June 22–28 ❘ David’s Regret
David’s Regret
For about a month,
it was like nothing had happened.
I felt ashamed of myself—
so easily overthrown by desire,
like a common soldier on leave
after months at war—
but I knew the servants wouldn’t talk.
They seldom acknowledge
what they aren’t forced to see.
Then came Bathsheba’s message,
silent accusation under simple words.
Whether I confessed or kept quiet,
I had sentenced her to death
as surely as if I had thrown
the first and last stones myself.
When I used to live as an outlaw,
I ate showbread that wasn’t mine
and called soldiers to shield me
by betraying their king.
God had always been merciful,
but His path was arduous and long.
In wilderness, one never knows
how or when deliverance is nigh.
This once, I thought, I would work
salvation for myself—
but Uriah would not cooperate,
and so I sacrificed him for my sins.
I had not much longer to learn
that Messiah would come,
not as warrior to elevate me
over outside plotters and enemies,
but to save me from myself.
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