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Portrait of a Disgruntled Prophet

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I have just submitted the completed manuscript of my book on the story of Samuel (the prophet) and Saul (Israel’s first king) to the publisher (Eerdmans). It covers 1 Samuel 1–15, with a coda on the anointing of David at the start of chapter 16 (which is Samuel’s last significant act).

The current title is Portrait of a Disgruntled Prophet: Samuel’s Resistance to God and the Undoing of Saul (at least, that’s my preferred title; publishers often suggest something different from what authors want).

When I signed the contract, my original title was Portrait of the Prophet as a Crotchety Old Man (a take-off on A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce). But as I’ve reflected on this, and tested that title with others, I’ve come to realize that it’s a bit off-putting. Almost everyone I spoke to preferred (and actually liked) the new title.

The Book Came from My Teaching

The book has a long history.

I started working on 1 and 2 Samuel soon after I began my full-time tenure-track faculty career. I initially taught graduate seminar courses on Samuel at Colgate Rochester Crozer Divinity School (1997–2001) and then advanced undergraduate seminars at Roberts Wesleyan University (2002–2011). These seminars were amazing learning experiences both for me and my students; my students were especially helpful in raising ethical questions about the characterization of God, Samuel, Saul, and David in the text.

In more recent years (since 2011) I taught a more focused exegesis course on 1 Samuel at Northeastern Seminary, where we were able to slow down even more to attend to the details of the text. I was thus able to further develop my understanding of Samuel’s role in the demise of Saul.

I wrote a couple of chapters on the Hannah story (1 Samuel 1–2) long ago (while I was teaching at Colgate Rochester); then I published some essays on 1 Samuel, which were expansions of paper presentations I gave at conferences. Some sections of these essays have found their way into the book.

A Long Time Coming

But I got more serious about the writing when I signed a contract with Eerdmans back in 2016. An Eerdmans acquisitions editor approached me at the 2015 Society of Biblical Literature annual meeting to ask if there was a book I would like to write for them. So I submitted the proposal and got the contract.

Initially, I thought (very optimistically) that I could finish the book in a few years (I suggested 2019). However, I had just signed a contract with Baker Academic (in 2015) to write the book that eventually became Abraham’s Silence (published in 2021). That, plus the busyness of teaching (and some health problems in 2023), significantly delayed the Samuel book.

When I retired from my faculty position at Northeastern Seminary in 2024, I really got down to writing. I completed the bulk of the book in the past two years.

Did I Write a Commentary?

I hadn’t planned on writing a commentary, but rather a thematic study of the Samuel-Saul struggle, which took the reader through the flow of the book. I guess I thought of it as a quasi-commentary.

They say that a good sculptor doesn’t impose his or her predetermined idea on the stone, but needs to follow the contours of the material as they work. That was my experience as I worked through 1 Samuel.

Once I got into the writing, I found many fascinating details of the text that cried out for interpretation, details that many commentaries jumped over or treated in a very cursory way. By following the text more carefully, I was able to deepen my initial intuitions about the power struggle between Samuel and Saul (and Samuel and God) in ways I had not anticipated.

The book ended up being longer than I had anticipated. My wrestling with the text of Samuel led me to double the length of what I had originally thought would be a short 60,000 word manuscript (though it’s still shorter than my book A New Heaven and a New Earth).

One of the last things I wrote before I submitted the manuscript to Eerdmans was a semi-humorous dialogue at the start of my Preface, which you can read here (let’s see if the publisher allows me to keep it).

That dialogue was inspired by the Prologue to Robert Farrar Capon, An Offering of Uncles: The Priesthood of Adam and the Shape of the World (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1967).

Table of Contents

The book has seventeen chapters, plus an Introduction (on my approach to interpreting 1 Samuel) and a Conclusion (on evaluating the character of Samuel). You can download the Table of Contents here.

