Fear Makes Us Forget

Well, hey everybody, it is great to see you, whether you're here in the room or joining us online.

I'm honored to have you along for the ride.

And by the way, I'm always pumped for Sunday, but this week in particular, I am primed.

Why, you may ask?

I was in Muskegon at a camp this week with a bunch of people, and I taught every single day this week.

So the pump is primed, friends.

Buckle up.

And a special thanks to Bob for starting the series last week.

David and Goliath, he crushed it.

I'm not surprised.

He's amazing.

But uh but anyway, uh today we find ourselves in the second week of a series that we've called Hard One Wisdom.

It's all about what we can learn from one of uh Israel's most famous citizens, a guy by the name of David.

And to get us going with what I want to talk to you about today, I need to ask you a question.

Have you ever, in a reflective moment, looked back on a decision you made and wondered, what was I thinking?

Right?

I mean, maybe it was a purchase you couldn't really afford but talk yourself into, or a relationship that you really shouldn't have pursued that you did, or a conversation you wished you could have back, like the words are flying out of your mouth, and you're like, no.

Am I the only one?

Right, yeah.

Um, or maybe it was an email you should have deleted instead of sending.

Uh whatever it was, when you think about it today, it doesn't even make sense.

It's not who you are.

You're smarter than that, you're wiser than that.

So why did you do it?

And I think most of us assume our biggest regrets are born out of rebellion.

But honestly, I don't think that's true.

I think they're usually born out of panic.

And here's why I say that I think there's something about fear that narrows our vision.

When fear takes over, we stop seeing life clearly, and we convince ourselves that if we don't do something, no one will, including God.

And that's when we start taking matters into our own hands.

Our fear has become louder than our memory.

And that's exactly what happened to David in the story we get to explore from his life today.

And so now I am aware that when most of us think of David, we think about two stories, right?

We think about Goliath, which we talked about last week, and we talked about Bathsheba, which we're not talking about, because that is PG 13.

Okay?

Yeah.

But one is a story of incredible courage, and the other is a story of incredible failure.

But here's the thing between those two stories is another of David's failures that I don't think gets much attention.

In fact, um, if you were reading straight through the account of David's life, you might almost miss this failure.

But I think it contains an account of some incredibly hard-fought wisdom that is still relevant today.

And so here's kind of the setup.

Um, as the story opens, David is 22 years old.

So years have passed since he defeated Goliath.

He's married the daughter of King Saul, and he's become Israel's national hero.

People are literally writing songs about him, right?

I mean, that's that's next level in the ancient world.

From the outside, then, it looks like his life couldn't be going any better.

But sometimes, and you've probably noticed this, sometimes the moment everyone else thinks your life is coming together is the very moment it begins to unravel.

Because success doesn't always remove fear.

Sometimes it activates it.

And in this case, um, David's success initially doesn't activate his fear, it activates the fear of his father-in-law, King Saul.

Saul is watching as David's star rises in Israel and he sees someone that is a threat, that people love more than they love him, someone who fights better than he fights, and who inspires more confidence than he inspires.

And probably most troubling, a guy whom God appears to be blessing more than him.

And as a result, Saul becomes convinced that David's success threatens his own.

And eventually the paranoia reaches a breaking point.

And Saul is having dinner with his family one night.

David's not there, but his son Jonathan, who's David's best friend, is there when the account tells us that Saul's anger flared up at Jonathan, his son, and he said to his son, You son of a perverse and rebellious woman.

Now, pause.

This is your wife, dude.

That's how that works.

But anyway, uh, you son of a perverse and rebellious woman, don't I know that you've sided with David to your own shame and to the shame of the mother who bore you?

Was she sitting there?

I love it.

Anyway, as long as David lives, neither you nor your kingdom will be established.

Now send someone to bring David to me, for he must die.

In other words, Jonathan, as long as David is alive, our family will eventually lose everything.

And Jonathan responds, um, why should he be put to death?

Like, what has he done?

And it's a fair question.

David hasn't betrayed Saul, he hasn't led a rebellion, he hasn't committed treason.

Honestly, all he's been is faithful.

But in response to David's question, Saul hurtled his spear at Jonathan to kill him, his son, the one of the rebellious woman?

That one, right?

Yeah.

And at this moment, Jonathan has this realization: hey, if my father is willing to kill me, he's certainly willing to kill David.

And so he slips away to locate David and tells him to run.

Can you imagine what that must have felt like for David?

I mean, he'd risked his life for Saul.

He fought Saul's battles.

