Mephibosheth by Heidi Dru Kortman DTM

Mephibosheth

2 Samuel 9 and 16

When I was five my grandfather, King Saul, and my father went to war against our enemies the Philistines. They chased our enemies from place to place, and killed many of them. I thought my father and grandfather would return soon, but at Jezreel the Philistine army killed them. When the news came, everyone panicked. My nanny tried to carry me and run away, but I fell.

My feet hurt all the time, now, and I’ll never walk or go to war. I live in Makir’s house in Lo Debar, and David is king. He was my father’s friend, but I hope he has forgotten me, because he is ruthless to his enemies, and what else could I be, as Saul’s grandson?

Ziba lives nearby with his huge family. They were only too glad to squat on the lands that belonged to my grandfather, and farm them. I hear him at the door now, and he insists on seeing me.

I should be changing my bandages. They stink, and that, combined with guilt and greed, makes Ziba rush to tell his news. I must return to Jerusalem and appear before King David.

Two of Ziba’s sons carry me into the throne room. I hope the king’s chronicler doesn’t record how far I crawl to reach David’s feet. I’m probably as welcome here as a dead dog’s carcass.

“Mephibosheth!”

The force of King David’s voice compels me to look up, but I can’t stop trembling. What will he want from me? “I am your servant.”

“Don’t be afraid, for I will surely show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan. I will restore to you all the land that belonged to your grandfather Saul, and you will always eat at my table.”

I blink and back away. David summons Ziba and informs him that all the work his family has done and will do, is for my benefit. I hear Ziba force the acquiescing words from his mouth.

When Absalom attempts a coup, I want to leave with David, but Ziba and his sons refuse to saddle my donkey. I cannot get word to David, and decide that the only way to express my remorse is to remain unkempt until the king returns. I will not cut my mustache, care for my feet, or launder my clothes.

Ziba loads a string of donkeys and leaves in haste. All day, his sons give me sidelong looks. When Ziba arrives home, he thrusts a fist skyward in triumph. His sons and grandsons surround him, and laugh.

Absalom is assassinated, and David heads homeward to Jerusalem. Now, Ziba and his sons rush to saddle my donkey, and urge me out to greet the king. I meet David on the road, and he asks,“Why didn’t you go with me, Mephibosheth?”

“My lord the king, since I your servant am lame, I said ‘I will have my donkey saddled and will ride on it, so I can go with the king.’ But Ziba my servant betrayed me. And he has slandered your servant to my lord the king. Do whatever pleases you. All my grandfather’s descendants deserved nothing but death from my lord the king, but you have given me a place at your table. I cannot ask for anything.”

“Don’t say anything more, Mephibosheth. You and Ziba will share Saul’s fields.”

I shake my head. “I don’t care if I own any part of those fields. Let him have every acre. The only thing that matters to me is that you have returned.”

Later in David’s reign, we experience a three-year famine. David asks the Lord, and the Lord explains: “It is on account of Saul and his bloodstained house; it is because Saul put the Gibeonites to death.”

David asks the remaining Gibeonites what they want as restitution, and they are emboldened to ask for the lives of seven of Saul’s descendants. He agrees. I shiver. There aren’t many of us left. Will the king’s generosity toward me end now? Will he give them my son Mica?

We assemble in the king’s courtyard, and David makes his choices. For the sake of the friendship he had with my father, my son and I are spared.

  

Heidi Dru Kortman DTM

God's gifts and call are irrevocable.

heididrukortman.com.

 

Heidi Dru Kortman, a CWG Apprentice graduate, ACFW member since 2004, and Word Weaver member has published devotionals in various newsletters, and a collected volume of devotionals. Her poetry, flash fiction, and short stories have appeared in small magazines, and a website. She is applying herself to the task of writing smoothly polished fiction.