Preface

Introduction: A Proposal for Reading Samuel

Part 1: Overture to Conflict: A Preview of Things to Come (1 Samuel 1–3)

  1. Hannah’s Resolve and the Birth of Samuel: A New Era in Israel’s History
  2. Hannah’s Vow and Victory Song: A Challenge to Israel’s Leaders
  3. From Promised Priest to Newly-Minted Prophet: Clues to God’s Role in the Story

Part 2: Interlude before Conflict: The Ark Narrative as Preemptive Warning (1 Samuel 4–6)

  1. “Why Has YHWH Defeated Us Today before the Philistines?”: The Ark in Israel’s Theology
  2. The Ark of the Covenant Is “Taken”: Philistine and Israelite Responses to the Ark
  3. “Who Can Stand before YHWH, This Holy God?”: The Return the Ark

Part 3: The Conflict Begins: Samuel Asserts His Priorities (1 Samuel 7–11)

  1. Samuel on the Cusp: The Prophet’s Finest Hour
  2. The People Request a King: A Rift Begins to Open between Samuel and God
  3. Saul Loses His Way and Finds Samuel: Prelude to Kingship
  4. The Secret Anointing: Saul is (Almost) King
  5. Saul is Publicly Acclaimed King—at Mizpah and Gilgal

Part 4: The Conflict Intensifies: Samuel Clashes with Saul (1 Samuel 12–14)

  1. Samuel’s “Farewell Speech”: The Sin of Monarchy
  2. The Beginning of Saul’s Undoing: Whose/Which Command Did He Disobey?
  3. The Fallout for Jonathan: Saul’s Oath as Overreaction

Part 5: The Climax of the Conflict: Samuel and God Part Ways (1 Samuel 15–16)

  1. Failure and Rejection at Gilgal: Saul’s Confrontation with Samuel
  2. The Question of God’s “Repentance”: Samuel’s Disagreement with YHWH
  3. Prophet on a Short Leash: Irony in Samuel’s Anointing of David

Conclusion: How Should We Judge Samuel?

Stay Tuned

I plan to post updates on the publication of the book, including various tidbits of interesting things I learned or noticed about the story as I worked on the writing. This will include things like:

Why does God shift from his promise to provide a new priest (1 Samuel 2:35) to provide a prophet instead (1 Samuel 3:19)?

Why is the title for the Ark in 1 Samuel 4:4 (“the Ark of the Covenant of YHWH of Hosts […] the Cherubim”) missing a Hebrew preposition where you would expect one (so translators have to insert what they think is appropriate)?

Why does Samuel consistently disobey God’s instructions after the people ask for a king in 1 Samuel 8?

Where is the first place in the narrative when Samuel actually obeys an instruction or command from God?

What is going on with the seemingly garbled chronological note about Saul’s reign in 1 Samuel 13:1?

How should we understand Samuel’s contradictory instructions to the newly anointed King Saul in 1 Samuel 10:7–8 (especially given the multitude of interpretations proposed)?

What sin was Saul actually condemned for in 1 Samuel 13:13–14?

And lots more to come . . .

The Ultimate Victory of God’s Kingdom (The Kingdom of God, part 6)

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This is the sixth (and final) installment of an article on the Kingdom of God.

Part 1 began with Jesus’s proclamation at the start of his ministry about the kingdom of God. Part 2 looked at Jesus’s sermon at Nazareth, in which he explained the nature of the kingdom he was inaugurating.

Part 3 shifted to the biblical backstory of the kingdom, beginning with the royal calling of humanity created to image God, including how we squandered our calling through sin and violence, culminating in the tower of Babel. Part 4 traced the story of Israel from Abraham to the Babylonian exile, with a focus on the theme of “rule” (power and agency).

Part 5 picked up the story with the messianic ministry and mission of Jesus, leading to his confrontation with the powers in Jerusalem at Passover.

The current installment examines the climax of the story of the kingdom of God, as God’s purposes for creation and history come to fruition through the Messiah.

After the Babylonian exile, when Israel had returned to the land, the prophetic expectations of restoration and blessing had not been fulfilled. Israel was still oppressed by various empires (the latest being Rome) and the people were still mired in sin and injustice.

There was a growing sense in the Old Testament, however, that the problem Israel faced was greater than either the external oppression by empires or the internal sinfulness of the people—though both were certainly real.

The Supra-Human Powers of Evil

Various biblical texts make this point by using the metaphor of the chaotic sea or dangerous sea beasts to represent the supra-human power of evil that lies behind human action.

Examples include Ezekiel’s description of the Egyptian Pharaoh as a great water-monster whom God will pull out of the Nile with hooks or haul up with a net (Ezekiel 29:2–7; 32:2–4) and Jeremiah’s picture of the king Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon as a sea serpent swallowing Israel, which will be forced to disgorge its prey (Jeremiah 51:34 and 51:44). It is as if there are destructive powers that lie behind human embodiments of evil.

