David, Mephibosheth, and the Quiet Side of Power

In 2 Samuel 9, David asks a question that seems out of place in the broader story of military conquest: "Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness for Jonathan's sake?" It’s a small moment tucked into a larger narrative of power, expansion, and war—but it feels deeply human.

When Old Friends Still Matter

Jonathan, Saul’s son, had been David’s closest friend. Their relationship was intense and loyal, formed during a time when Saul was trying to kill David. Now, years later, David is king, Saul and Jonathan are both dead, and David pauses to remember a promise he made. That’s what stands out to me: the act of remembering a personal commitment, even after the person it was made to is gone.

Mephibosheth: Not Exactly a Political Asset

David finds Mephibosheth, Jonathan’s son, who has a disability and lives in obscurity. There’s no political gain in restoring him. Mephibosheth doesn’t pose a threat, and he can’t offer any support. Still, David brings him into his home and gives him a permanent place at his table.

There’s a lot going on here that I don’t have neat answers for. What does it mean to honor someone who’s no longer around to see it? Why do some promises stay with us while others fade? And in a world where power often erases personal debts, what makes a leader look back and choose kindness?

Kings, Kindness, and a Place at the Table

David’s gesture might look small in the scheme of his reign, but it complicates the idea of what success looks like. It’s not just about conquering enemies or accumulating wealth—it’s about memory, loyalty, and maybe even grief. David doesn’t just win battles; he keeps a quiet promise to a friend.

This part of the story also shifts the focus from the big stage of kings and armies to something more intimate: a shared meal. Sitting at someone’s table means being seen, being welcomed. It’s a reminder that history isn’t only shaped by war or politics—it’s also shaped by relationships and the choices people make when no one’s watching.

What Lingers from the Past

I’m left wondering how many of our own friendships or commitments continue to shape us long after they’re over. What would it look like to reach back and act on a promise made years ago—not out of obligation, but out of memory?

The story doesn’t give easy answers, but it does offer a moment where power makes space for kindness, and where the past quietly influences the present.