The House of Saul and the Songs of David


A prophetic editorial for a noisy age

A sobering pattern in Scripture keeps resurfacing in the modern worship debates. This is especially true when scandals erupt. During these times, voices rise to condemn entire ministries. It is the pattern of Saul’s house. It is impressive, polished, and anointed in the eyes of the people. It is also the pattern of David, the shepherd‑psalmist whose songs carried healing into a broken court.

Why This Conversation Matters Now

In recent years, well‑known ministries such as Bethel, Hillsong, and Elevation have faced intense public scrutiny. Some of that scrutiny has been justified, some exaggerated, and some weaponized. What began as accountability has, in many circles, turned into a movement. This movement seeks to discredit not only the leaders who failed. It also discredits the worship, the songs, and the sincere believers who served faithfully within those houses. This article is not written to defend institutions. It is written to defend the Davids—those who ministered with purity in places where Saul’s fell. It also aims to remind the church that while God judges leaders, He also preserves worship. This is not a theoretical argument. It is a response to a spiritual battle raging right now.

The People’s King and the Shepherd’s Song

Saul embodied everything Israel believed a leader should be. “A choice young man and a goodly: there was not among the children of Israel a goodlier person than he” (1 Samuel 9:2). Yet beneath the appearance, something was breaking. His disobedience became rebellion, for “rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is as iniquity and idolatry” (1 Samuel 15:23).

Into that compromised house, God sent a boy with a harp. Scripture says, “David took a harp and played… so Saul was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him” (1 Samuel 16:23). While Saul unraveled, David worshiped. While Saul threw spears—“Saul cast the spear; for he said, I will smite David even to the wall” (1 Samuel 18:11)—David refused to return them.

David ministered instead of weaponizing his gift.

The Modern Sauls and the Modern Davids

Today, the failures of large ministries often become the feeding ground of self‑appointed critics. They gather like the Pharisee in Jesus’ parable, who prayed, “God, I thank thee that I am not as other men are” (Luke 18:11). They forget that Saul was anointed too. God placed him on the throne. David served faithfully in a spiritually sick environment.

David’s songs were born in a broken house, not a perfect one. His worship rose from places like, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want” (Psalm 23:1) and “Create in me a clean heart, O God” (Psalm 51:10). To attack every worship song because of the failures of a leader is to confuse Saul with David. It is to condemn the harpist because the king lost his way.

The Sin of the Sword‑Bearer

There is a dangerous arrogance in believing that God needs human outrage to accomplish His justice. David understood that judgment belongs to God alone. When Saul hunted him, David said, “I will not put forth mine hand against my lord; for he is the Lord’s anointed” (1 Samuel 24:10).

There is another moment in Scripture that exposes this same spirit. When the mob came to seize Jesus, Peter drew his sword and struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his ear. But Jesus immediately rebuked him: “Put up thy sword into the sheath” (John 18:10–11). Peter believed he was defending the truth. He believed he was protecting the Kingdom. But in his zeal, he wounded the very one Jesus intended to reach—and Jesus healed what Peter’s sword had damaged. Many today are repeating Peter’s mistake, cutting off ears in the name of righteousness and silencing the very people God is still pursuing.

Paul echoes the same truth: “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord” (Romans 12:19).

Because David refused to take God’s job, God gave David the kingdom. “So all the elders of Israel came… and they anointed David king over Israel” (2 Samuel 5:3).

The Scandals Are Real—But So Is the Pattern

Yes, the sins of modern Sauls are being exposed. Yes, God is humbling what needs to be humbled. “To every thing there is a season… a time to break down, and a time to build up” (Ecclesiastes 3:1,3). But in the midst of that shaking, there are Davids—songwriters, worship leaders, musicians—who served faithfully in those houses. And God is still near to them, for “the Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart” (Psalm 34:18).

To crucify them because Saul fell is to repeat the error of the Pharisee who mistook indignation for righteousness. Jesus warned, “Judge not, that ye be not judged” (Matthew 7:1).

Let God be God.