The book of Daniel portrays a series of four oppressive empires as ravenous, devouring beasts arising from the sea (Dan 7:1–8), noting that they will be judged by God and their power taken away (Daniel 7:9–12).

Granted, neither the sea nor great sea beasts are always used as symbols of chaos or evil in the Bible; they are portrayed positively as aspects of God’s good, though wild, creation in some texts (Genesis 1:21; Psalm 95:5 and 104:26; and Job 41:1–34).

Yet elsewhere God is said to oppose and battle the sea, Leviathan, or some form of sea serpent (Job 26:12–13; Psalm 74:14 and 89:9–10). In Isaiah 27 this symbol is used for God’s final, eschatological judgment on evil: “On that day YHWH will punish with his fierce and great and strong sword Leviathan the fleeing serpent, Leviathan the twisting serpent, and he will slay the dragon that is in the sea” (Isaiah 27:1).

The sense that there were supra-human powers of evil, which had human individuals and even empires in their grip, developed in the period between the Old and New Testaments. This led to the explicit doctrine of personified evil, both in the form of demonic forces (also called unclean spirits or principalities and powers in the New Testament) and the devil or Satan, which the book of Revelation, drawing on Old Testament imagery, calls the “great dragon” and the “ancient serpent” (Revelation 12:9).

Although many of our popular ideas about the devil and the demonic come from post-biblical literature and not the Bible itself, the Bible clearly endorses the idea that there are systemic meta-human powers of evil that constrain human behavior.

Angels (lit. “messengers”) from God often appear in the Old Testament, though there is no systematic explanation of who they are. It is not until the book of Daniel that we find the first explicit reference to angelic opposition to God, in the form of a struggle between “the prince of the kingdom of Persia” and an angel (who seems to be Gabriel), who had to be aided by another angel, Michael, “one of the chief princes” (Daniel 10:13). By the time we get to the New Testament, the idea of supra-human powers that oppress human beings and have them in their grip is standard in Jewish thinking. This underlies the Gospel stories of Jesus’s confrontation with demonic powers throughout his ministry.

Jesus could counsel his followers to love their enemies (Matthew 5:43–44; Luke 6:27–28) because he did not regard even his human opponents (Jewish or Roman) as the ultimate enemy. As Ephesians 6 puts it: “We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12).

The Clash of the Kingdoms

The clash between God’s kingdom and the powers of evil is clear from Jesus’s response to the accusation that he was casting out demons by the power of Satan, here called “Beelzebul, the ruler of the demons” (Luke 11:15). He responded that if this were true, it would mean that the kingdom of evil was divided against itself (Luke 11:18). However, “If it is by the finger of God that I cast out demons, then the kingdom of God has come to you” (Luke 11:20).

Jesus then used a vivid metaphor to describe his work of overcoming the dominion of the Evil One: “When a strong man, fully armed, guards his castle, his property is safe. But when one stronger than he attacks him and overpowers him, he takes away his armor in which he trusted and divides his plunder.” (Luke 11:21–22) This metaphor points to Jesus’s mission to liberate Israel and all people—indeed, the entire creation—from bondage to evil. Since Passover was the symbol of the expected liberation, Jesus chose that central Jewish festival as the time of his confrontation with the powers in all their raw opposition.

But how did Jesus overpower the “strong man”? In line with his teaching about an alternative form of rule—different from gentile overlords—Jesus did not come to overcome evil by the violent use of power. Rather, he came “to give himself a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).

By submitting himself to Roman crucifixion, Jesus disarmed the powers of evil and absorbed into himself all the brokenness and corruption of human life, all the selfishness and the violence that mars this world—to suck it out of creation, to drain the mortal wound of sin, and give us back life and health and peace instead. Although any explanation of the sacrifice of Jesus on behalf of others always falters—it is ultimately a paradox—the New testament affirms that when the Messiah offered himself as the Passover lamb for a new exodus, he effectively “takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29).

From Inauguration to Consummation—A Comprehensive Kingdom

Through his death on a cross and resurrection victory, Jesus inaugurated God’s kingdom as an alternative to the corrupt empires and dominions of this world. His resurrection is the “first fruits” of those who have died (1 Corinthians 15:20); the harvest of new creation has begun—the promised reversal of sin and death has been inaugurated.

But the reversal doesn’t happen all at once. The Bible is ruthlessly honest about the continuing struggle against evil; the clash of the kingdoms continues in our time. Yet the Scriptures envision a day when the kingdom will be consummated—bodies will be healed and human society will finally reflect God’s purposes for mercy and justice.

