Saul's Armor

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Then Saul clothed David with his military attire and put a bronze helmet on his head, and outfitted him with armor. And David strapped on his sword over his military attire and struggled at walking, for he had not trained with the armor. So David said to Saul, “I cannot go with these, because I have not trained with them.” And David took them off.
1 Samuel 17:38-39 NASB

Saul loved David.

David could not have been much older than fourteen years when he was brought before King Saul. He was just a young shepherd, but his indignant response to Goliath’s challenge, that “this uncircumcised Philistine… dared to defy the armies of the living God,” stirred the king’s heart and Saul was moved to protect him.

First, the king argued that the shepherd boy was too young and inexperienced, but David countered by declaring that he had protected his flock against both bear and lion attacks. Then Saul saw that David was unequipped. He could do nothing about David’s age, but he could safeguard the boy before he went into battle. So, the King of Israel placed his own armor, the best in the land, on the youth, so that he could face the enemy fully protected.

Saul wanted to ensure the best possible outcome for David. But outfitting David in armor that had been tried and true for the king didn’t provide the benefit Saul intended. It’s not that his armor was insufficient—it was made for the king, it’s just that David was not accustomed to it. What David knew, and had prevailed with, was his staff and his sling.

When our loved ones, especially our children, go into the world, we want to protect them: From harm… from pain… We want to teach them what we’ve learned—what’s worked for us—so that they can take their stand against the enemy and his lies. But so often the truth we share isn’t what they want—or need. We flounder, trying to figure out how to help them through the crises and predicaments they find themselves in. We want to help them out of their miry pits and fowler’s snares. But that is not our role.

We forget how our own armor was forged—through trials and missteps we experienced, lessons we learned the hard way, and seeing God’s faithfulness again and again, even when we were faithless.

We forget, but God does not. His compassions never fail. He knows what has formed us….
He is intimately familiar with the indentations that time and trials, sickness and sorrow, even sin and failure have impressed upon our souls. Where we have missed the mark, and they have left theirs. He knows what we endure at the hands of sinful man and the toll our own rebellion takes.

Our children, our loved ones, need armor made specifically for them, forged in the fires of their own experiences. They need this more than the good education, steady job, and solid relationships we wish for them—to see that God is sufficient for all their need, and not just take our word for it. But how can they discover this if we rush in to rescue before they have a chance to lift their eyes to Him?

My armor is custom-made, and I am accustomed to fighting in it. Our children cannot fight in hand-me-downs, but the One who knows them best and loves them most is equipping them. The attacks will come, but these bears and lions will only serve to train them to defeat their Goliaths.