A Final Admonition

Unless we are sinless, it is not wise to cast stones or spears at another whom God may be preparing to raise up. Jesus said, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone” (John 8:7). And James reminds us, “There is one lawgiver, who is able to save and to destroy: who art thou that judgest another?” (James 4:12).

The call of this moment is not to sharpen swords but to sheath them. Not to condemn but to discern. Not to destroy but to wait. Not to exalt ourselves but to humble ourselves. “Let all bitterness… be put away from you” (Ephesians 4:31) and “in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves” (Philippians 2:3).

The God who removed Saul is the same God who raised David. “Promotion cometh neither from the east, nor from the west… but God is the judge” (Psalm 75:6‑7). And Christ Himself “committed himself to Him that judgeth righteously” (1 Peter 2:23).

The Final Word

In an age of noise, outrage, and digital stones, the church must remember the lesson Jesus taught: “Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth” (Matthew 5:5). And again, “He that humbleth himself shall be exalted” (Luke 18:14).

Let the Sauls fall if God wills it.
Let the Davids rise when God appoints it.
Let the songs continue to minister.
Let the swords remain sheathed.
Let God be God.

“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart… and He shall direct thy paths” (Proverbs 3:5‑6).
“All things work together for good to them that love God” (Romans 8:28).

Snowmageddon and the Storms We Create: When the World Mobilizes and the Church Retreats


The forecasts grow louder. The graphics turn dramatic. The region braces for what the news has christened Snowmageddon. This is a storm wrapped in apocalyptic language. It comes complete with countdown clocks, urgent tickers, and warnings that feel more cinematic than meteorological. The world prepares with a kind of frantic determination. Meanwhile, something else unfolds quietly in the background. It is almost unnoticed unless you are paying attention.

Electric linemen are already staged in their trucks, engines idling, ready to restore power the moment the first line snaps. Road crews sit in warm garages beside mountains of salt, waiting for the call to roll out into the night. Grocery stores are stripped bare as shoppers fill carts with enough food to survive a siege. Everyone is mobilizing. Everyone is preparing. Everyone is stepping into their role with a sense of duty and resolve.

And then, amid all this activity, comes the announcement from the one place that claims to carry the unshakable Kingdom:

“All services are canceled due to inclement weather.”

The contrast is hard to ignore. The world gears up. The church shuts down.

This is not about recklessness or ignoring safety. It is about the symbolism—the quiet confession embedded in the decision. When the world anticipates hardship, it mobilizes. When the church anticipates hardship, it retreats. And that retreat reveals something deeper than a scheduling adjustment. It reveals a posture.

Scripture never once suggests that worship is a Sunday-only activity, nor does it tie devotion to favorable weather. The command is simple and ancient: “Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh is a Sabbath to the LORD your God.” (Exodus 20:9–10) The rhythm is work and rest, not convenience and cancellation. If the work of the Kingdom is the saving of souls, it also includes the strengthening of the saints. It involves the breaking of bread and the prayers of the people. Then that work is not suspended by snowflakes.

The early church understood this instinctively. They gathered in homes, courtyards, borrowed rooms, and hidden places. They met in caves and catacombs. They prayed in prison cells. They broke bread wherever they could find a table. They did not have buildings to close, so they could not close the church. Their worship was not weather-permitting. Their devotion was not seasonal. Their gatherings were not fragile.

Jesus Himself warned us about the danger of a faith that collapses under pressure. “Everyone who hears these words of Mine and does them is like a wise man who built his house on the rock.” (Matthew 7:24) The storm came, the winds blew, the floods rose—and the house stood because its foundation was not circumstantial. But the house built on sand fell, “and great was its fall.” (Matthew 7:27)

A storm does not create weakness. A storm reveals it.

And perhaps that is what Snowmageddon exposes—not the fragility of our infrastructure, but the fragility of our ecclesiology. A church that closes at the first sign of difficulty has confused the building with the body. A church that cancels worship because the weather is inconvenient has forgotten. It has forgotten that worship is not an event but a life. A church that retreats while the world mobilizes is a church that has lost sight of its calling.