Throughout the Gospels, Jesus’s teaching about the kingdom of God anticipates God’s ultimate triumph over the powers of evil. In one of his parables, Jesus compares the kingdom of God to a woman who put some leaven (yeast) into a large amount of dough, in preparation for baking a loaf of bread. The yeast eventually permeated the entire loaf (Matthew 13:33; Luke 13:20–21). It may be a slow process, but the leavening of creation by the kingdom of God will be comprehensive, “far as the curse is found” (to quote the Christmas carol, “Joy to the World”).

The comprehensive nature of the kingdom of God is also portrayed in Daniel’s vision of a huge statue confronted by a small stone. The statue represents all the kingdoms of the world, whereas the stone is “not made by human hands” (representing God’s kingdom). Yet this seemingly insignificant stone strikes the statue and demolishes it; then the stone grows into a mountain that fills the entire earth (Dan 2:31–36, 44–45).

This transformation is envisioned in the book of Revelation when an angel announces, “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Messiah, and he will reign forever and ever” (Revelation 11:15).

The growth of the messianic kingdom is nothing less than God’s redemptive purposes becoming manifest in history, till the earth is filled with the knowledge of God (or of his glory) as the waters cover the sea (Isaiah 11:9; Habakkuk 2:14). On that day, the prophet Zephaniah proclaims, “YHWH will be king over all the earth” (Zechariah 14:9).

The Human Role in the Coming Kingdom

When God comes to bring justice to the earth, even the non-human created order will respond in praise to its maker (Psalm 96:11–13). Just as earthly life was subjected to corruption by the distortion of human rule, so in the kingdom of God the earth will be restored when redeemed humans take up their rule again—this time in accordance with the principles of God’s peaceable reign.

In the Beatitudes, Jesus affirmed that “the meek [not the powerful oppressors] will inherit the earth” (Matthew 5:5) and the book of Revelation pictures a great number from many nations formed into God’s royal priesthood (God’s redeemed people), who will “reign on the earth” (Revelation 5:10); this is the restoration of the original human calling as the image of God (Genesis 1:26–28). Indeed, the redeemed will “reign forever and ever” (Revelation 22:5).

When the kingdom of God is fully established in human life, and humans image their Creator by their loving and generous exercise of power, then creation itself, which has been groaning in its bondage to corruption (Romans 8:22), will be liberated from this bondage to share in the glorious freedom of the children of God (Romans 8:19–21).

The entire biblical story from creation to eschaton—from origin to climax—testifies to God’s unshakeable purpose for the flourishing of the world. “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” (Genesis 1:1); and in the end there will be “a new heavens and a new earth, in which righteousness dwells” (2 Peter 3:13).

That new creation is the fulfillment of the kingdom of God.

Three Contemporary Laments

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I’ve been reflecting on the value of lament prayer ever since I went through a particularly dark time in my life many years ago. After not praying for some months, I found the lament psalms in the Bible as the door to hope, which opened me up to praying again.

These psalms are also known as protest or complaint psalms, and for good reason.

Lament as the Door to Hope

Lament psalms (like my own lament prayers) are not decorous and “proper”; they do not conform to the way that many Christians think we ought to pray. They are utterly honest, and thus often abrasive, attempts to grapple with God over situations that do not seem right.

Although there are approximately fifty psalms in the Bible that are typically regarded as laments (that is, about a third of the Psalter), the psalm that meant the most to me at the time was Psalm 88, arguably the darkest and most despairing of them all. I was particularly struck by the translation of Mitchell Dahood in his Psalms commentary in the Anchor Bible series.

To know that such honest prayers were canonized in the Bible (as models for our prayer) and to be able to articulate my own pain (no holds barred) to the Creator of the universe—that is what reawakened my faith. I gained a sense through lament prayer that God was willing to take my suffering seriously. That was the kind of God I could trust.

So it led to a deeper commitment to God on my part—in response to God’s own commitment to take suffering seriously. Indeed, God took it so seriously that it led to the cross.

Lament in Popular Music

Over the years, as I have come to value lament prayer, I noticed that there were some profound lyrics by various contemporary artists that articulated lament or protest to God, which people of faith could learn from.

Three pieces that have particularly impacted me are “Bartender” by the Dave Matthews Band (2002), “Bullet with Butterfly Wings” by the Smashing Pumpkins (1995), and “Dear God” by XTC (1986). All three songs are formulated as prayers, addressing God with complaints or questions, and calling on God for help.

