DAVID’S MOTHER
The Promised Land was settled with the next generations
of the sons of Israel. Fire flamed - under the altars of sacri-
fice and
Every man did what was right in his own sight. Judges 21
Years of struggle continued under Judges and Prophets
until finally the people had their own demand of a King like every-
one else, but it was not God’s plan of a Theocracy. However, in His
infinite love reaching down to His creation, He continued to work
through ordinary people like David’s mother.
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He must d you very much.
David, the youngest child of you and Jesse.
The last of eight sons at home in Bethlehem,
still tending his father’s flocks in the shepherd’s fields,
a millennium before the Angels sand of Peace.
He had your beautiful eyes
and his father’s red hair.
Or was it round-about like the sun and moon
that rose and set on his strong shoulders?
Did you teach him to play the harp,
gently fingering the strings,
grace notes and good stories of God’s faithfulness
woven together like your finest cloth?
Then tracing the frame with his young fingers
showing the shape of the Kinnereth Sea
that sang far to the north
feeding your river with life-giving water.
Did you cut out the slingshot
from a scrap of leather, so he could
dance stones on the skipping stream?
Certainly your knees were prayer-worn
as he became warrior, king, lover,
sinner, saint, poet, musician.
He never forgot your tender care.
When King Saul’s murderous revenge drove
all of you to the cave of Adullam,
David arranged safe-keeping with the
King of Moab, for you and Jesse,
protecting the root of Messiah’s branch.
Yes, your son must d you very much,
not to leave you alone in that one verse of Scripture.
(1 Samuel 22)
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