The Anointed Shepherd
Do you remember playing games at recess as a kid? You always wanted to get picked first didn’t you? If you got picked first, it meant you were a hot shot, a big deal. What did you not want to be? Picked last. You know, even if you’re bad at something, and everyone knows it, who are the only people on the planet you can count on to support you? Your parents. What we’re going to see today is David is chosen last, and his own dad didn’t even choose him. The way we choose is almost never the way that God chooses.
1 Samuel 16 is the story of David’s anointing, but it’s also more than that. It confronts our instincts. It exposes what we value. It exposes what we trust. And it tells us that God creates His kingdom in ways that shake up human categories. It plays out through “repeated dialogue between God and Samuel” so that “God’s judgments are rendered with perfect, authoritative transparency.”[1] In other words, there is no question here who’s telling the story. Saul may sit on the throne, but God is the one who’s ruling over history. He’s writing the story.
So, Saul has now failed in this story. And Samuel is grieving, as we talked about last week. And in that moment of national instability, God anoints a young shepherd boy while Saul is still on the throne.
Faithful obedience often requires trusting God through grief and fear. (1–5)
The chapter begins with the Lord calling out to Samuel, “How long will you grieve over Saul, since I have rejected him from being king over Israel?” Remember from last week: Samuel’s grief is real. He anointed Saul. He hoped he would become the kind of king who would trust God and lead the people well. But Saul had chosen himself over God.
The Hebrew participle,[2] in this text, gives the impression that this wasn’t a one-time event but continuing activity, and that the atmosphere was, as one commentator describes, “like a gray day in December, with rain falling and 41 degrees.”[3] Dreary, right? I think that captures it well. This isn’t mild disappointment. This is real, continuing discouragement in the face of spiritual failure and national turmoil.
There is a time to lament. But lamentation shouldn’t be a dwelling place for us. It’s not a place for us to stay. We aren’t to live in the house of mourning. God says, “Fill your horn with oil and go.” In other words, don’t make a home in your disappointment. I’m not finished with My purposes. Y’all, God isn’t scrambling. He’s not surprised. He’s already seen what Samuel hasn’t.
And Samuel responds honestly, with fear, “How can I go? If Saul hears it, he will kill me.” That isn’t a lack of faith on his part. We often confuse having fear with lacking faith. What that is is realism. Saul is not a stable person. He has all the power. And anointing another king while he is still king is treason. One commentator points out “a whole new political perspective is thrown” onto the story because “it is the king who has the armed divisions, and who might be ready to use them if Samuel should take any active steps to replace him.”[4] Samuel knows the risks here. The text doesn’t call Samuel out for being afraid. You know why? Obedience is often afraid. Faith isn’t being fear–free. Faith is moving forward amidst fear.
God provides a way for him. He always does for us as well. He gives Samuel a legitimate reason to come to Bethlehem: he can offer a sacrifice.[5] God doesn’t remove the danger. But He gives Samuel wisdom for it. And when Samuel gets there, the elders of Bethlehem came to meet him trembling, because they were afraid, and asked him, “Do you come peaceably?” The leaders are aware of the political tension. Samuel has power, and his presence makes them nervous. They don’t know if he’s bringing judgment or what.
So, there’s a lot going on here. And it’s all wrapped up in God’s calling. His plans and purposes. Walking in them in obedience and living them out. Many of us want God’s calling without the risk. We want to walk in obedience without the danger. But God leads His followers into uncertain places. Samuel had to head toward danger to see what God had prepared and walk in what God had called him to. You know what that is? That’s walking by faith.
Inward integrity is of greater value than outward impressiveness. (6–7)
As Jesse’s sons present themselves to Samuel, he’s drawn to Eliab. He looks the part. He’s tall. He’s strong. He’s impressive. Samuel thinks, “Surely the Lord’s anointed stands before Him.” It seems obvious. But God interrupts him. “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees. Man looks on the outward appearance but the Lord looks on the heart.” That verse is the theological center of the chapter. But there’s something even more central. God sees. He sees differently than we see.
You should notice how often the Hebrew root ra’ah,[6] which means “to see” is used in this chapter. One commentator writes, “The key word (or key root) in the chapter provides its theme… The verb is ra’ah… This root occurs nine times in this chapter.”[7] The entire narrative is structured around sight. God is saying, “I have seen among his sons a king for myself.” Samuel sees Eliab and assumes he’s the one. God sees differently.
Think about it. The world is addicted to what is visible. Social media. More and more things. Visibility. Skill. Personality. We are so easily impressed by shiny things. We gauge by what takes a good picture and what grabs a good headline. But God isn’t looking for image, what’s on the outside. He is looking for integrity, what nobody sees. We look at what is seen. God sees what is unseen. We so often set our eyes on the wrong things. We see that in even Samuel, the great prophet of God, needed correction here. If Samuel could misjudge by appearances, so could we.
Jesse takes seven sons out to Samuel. And one by one, God says, “No. Nope. No…” The introductions get more and more awkward. He gets more and more antsy. Eventually Samuel asks, “Are all the young men here? Is this all of them?” Jesse replies, “There remains yet the youngest, but behold, he is keeping the sheep.” The right one isn’t in the room. The king God has chosen is in the field.
God’s calling is His claim on a person’s whole life. (8–13)
David is called from the fields. When he arrives he’s dirty, young, ordinary. But the deciding word doesn’t come from what Samuel’s sees of him. It’s made by God: “Rise, anoint him. He’s the one!” So Samuel takes the horn of oil and anoints David in front of his brothers. And, “The spirit of Yahweh rushed on David from that time onward.” The oil can be seen. The Spirit is what matters. God’s presence is the real qualification for God’s job. And God had chosen David.
