This year, I committed my “Bathsheba sin.” But it’s been a long time coming.

Bathsheba is that egregious thing you do that defines your legacy and story. (2 Samuel 11:1–27)

When people write your biography, they will refer to it. It will be a stain on an otherwise good reputation. There is no way to whitewash it. You simply go through it.

As I sat with what I had done and its inevitable consequences, and as I attempted to contain it, I kept hearing, “Subomi, don’t kill Uriah. It’s bad enough that you metaphorically slept with Bathsheba and she got pregnant. Don’t kill Uriah to cover it up.”

If David had immediately confessed his sin and asked God for mercy instead of trying to fix things himself, would he have received help?

And so, I threw myself at God’s mercy, asking the God of Mercy to appeal to the God of Judgment.

I currently have no solution, and there is nothing I am doing but waiting for God to save me and give me wisdom. I will not kill Uriah.

The Cost of Killing Uriah

Here are some of the familial consequences of killing Uriah:

David gives political leverage to his weaponized subordinate and general, Joab, who becomes uncontrollable. David’s and Bathsheba’s baby dies. His daughter, Tamar is raped by her brother, Amnon, and her prospects are terminated. The perpetrator is killed by another son, Absalom. David then temporarily loses his throne to Absalom.

After this, he endures public abuse from Shimei while on the run. The concubines left behind are raped, and their future roles are summarily cut short. Absalom is finally killed and David regains his throne. Then his son Solomon almost loses the kingdom to Adonijah in a palace coup, at which point Bathsheba and Nathan stage a counter-measure with the king’s help. In a petty instance of unforgiveness, David’s final act is plotting revenge against Shimei on his deathbed.

What a life and what consequences from a single series of sins.

The Hidden Cost of Bathsheba

One thing preachers rarely mention is how David’s own mission was affected by the public scandal.

The time spent on the run, and dealing with family dysfunction, were years that could have been dedicated to God’s work. His reputation as God’s son was smeared. Then there was the blood on his hands. As a warrior, bandit, and king, David was not the first to kill people, but the blood on his hands surely included the wreckage that flowed from Bathsheba.

Hence why God’s counsel to me mattered so much: “Subomi, don’t kill Uriah.”

If you give your sin to God, your Bathsheba moment can be redeemed. Bathsheba herself became Queen Mother.

A for Audacity

When the prophet Nathan confronted David about his sin (2 Samuel 12:1–15), the king was so wrapped up in entitlement, self-righteousness and pride that he did not even recognise that the story Nathan told was about him.

The only way David could see himself was through an allegory. If Nathan had come directly, David would have argued.

Such audacity. I did the same thing.

Post-Mortem: What Went Wrong

Where did I go wrong, and how did I get here?

I had an honest conversation with my mentor to help me trace the failure. He identified three things: Selflessness, Sensitivity, and Submission.

Selflessness: I need to return to doing things for others, not myself. To consider others better than myself. To stop striving and trust God. Doing things my way will never end well.

Sensitivity: I must watch my tone so I do not channel haughtiness, pride or insensitivity. I should also mourn with those who mourn and rejoice with those who rejoice. No judgment.

Submission: I need accountability. Lots of it.

In addition, I identified a fourth item: there was a void I was trying to fill. If I do not find a healthy way to address it, I will repeat the same mistakes.

Where I Am Now

I am still grappling with the metaphorical death of my baby.

It is frustrating to wait, trust God, and do nothing. To act only on the wisdom he gives. This is deeply humbling and completely out of character. But I am at peace with it.

I have been tired for so long that it is restful to allow someone else to care for me.

For more, read Random Thoughts About Prophecy