When Leaders Fail Us Morally

I was maybe six or seven when I broke the bathroom scales in the home of my parents’ friends when we visited them out of state for an overnight stay. I moved the adjustment mechanism too far and the scales stopped working.

The story of the adult David’s sexual sin strikes us as so low, so despicable, and so unbelievable that it is a wonder it is even included in the Bible.

I was mortified, but couldn’t bring myself to tell my parents or our hosts. I always assumed they wondered how their scales broke—perhaps they blamed their own children.

Years later when I officially joined the church, this experience bothered me. When the pastor talked to us about confessing our sins, I knew I should confess to this family. I dug into Mom’s address book and privately wrote them a confession, never telling my mom and dad about it. But the weight off my heart was as big as if I had confessed to stealing. The mother graciously sent a note in return, forgiving me and saying not to worry about it anymore.

But I was always glad for that experience. I didn’t want to bear that “weight” again.

This may have been a small childhood “accident” to many, unlike the huge wrong committed by a favorite biblical character, King David. But it is David the shepherd boy who first wins our hearts when the prophet Samuel arrives at young David’s home to anoint one of Jesse’s seven sons as the new king for ancient Israel. At first youngest son, David is passed over, but Samuel calls out Jesse for overlooking him. There are many stories out of David’s youth that lure us: the unlikely winner in a grossly mismatched competition with Goliath; the engaging young harpist who lifted the heart of a depressed and eventually suicidal King Saul. At other places in the Bible we learn that David was a person “after God’s own heart.” Many reasons to admire David.

So the story of the adult David’s sexual sin strikes us as so low, so despicable, and so unbelievable that it is a wonder it is even included in the Bible (2 Samuel 11). How could such a boyhood hero grow up to stoop so low?

The Bible says that in springtime, “the time when kings go off to war,” David sees the lovely Bathsheba, wife of his commanding military officer Uriah, bathing on the roof of her home. He sends for her and, as king, has his way with her. The passage is almost embarrassing to read to children, and we hope they don’t catch the nuance of why David orders his commander home when Bathsheba lets David know she’s pregnant. Soap operas have nothing over Scripture.

But Uriah is too noble to enjoy his wife’s bed while his men are suffering and dying in the field. So he abstains, and David has to think up another plan to cover up Bathsheba’s pregnancy. He orders Uriah to the front lines. Uriah is promptly killed. David wins.

After a respectable period of mourning, Bathsheba is brought to King David’s palace as yet another wife. At first we don’t see or sense that David even suffers guilt for all that he has done. Perhaps because of his position and power, maybe he feels “entitled.” He was too protected from the small inner voice that says: you messed up. Perhaps it was simple denial.

We all have a sea of denial swirling about us when we do wrong, rationalizing “it was just a little lie.” The human mind is masterful in disowning and excuses, as we’ve heard in countless press conferences.

Our rationalizing may be not as grandiose as those of kings and presidents and university athletic directors. Ours may be as simple as thoughts like, “I’m not really gossiping—I’m sharing background information on a prayer request.” “My fib about an appointment to get out of a dinner invitation is okay—even if my appointment is just with my TV set.” “This relationship is just a friendship, and it will be okay as long as my spouse doesn’t find out.” We are saps of self-justification.

Whether you find the story of David embarrassing, titillating, or despicable, this may be one of the most amazing stories in the whole Bible. We learn that God’s anointed, chosen, wise and fearless leader is human just like us. David was not exempt from temptation or from astoundingly evil deeds. God’s amazing love and grace covers the lowest of sins. There is hope for us all.

I love that in Psalm 51 the story of David’s adultery and murder plot is referenced again. In a pleading psalm seeking forgiveness for his despicable past, David says “Cleanse me . . . create in me a pure heart.” Here we see inside the cover-up and façade. In verse 13 we are nudged with the point of why the Holy Scriptures include the whole sordid tale: so when people make mistakes like David did, they will turn back to God. “I will teach sinners your commands, and they will turn back to you,” David writes. If there is forgiveness for the enormous sin of David, there is mercy, love, and forgiveness for us all.

Are there areas in my life when I’ve stopped listening to my conscience, or God’s still small voice? Even when secular, political, and religious leaders disappoint us, I want to aim for the strength of Uriah to have higher standards and dedicate myself to right living.

For a free leaflet, “Finding a Way to Forgive,” write to Another Way, 1251 Virginia Ave., Harrisonburg, VA 22802 or email MelodieD@MennoMedia.org . Offer good as long as supplies last.