Abe Alba

I was watching the 1995 film Rob Roy and I came across this quote: “All men with honor are kings; but not all kings have honor.” Such a powerful insight. It surprised me even more because earlier that day, I had re-read the story of David and Bathsheba. I found it very interesting that the chapter never refers to him as King David, but simply uses his first name—both in English and in Spanish.

Culturally speaking, the conclusion I drew from the final verses is that in marrying Bathsheba, king David wasn’t merely covering up his own sin and her clandestine pregnancy. He also framed it as an act of grand benevolence and royal compassion. To the public, he was redeeming a helpless widow—strikingly similar to how his great-grandmother Ruth was redeemed by Boaz.

It reminded me of the Spanish conquistador Hernan Cortés and his refusal to execute the last Aztec emperor, Cuauhtemoc, completely disregarding indigenous military tradition. Some historians argue that by doing this, Cortés won a double victory: he humiliated the defeated emperor in front of the remaining Aztecs by depriving him of a dignified warrior’s death, all while looking merciful to his own Spanish soldiers. Not that the Aztecs were paragons of mercy themselves, by the way.

It seems to me that the chapter’s final verse confirms my interpretation of the marriage working as a “glamorous” ending to David and Bathsheba’s story, introducing a short yet lethal sentence: “But the thing David had done displeased the Lord.” I picture it like a silent witness watching everyone breathe a sigh of relief, knowing the worst is yet to come.

Far be it from me to sound like I’m sitting in judgement of King David and Bathsheba. However, from one angle, we know this is a beautiful story that preaches the Lord’s mercy and grace. Yet, from another angle, this could also be a warning for all believers, since David’s true repentance could never bring—and indeed, never did bring—Uriah back to life: a man loyal to God, loyal to Israel, loyal to his King, his general and his brothers-in-arms, and who ultimately behaved with greater honor than the king himself. The offense against Uriah could never be taken back, there was simply no way for David to undo it.

Those of us who believe in the Lord’s grace, granted by our faith in Jesus, should never be so selfish as to excuse ourselves with the argument that we are just imperfect creatures and that no matter what we do, we will always be forgiven. For in spite of our true repentance and the restoration of our relationship with the Lord, we will never be able to undo the grief we cause to people who didn’t deserve to be hurt by us. Our actions have consequences, and let us never forget Isaiah 64:6: “…[even] all our righteous acts are like filthy rags.”

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.

Abe Alba