Jesus said, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” (Matthew 9:37) He did not add, “unless it snows.” He did not say, “unless the roads are slick.” He did not suggest that the work of the Kingdom pauses when the forecast is unfavorable. Souls do not stop needing salvation because the temperature drops. Hearts do not stop needing hope because the wind picks up. Darkness does not delay its work because the roads are icy.

If anything, storms heighten the need for light.

The world prepares for the storm because it knows what storms can do. The church should prepare for the storm because it knows what storms reveal.

And maybe that is the quiet message hidden inside this winter’s theatrics. If a snowstorm can cancel our worship, perhaps what we call worship was never the thing God asked for. If a weather system can scatter the saints, perhaps the gathering was never rooted in the Spirit. If the church retreats while the world mobilizes, maybe we have forgotten that the Kingdom work is still work. The One who called us did not limit His commission to clear skies.

“Be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord.” (1 Corinthians 15:58)

Storm or no storm, the Kingdom does not close. Storm or no storm, the mission does not pause. Storm or no storm, the church is still the church.

And maybe Snowmageddon is not the storm we should fear. Maybe the greater storm is the quiet one. It shows how easily we retreat when the world needs us most.

WHEN THE KINGDOM TREMBLES:


A Watchman’s Word for a Nation in Upheaval

Solomon once wrote:

“What has been will be again; what has been done will be done again. There is nothing new under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes 1:9)

If you want to understand the turmoil of our time, you don’t need a pundit. You need a Bible.

The unrest we see today is not new. The outrage, the factions, the calls for resistance, and the crowds stirred to avenge a leader have long existed. It is ancient. It is familiar. It is recorded in Scripture with unnerving precision.

The names change. The slogans change. The flags change.

But the spirit behind it does not.


THE DAY THE SONGS SHIFTED:

When Public Praise Became Political Crisis**

Israel’s political fracture began with a chant:

“Saul has slain his thousands, and David his tens of thousands.” (1 Samuel 18:7)

That lyrics were not entertainment. It was a national poll.

It told the nation. It told Saul. The people saw something in David they no longer saw in their king.

Scripture says:

“Saul eyed David from that day forward.” (1 Samuel 18:9)

That is the moment a leader stops governing and starts defending his throne.


THE GIANT THAT EXPOSED THE KING

For forty days, Goliath mocked Israel. For forty days, Saul — the tallest man in the nation (1 Samuel 9:2) — did nothing.

Then David stepped forward and did in minutes what the king failed to do in over a month:

“So David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone.” (1 Samuel 17:50)

This was not just a military victory. It was public humiliation for Saul.

David didn’t just silence a giant. He exposed a leader who had lost courage, clarity, and the anointing.

And insecure leaders do not forgive those who reveal their weakness.


THE RISE OF TWO CAMPS

From that moment, Israel split into two factions:

Saul’s Camp — The Old Guard

  • loyal to the throne
  • fearful of change
  • convinced David was a threat
  • emotionally tied to Saul’s past victories

David’s Camp — The New Movement

  • loyal to God’s anointing
  • drawn to righteousness
  • inspired by courage
  • convinced God was shifting the kingdom

This was not rebellion. This was discernment.

But Saul saw it as sedition.


THE POLITICS OF JEALOUSY AND FEAR

Saul’s insecurity metastasized into violence:

“Saul cast the spear… for he said, ‘I will pin David to the wall.’” (1 Samuel 18:11)

When that failed:

“Saul sought to kill David.” (1 Samuel 19:10)

He mobilized the army. He weaponized the state. He turned the machinery of government against a single man.

This is what happens when a leader loses the fear of God.


DAVID’S RESTRAINT:

The Only Thing That Prevented Civil War**

David had multiple opportunities to kill Saul:

  • in the cave at En Gedi (1 Samuel 24)
  • in the camp while Saul slept (1 Samuel 26)

His men urged him to strike. They saw it as justice. They saw it as self‑defense. They saw it as God’s will.