He married Saul's daughter, he became best friends with Saul's son, and now Saul wants him dead.

I mean, it had to seem unbelievable.

I just wonder, though, have you ever had someone turn on you that you never imagined would?

Someone you loved and trusted.

It's disorienting.

Betrayal, it doesn't just wound your heart.

I would argue it changes the way you see the world because suddenly everyone becomes harder to trust.

Even God.

And so without any effort whatsoever, fear begins to preach to David.

And here's what's tragic: if you think about it, David has done nothing wrong.

I mean, sometimes we assume fear only follows bad decisions, but that's just not true.

Sometimes fear follows faithfulness.

Sometimes obeying God puts you in circumstances you never would have chosen.

David did not create this crisis, but he does have to decide how he'll respond to it.

And that's where his story becomes our story because every one of us eventually finds ourselves in circumstances that we didn't choose.

Like it was a diagnosis or a betrayal or a financial setback or a child making heartbreaking decisions or a marriage that suddenly feels fragile or a career that seems to be quickly unraveling.

We didn't ask for it, we didn't deserve it, but now we're living in it.

And in moments like those, fear begins whispering, you're on your own.

Like God isn't gonna come through this time.

You better take control while you still can.

It challenges what we believe about God.

Like we would never say it out loud, but our attention or our actions rather begin to say it for us.

If God were really with me, this wouldn't be happening, and if God cared, I wouldn't feel this alone.

If I can no longer trust him, then I guess, I guess I have to trust myself.

And here's the tragedy David didn't know this was happening, and neither do we, because fear makes us forget.

Not theology, but we forget the faithfulness of God.

And whenever fear becomes louder than our memory of his faithfulness, we become vulnerable to making decisions that we'll eventually regret.

Have you ever noticed what fear does to your memory?

It doesn't erase it, it edits it.

When you're anxious, you tend to remember, I tend to remember every failure and forget every answered prayer.

When you're lonely, you forget every person who has faithfully stood beside you.

And when you're afraid, you suddenly become convinced that you've always been afraid.

Fear is a terrible storyteller.

It has a way of highlighting everything that might go wrong while quietly erasing all of the evidence of God's past faithfulness.

Think about this.

Have you ever had someone, when you were in a dark place, remind you of something that you'd completely forgotten?

Like they come alongside of you over coffee or lunch and they say, Hey, remember when God provided for you?

Remember when you thought your marriage wasn't gonna make it?

Remember when you became convinced that your child would never come back?

Remember when you wondered how you'd ever get through that season?

And suddenly you realize, like, man, I'd forgotten.

Not because God wasn't faithful, but because fear had become louder than memory.

I think that's exactly where David finds himself as he runs for his life and eventually arrives at a little town called Nob, just a few miles from Jerusalem.

And Nob wasn't much to look at.

There was no palace or army or crowds, but at that time it was one of the most sacred places in Israel because it is where the tabernacle, this portable house for God, had been set up.

So in David's day, it's where the priests served and the sacrifices were offered.

In other words, if there was anywhere David should have been reminded that God was still with him, this was it.

So he walks up to the high priest who's working in the tabernacle.

And before David even has a word, the high priest knows something is wrong, very wrong, and he asks David, Why are you alone?

Why is no one with you?

I mean, he's troubled because David was almost never alone.

He was the nation's greatest military hero, and as such, should have been surrounded by soldiers and servants, but now he's by himself and he's disheveled and he's hungry and he's exhausted, and the high priest immediately knows something doesn't add up, and David has a choice to make.

He can tell the truth or he can try to take control.

And he chooses control.

And he looks at the high priest, and he says, The king, Saul, sent me on a mission and said to me, No one is to know anything about the mission.

I'm sending you on.

As for my men, I've told them to meet me at a certain place.

That's why I'm alone.

And obviously, none of that's true.

Saul didn't send him.

There's no soldiers waiting nearby, there's no mission.

This is fear talking.

And David knows better.

I mean, he isn't someone who grew up without God.

I mean, this is the one who once stood before a giant and declared the battle belongs to the Lord.

This is David.

So what happened?

I don't think he stopped believing in God.

I think he stopped believing God was with him.

And there's a difference, like one is theology and the other is trust.

And here's the thing: I think we all have moments when we two stop believing God is with us and we begin acting as if we're on our own.

Fear has a way of doing that.

It whispers, you better figure this out yourself.

You better protect your future.

And once we believe that lie, compromise begins to look like wisdom.

David continues.

Now then, uh, what do you have on hand?

Give me five loaves of bread or whatever you can find.

