How To Handle The Unexpected Invitation
Have you ever felt out of place? Like, you were invited and you were supposed to be there, but it felt… weird?
For the better part of the last 15 years, I’ve been playing/leading worship at conferences, retreats, camps, and other events across the country. While I loved the ones where we got to travel, there was always something special about only having to drive a few minutes down the road.
When I was first doing these events, I was asked to play for a friend, Joi, at a women’s conference in Williamsburg, Virginia. Joi and I served on the worship team at our church, and we gelled well with each other, so it was a no-brainer: play some songs with a good friend right up the road, get a good meal, make a little money. No sweat.
As a guy, I hadn’t played at or been to any women’s conferences before. I mean, it was kind of a given, right? So, I had no clue what to expect, like, at all. I had an address, a time, and a setlist, but beyond that, it was all a mystery to me.
And let me tell you: whatever notion I had in my head of what I was walking into was nothing compared to what was there.
I pull up to the convention center, walk in to meet Joi, and we head into the green room to warm up, run through a couple songs, then get ready to head into the main room. And when we walk in, it was a sight to see.
In my head, I was imagining what we were used to at our church: a full tech team, more of a “worship service” style lighting setup (stage lights, dim room), and rows of seats. What we had was a powerpoint slideshow, no lighting, and a room full of tables. And, I was the only guy in the room. Filled with 500 women. Yeah, I was kind of shocked.
A few things went through my head: I was outnumbered and stuck out like a sore thumb. I was underprepared for this moment. I did NOT feel like I belonged in this room. And I had to get up there and lead worship, right then and there.
Maybe you’ve never been in the same spot where I found myself. If you have, I salute you and stand with you.
But, that feeling of being somewhere that, despite having a place that was made just for you, didn’t feel comfortable, or familiar, or “yours” is something everyone understands.
I’m sure you felt it on the first day of your job, when you were at a new company and had no clue how things worked. Maybe you got lost in the building trying to find the bathroom, and some long-tenured teammate felt sorry for you and pointed you in the right direction.
I’m sure you felt it when you moved out of your hometown or college town to the city you now call home. You might’ve known a few people, but you didn’t feel like it was your city, your home, your place.
I’m sure you felt it when you first went to college. You toured the campus when you went on a visit once, maybe got a map or two when the guide walked you around, but that was nothing compared to actually being there full-time. Your first class Monday morning ended up not being on the 2nd floor of that building, and was actually on the 3rd floor of the building across campus.
I say all of this to say: you’re not alone. You’re not alone now, in the 21st century, and you’re certainly not alone in the halls of history. In fact, we can find comfort in the pages of Scripture when we feel like, though we’ve been invited to be somewhere, we don’t belong there.
One of the most famous characters in Scripture, David, helps us see the God thought in the story we’ll break down:
In spite of us, we are wanted and welcomed in God’s family.
But, David isn’t exactly the main character in this story. Someone else is.
In 2 Samuel 9, we find the newly-appointed King David beginning his reign. He’s getting acclimated, trying to figure out the way things work, and in the midst of it, we find this passage:
And David said, “Is there still anyone left of the house of Saul, that I may show him kindness for Jonathan’s sake?” Now there was a servant of the house of Saul whose name was Ziba, and they called him to David. And the king said to him, “Are you Ziba?” And he said, “I am your servant.” And the king said, “Is there not still someone of the house of Saul, that I may show the kindness of God to him?” Ziba said to the king, “There is still a son of Jonathan; he is crippled in his feet.” The king said to him, “Where is he?” And Ziba said to the king, “He is in the house of Machir the son of Ammiel, at Lo-debar.” Then King David sent and brought him from the house of Machir the son of Ammiel, at Lo-debar. And Mephibosheth the son of Jonathan, son of Saul, came to David and fell on his face and paid homage. And David said, “Mephibosheth!” And he answered, “Behold, I am your servant.” And David said to him, “Do not fear, for I will show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan, and I will restore to you all the land of Saul your father, and you shall eat at my table always.” And he paid homage and said, “What is your servant, that you should show regard for a dead dog such as I?”