But David said:

“The Lord forbid that I should stretch out my hand against the Lord’s anointed.” (1 Samuel 24:6)

David refused to seize power by force. He refused to avenge himself. He refused to let outrage masquerade as righteousness.

He understood:

“He removes kings and raises up kings.” (Daniel 2:21)

And that sometimes a nation receives the leader it asked for:

“Make us a king to judge us like all the nations.” (1 Samuel 8:5)

And sometimes the leader it deserves:

“You have rejected your God… therefore the Lord will not hear you.” (1 Samuel 8:18)

David feared God more than he feared losing.

That is why he became king.


ABSALOM:

The Charismatic Usurper Who Weaponized Grievance**

Absalom didn’t begin with swords. He began with sentiment.

Scripture says:

“Absalom stole the hearts of the men of Israel.” (2 Samuel 15:6)

He positioned himself at the gate. He intercepted grievances. He amplified frustrations. He promised justice. He played the victim. He played the hero.

And when the moment was right:

“The conspiracy grew strong.” (2 Samuel 15:12)

A crowd convinced they were fighting for righteousness was actually fighting against God’s chosen king.


BARABBAS:

The Insurrectionist the Crowd Preferred Over the Messiah**

Pilate offered the people a choice:

  • Jesus, the innocent
  • Barabbas, the insurrectionist

Scripture is explicit:

“Barabbas was in prison with the rebels who had committed murder in the insurrection.” (Mark 15:7)

And the crowd shouted:

“Not this man, but Barabbas!” (John 18:40)

Then:

“Crucify Him!” (Mark 15:13)

The crowd believed they were defending justice. They demanded the release of a murderer and the execution of the Son of God.

That is what happens when outrage becomes a god.


THE WATCHMAN’S WORD FOR OUR TIME

A nation becomes Saul’s camp under several circumstances. This happens when it rallies to avenge a leader who feels threatened. It occurs when crowds are stirred into frenzy. It is observed when loyalty replaces discernment. When emotion replaces Scripture and outrage replaces obedience. Moreover, when personal conviction replaces the fear of the Lord, that nation is truly Saul’s camp. That nation has become Saul’s camp.

And Scripture warns what happens next.

The Watchman’s call is simple:

Do not let your outrage become your god. Do not let your loyalty become your idol. Do not let your emotions become your prophet. Do not strike what God has not commanded you to strike.

Because if you do, you may find yourself fighting against the very thing God Himself has established.

“Vengeance is mine,” says the Lord; “I will repay.” (Romans 12:19)


Benediction: The Posture of a Child of God in a Divided Nation

May the people of God remember. Our allegiance is to the Lord. It is not to the noise of the crowd or the fury of the moment. When nations rage and factions demand loyalty, may you stand where Scripture commands — not where outrage pushes.

May you refuse the spirit of Saul that strikes in fear. Embrace the spirit of David who waited on the Lord.

Reject the seduction of Absalom. He steals hearts with grievance. Cling to the Shepherd‑King. He leads with righteousness.

May you discern the difference between the crowd that cried “Crucify.” May you also see the remnant that stayed at the foot of the cross.

May your heart be governed by the Word, not by the winds of public opinion.
For it is written:

  • “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” (Proverbs 3:5-6)
  • “Be slow to speak, slow to anger, for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.” (James 1:19-20)
  • “Do not repay evil for evil but overcome evil with good.” (1 Peter 3:9)
  • “Let every soul be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except from God.” (Romans 13:1)
  • “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.” (Matthew 5:9)

May you walk in fear of the Lord,
not the fear of losing influence.

May you speak truth without venom,
stand firm without violence,
and wait on God without grasping for power.

May your discernment be sharper than the rhetoric of the age. Let your obedience be deeper than the passions of the crowd.

When the kingdom trembles and the factions roar, may you be found among those who act only with God’s command. Do not follow a multitude to do evil. Trust the Judge of all the earth to do what is right.

May the Lord steady your steps,
guard your tongue,
anchor your heart,
and keep you from the snares of reaction.

For the kingdoms of this world rise and fall,
but the Kingdom of our God endures forever.

Amen.

