How to be a Leader God can Use

This article, a commentary on a passage from the Christian Bible, as well as a commentary on life's injustices, first appeared in Victory by Grace, a monthly magazine published by Quentin Road Ministries, Lake Zurich, Ill.  While some individuals appear 'born to lead', leadership is a learned trait. By studying the lives of others who have successfully navigated life's journey and left a legacy of positive influence in other's lives, we can learn how to become a leader in our corner of the world.

David was not always the beloved king that Israel revered, and its enemies feared.  Between his victory over Goliath, and his ascension to the throne, David was unjustly hunted like a desert coyote for over a decade.  Yet God used this experience to build into David the character that we admire. The following fictionalized account of I Sam 29:1 - I Sam 30:18, uncovers 4 principles of spiritual success that the Lord painstakingly carved into David’s life before He promoted David to Israel’s throne.  If we seek great things from God, and desire spiritual success in our own lives, we can expect to learn some of these same lessons.

I joined the men as sunlight’s first  rays streamed over the distant hills.   “Eliah, I want your group of 50 to lead the column.  Meet my brother Joab near the gate as we organize for today’s journey.”  As I inspected the troops, they were peaceful even though we were headed for battle. This morning we had awakened in our own town, Ziklag.  For how many years had we slept strewn across the countryside, wondering if the cries of Saul’s army would rouse us in the middle of the night.    Ziklag lay at Israel’s southern frontier. Belonging to the Philistines’, they had given us the city for a refuge in exchange for our protection.  Thus David and the Philistines forged a frail alliance.

What David longed for had come to pass.  Ziklag was a welcome haven.  In a short time we had settled, and the men adjusted quickly to a more domestic life.  It was a joy to wake up in our own town, to look at our own wives and children and know that when we returned from battle, they would be waiting here for us.  Each of our men, some of whom I never thought would desire a family life, had begun to enjoy this blessing from God.

“Abishai, Abishai. How are the men this morning? “David called from his mount. 

“My brother, David . . . the men are assembling near the gate.  Joab is waiting there with the priest to bless us before we leave.”

David, Joab and I led the column for two days to the wind swept plains of Aphek. Our men stayed at a respectful distance, while David talked with the Philistines under colorful tribal flags. He returned to us with welcome news.

“We’ve been given relief from today’s battle.  Let’s return to our families, our houses, our flocks.”  I hadn’t realized how the men were fatigued by war.  Each stalwart warrior stood with his sword and shield at his side, ready to follow David.  But with the reprieve, joy rippled across the men like the spring tides on the Galilean shore. They talked of their wives, children, and homes.   Although we had grown accustomed to war and survival, it was a weight we gladly left in the desert sun this day.  Each man turned in formation as we retreated toward Ziklag. 

As the morning sun arrived the next day, we had already broken camp.  Every man was eager to get home.  Our two day journey brought us to the last hills overlooking Ziklag. At the crest, the column abruptly halted. The joy and laughter fell silent at the head of the ranks, and David called for Joab and me to join him.

Ziklag lay in the valley, ransacked and burned.  The gates were gone, as were all sounds of life from our homes.  Only the acrid smell of burnt timber drifted up from the canyon.  As the men began to whisper that our home was gone, I heard a cry from the very back.  Jacob wept for his daughter, his newborn son, and his wife.  What had happened? 

I don’t know who started to weep first but soon we all were on our knees and faces before God, throwing dust in the air, and wondering what we had done to bring His judgment upon us.  The joy of moments before had been replaced by sorrow as quickly as a warm sun is swallowed by an evening storm on the Sea of Galilee. 

We wept for our children and our homes, but the deep anguish welling from my soul was for the fragile security that had been ripped from my heart.  We wept until our eyes were red and our voice’s spent.  Then as joy had been replaced by sorrow, the sorrow rolled away under ominous clouds of confusion, and anger. Murmuring started against the One who had been our protection from heaven, and grumbling against the one who had been our leader through the desert.

“We should never have left our homes in the first place,” one man said.

“Who is this David, that we should trust him?” grumbled another.

These men whom David protected with his life crystallized into an angry mob.  And David stood precariously at the vortex of their anger.  But he was still on his face before God.  He refused to get up, even at the urging of my brother, Joab. 

His head between his knees and his voice raised to heaven, David was yet unscorched by the garrison’s rising fervor. Their anger, like the flames that had consumed our homes, was ready to extinguish David’s frail life.  From the back I heard Jacob call out, “Someone hand me a rock!  I’ll end this would-be king’s reign!”

These 600 battle-hardened warriors teetered on the edge of civil war.  Accusations erupted; some pushed for position . . . others reached for rocks, their shield, or their sword. Those of us that supported David feared for his life, and our own.  Joab and I wheeled instinctively, placing ourselves between David and the rising bedlam.  I turned to protect my brother Joab, and felt his back press hard against mine.  We had slain many soldiers from this stance under the desert sun, but never our own men.  Above the uproar, I heard Joab unsheathe his sword.  As I reached for my own, a shadow fell across my feet.

The men abated.  It was not a peace, but the temporary reprieve from in the eye of a storm.  I turned and saw David standing on a boulder, overlooking the angry throng.   His stature wordlessly commanded their attention.  David had been here before . . . running from Saul across the Israeli outback for two decades.  David knew the loss of everything he held precious.   He had learned to take his broken desire into Jehovah’s presence, and wait there.

The desert king’s face was stained red and brown from tears and dirt.  The water had washed trails down his cheeks and filled his beard with mottled dirt.  The moisture from his nose still clung to the corners of his mouth, and stained the front of his tunic.  Having poured out his heart, soul, and strength before God, his face wore his own pain, and that of his men.   Yet his battered appearance failed to overshadow the stature of the man he had become.

“We will track them down.”  David called out.  His voice faltered from weeping, but every man heard his confidence.  “We will pursue them!  We will find our families.  We will find our children.  We will find our flocks and we will bring them back home!”

I mounted my camel to the sound of rocks returning to their rightful place on the desert floor.  Each man found his sword in the sand, and fell into rank behind his captain.   I turned to Joab, and said quietly, “I will follow this man to my last breath!”

 David was anointed king as a teen.  Yet God did not promote him into that office for over 20 years.  From this event, we see that David has become a warrior with the courage to lead, a servant who knew God would lead him, and a monarch whom men would follow.  Consider these four points as you seek to answer the question “What made David the man of God he had become, and how can I follow in his path toward spiritual success?”