences are borne. A man who truly understands grace will not abuse it; instead, grace will humble him. Some might say God let David off easily, that his crimes of adultery and murder merited death under the Law. Yet David’s repentance shows the power of divine forgiveness to change the heart. He never repeated those sins. The forgiven man grieved deeply over what he had done, but his grief became worship—a broken and contrite heart God did not despise (Psalm 51:17).
(2 Samuel 15:31–37)
Then someone told David, saying, “Ahithophel is among the conspirators with Absalom.” And David said, “O LORD, I pray, turn the counsel of Ahithophel into foolishness!” Now it happened when David had come to the top of the mountain, where he worshiped God—there was Hushai the Archite coming to meet him with his robe torn and dust on his head. David said to him, “If you go on with me, then you will become a burden to me. But if you return to the city, and say to Absalom, ‘I will be your servant, O king; as I was your father’s servant previously, so I will now also be your servant,’ then you may defeat the counsel of Ahithophel for me. And do you not have Zadok and Abiathar the priests with you there? Therefore it will be that whatever you hear from the king’s house, you shall tell to Zadok and Abiathar the priests. Indeed they have there with them their two sons, Ahimaaz, Zadok’s son, and Jonathan, Abiathar’s son; and by them you shall send me everything you hear.” So Hushai, David’s friend, went into the city. And Absalom came into Jerusalem.
While still weeping and ascending the Mount of Olives, David received news that Ahithophel, his most trusted counselor, had defected to Absalom. This was a fresh wound upon his already broken heart. Ahithophel’s betrayal was deeply personal, for David had trusted him intimately, as reflected in Psalm 41:9: “Even my own familiar friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has lifted up his heel against me.” This foreshadowed the betrayal of Jesus by Judas, another trusted companion who turned against his Master.
David’s immediate response was not anger but prayer: “O LORD, I pray, turn the counsel of Ahithophel into foolishness!” This simple but powerful prayer demonstrated his dependence upon God in crisis. He knew Ahithophel’s wisdom was great, and his betrayal posed grave danger. Yet David trusted that the Lord could confound even the cleverest schemes of the ungodly. As Matthew Henry wrote, “Prayer is a better defense than policy.” Similarly, the Scottish Queen Mary once said she feared the prayers of John Knox more than the armies of men. David understood this truth.
When David reached the summit, the Scripture notes that he “worshiped God.” In the midst of flight, humiliation, and betrayal, David stopped to worship. This act of devotion at the height of sorrow marks one of the noblest moments of his life. He did not wait for deliverance to worship; he worshiped amid the storm. This reminds believers that worship is not limited to sanctuaries or seasons of peace—it is most powerful when offered in tears.
At that moment, Hushai the Archite met David with torn garments and dust upon his head, symbols of mourning and solidarity. David discerned that Hushai could better serve him by returning to Jerusalem. He instructed Hushai to feign loyalty to Absalom and act as a counter to Ahithophel’s counsel. David’s wisdom was practical, but his confidence remained rooted in divine providence. Through Hushai’s presence and the cooperation of Zadok and Abiathar, David established a network of loyal informants. This careful coordination showed that true faith does not reject prudence; trusting God and taking wise action work hand in hand.
The chapter closes with a contrast: “So Hushai, David’s friend, went into the city. And Absalom came into Jerusalem.” Two men entered the same city—one faithful, one faithless. Hushai entered as a servant of God’s anointed, Absalom as a counterfeit king. Absalom’s entry symbolized rebellion and pride, whereas David’s departure symbolized humility and faith. Yet in God’s timing, humility would triumph. David’s sorrowful ascent foreshadowed Christ’s triumphal entry centuries later—where another Son of David would enter the same city, not to seize power by force but to conquer sin through sacrifice.
