Some Of You Would Have Told David To Pray For Goliath

Some of You Would Have Told David to Pray for Goliath

Some of you would have told David to pray for Goliath. You would have told him to calm down. You would have told him not to be so confrontational. You would have warned him that his attitude might turn people away. You would have told him that throwing stones was not very loving. You would have reminded him that Goliath had feelings too. And you definitely would have told David not to cause a scene.

But David wasn't looking for a way to make peace with something that was openly defying God. He was looking for a stone.

There is something about the story of David and Goliath that modern religion loves to celebrate until someone actually behaves like David. We love courage when it is safely contained inside a Bible story. We love boldness when the person displaying it has been dead for three thousand years. We love prophets after they are gone. We love apostles when their confrontations are printed on thin Bible pages. But let someone stand up today and speak with that same kind of conviction, and suddenly everybody becomes concerned about tone.

"Couldn't you have said that differently?" "Did you really need to call that out?" "Why are you being so negative?" "Why can't you just preach something encouraging?" "Why don't you pray about it?"

Those are interesting questions. But I have another question. What if David had done that?

Imagine First Samuel 17 rewritten according to modern religious sensibilities. Goliath walks out and defies the armies of Israel. He mocks Israel. He challenges them. He openly defies the living God. And David says, "We shouldn't judge him."

Goliath continues blaspheming God. And David says, "Let's remember that everyone is on a different journey." Goliath challenges Israel again. And David says, "Maybe we should invite him to coffee and hear his perspective." Then someone suggests confronting Goliath. David immediately responds, "No, no, no, we don't want to cause a scene."

Would we call that faith? Would we call that love? Would we call that wisdom? Or would we call it what the Bible calls it? Fear.

That is what Israel already had. First Samuel 17:11 says that when Saul and Israel heard Goliath, "they were dismayed, and greatly afraid." Everybody was afraid except David.

And what made David different? David saw the situation differently. Everybody else saw a giant. David saw someone defying God. Everybody else was measuring Goliath. David was measuring Goliath against God. Everybody else was asking, "How can we defeat this man?" David was asking, "Who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God?"

Do you hear the difference? David's concern wasn't merely personal. It wasn't about his reputation. It wasn't about proving how tough he was. It wasn't about winning an argument. His concern was the honor of God.

And that distinction matters. Because biblical boldness is not permission to be obnoxious. Biblical courage is not an excuse for arrogance. Being rude doesn't make someone a prophet. Being loud doesn't make someone right. Being confrontational doesn't automatically make someone courageous. Our motive matters. Our message matters. Truth matters.

But there is another extreme that is just as dangerous. We have confused being nice with being faithful. And those are not always the same thing.

Sometimes faithfulness requires confrontation. Sometimes love requires correction. Sometimes truth creates conflict. Sometimes obedience causes a scene.

Read your Bible. Moses caused a scene before Pharaoh. Elijah caused a scene on Mount Carmel. Nathan caused a scene when he confronted David. John the Baptist caused a scene when he confronted Herod. Jesus caused a scene in the temple. Peter caused a scene when he told people they had crucified the Messiah. Paul caused scenes all over the Roman world.

Were these men perfect in everything they did? Of course not. But Scripture certainly does not present avoiding confrontation as the highest expression of spirituality.

So where did we get that idea? Where did we get the idea that godliness means never making anybody uncomfortable? Where did we get the idea that love means never saying anything offensive? Where did we get the idea that keeping everybody happy is the same thing as keeping peace?

Jesus Himself said in Matthew 10:34, "Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword." Jesus wasn't advocating physical violence. He was warning that truth divides. Truth forces decisions. Truth exposes darkness. Truth demands allegiance. And sometimes truth creates a scene.

That doesn't mean we go looking for fights. David didn't wake up that morning looking for Goliath. He was delivering food. But when he encountered Goliath, he refused to pretend that nothing was wrong.