In other words, David asks for food.

But this is the tabernacle.

The high priest doesn't have ordinary bread, he only has the bread that's been set apart for worship.

But but he gives it to David, and David eats it, and for just a moment, it looks like things are starting to turn around.

And then David asks one more question, and it's almost an afterthought, but it changes everything.

Here's what he says to the high priest Don't you have a spear or sword here?

I haven't brought my sword or any other weapon because the king's mission was urgent.

And the priest is taken back.

He pauses, and you can almost picture him looking around.

And then he says, Well, actually, there is one sword here.

And then he kind of disappears.

And David waits, and he hears the footsteps of the high priest approaching.

He's holding a bundle wrapped in cloth.

He unfolds the cloth, and David recognizes it immediately.

It wasn't just a sword, it was the sword.

Goliath's sword.

And to David, it smelled like another season, another David.

The David before fear convinced him that he was on his own.

The David who believed that five stones were enough because God was enough.

I wonder if his hands trembled when he touched it.

And I wonder if he remembered what he told Goliath that day.

You come against me with the sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty.

Don't miss the irony.

The greatest victory of David's life happened when he didn't need a sword.

The sword wasn't the reason Goliath fell.

God was.

And this sword was never supposed to become David's security.

It was supposed to become his reminder that when David had nothing, God was enough.

And I wonder if there's a sense in which every one of us has a sword like that.

Not literally, but something that we reach for when fear convinces us that God isn't enough.

Maybe it's money.

Maybe it's control.

Maybe it's another relationship.

Pornography, alcohol, work, anger, or just distance, keeping everyone at arm's length because we've been hurt before.

Like whatever that is, it's the thing that whispers to us, you'll be okay if you just have me.

Can I tell you something that I've noticed over the years?

Our greatest temptation is almost never something completely new.

It's usually something we've reached for before that makes us feel like we're back in control.

David should have looked at that sword and remembered God's faithfulness.

But instead, he looked at the sword and imagined his survival.

Like the very object that should have reminded him to trust God became the object he trusted instead of God.

I'm telling you, fear makes us forget.

It doesn't just make us forget God's faithfulness, it causes us to put our confidence in things that never deserved it.

And the priest finally says to David, Hey, if you want it, take it.

There's no sword here but that one.

And David immediately answers, There is none like it.

Give it to me.

That is hard-won wisdom.

Not because David got it right, but because he'd spend the rest of his life learning what fear can make us forget.

Give it to me.

Those four words may not sound significant, but they are the turning point of the story because the moment David reached for the sword, he wasn't just picking up a weapon, he was taking his future into his own hands.

And David leaves Nob with Goliath's sword strapped to his side, and at first he probably feels relief.

He has had food, he has a weapon, maybe, just maybe, he's back in control.

And isn't that what compromise usually feels like?

Like momentary relief?

But then the story takes another shocking turn.

David doesn't return to Jerusalem with the sword.

He goes to a city called Gath.

And he approaches the king and offers to join their army and fight against King Saul and Israel.

And if Gath sounds familiar, it should.

That's Goliath's hometown.

Think about that.

The man who trusted God enough to run towards Goliath is now running to Goliath's people for protection.

Fear makes us do strange things.

It convinces us that the places God once delivered us from might now actually be the places that save us.

And the Philistines, to their credit, they recognize David immediately.

How could they not?

They'd probably heard his songs that were being sung, right?

And then someone notices what he's carrying.

How bizarre must that have been?

The man who killed Goliath standing in Gath holding Goliath's sword, asking for asylum.

And in that awkward moment, it dawns on David that he's made a terrible mistake.

So he does something, something.

It's almost too painful to read.

He pretends to be insane.

He starts scratching at the doors and lets saliva run down his beard, and the king is like, I don't know what's going on with this guy, but I don't need any more of this in my kingdom.

So he throws David out, and David escapes with his life.

But if you're reading carefully, you realize something.

The sword never helped.

It never protected him or solved his problems because the sword never saved David.

It only reminded him of the God who did.

Fear always tells us the same lie.

If you can just regain control, you'll finally have peace.

But peace has never come from control.

Peace only comes from trusting God.

In this life, control is always an illusion.

And as the story continues, David eventually finds refuge in a cave.

And it's an interesting moment because for the first time in the story, he stops running.

And the noise quiets and the panic settles.

And I wonder if if that's where David finally began remembering, because something changes in that cave.

The Psalms he writes during this season of his life, they just sound different.

And the Psalms are ancient Israel songbook.

Many of them came from David.

But just listen to the words of Psalm 56.