Then the king called Ziba, Saul’s servant, and said to him, “All that belonged to Saul and to all his house I have given to your master’s grandson. And you and your sons and your servants shall till the land for him and shall bring in the produce, that your master’s grandson may have bread to eat. But Mephibosheth your master’s grandson shall always eat at my table.” Now Ziba had fifteen sons and twenty servants. Then Ziba said to the king, “According to all that my lord the king commands his servant, so will your servant do.” So Mephibosheth ate at David’s table, like one of the king’s sons. And Mephibosheth had a young son, whose name was Mica. And all who lived in Ziba’s house became Mephibosheth’s servants. So Mephibosheth lived in Jerusalem, for he ate always at the king’s table. Now he was lame in both his feet. (2 Samuel 9:1–13)
There’s some details we need to fill in here. At first reading, this passage is nice and motivational: David takes some dude out of a cave and invites him into his house from then on. But, there’s a deeper, more important meaning behind these verses. So, let’s rewind a bit.
If you ever went to a Sunday School class as a kid, then you know who David is. The shepherd boy who fought Goliath, the king of Israel who made a bunch of separate tribes a nation, and “a man after God’s own heart.”
But, before David was ever king, another man was: Saul.
Saul was impressive. 1 Samuel 9 says this about him:
There was a man of Benjamin whose name was Kish, the son of Abiel, son of Zeror, son of Becorath, son of Aphiah, a Benjaminite, a man of wealth. And he had a son whose name was Saul, a handsome young man. There was not a man among the people of Israel more handsome than he. From his shoulders upward he was taller than any of the people. (1 Samuel 9:1–2)
He was from money, he was handsome, and he was tall. For us, these details just kind of pass us by; there’s lots of people who fit this bill. But, for the original readers, being tall is pretty important, as it set Saul apart from the rest of, well, the nation of Israel effectively. The average height for an ancient Israelite? Rough 5 feet. There’s not much written about exactly how tall Saul was, but if he was described as people only coming up to his shoulders, the dude had to have been 6 feet minimum, which was clearly unusual then. So, in essence, his physical appearance helps Saul to make a good impression on the people. After Israel demanding a king, God anointed Saul to be the king who would lead them.
To avoid being long-winded, the easiest way to describe King Saul was that he wasn’t a good one. He disobeyed God majorly, to the point where God removed the anointing and gave it to another man while he was still alive: David.
This didn’t fly well with Saul. Saul’s son, Jonathan, who was also David’s best friend, was supposed to be the next king when Saul died, not some shepherd boy from a no-name family.
Saul became angrily jealous of David, to the point where Saul spent more energy on trying to kill David than he did on fighting actual enemies around him.
If you’re curious as to how this all plays out, the majority of the story takes place in 1 Samuel 15-31, chronicling the account from when Saul lost the anointing to when David officially took over.
After all the wrongs Saul had been committed against David, it would make perfect sense that, as king, David would want to wipe Saul’s family from the face of the earth.
From a purely governmental/monarchical standpoint, if there’s living relatives, they may try to claim the throne away from David; one even tried to do that in 2 Samuel 2. From a leadership standpoint, it wouldn’t be hard for those loyal to Saul to spread dissent and try to create their own nation; after all, there were people who tried to do that for David, so it wouldn’t be too far-fetched for the same to occur the other way around. From an emotional standpoint, there’s got to be big feelings about how Saul treated him; having anyone nearby to remind you of the pain you felt doesn’t feel like a good idea.
But David doesn’t do that. Like, at all. He does the opposite: he seeks out the last relative of Saul to, as 2 Samuel 9:1 says, show him kindness. And the last living relative was a guy named Mephibosheth.
This brings us up to speed on the background of this passage, so now we can dive in.
How does David interact with this last relative of Saul?
David seeks out Mephibosheth with love. (vv1-5)
As the newly established King, David can pretty much expect what he says he wants to be as good as done. At the sound of his voice, he can start war, end war, throw a party, punish a law-breaker, etc., and he knows the power that he holds after seeing Saul command the nation with just a word. So he does what, as mentioned earlier, is unexpected given the context of his standing with the former king and his lineage: he wants to bring blessing where burden is implied.
Check out verse 1 through 5 again:
And David said, “Is there still anyone left of the house of Saul, that I may show him kindness for Jonathan’s sake?” Now there was a servant of the house of Saul whose name was Ziba, and they called him to David. And the king said to him, “Are you Ziba?” And he said, “I am your servant.” And the king said, “Is there not still someone of the house of Saul, that I may show the kindness of God to him?” Ziba said to the king, “There is still a son of Jonathan; he is crippled in his feet.” The king said to him, “Where is he?” And Ziba said to the king, “He is in the house of Machir the son of Ammiel, at Lo-debar.” Then King David sent and brought him from the house of Machir the son of Ammiel, at Lo-debar. (2 Samuel 9:1–5)
A few things stick out here:
There was no confusion in David’s desire. Resolute and determined, David knew what he wanted to do. The relationship he had with his best friend Jonathan, and the respect he had for Saul, drove his deeply personal mission to deal kindly and lovingly with whoever shared the same blood as them. While it may seem unnecessary, the way the author of the account repeats the question shows that, when given the chance for David to change his mind, he was intent on remaining faithful to his friends.
