“David’s question was: ‘Is there yet someone left in the household of Saul that I might deal with him in a ḥesed-way for Jonathan’s sake?’ (2 Samuel 9:1).
You may wonder why I drag in covenant as the central theme of this passage. Because ḥesed (three times, 2 Samuel 9:1, 3, 7) is the devoted love promised within a covenant; ḥesed is love that is willing to commit itself to another by making its promise a matter of solemn record.
So when David mentions ḥesed and ‘for Jonathan’s sake’ we know he is alluding to the sacred commitment Jonathan had asked David to make in 1 Samuel 20:15: ‘And you must not cut off your devoted love from my house forever, not even when Yahweh cuts off each one of David’s enemies from the face of the ground.’
And David had gone on oath about that. Now he is preparing to fulfil that pledge.
David’s officials locate a certain Ziba, a servant connected to Saul’s family, and summon him for a royal interview. David inquires and Ziba informs him that there is still one of Jonathan’s sons left, one who is ‘stricken in his feet’ (2 Samuel 9:3).
He is living in Lo-debar, east of the Jordan, under the patronage of Machir (9:4). It has now been fifteen to twenty years since David had made that promise and entered into that covenant with Jonathan.
But it still controlled and directed his behavior: ‘Is there anyone belonging to Saul’s family left, to whom I might show faithful love for Jonathan’s sake?’ (9:1).
That solemn word, given in that solemn ceremony, under a solemn curse, constrained him to act with devoted love. Nothing about it being a long time ago, about conditions being different, about it being only a formality.
Here is the power covenant exercises—the promise made in the past directs fidelity in the present. Does this not press upon us the urgency of keeping all our covenants?
This is something our world and culture does not understand. What the world does not see is that love that truly loves is willing to bind itself, is willing to promise, willingly and gladly obligates itself so that the other may stand securely in that love.
If you are a Christian, your life consists of covenant obligations, times when you have made sacred promises.
In my own communion, we make vows when we publicly confess our faith before the congregation, when our children receive baptism, when someone assumes church office (elder, deacon), and, of course, when entering into marriage.
One does not keep such vows because it is dramatic but because it is faithful. Sometimes you do not keep your covenants because you feel like it but simply because you promised.
The works of B. B. Warfield, the esteemed biblical theologian of old Princeton Seminary, are still known and read in the evangelical church today.
What is not so well-known is the tale of his marriage. Warfield was pursuing studies in Leipzig, Germany, in 1876–77. This time also doubled as honeymoon with his wife Annie.
They were on a walking tour in the Harz Mountains when they were caught in a terrific thunderstorm. The experience was such a shock to Annie that she never fully recovered, becoming more or less an invalid for life.
Warfield only left her for his seminary duties, but never for more than two hours at a time. His world was almost entirely limited to Princeton and to the care of his wife.
For thirty-nine years.
One of his students noted that when he saw the Warfields out walking together ‘the gentleness of his manner was striking proof of the loving care with which he surrounded her.’
For thirty-nine years.
That is the power covenant exercises.”
–Dale Ralph Davis, 2 Samuel: Out of Every Adversity, Focus on the Bible Commentary (Great Britain: Christian Focus Publications, 2002), 120–122. Davis is commenting on 2 Samuel 9.
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