PLAYOFF FAITH — RUN TO WIN


1 Corinthians 9:24-26


Imagine a sharp, high-definition shot from a night playoff game. Stadium lights cut through the cold air. Breath is visible from the linemen at the line of scrimmage. Grass is torn up under cleats. A roaring crowd is pressed in on all sides. On the field, helmets collide, jerseys stretch, and every yard is fought for. In the stands, thousands of hands are raised. Voices are lifted. Hearts are fully engaged. Yet only twenty-two people are actually in the game.

That’s the picture Paul presses into when he writes:“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it.”1 Corinthians 9:24

Every athlete starts the season with the same uniform. They have the same schedule. Everyone faces the same long list of practices and meetings. Film sessions are also part of the routine. In the same way, many believers step into the life of faith. They put on the “uniform.” They attend services. They lift their hands in worship. They learn the language of the kingdom. But Paul’s words cut through a dangerous assumption: simply being on the team does not guarantee the trophy. Not everyone who runs wins. Not everyone who shows up finishes with a crown.

There is a subtle mindset that creeps into the church. It is much like the attitude of some fans in the stands. They think, “I’m here, I’m cheering, I’m emotionally invested — so I’m part of the action.” The stadium needs spectators, but the scoreboard only tracks what happens on the field. In the same way, Christianity was never meant to be a spectator sport. It is not just about watching, reacting, and commenting from a distance. It is a participation calling — a summons onto the field, into the contact, into the cost.

Paul won’t let us hide in the bleachers. He pulls us down to field level and says, in essence: Look around. Everyone is running. Everyone is moving. Everyone appears busy. But only those who run with intention, discipline, and focus actually obtain the prize. That is the difference between regular-season faith and what we call Playoff Faith.

Regular-season faith is content to be present. Playoff Faith is determined to prevail.

Paul continues:“Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable crown, but we an imperishable.”— 1 Corinthians 9:25

Players on the field will push their bodies to the edge of exhaustion. They will study film deep into the night. They will live with relentless focus. All of this effort is for a trophy that will gather dust and a ring that will one day be buried. They do all of that for a glory that fades as soon as the next season starts. Meanwhile, believers are called to train for a crown that will never tarnish. It will never crack, never be outdated, and never be replaced.

Yet if we are honest, many of us have given more discipline to our hobbies, our careers, our favorite teams, and our entertainment than we have to the race of faith.

Paul refuses to preach from a safe distance. He does not see himself as a commentator in the booth, narrating the game while others take the hits. Listen to his language:“So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.”— 1 Corinthians 9:26–27

This is not fear talking; it is focus. This man understands that calling is not the same as finishing. He knows gifting is not the same as winning. He knows that the uniform gives you access, but discipline brings advancement. He refuses to assume that being on the roster of preachers automatically places him on the podium of finishers.

This is where Playoff Faith is born. It doesn’t emerge in the spotlight. It grows in the quiet, unseen choices that separate contenders from the crowd. The ones who advance in the kingdom are not always the most talented. They are not always the most visible or the most loudly cheered. They are the ones who refuse to coast. The ones who refuse to confuse attendance with endurance. The ones who refuse to settle for a spiritual participation trophy when God has placed a real crown within reach.

Playoff Faith is the faith that steps out of the stands and onto the field. It’s the believer who decides, I will not only sing about surrender; I will actually surrender. I will not only clap for obedience; I will actually obey. I will not only cheer for others who run; I will run my own race to win. Christianity is not something we watch; it’s something we walk. It is not something we consume; it’s something we carry.

Playoff Faith wakes with purpose. It trains when no one is watching. It guards the heart when compromise whispers, “Just ease up. You’re doing more than most.” It keeps running when the season gets long and the hits get heavy. It remembers there is a finish line ahead. There is a real reward beyond it. It takes Paul’s words seriously: not everyone who enters the race wins the crown. Everyone who runs to obtain it has a real chance to finish with that crown in hand.

