Nathan: The Power of Story
Imagine you are the prophet Nathan. Your job as a prophet is to enforce boundaries for your primary client, the king of Israel. The profession of prophecy arises almost simultaneously with the monarchy, because God knows the human tendency to overstep one’s bounds. God is aware, long before Lord Acton, that “power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” The kings of Israel and Judah were never meant to wield anything close to absolute power, and the prophets are there to remind them of that inconvenient fact.
You, Nathan, have received a transmission of sorts from God, and you have to decide what to do about it. In a dream, perhaps, or a vision you have discerned that the king has broken a couple of major commandments, and God is not happy about it. The details are a little sketchy, but it has something to do with an illicit sexual encounter—one in which the king abused his power by taking a woman he desired—and a murder designed to cover up for the adultery. The writer of 2 Samuel says tersely of this whole sordid affair, “The thing that David had done displeased the Lord” (v. 27).
So now God calls upon you to take the divine message to the king. What do you do? David has already proven his ruthlessness in arranging the death of Bathsheba’s husband Uriah and through any number of other actions he has taken since becoming king. (Like the time he made a bunch of his defeated enemies lie on the ground, and he ordered his men to go along the lines, killing two out of every three men and forcing the ones he spared into slavery.) How do you feel about your prospects in confronting the king now? I would be quaking in my boots.
But Nathan screws up his courage to the sticking point, goes into the king’s presence and … tells him a story. He relates a parable about a rich man who, instead of taking a sheep from his own flock to prepare a feast for a guest, goes to his poor neighbor and takes his beloved ewe lamb, which is almost like a pet or even a member of the family, and slaughters it.
Assuming this to be a literal description of events, David becomes incensed and declares that the rich man deserves to die. At this Nathan springs his trap. With the growing boldness that comes from conviction and probably no small measure of adrenaline, he points at the king and says, “You are the man! … Why have you despised the word of the Lord, to do what is evil in his sight? You have struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword, and have taken his wife to be your wife, and have killed him with the sword of the Ammonites” (vv. 7, 9).
To his credit, David chooses not to off the pesky prophet, but instead repents. Nathan leaves, greatly relieved and dripping with flop sweat.
What makes the difference? I think it’s that Nathan uses a story to communicate the word of God rather than a lecture. The king enters into the world of the story, becomes invested in its outcome, and chomps down on hook, line, and sinker. Nathan practices what Jesus will later hone to perfection. Jesus’s parables are also meant to draw listeners in until they are hooked and can begin to see the world from a new perspective. It doesn’t always work, but it does often enough to be considered a sound pedagogical approach. Besides, it helps ensure that the prophet will live to preach another day.
Grace and peace,
bob
-
Location