There was no hesitation in David’s action. He didn’t beat around the bush. He didn’t hem and haw over the implications, the possible outcomes, or the effort it may or may not take. As soon as he found out there was someone still in the house of Saul, David seemingly wasted no time in pulling together his game plan to carry out his desire.
There was no doubt in David’s mind. Upon finding out where Mephibosheth was, he still could’ve backed out. He had one last chance in the moment to change his mind. He could’ve said, “Oh cool, thanks for letting me know. Now, back to being king,” and would’ve been fully justified in doing so. But, he was clear on his goal and had no reservations about doing what most likely would’ve been considered reckless or unwise by his close advisors. So we see David, unprompted and non-obligated, reach out his powerful hand to someone undeserving of his love or kindness. He brings him into his courts, and the story continues.
David gives what Mephibosheth hadn’t earned. (vv6-8)
We’ve seen how David dealt at the thought of Mephibosheth, how he swiftly acted to bring up Saul’s relative from where he was to where David was. And now, Mephibosheth enters the story, and we see in verses 6-10 how the initial interaction between the two occurs:
And Mephibosheth the son of Jonathan, son of Saul, came to David and fell on his face and paid homage. And David said, “Mephibosheth!” And he answered, “Behold, I am your servant.” And David said to him, “Do not fear, for I will show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan, and I will restore to you all the land of Saul your father, and you shall eat at my table always.” And he paid homage and said, “What is your servant, that you should show regard for a dead dog such as I?” (2 Samuel 9:6–8)
There’s a very glaring detail, repeated twice, in the verses before and after these that give context to Mephibosheth’s comment that he was “a dead dog” (v.8): he was crippled in both of his legs. Surprisingly enough, we do have a record of how Mephibosheth became crippled, as written a few chapters before our story now:
Jonathan, the son of Saul, had a son who was crippled in his feet. He was five years old when the news about Saul and Jonathan came from Jezreel, and his nurse took him up and fled, and as she fled in her haste, he fell and became lame. And his name was Mephibosheth. (2 Samuel 4:4)
After, as mentioned briefly earlier, one of Saul’s relatives, his other son named Ish-bosheth, tried to claim the throne after Saul’s death in 2 Samuel 2, there was quite a bit of movement and action in chapter 3; the chapter literally starts with the sentence, “There was a long war between the house of Saul and the house of David.” Those loyal to the new king went and fought with those loyal to David. The one who installed the new king, a guy named Abner, flips sides and leaves, and then David’s right-hand man kills Abner. At the beginning of chapter 4, Ish-bosheth finds out Abner is dead and loses all hope. To add insult to injury, two guys on David’s side then kill Ish-bosheth. Ouch.
At first glance in this crazy story, it makes no sense why there’s a random interjection about Jonathan’s son. The account doesn’t seem to need it, in fact. But, why the author mentions it is pretty important. It shows us that 1) the story of Saul, one that launched the nation of Israel on the current trajectory, isn’t over yet, and 2) the infirmity that the remaining member of Saul’s family has will ultimately prevent a move to make Mephibosheth king.
So, with this in mind, let’s get back to 2 Samuel 9:6-8, and why this “dead dog” comment matters so deeply.
In their book, Exalting Jesus in 1 & 2 Samuel, J. D. Greear and Heath A. Thomas explain the significance behind the double-mention of Mephibosheth being crippled or lame in both feet:
The text indicates in two places that Mephibosheth was “lame in both feet” (vv. 3, 13 NIV 1984). This detail is emphasized for a specific purpose. In the ancient world, if someone was disabled or was born with a birth defect of some sort, they often were ostracized or thought of as sinful.
We remember this from the New Testament as well, when the disciples encountered a person with a disability. The event is recorded in John 9:1–3: “As He was passing by, He saw a man blind from birth. His disciples questioned Him: ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’” Of course, Jesus responded, “Neither this man nor his parents.” God’s glory would be revealed through that man and his disability.
The reality was that Mephibosheth was not disabled due to a specific sin he had committed; he was just disabled. But in that culture, disability prevented one from experiencing the same kind of life a fully healthy individual could. Now we might not like that, but that is how it was at that time. That fact is what makes this passage so powerful. David brought the disabled/shamed Mephibosheth to the king’s banquet table in a place of honor.