This is the invitation God puts before us. It is not to run casually. It is not to drift. It is not to live as if the outcome is automatic. The invitation is to run with fierce determination, to run with focused determination. That includes seeking the pleasure of God. It involves experiencing the joy of obedience. It testifies to a life that did more than watch from the stands.

You might feel small as a single player in a massive stadium. However, heaven is not judging you based on your seat. It is watching your race.

Playoff Faith does not settle for being on the team. Playoff Faith refuses the comfort of the bleachers. Playoff Faith runs, and trains, and presses, and finishes —to win.

🏈 BENEDICTION — FOR THOSE WHO RUN TO WIN

May the Lord strengthen your stride, discipline your heart, and focus your eyes on the imperishable crown.

May you refuse the comfort of the bleachers, the drift of casual faith, and the illusion that presence equals victory.
May you run with purpose, train with fire, and finish with joy.
And when the hits come, when the season stretches, when the crowd thins —may you remember that heaven does not reward the loudest cheer, but the deepest endurance.
You were not made to spectate. You were called to participate. You were chosen to run.
So run to win.
In Jesus’ name —
Amen.

🕊 Thanksgiving: Consecration, Not Consumption


A call to remember Plymouth Rock, Bradford’s lesson, and the biblical mandate of gratitude.



🌾 The Forgotten Feast

Thanksgiving in America has become a spectacle of excess—oversized turkeys, crowded tables, and competitive pie-making. But the original feast at Plymouth Rock was not about indulgence. It was about survival. It was about consecration.

In November 1620, the Pilgrims arrived in New England battered by storms and burdened by hope. They landed late in the season, with little time to prepare for winter. Disease, exposure, and starvation swept through the colony. By spring, nearly half had perished.

Their early experiment in communal living—mandated by their charter—required shared labor and shared harvest. It was a form of enforced equality. But instead of unity, it bred resentment and idleness. Governor William Bradford recorded that this system “was found to breed much confusion and discontent.” Young men balked at laboring for others’ families without reward. Productivity collapsed. Hunger deepened.

In 1623, Bradford made a bold change. He divided the land into private plots, allowing each family to plant and reap for themselves. The results were immediate. “This had very good success,” he wrote, “for it made all hands very industrious.” The colony flourished. The harvest came. And the Pilgrims gave thanks—not for abundance, but for survival.

📖 Scripture’s Model for Gratitude

The Pilgrims’ story echoes timeless biblical truths:

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

“Whoever works his land will have plenty of bread.” (Proverbs 12:11)

“Whatever one sows, that will he also reap.” (Galatians 6:7)

“If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat.” (2 Thessalonians 3:10)

And perhaps most fitting of all:

“Better a handful with contentment than abundance with strife.” (Ecclesiastes 4:6)

This verse pierces through the noise of modern Thanksgiving. It reminds us that peace and gratitude in simplicity are far richer than anxiety in excess.

️ A Warning for Our Time

Today, we see an ever-expanding version of Bradford’s failed experiment. Promises of equality without responsibility have produced not abundance but poverty. Dependency has replaced diligence. Complaints about the cost of a Thanksgiving meal drown out gratitude for the little we have.

History warns us: when government replaces God as provider, bondage follows. When entitlement replaces stewardship, harvests shrink. When gratitude is lost, pride takes root.

The Pilgrims endured loss, yet they gave thanks. We endure abundance, yet we complain. This is the danger of complacency: forgetting the heights from which we have fallen.

🔔 A Pastoral Admonition

Beloved, Thanksgiving is not about who can host the biggest feast, carve the largest turkey, or bake the most pies. It is about a heart that has found contentment in what the Lord has provided. It is about gratitude in little or much.

Let us return Thanksgiving to its rightful place:

A daily rhythm of gratitude, morning and evening.

A national remembrance that every breath is mercy.

A consecrated altar where families pause to pray, repent, and give thanks for another year of life.

Let the Church lead the way. Let us honor God above government, stewardship above entitlement, and gratitude above complaint. For when we return to Him in thanksgiving, we will find not only provision for today but the promise of abundance in eternity.

“Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” (Revelation 19:9)

Now that’s a Thanksgiving meal I pray I get invited to!