Last weekend marked 7 years since my friend Jonathan passed away. It's a day quietly noted on my calendar. Jon - 7 years, the reminder simply said. I was curled up in my recliner last Saturday as I was texting his mom, acknowledging the day, my Bible splayed across my lap, opened to 2 Samuel 9. For reasons I don't fully understand, the story contained in 2 Samuel 9 is quite possibly my favorite in all of Scripture. It strikes such a tender nerve every time I read it, and last Saturday was no different as I read it yet again.
You see, it's the story of a man named Mephibosheth, a man "lame in both feet" (2 Samuel 9:3). Scripture tells the story, "Jonathan son of Saul had a son who was lame in both feet. He was five years old when the news about Saul['s] and Jonathan['s death] came from Jezreel. His nurse picked him up and fled, but as she hurried to leave, he fell and became disabled. His name was Mephibosheth" (2 Samuel 4:4). My friend Jonathan was also lame in both feet, permanently wheelchair-bound, suffering the ravages of muscular dystrophy. By the time our lives intersected as adults, he essentially only had control of his right thumb, enough control to operate his motorized wheelchair. He's now been gone longer than I knew him alive.
So in Mephibosheth, I saw my real-life Jonathan on the pages last weekend as I pored over 2 Samuel 9. Mephibosheth was the son of the biblical Jonathan, who was the best friend of David, and the man who willfully gave up his own right to the throne in order that David could instead ascend to the throne as God's anointed king. And Mephibosheth's grandfather was no less than king Saul, a man who in the end would take his own life in the midst of a losing battle.
Jonathan would die, too, in battle the same day as his father. David was anointed king in the wake, and in the aftermath, he began to ask, “Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness for Jonathan’s sake?” (2 Samuel 9:1).
As king, and in order to protect and preserve his power, David could have opted to have every family member in the line of Saul annihilated. Instead he went looking for someone to whom he could show kindness.
Who does David find? Mephibosheth, the son of Jonathan, David's best friend, the man with whom David had sworn a covenant. Before Jonathan died, he had requested of David, "But show me unfailing kindness like the Lord’s kindness as long as I live...and do not ever cut off your kindness from my family...” (1 Samuel 20:14-15).
David made good on his promise to his now gone-but-not-forgotten friend, found Jonathan's son, and summoned him to the royal palace. He had made a vow to never cut off his kindness from Jonathan's family, and David meant it then and he meant now, even though his friend was gone.
I picture David's palace with a grand, ornate hall, lavish in its opulence. And I picture this long walkway down the center of the court, columns flanking both sides, rays of light scattering across the polished floor. David stands at one end, Mephibosheth at the other. Then I hear the shuffle and the drag of 'two lame feet,' as Mephibosheth ever-so-slowly makes his way to the king, the very king who may decide to take his life. Step, drag. Step, drag. Step, drag. His eyes are cast downward, not daring to look up, or to hope. He reaches David and bows low.
I can't help but wonder if David also stooped low to get on Mephibosheth's level, places his finger under Mephibosheth's chin, lifts his head, looks him in the eye and whispers his name with fierce graciousness, "Mephibosheth!"
No tone of condemnation, no tone of ill-will or hatred. Just a tone of deep compassion, for this was the very precious son of his very precious friend, Jonathan.
“Don’t be afraid,” David said to him, “for I will surely show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan. I will restore to you all the land that belonged to your grandfather Saul, and you will always eat at my table.”
Mephibosheth bowed down and said, “What is your servant, that you should notice a dead dog like me?”
Then the king summoned Ziba, Saul’s steward, and said to him, “I have given your master’s grandson everything that belonged to Saul and his family. You and your sons and your servants are to farm the land for him and bring in the crops, so that your master’s grandson may be provided for. And Mephibosheth, grandson of your master, will always eat at my table” (2 Samuel 9:7-10).Scripture goes on to say, "So Mephibosheth ate at David’s table like one of the king’s sons...And [he] lived in Jerusalem, because he always ate at the king’s table; he was lame in both feet." (2 Samuel 9:11, 13)
Mephibosheth got seated at a table where he did not belong, to eat food he could not afford, based on merit he did not possess. And all that in spite of his crippled feet.
He was at the table for one reason and one reason only: because of who his father was.
It wasn’t because David pitied him, felt sorry for him, or was obligated to him. David bent low and lifted the head of a man who was not otherwise worthy of being in the presence of the king. For all intents and purposes, and according to the customs and traditions of the day, David would have been entirely justified in taking a sword to Mephibosheth and everyone else in the line of Saul, anyone who posed a remote threat to his rule.
Instead, he stooped down and whispered, “Mephibosheth, come eat at my table, both now and forever - because I loved your father. For his sake and to honor him, I welcome you here without condition or payment. You come with your two lame feet, you pull out a chair, you sit at my table, you drink the wine poured for you, and you.feast. Neither your past tragedies, nor your lineage, nor your disability will haunt or hinder you while you sit here in this chair at my table. You need not wonder if any spears will be thrown at you. Enough spears have been thrown. No more. So, come and eat. Sit down at the king's table and partake. Simply for the sake of your father.”
For those who are in Christ Jesus, you have the same opportunity. We get to sit down some day at the wedding feast of the Lamb with all the other saints, and shout "Hallelujah! For our Lord God Almighty reigns. Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come..."(Revelation 19:6-7).
But here's the catch - you only get a seat at the wedding feast of the Lamb based on one condition and one condition alone:
Who your Father is.
Nothing and no one else will merit or warrant your presence at the feast other than God your Father. And neither will your literal or figurative limps merit your absence from the feast. You get to pull up a chair at a table where you do not belong, to eat food you cannot afford, based on merit you do not possess in and of yourself. You get to come with your crippled body and your crippled heart and your crippled mind. And in your coming, you will bow low only to find King Jesus who will lift your chin, look you in the eye, whisper your name with fierce graciousness and say, "Don’t be afraid, for I will surely show you kindness for the sake of your Father, and you will always eat at my table.”
So, pull up a chair and partake. “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; listen, that you may live. I will make an everlasting covenant with you, my faithful love promised to David" (Isaiah 55:1-3).
Jesus declares over us, "Come, you who have absolutely nothing to offer in return. I will show you kindness for the sake of your Father."
And because of that promise, I will get to pull up a seat at the table where I don't belong.
Right next to my friend Jonathan.
And we will feast.
Right next to my friend Jonathan.
And we will feast.
Forever and always.