Why is this so important to the story? Because we see the top tier of the known world invite the lowest level of society into his midst, and bring the bottom to a status reserved for the top: a place at the king’s table. A man who was looked at as shameful, sinful, and discarded had an audience with the leader of kingdom.
Mephibosheth did nothing to be there. There was no good deed, no heroic move, no selfless action. He was really trying to avoid the spotlight, especially since he knew who he was related to at this point.
But, this is where the story gets really good. It wasn’t enough for David to just say these things; Mephibosheth would’ve been honored just for the king to know he existed. Watch what David does next.
David changes Mephibosheth’s status and standing. (vv9-13)
After seeking him out with love and giving him what he hadn’t earned, David took what Mephibosheth would’ve already viewed as a massive honor and took it to a whole different level. Here’s what David does for Mephibosheth next:
Then the king called Ziba, Saul’s servant, and said to him, “All that belonged to Saul and to all his house I have given to your master’s grandson. And you and your sons and your servants shall till the land for him and shall bring in the produce, that your master’s grandson may have bread to eat. But Mephibosheth your master’s grandson shall always eat at my table.” Now Ziba had fifteen sons and twenty servants. Then Ziba said to the king, “According to all that my lord the king commands his servant, so will your servant do.” So Mephibosheth ate at David’s table, like one of the king’s sons. And Mephibosheth had a young son, whose name was Mica. And all who lived in Ziba’s house became Mephibosheth’s servants. So Mephibosheth lived in Jerusalem, for he ate always at the king’s table. Now he was lame in both his feet. (2 Samuel 9:9–13)
From the few details we have about him, it’s likely that Mephibosheth and his immediate family were the only ones taking care of things. While he was living in a place that historically wasn’t too bad of a place to find yourself, it’s not like Mephibosheth was in a position of power. He had to provide for his house, work, and make ends meet. It was not how you would expect a royal relative to live, and it was how Mephibosheth effectively planned to lead his life.
But now? Now things were different. David gave him back his family’s land. He restored what was Mephibosheth’s birthright as the heir to the king. Ziba, the servant who told David about Mephibosheth, now belonged to the house of Mephibosheth. He now had status, a portion in the kingdom to call his own.
So, to simplify the events of this story:
Mephibosheth was the remaining descendant of the dead king. David accepted him like he was his own son.
Mephibosheth was considered worthless. David treated him like he was priceless.
Mephibosheth was hopeless. David gave him hope.
If you haven’t caught the scarlet thread woven throughout the story of David and Mephibosheth, the story was never really about David and Mephibosheth. While they may have been the characters on the page, this story is all about God’s undeserved, unearned, and unimaginable love for His people. This is the message of the Gospel, that though we have nothing in and of ourselves deserving, God has welcomed us to His table.
If you already have a relationship with God, then let this comfort you and refresh you. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done. It doesn’t matter what’s been done to you. You were welcomed to sit at God’s table forever. You can’t have that spot taken from you.
And whatever weighs on you today, whatever new problems or issues you may face, you have a Father who listens and who forgives. He gives grace to you, not so that you can keep choosing sin and abusing grace, but so that you can have the power to say no to it daily.
But, if you’re reading this and you don’t have a relationship with God, this is the invitation God gives you: come to His table. You’re invited and wanted there. He’s offering you the free gift of salvation, bought with Jesus’ blood on the cross where He died in our place.
When Joi and I walked out to lead worship at this women’s conference, you better believe I felt out of place: only dude in this room, unfamiliar environment, no creature comforts. I was effectively somewhere I seemingly didn’t belong.
But that’s the thing about how God moves, isn’t it? He places us in positions where we normally wouldn’t be if it were up to us. And while I was doing something that was in my “wheelhouse,” leading worship, it was never about what I was doing.
Through stripped-back, simple worship sets, we heard story after story from the women there about how God used us. How they hadn’t worshipped like that in a long time, for reasons spanning the gamut.
I may have felt like I was in the wrong place, but it was pretty clear: where I was invited was where I was both wanted and needed.
How can the places you’ve been invited, even if you feel out of place, go from being strange to being sacred? How can you press into the moment, however awkward it may be? More importantly, how can your response to those moments impact those around you?
When you go into that next invited place, whether that’s leading worship at a women’s conference as a guy, or walking into that new office, or that new school on the first day, you have a choice to stand behind the awkward as a shield or embrace it with open arms.
Make the choice to embrace it. Be where you’re wanted. Welcome others, as God’s welcomed us to His table.