There’s no doubt about who chose David. David didn’t ask to be king. He was chosen while tending sheep. What’s crazy to me is what happens next. David doesn’t take the throne right away. He goes back to the ordinary—to tending sheep. He’ll continue to work and play his instrument. He’ll keep shepherding. His spirituality isn’t separated from his daily life—that’s why Eugene Peterson calls it “earthy spirituality” that we can all relate to. God’s call doesn’t take David out of the field. It transforms the field for him. David saw God in every aspect of His life where he was, and that allowed the extraordinary moments later to seem no different than the ordinary moments he was in then. I love how Eugene Peterson puts it:
“David entered the Valley of Elah with a God-dominated, not a Goliath-dominated, imagination. He was incredulous that everyone was cowering before this infidel giant. Weren’t these men enlisted in the army of the living God? God was the reality with which David had to do; giants didn’t figure largely in David’s understanding of the world, the real world.
In the Bethlehem hills and meadows, tending his father’s sheep, David was immersed in the largeness and immediacy of God. He had experienced God’s strength in protecting the sheep in his fights with lions and bears. He had practiced the presence of God so thoroughly that God’s word, which he couldn’t literally hear, was far more real to him than the lion’s roar, which he could hear. He had worshiped the majesty of God so continuously that God’s love, which he couldn’t see, was far more real to him than the bear’s ferocity, which he could see. His praying and singing, his meditation and adoration had shaped an imagination in him that set each sheep and lamb, bear and lion into something large and vast and robust: God.”[8]
We often imagine calling as something dramatic and big. But here, calling begins in obscurity. It begins in routine faithfulness. It begins in a pasture. The same boy that protected sheep will later protect a nation. But before David stands before Goliath, he first stands alone in a field before God.
There is no secular/sacred divide with God.[9] His calling is for our whole life to be given over to Him. And when we give Him everything, even the ordinary, it changes everything. God’s call reshapes the ordinary. It sanctifies family life, work life, difficult seasons. Everything. It’s as Abraham Kuyper famously said, “There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry: 'Mine!'”[10] It all belongs to God! Every part of our life! There’s no sacred compartment over here and secular compartment over there. If God has claimed you, then every part of you belongs to Him. David knew this as a young shepherd boy, and he came to know this even more richly throughout his life as a shepherd king.
The Good Shepherd can be trusted in all things. (Psalm 23)
Years later, long after his shepherd days were behind him, David would write Psalm 23. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” David knew what it meant to keep sheep safe from predators. He knew what it meant to shepherd them to water and pasture. When David calls the Lord his Shepherd, he’s speaking from personal experience.
“The Lord is my shepherd” is covenant language. That’s intimate language. It’s dependent language. David isn’t boasting in his kingship here. He’s confessing his need, which isn’t something a king normally does.
“He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.” God’s guidance is His grace. Restoration is grace. God doesn’t just command us. He leads us to flourishing. He provides. He’s not up in heaven wagging His finger at us. He’s leading us to life. Even when the road gets hard.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” The promise isn’t that there are no valleys. The promise is that the Shepherd doesn’t leave no matter how bad it gets.
“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” God doesn’t only help you survive. He sustains you amidst opposition. David witnessed this over and over and over again.
“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.” That word follow carries the sense of pursuit. Goodness and mercy chase after every believer because they flow out of the character of God, not our works.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd who lays down His life for His sheep.
David’s life, earthy and flawed and God-centered, prepares us to recognize the Good Shepherd, Jesus. Jesus says in John 10:11, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” Jesus doesn’t merely risk His life. He freely gives it. He knows His sheep. He calls them by name.
Hear the full context of how Jesus describes Himself in John 10 with this shepherding thought in mind:
John 10:1-16 – “Truly, truly, I say to you, he who does not enter the sheepfold by the door but climbs in by another way, that man is a thief and a robber. 2 But he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. 3 To him the gatekeeper opens. The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4 When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice. 5 A stranger they will not follow, but they will flee from him, for they do not know the voice of strangers.” 6 This figure of speech Jesus used with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them.
7 So Jesus again said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, I am the door of the sheep. 8 All who came before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. 9 I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved and will go in and out and find pasture. 10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. 11 I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. 12 He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. 13 He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. 14 I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, 15 just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep. 16 And I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.
In Hebrews 13:20-21, to close out the book of Hebrews, it says, “20 Now may the God of peace who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant, 21 equip you with everything good that you may do his will, working in us that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.”
And in 1 Peter 5:4 to those elders who serve faithfully, and really to all who are in Christ, who trust in the good shepherd, this is the blessed hope that awaits: " And when the chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the unfading crown of glory.”
[1] Robert Alter, The David Story: A Translation with Commentary of 1 and 2 Samuel (New York: W. W. Norton, 1999), 95.
[2] https://biblehub.com/interlinear/1_samuel/16-1.htm
[3] Dale Ralph Davis, Looking on the Heart: Expositions of the Book of 1 Samuel, vol. 2, 1 Samuel 15–31, Expositor's Guide to the Historical Books (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1994), 26.
[4] Alter, 95.
[6] https://biblehub.com/hebrew/7200.htm
[7] Davis, 26.
[8] Peterson, Eugene H. Leap Over a Wall: Earthy Spirituality for Everyday Christians. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997, 39-40.
[9] See Nancy Pearcy’s book Total Truth for an in-depth analysis on this topic.
[10] Abraham Kuyper, “Sphere Sovereignty,” in Abraham Kuyper: A Centennial Reader, ed. James D. Bratt (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 488.