In what was basically a confession to God, David writes this.

He says, When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.

And David didn't write those words after defeating Goliath.

He wrote them all running for his life.

That is hard-won wisdom.

When I'm afraid, I put my trust in you.

It's not the wisdom of someone who never struggled, it's the wisdom of someone who finally recognized fear has been telling me lies.

But see, the story isn't over because fear rarely hurts only the fearful.

It almost always spills onto other people.

And as it turns out, when David met with Israel's high priest and got Goliath's sword, someone else was watching.

It was a man named Doeg, and he reports everything to Saul.

I'm just saying.

If you're here and your name is Doeg, I don't know what to tell you.

Anyway, you're probably not.

But if you are, uh yeah, anyway.

So and so Saul summons the high priest.

The king reaches the high priest, fear has become paranoia for Saul, and paranoia has turned violent.

And so Saul orders the high priest executed.

And then he does something almost unimaginable.

Saul has the entire town of Nob destroyed.

Priests, families, children, and lives that had nothing to do with Saul's jealousy gone.

And we shouldn't rush past that because sometimes we become so familiar with Bible stories that we stop feeling their weight.

This wasn't just a military defeat.

This was the massacre of an entire community.

People woke up that morning expecting an ordinary day and never came home because one frightened king gave one evil command because one frightened man had told one lie.

That's the tragedy of sin.

It rarely hurts only the person committing it.

Well, as the story continues, we learn that uh there was actually one son who escapes from Nob as it's being destroyed, and he finds David and tells David everything.

And listen to David's response.

He says, I am responsible.

For the death of your whole family.

Just imagine having to say those words, I am responsible.

Not Saul is responsible or DOEG is responsible.

David doesn't like shift the blame or minimize or rationalize.

He doesn't say, Oh, I didn't know this would happen.

He just says, hey, I did this.

I'm responsible.

And those words must have been crushing.

Because David lied to save one life, his own, and his lie cost dozens of innocent lives.

It's interesting.

Have you ever noticed that sin always advertises privacy?

Like it only affects you.

No one else will know.

It's your life.

You deserve this.

But but sin has never kept that promise.

It keeps making it, but it's never kept it.

Not once.

Addiction never stays private.

Neither does bitterness or affairs or uncontrolled anger or financial dishonesty.

Sin always reaches farther than we imagined and touches more people than we expected and leaves deeper wounds than we intended.

Which brings me back to us.

Because though we're not carrying Goliath's sword, we all have something we're tempted to reach for when fear starts speaking to us.

Something that convinces us if I can just hold on to this, I'll be okay.

The frightening part of this story isn't that David failed, it's that David never imagined failure would take him here.

And so that said, I need to ask you three questions, not to make you feel guilty, but because I think if David were here, he would ask us these questions.

So the first question goes like this, and you can think about this over lunch or whatever, but what are you reaching for?

Because fear has become louder than faith.

What is it for you?

And again, before you answer, don't think about everyone else's sword.

We all have them, so there's no judgment in this, but just think about yours.

Is it control or money or success or another relationship or alcohol or anger or isolation or work or approval?

What is it for you?

What are you reaching for?

Because fear has become louder than faith.

Here's the second question.

Who else will be affected if you keep reaching for it?

Because your decisions are never just your decisions.

None of them, we're all connected.

The decisions ripple through marriages and children and friendships and churches and generations.

So who else will be affected if you keep reaching for it?

And then finally, one third question: what has fear caused you to forget about God?

Because I have a feeling that you haven't forgotten everything, you've just forgotten what matters the most.

You've forgotten how faithful he's been.

And you've forgotten the giants he's already defeated, and the prayers he's already answered, and the valleys he's already walking through.

So, what does fear cause you to forget about God?

I think the beautiful, hopeful thing about David's story is that this wasn't the end.

God wasn't finished with David.

David would still become a king.

He would still write songs that have strengthened God's people for like 3,000 years and counting, and he would still discover God's grace again and again and again.

Not because fear wasn't real, but because God's faithfulness proved to be greater than David's failure.

God's faithfulness proved to be greater than David's failure.

And maybe some of you need to hear that today.

Like your greatest failure doesn't have to become your final chapter.

Fear doesn't get to write the end of your story.

Grace does.

Fear makes us forget, and grace helps us remember.

And here's where that story points beyond David, because I mean, years later, another son of David walked into another dark night, and he knew soldiers were coming and that betrayal was moments away, and that his suffering was unavoidable.

And in that moment, one of his followers, a guy named Peter, did what made perfect sense.

