Saul, like Ahab, had an ill-timed showing of mercy. In Saul’s case, it almost led to the end of the Jews.
Ben-Hadad means “son of Hadad.” Hadad, a West Semitic bearded god of storms, carried a club in one hand and a thunderbolt in the other—not a very nice fellow. Well, Ben-Hadad was more thunder clap than lightning bolt. After his chest-beating boasts, he’d been defeated by the Israelites twice and now was hiding in a safe room at Aphek. “Then his servants said to him, ‘Look now, we have heard that the kings of the house of Israel are merciful kings….perhaps he will spare your life’” (1 Ki 20:31). As we’ve read the account of the conquest of Canaan, evidently there is a time to show mercy and a time not to show it. Speaking of Israel’s enemies, Moses said, “When the Lord your God delivers them over to you, you shall conquer them and utterly destroy them. You shall make no covenant with them nor show mercy to them” (Deut 7:2). So how does this story play out? Dressed in the latest rent-a-mourner costumes, Ben-Hadad’s servants approached Ahab and pled for his life. Israel’s king, a pagan at heart, responded, “He is my brother” (1 Ki 20:32). A treaty was quickly arranged. Now the story takes a strange turn. One “of the sons of the prophets said to his neighbor by the word of the Lord, ‘Strike me, please.’ And the man refused” (v 35). This disobedience was fatal to the man; a lion soon killed him. A second man complied and wounded the prophet. Disguising himself as a wounded soldier, the prophet waylaid Ahab and told a story. He was given the task of guarding a prisoner, but he escaped. What should be his fate? Death! Exactly, said the prophet. You had God’s foe in your grasp and let him escape. “Therefore your life shall go for his life” (v 42), and so it would be. “Sullen and displeased” (v 43), Ahab returned to Samaria.