gives away his few belongings. Other soldiers do likewise. Over time, the tone of the camp softens and brightens. Sacrifice replaces selfishness. Sol-diers hold worship services and Bible studies.
Twenty years later, when Gordon served as chaplain of Prince-ton University, he described the transformation with these words:
Death was still with usâno doubt about that. But we were slowly being freed from its destructive grip. . . . Selfishness, hatred . . . and pride were all anti-life. Love . . . self-sacrifice . . . and faith, on the other hand, were the essence of life . . . gifts of God to men. . . . Death no longer had the last word at Chungkai. 1
Selfishness, hatred, and prideâyou donât have to go to a POW camp to find them. A dormitory will do just fine. As will the board-room of a corporation or the bedroom of a marriage or the backwoods of a county. The code of the jungle is alive and well. Every man for himself. Get all you can, and can all you get. Survival of the fittest.
Does the code contaminate your world? Do personal possessive pronouns dominate the language of your circle? My career, my dreams, my stuff. I want things to go my way on my schedule. If so, you know how savage this giant can be. Yet, every so often, a diamond glitters in the mud. A comrade shares, a soldier cares, or Abigail, stunning Abigail, stands on your trail.
She lived in the days of David and was married to Nabal, whose name means âfoolâ in Hebrew. He lived up to the definition.
Think of him as the Saddam Hussein of the territory. He owned cattle and sheep and took pride in both. He kept his liquor cabinet full, his date life hot, and motored around in a stretch limo. His NBA seats were front row, his jet was Lear, and he was prone to hop over to Vegas for a weekend of Texas Hold âem. Half a dozen linebacker-size security guards followed him wherever he went.
Nabal needed the protection. He was âchurlish and ill-behavedâa real Calebbite dog. . . . He is so ill-natured that one cannot speak to himâ (1 Sam. 25:3, 17) 2 He learned people skills in the local zoo. He never met a person he couldnât anger or a relationship he couldnât spoil. Nabalâs world revolved around one personâNabal. He owed nothing to anybody and laughed at the thought of sharing with anyone.
Especially David.
David played a Robin Hood role in the wilderness. He and his six hundred soldiers protected the farmers and shepherds from brigands and Bedouins. Israel had no highway patrol or police force, so David and his mighty men met a definite need in the countryside. They guarded with enough effectiveness to prompt one of Nabalâs shepherds to say, âNight and day they were a wall around us all the time we were herding our sheep near themâ (25:16 niv).
David and Nabal cohabited the territory with the harmony of two bulls in the same pasture. Both strong and strong-headed. It was just a matter of time before they collided.
Trouble began to brew after the harvest. With sheep sheared and hay gathered, it was time to bake bread, roast lamb, and pour wine. Take a break from the furrows and flocks and enjoy the fruit of the labor. As we pick up the story, Nabalâs men are doing just that.
David hears of the gala and thinks his men deserve an invitation. After all, theyâve protected the manâs crops and sheep, patrolled the hills and secured the valleys. They deserve a bit of the bounty. David sends ten men to Nabal with this request: âWe come at a happy time, so be kind to my young men. Please give anything you can find for them and for your son Davidâ (25:8 ncv).
Boorish Nabal scoffs at the thought:
Who is David, and who is the son of Jesse? There are many servants nowadays who break away each one from his master. Shall I then take my bread and my water and my meat that I have killed for my shearers, and give it to men when I do not know where they are from?
Twenty years later, when Gordon served as chaplain of Prince-ton University, he described the transformation with these words:
Death was still with usâno doubt about that. But we were slowly being freed from its destructive grip. . . . Selfishness, hatred . . . and pride were all anti-life. Love . . . self-sacrifice . . . and faith, on the other hand, were the essence of life . . . gifts of God to men. . . . Death no longer had the last word at Chungkai. 1
Selfishness, hatred, and prideâyou donât have to go to a POW camp to find them. A dormitory will do just fine. As will the board-room of a corporation or the bedroom of a marriage or the backwoods of a county. The code of the jungle is alive and well. Every man for himself. Get all you can, and can all you get. Survival of the fittest.
Does the code contaminate your world? Do personal possessive pronouns dominate the language of your circle? My career, my dreams, my stuff. I want things to go my way on my schedule. If so, you know how savage this giant can be. Yet, every so often, a diamond glitters in the mud. A comrade shares, a soldier cares, or Abigail, stunning Abigail, stands on your trail.
She lived in the days of David and was married to Nabal, whose name means âfoolâ in Hebrew. He lived up to the definition.
Think of him as the Saddam Hussein of the territory. He owned cattle and sheep and took pride in both. He kept his liquor cabinet full, his date life hot, and motored around in a stretch limo. His NBA seats were front row, his jet was Lear, and he was prone to hop over to Vegas for a weekend of Texas Hold âem. Half a dozen linebacker-size security guards followed him wherever he went.
Nabal needed the protection. He was âchurlish and ill-behavedâa real Calebbite dog. . . . He is so ill-natured that one cannot speak to himâ (1 Sam. 25:3, 17) 2 He learned people skills in the local zoo. He never met a person he couldnât anger or a relationship he couldnât spoil. Nabalâs world revolved around one personâNabal. He owed nothing to anybody and laughed at the thought of sharing with anyone.
Especially David.
David played a Robin Hood role in the wilderness. He and his six hundred soldiers protected the farmers and shepherds from brigands and Bedouins. Israel had no highway patrol or police force, so David and his mighty men met a definite need in the countryside. They guarded with enough effectiveness to prompt one of Nabalâs shepherds to say, âNight and day they were a wall around us all the time we were herding our sheep near themâ (25:16 niv).
David and Nabal cohabited the territory with the harmony of two bulls in the same pasture. Both strong and strong-headed. It was just a matter of time before they collided.
Trouble began to brew after the harvest. With sheep sheared and hay gathered, it was time to bake bread, roast lamb, and pour wine. Take a break from the furrows and flocks and enjoy the fruit of the labor. As we pick up the story, Nabalâs men are doing just that.
David hears of the gala and thinks his men deserve an invitation. After all, theyâve protected the manâs crops and sheep, patrolled the hills and secured the valleys. They deserve a bit of the bounty. David sends ten men to Nabal with this request: âWe come at a happy time, so be kind to my young men. Please give anything you can find for them and for your son Davidâ (25:8 ncv).
Boorish Nabal scoffs at the thought:
Who is David, and who is the son of Jesse? There are many servants nowadays who break away each one from his master. Shall I then take my bread and my water and my meat that I have killed for my shearers, and give it to men when I do not know where they are from?
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