He reached for a sword.

And maybe Peter thought, if I don't protect Jesus, who will?

And Jesus said something remarkable.

He looked at Peter and he said, put away your sword.

Put it away.

David reached for a sword because he believed his future depended on taking control.

Jesus refused the sword because he trusted his father completely.

David grasped for control.

Jesus surrendered control.

David's fear brought death to innocent people.

Jesus surrender brought life to guilty people.

Including me.

Including you.

And that's the hope David never could have imagined.

Like our confidence isn't ultimately found in how tightly we hold on to God.

It's found in the fact that when we forget, Jesus never did.

When fear whispered, he trusted.

And when suffering came, he obeyed.

And when the cross stood before him, he entrusted himself to his heavenly father.

And so maybe, maybe the invitation for us today, based on David's story and Jesus' story, isn't simply stop being afraid.

I mean, fear is real.

David knew that.

So did Jesus.

I think the invitation is this when fear starts telling you a story, remember.

Remember, the antidote to fear isn't pretending it doesn't exist.

That's not possible anyway.

It's remembering who walks with you through whatever it is that you have to walk through.

Remember who God has been.

Remember what he's already done.

And remember that the same God who was faithful in the valley of Elah hasn't changed because fear makes us forget.

But the gospel helps us remember.

And when we remember, we discover that the God who was with David is still with us even here, even now, even in the valley.

That, my friends, is hard one wisdom.

Not that fear is imaginary, but that God's faithfulness is greater than fear.

And as we close today, um we get to take communion together.

And I don't know that there's a more fitting moment for us to take communion.

Um because I I would argue we get to do something that Jesus knew that we would desperately need.

Because if it's true that fear really does make us forget, then it shouldn't surprise us that one of Jesus' final instructions to his followers at that famous Last Supper was do this in remembrance of me.

Remember.

Jesus didn't tell us to gather regularly because he was afraid we'd stop believing he existed.

He knew we'd be tempted to forget his faithfulness, to forget that he's still with us, to forget that he's already defeated our greatest enemy, to forget that grace is greater than our failures.

David reached for the sword because fear convinced him he was on his own.

And Jesus stretched out his hands because he knew he wasn't.

And because he trusted his father completely, he accomplished what no sword ever could.

He defeated sin and death and opened the door for every one of us to be forgiven and welcomed into the family of God.

And so today, as you receive the bread and the cup, don't just think about an event that happened 2,000 years ago.

Remember.

Remember who God has been in your life.

Remember what Christ has done for you.

And remember that the same Savior who was faithful at the cross is faithful in whatever valley that you're walking through today.

And if fear has been telling you a story lately, let communion tell you a better one.

Because fear makes us forget.

But the bread and the wine help us to remember.

You don't need to be a member here at Keystone to take communion.

We only ask that you have personally accepted the sacrifice of Jesus for your sins.

And if you're here today and you're still exploring Christianity, you're not sure about Jesus, you're not sure about the cross, feel free to take a pass.

There's no judgment in this place.

We're just honored that you're you're here and you're with us.

And if we can help in any way as you continue to explore, please let us know.

But just a couple logistical things.

All of the stations at the front and back are now gluten-free.

And so in just a moment, uh the band is gonna play a song to give you some space to reflect.

And then when you're ready, uh come up to one of the stations, take the bread and the juice, and remember his faithfulness.

And then once we've all been served, I'll return to close our time in prayer.

This is my surrender.

To do whatever you want.

To do whatever you want to Here is where I laid it down.

You are all Jesus.

Just a moment.

Um I'll have you stand and I'll close our time in prayer.

But if you'd like to pray with someone individually before you leave, we'll have some friends under the screen to the left who'd love to meet with you, especially if you're traveling through a rough time and just need some hope.

But uh, for the rest of us, I invite you to stand if you're willing and able.

Let's pray.

Heavenly Father, we confess that fear makes us forget.

We forget how good you are, how faithful.

So I pray for anyone in this room or or watching the stream who's just feeling like they're at the end of themselves and fears crap in and they don't know what to do.

I pray that you would whisper to them that you have them, you love them, and you are with them.

Even when life gets hard, you are still in control.

And we can rest in that.

And so today we thank you for who you are and for what you have done.

We thank you for the cross, we thank you for the empty tomb, we thank you for the hope of a life with you after this life is over.

And I ask that your grace and your peace would rest on us all.

In the matchless name of your Son, our Savior and King Jesus, we pray.

And everyone said, Amen.

Grace and peace, friends, we'll see you next week.