A dark story from the life of David becomes the black velvet backdrop to display the crown jewels.
Psalm 34 is the epitome of irony. It’s like a golden bowl filled with the most brilliant gems. They capture the light and then, through carefully cleaved facets, refract it to give us continuing delights. But we know something else about these jewels. When they first were discovered, they were well disguised, lying in the dust and grime, and hidden away in the darkness. When you read the title—another of those biographical psalms—you can’t help but wonder what could be made of those rough and misshapen lumps of human failure. But somehow the miner and the jeweler conspired to take these unattractive deeds and turn them into one of the finest collections in the King’s treasure house. Here’s the title: “A Psalm of David when he pretended madness before Abimelech, who drove him away, and he departed.” Recall the story. David panicked when Saul swore a death warrant against him. Fleeing to Nob where the priests were living, he told a lie that he was on the king’s business and needed food and a weapon. The only food? The showbread. The only weapon? Goliath’s sword. Then to add madness to the mix, he thought the best place to flee from Saul was Gath! Can you see David walking down the main street with their hometown boy’s massive sword dragging in the dust behind him? He’s taken to the palace for summary judgment. But seeing his mad plan has led him this far, he decides to go all the way. So he “pretended madness…scratched on the doors of the gate, and let his saliva fall down on his beard” (1 Sam 21:13). To which the king replied that there were no openings at present for madmen in the palace! So the king “drove him away, and he departed.” Whatever did David learn from this?