2 Samuel 1:12

King Saul was the first king of Israel and the father of Jonathan. Saul had spent years in a paranoid pursuit of David — hunting him, throwing spears at him, sending soldiers to kill him — driven by jealousy over David's growing reputation. Jonathan, by contrast, was David's closest and most devoted friend. When news reached David that Saul, Jonathan, and much of the Israelite army had been killed in battle against the Philistines (a neighboring enemy nation), you might expect relief or even vindication from David. Instead, he and his men tore their clothes — an ancient sign of overwhelming grief — and wept and fasted until evening. The fast here was not a spiritual discipline in the usual sense. It was grief made physical: pain so deep that eating felt wrong. David mourned all of them — the friend he loved, the king who had tried to kill him, and the soldiers who fell.

God, give me the kind of heart that can grieve even for people who have hurt me. It does not come naturally. Teach me to see them the way you do — not as obstacles or enemies, but as people you love. Loosen whatever grip of relief or bitterness I have been holding without even naming it. Amen.

Saul had tried to kill David. More than once. He threw spears at him while David was playing music. He sent assassins. He chased him through the wilderness for years, turning David's life into a long, exhausting act of survival. And when word came that Saul was dead — David wept and fasted. That is not what we do. We write careful, complicated obituaries for complicated people. We feel the quiet, guilty relief and quietly call it closure. We move on. David's grief unsettles all of that, because it refuses to let his enemy stay a villain. He mourned Saul not in spite of what Saul had done, but as a full human being — a king, a father, a soul, now gone. The question this verse leaves you with is harder than it sounds: Is there someone in your story whose fall has brought you quiet relief? Someone whose suffering you have, even fleetingly, felt was deserved? You do not have to lie about how you feel. But maybe the invitation here is to sit with them — not as your enemy, but as a soul.