Day 86: 1 Chronicles 29:23–30

He died at a good old age, full of days, riches, and honor, and his son Solomon became king in his place (v. 28).

Indeed, our God gave no insignificant space to the chronicles of David’s life. He was the object of much love and continues to be the object of much learning. As we near the end of our look at David, may it be no exception.

In Psalm 69:16, David wrote: “Answer me, O Lord, out of the goodness of your love.” As his life came to its end, we see how God graciously answered. In Psalm 51, David begged forgiveness. Solomon was the tangible evidence of David’s pardon, for of him Scripture says, “The Lord loved him” (2 Sam. 12:24). Just as the contrite father had asked, the Word says of Solomon, “He prospered and all Israel obeyed him. All the officers and mighty men, as well as all of King David’s sons, pledged their submission to King Solomon” (vv. 23–24).

The unrelenting sword was finally at rest. David’s house was in order. God had given a weary man strength and helped him prepare a family and a nation for life in his absence. Surely as he bowed on his sickbed, David had prayed the words of Psalm 71:9: “Do not cast me away when I am old; do not forsake me when my strength is gone.”

God did not cast David away. God did not forsake him when he was old. The God whose faithfulness endures to all generations completed the good work He started in a shepherd. Now the work was finally finished. The empty grave pleaded to be filled, the warrior to cease fighting. His thoughts must have been like those of the writer of Psalm 102: “For my days vanish like smoke; my bones burn like glowing embers. My heart is blighted and withered like grass; I forget to eat my food. Because of my loud groaning I am reduced to skin and bones” (vv. 3–5).

David had no reason to resist death’s call. He had lived the length of his days. His throne was filled. It was fitting that his grave be filled as well. He had turned over his crown and joyfully dedicated his personal riches to the building of the temple. He was too old to conquer kingdoms, too sick to fill a sling, too frail to feast on the fatted calf. But that which he treasured most was never so dear to him and never so real.

Scholars generally agree that the words of Psalm 71 were written in David’s old age as he confronted his hastening death. In verse 14 he wrote, “But as for me, I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more.” David proclaimed a specific hope as the cords of death encompassed him:

Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter,

you will restore my life again;

from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up

(Ps. 71:20).

He had hope of the blessed resurrection, just as we do! Not just an empty wish, but an anxious and certain expectation! From his proclamation of hope came Psalm 71:22: “I will praise you with the harp for your faithfulness, O my God.”

I picture the aged king praising God. Once more his fingers wrapped around the strings of his harp, his hands no longer the calloused young hands of a hardy shepherd boy. Bent with age, slowed with time, David’s fingers brushed across the strings. His voice, once wavering with adolescence, now wavered with age. No sweeter voice could be heard than the one that flowed, however unevenly, from the sincere heart of the aged. No longer did David’s voice resound with the richness that had once awed a tormented Saul. Resigned to the will of the Father, in perfect harmony with God’s plan for his life, he sang a final song of hope. The One who would take him to the depths of the earth would bring him up.

So he departed this life with two magnificent treasures: peace with his family and hope in his resurrection.

“Then David rested with his fathers and was buried in the City of David” (1 Kings 2:10). The eyes that had peeked into the heart of God now closed in death. The earthly life of one of the most passionate and controversial figures ever to grace this planet ended. The deadly silence must have lasted only long enough for Bathsheba to place her ear close to his mouth and her hand on his heart. The faint rise and fall of his chest had ceased.

No doubt the silence gave way to wails of grief. Trumpets carried the news. A kind of mourning peculiar to the Hebrew nation filled the days that followed. The very instruments commissioned by David for the dedication of the temple ironically may have first played his funeral dirge. Multitudes heaped ashes on their heads and draped sackcloth on their bodies. Then after an intense period of national mourning with visits from foreign dignitaries, life continued—just as it has the audacity to do after we’ve lost a loved one.

Life went on, but forever marked by the life of God’s chosen king. God sovereignly chose to chisel David’s reign into a kingdom that would last forever.