Dave Matthews Band, “Bartender,” from the album Busted Stuff © 2002 RCA. Written by David J. Matthews.

 “Bartender” moves generally from petition to complaint. Intertwined with verses that address first “brother of mine” then “sister of mine” and then “mother of mine,” we find two verses where the singer pleads directly to God (the Bartender) to fill his glass “With the wine you gave Jesus that set him free / After three days in the ground.” Also interspersed between various verses is the cry: “I’m on bended knees / Oh, Bartender, please!” And once, “Oh, Father, please!”

In the second half of the song, complaint dominates, with the admission that the singer is overcome by another drink, which seems stronger than the one he’s been asking for. In counterpoint to the plea for resurrection life in the first half of the song, we find (also stated in two verses) this deathly admission: “The wine that’s drinking me / Came from the vine that strung Judas from the Devil’s tree / Its roots deep, deep in the ground.” Yet perhaps complaint doesn’t quite have the final word, since the song ends with the passionate cry: “I’m on bended knees / Oh, Bartender, please!”

You can find the lyrics here to a haunting acoustic solo version of “Bartender” sung by Dave Matthews (without the band). This is the original version (with the band).

The Smashing Pumpkins, “Bullet with Butterfly Wings,” from the album, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness © 1995 Virgin Records America.

The complaint in “Bullet with Butterfly Wings” is that “the world is a vampire, sent to drain” and speaks of “betrayed desires,” while the chorus articulates the singer’s experience that “despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage.” In the midst of repeating this line over an over, there is an external voice saying, “What is lost can never be saved.” Yet the singer yearns to be significant to God, almost screaming the line: “Jesus was an only son for you!” The song ends seemingly without hope, with the refrain, “I still believe that I cannot be saved”; the external voice has been internalized.

Warning: This song is in the “metal” genre. The music is especially abrasive (which makes it even more powerful). I’ve had some older church people ask me to turn it down (or even off!). However, I used to play this song in the car on my way to band practice at church. My kids, who would often accompany me, came to call it “the church song”!

XTC, “Dear God,” from the album Skylarking © 1986 by Virgin Records Ltd. Written by Andy Partridge.

“Dear God” also contains petitions, asking God to “make it better down here” and pleading: “we need a big reduction in amount of tears.” Specific problems are cited in the first two verses, including poverty and war, which afflict “all the people that you made in your image.” And in each case God is indicted as the cause of the problem. Starvation is because “they don’t get enough to eat / From God” and war is because “they can’t make opinions meet / About God.” And each verse ends by saying “I can’t believe in you.”

Then the third verse turns to the “crazy” things written in the Bible (“Your name is on a lot of quotes in this book”) and those people made in God’s image “Still believing that junk is true / Well I know it ain’t and so do you / Dear God.” The musical variations, from gentle to insistent, with violins at one point, make the lyrics especially poignant.

Then comes the bridge, where the music first pulls back, then increases in dynamic intensity to a climax. This section juxtaposes various elements of Christian theology (which the singer refuses to believe) with a list of wrongs in the world, followed by this declaration: “The hurt I see helps to compound/ That Father, Son and Holy Ghost / Is just somebody’s unholy hoax.”

But the song ends with a highly paradoxical statement: “And if you’re up there you’d perceive / That my heart’s here upon my sleeve / If there’s one thing I don’t believe in / It’s you / Dear God.” The question is why someone who doesn’t believe in God would tell this to God. Indeed, why they would write an entire song addressed to a God they don’t believe in? Because (and that’s the point of “my heart’s here upon my sleeve”) they desperately want to believe.

It was my engagement with lament prayer that led to my book, Abraham’s Silence: The Binding of Isaac, the Suffering of Job, and How to Talk Back to God (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2021). Here I addressed examples of vigorous prayer in the Bible, including the lament psalms, prophetic intercession in the tradition of Moses, and the book of Job. These examples prodded me to ask why Abraham didn’t lament or protest when God asked him to sacrifice his son, Isaac. The book ends with a theology of lament prayer applicable to Christians in a world of pain and suffering. You can take a look at the Table of Contents and read the Introduction to Abraham’s Silence here.

In a follow-up post, I will note some of the other things I’ve written on lament.

A version of this blog is posted on the Northeastern Seminary website.