Speaking Truth with Power

We have been following the majestic failure of King David from last week – his betrayal of so much that the people of Israel (and we) hold dear. We sat watching last week as David abused not only Bathsheba and Uriah, but the Law which guided his life and his relationship with the living God. We were left in disbelief, as the reading closed with David’s command to place Uriah in the heat of the battle to ensure his death.

Leaving aside the collateral damage of other “servants of David”, Uriah’s murder is designed only to cover up a cluster of sin secreted in power and its abuse. “Do not let this matter trouble you”, David says to his complicit commander. And we are watching on the sidelines, appalled, perhaps paralysed, by an abuse of power so breathtaking by one we want to trust.

Nathan, the prophet is not silenced, confronting David with a story and his failure. And David repents.

Here, amidst of the ruins of David’s authority, is the heart of the story. The monarch’s abuse is confronted and David returns to the Lord.

The story still seems to have lumps in it – David’s change of heart and God’s mercy seem all too sudden. Perhaps it’s the way the story is told,  and perhaps it’s our disbelief at the immediacy of God’s response to David’s repentance. Perhaps the child’s ensuing death echoes the other injustices?

Nathan’s confrontation of the king has echoes for us, too. How do we confront the royal consciousness – the power that governs? It might be the legal power – monarchs and governments – or the culture which accepts something as “normal” when it needs to be challenged, like abuse, injustice, or racism.

When someone challenges us about how we act, or what we believe, how do we respond? How easy do we find it to challenge someone, especially someone who is either more powerful than we, or who is close to us?

Consider your response to the two headline events in this last week.

Why have you responded the way you have to use of travel entitlements by the Speaker of the Federal Parliament? What does your anger, resentment, or disinterest say about the issue?

What about your engagement with the controversy surrounding Adam Goodes? Is your first response a reflection of defensiveness, or your personal experience, or your background? I have found it astonishing how many anglo-saxon, middle-aged men can tell me about what is, or is not, racism (speaking as an anglo-saxon, middle-aged man…).

Is it possible that when Adam Goodes challenges us, he is acting like one of Nathan’s descendants? Is there a chance that when he danced after scoring a goal, he confronted our perceptions of how he is supposed to “behave himself”? It is never comfortable to have our expectations challenged. Consider David, or Bronwyn. Consider yourself.

How do we hear God’s voice challenging us? How do we discern amidst all the shouting what Jesus might be inviting us to do?