The Real Saul, Sticks and Stones

I was in the seventh grade, sitting in art class.  We sat at tables instead of desks, four to each station.  So as I doodled on my art project I was trying to keep up with the conversation happening around me.  See, my older, and much more popular High School-aged brother had visited my Middle School that morning for reasons I can't recall-- some sort of project with a history class-- and his visit became a topic of conversation at my art table that day.  One of the more attractive cheerleaders of my grade, who also sat at my table, felt that it was her duty to inform me that my brother was super-hot, and that "You're not nearly as cool as your brother is." 

I'm pretty sure I said nothing in reply. . . I know what I wanted to say. . . I had all kinds of cleverly crafted, smart, funny, witty, condescending, cutting remarks about where she could stick her art stencils ready to pour out of mouth exactly 2 hours AFTER our conversation.  Of course, at the time, nothing clever came to mind.  I went catatonic.  I felt nothing except the sharp pain of inadequacy.  No thoughts or words gelled in my head.  It wasn't the first time I came face-to-face with an insecurity about my relationship with my brother.  I always felt as though I was the lesser sibling, but it's one of those things you think to yourself late at night and then hope it isn't true for the rest of the day.  But there is nothing more painful, more scarring, and more traumatizing than when your deepest fears and insecurities about yourself are confirmed by a third party witness.  That's the power of a word.  Words wound and cut people deeply in ways that can last for years and years and years.  And I'd be willing to bet that every single person can remember at least one careless or tactless thing that was said to them at one point in their life that left a deep and painful scar.

I think Saul carried some of those scars.  We've talked about Saul's unusual journey to the throne.  He was chosen by God from the least likely family, clan and tribe, but God chose him.  And God changed him and gave him the tools he needed to be an effective king.  But Saul has never shown any confidence in his ability to rule Israel.  When Samuel wanted to present him to the Hebrews, Saul hid among the supplies.  Something deep inside Saul had convinced him that he was unable to be successful as the ruler of God's people.

But God believed he was king, and Samuel believed Saul was king, and the people did as well.  1 Samuel 10:23 reads, "They ran and brought him out, and as he stood among the people he was a head taller than any of the others. Samuel said to all the people, 'Do you see the man the LORD has chosen? There is no one like him among all the people.'  Then the people shouted, 'Long live the king!'"  God was in his corner.  Samuel was in his corner.  Even the people were saying, "Long live the King!"  How could Saul not puff out his chest alittle and think to himself, "You know, maybe they're right.  Maybe I am good enough to lead this country."

But something happened on his way back to his hometown that I think sent any confidence Saul may have had down the comode.  Vv. 26 and 27 say, "Saul also went to his home in Gibeah, accompanied by valiant men whose hearts God had touched. But some scoundrels said, 'How can this fellow save us?''  They despised him and brought him no gifts."  Now this was a huge opportunity for Saul. Everybody faces opposition at one time or another.  If Saul was confident enough in his ability to lead, he could address his opponents, punish them swiftly, and then move on with life.  But that doesn't happen for Saul.  This is how v. 27 finishes:

"BUT SAUL KEPT SILENT."

Ominous words.  Saul wasn't just taking the high road here or showing humble restraint.  A true king at that time would demonstrate his leadership by going Old Testament on those guys, but Saul did nothing.  Saul kept silent.  There were no words of reply because deep down he thought those scoundrels were probably right.  He was no king.  He didn't deserve the honor he'd recieved from all those people.  These careless and tactless "scoundrels" had just confirmed every nagging, whispering voice in Saul's mind, those embedded insecurities that he wasn't good enough to be king.  These words didn't sink him immediately, but I think they wounded him, and they set the stage for the spiraling tail-spin Saul would enter later in life.   

And that's the power of words.  Words endure and hurt.  Proverbs 18:21 says, "The power of life and death are in the tongue."  It's true!  Words are lethal.  People have died as a result of poorly used words.  Now, not every critical word is lethal.  We don't take every joke or insult to heart, do we?  No.  It's just a few subjects that really eat at you.  Everyone's got a couple of buttons that really sting when they get pushed.  Could be about your looks, your height, your family, your finances, your sexual prowess, your intelligence. . .  And everytime someone hits that button, whichever button it is for you, it feels like someone just knocked the wind out of you.  And you remember.  It's like you have your very own cataloging system in your brain detailing the exact moments when each person said that thing, and you can instantaneously recall the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you contemplate what it would mean for you personally if such horrible things were true.  A word spoken by a tactless, seventh-grade cheerleader will sit like a ticking time bomb in my brain and explode 2, 5, even 15 years later.  BOOM!  Those words get lodged into our psyches and they become part of us, because they play on our deepest fears and insecurities.

And we replay those memories over and over, and think of all the things we should have said in response, but instead we keep silent. . . 'cause we're petrified that it might actually be true.