There is the lesson. You don't have to manufacture battles. You don't have to create controversy for attention. You don't have to make everything into an argument. But when truth is openly challenged, there comes a point when silence stops looking like wisdom and starts looking like fear.

Ecclesiastes says there is "a time to keep silence, and a time to speak." The question is whether we have enough discernment to know the difference.

Because I wonder how many times we call something "wisdom" when it is really cowardice. "I just don't want any controversy." Maybe. Or maybe you're afraid. "I don't want anyone getting upset." Maybe. Or maybe their approval means too much to you. "I don't think we should address that." Why? Because Scripture doesn't address it? Or because addressing it might cost you something? Those are very different reasons.

David's own brother became angry with him. Read First Samuel 17:28. Eliab heard David speaking and became furious. He questioned David's motives. He accused him of pride. He essentially told him he didn't belong there.

Think about that. Before David ever faced opposition from Goliath, he received opposition from his own brother. Sometimes the first people to criticize someone standing for truth aren't the Philistines. Sometimes they're Israelites. Sometimes the loudest demand for silence comes from people standing on your own side of the battlefield.

And David asked one of the greatest questions in that entire chapter. "Is there not a cause?"

That's the question. Is there not a cause? Is truth worth defending? Is the honor of God worth defending? Is the gospel worth defending? Are souls worth warning? Is righteousness worth standing for? Or have we reduced faith to keeping everybody comfortable?

David wasn't interested in making Goliath comfortable. And apparently he wasn't terribly concerned about making Eliab comfortable either. He had something bigger on his mind. God.

That is what changes everything. When your primary concern is yourself, you will constantly calculate people's reactions. What will they think? Will they like me? Will they criticize me? Will this hurt my reputation? Will somebody leave? Will somebody complain?

But when your primary concern becomes faithfulness to God, the questions change. What has God said? What is true? What is right? What does faithfulness require?

That doesn't eliminate compassion. It gives compassion a backbone. Because love without truth isn't biblical love.

Paul said in Ephesians 4:15 that we are to speak "the truth in love." Notice that Scripture requires both. Truth and love. Love without truth becomes sentimentality. Truth without love can become cruelty. But biblical faithfulness refuses to sacrifice either one.

David's courage also came from remembering what God had already done. He remembered the lion. He remembered the bear. He remembered God's deliverance. So when Goliath appeared, David wasn't simply confident in himself. He was confident in God.

That is why he could tell Goliath, "the battle is the LORD'S." There's the heart of the story. David wasn't trying to prove David. David was trusting God.

And maybe that is what we desperately need again. Men and women who aren't looking for fights, but aren't afraid of them when truth requires one. People who aren't trying to offend, but aren't terrified of offending. Preachers who don't measure every sermon by how many people might complain. Leaders who don't determine truth by taking a vote. Believers who understand that peace at any price isn't biblical peace.

Sometimes Goliath needs prayer. But sometimes Goliath needs confrontation. And knowing the difference requires more than niceness. It requires discernment. It requires conviction. It requires courage. It requires knowing the Word of God.

Because here's something worth considering. What would have happened if David had followed the advice our culture often gives? Don't get involved. Don't be controversial. Don't judge. Don't offend. Don't make anybody uncomfortable. Don't cause a scene.

Israel would have remained terrified. Goliath would have continued mocking them. And everybody could have congratulated themselves for being very polite.

Thankfully, David didn't choose politeness over faithfulness. He walked toward the giant.

So maybe the question isn't whether you're willing to pray for Goliath. Maybe the question is whether you have enough discernment to recognize when Goliath is standing in front of you.

And when that moment comes, what will you do? Will you remain with the frightened crowd? Will you criticize the person willing to stand? Will you tell David to calm down? Will you tell him to be nicer? Will you tell him not to cause a scene?

Or will you finally ask the question David asked?

"Is there not a cause?"

Because sometimes faith kneels in prayer. Sometimes faith waits patiently. Sometimes faith speaks gently.

And sometimes faith picks up a stone.