It was a stalemate. The older sons of Jesse, along with the rest of Saul’s army, had been “dismayed, and greatly afraid” (1 Sam. 17:11) at the brazen boast of the Philistine champion. And little wonder, for Goliath was an imposing mountain of a man. Common sense made it clear that no one on the Israelite side of the valley was a match for him. The Jews cowered in their tents.
The Wadi Elah drains the water from the hills on the west flank of Bethlehem, David’s hometown. Twisting its way through the Shephela or foothills that form a buffer between the Judean highlands and the Plain of Philistia, the Elah valley linked the Judean towns of Bethlehem and Socoh (Shochoh) with Gath and the Mediterranean coast. It was near Socoh that the two armies had found the rolling hills an ideal grandstand to view the contest. But the camp of Israel found no one willing or able to silence the Philistine’s defiance of them and their God.
Enter David. He had been sent with fresh provender for his big brothers, for it had been forty days that Goliath had taunted in the valley and Israel had trembled in their tents. Arriving just as the troops gathered for the next round, “as the host was going forth to the fight” (v. 20), David discovered that it was a mere war of words. He heard Goliath’s blasphemous challenge and, turning to some bystanders, asked, “Who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God?” (v. 26).
This was too much for big brother Eliab, who had overheard. Furious, he spat out the words: “Why did you come down here?…I know your pride and the insolence of your heart, for you have come down to see the battle” (v. 28, nkjv).
David might have responded, “What battle? Who’s fighting, Eliab?” Instead, he asked: “Is there not a cause?”
There was indeed—just as there is today. And yet again the people of God seem to be hiding in their tents, quivering at the thought of those big men out there who defy the living God and His people. Where are the young champions who will risk life and limb for this cause? Who will set aside Saul’s vaunted armor and go into battle instead “…in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel” (v. 45)?
At time of writing the Democratic caucuses are in full swing. I saw a couple interviewed who had gone to Iowa to knock on doors in -5 degree weather. They had driven 1300 wintery miles from Massachusetts. At their own expense. And it was their wedding anniversary! They had joined three thousand other volunteers to do whatever they could to help the cause they held dear. When asked if they thought their sacrifice made any difference, the husband replied, “If we each can change the minds of two voters, that will make the difference.”
Would we travel at our own expense in winter across the continent, setting aside personal plans and comforts to confront people with the only candidate who qualifies as Saviour? Would we think it worthwhile if only two responded? What was it that drove David—and will drive us—into the line of fire? It is the two-fold secret that “the battle is the Lord’s, and He will give [the enemy] into our hands” (v. 47). The Lord’s presence is guaranteed and victory is assured to those willing to prove God in the great conflict for the souls of men.
Is there not a cause? What would happen if each believer in the coming year would see just two people come to Christ? Each assembly would treble in size. We would regain the gospel offensive. The enemy would be on the run. And the world would “report that God is truly among you” (1 Cor. 14:25).