2 Samuel 7.28-29.
| 7.28 ועתה אדני יהוה | Now, Lord Yahweh: |
|---|---|
| אתה הוא האלהים | You are the God. |
| ודבריך יהיו אמת | Your words are absolute truth. |
| ותדבר אל עבדך את הטובה הזאת׃ | You promised Your slave these good things. |
| 7.29 ועתה הואל | Now make Yourself begin— |
| וברך את בית עבדך | and bless Your slave’s house |
| להיות לעולם לפניך | to exist for eternity for Your face; |
| כי אתה אדני יהוה דברת | for You, Lord Yahweh, spoke. |
| ומברכתך | With Your blessing, |
| יברך בית עבדך לעולם׃ | Your slave’s house is blessed for eternity. |
In 2 Samuel 7, David gets a bright idea. For the past four centuries, God’s worship center has been a tent. A really fancy tent, but it’s still a tent. A tent might be fine for the god of twelve tribes of nomadic herdsmen; but David has conquered Jerusalem and established it as a capital for a people-group that isn’t moving (as far as David knows). David has a nice cedar palace; he figured God might like one too.
For confirmation he went to God’s prophet, Nathan, who also thought it was a fine idea. Why wouldn’t God prefer a cedar palace to a tent? It would glorify His name; it would establish a worship center in the middle of His chosen people’s nation; in general it sounds like an idea that God would get behind. So Nathan jumped the gun and said yes before he ever talked to God about it.
God didn’t want a house. He didn’t ask for a house; He knew what the house would become—a cage. The assumption that we humans too often make is that you have to go to a church building to be with God, and that He doesn’t stray too far from it. When you’re in a church building, you have to behave yourself; outside of the building, you can be the heathen you’re used to being. At least with a tent as God’s worship center, you get a sense that He can move about. Once you fix it to the ground, you anchor God to only one spot, and figure you’re therefore free to run away from Him.
Nowhere in God’s response to David in this passage does He say, “You won’t build me a house; your son will.” We assume that’s the case because God eventually—grudgingly—lets Solomon have his way and build Him a temple. In this passage, God does talk about David’s son, but this is because God intends to make David a “house,” or a dynasty, descended from the shepherd-boy that God plucked out of the field and put over His people. Unlike Saul’s family, David’s family will rule Israel forever. (We Christians believe this is particularly fulfilled in Christ Jesus, a descendant of David.)
David, who still thinks the temple idea is a good one, eventually prods Solomon to go and do it—even though God never does give His approval to do such a thing. God’s intention is to have His people be His temple. But let me back away from the context, ’cause I’ll go on forever about it, and get to these two verses.
In these verses, David tells God to do what He said He was going to do.
Sound redundant? It is. Does that mean it’s not a prayer we should pray? Not at all. Some of the best prayers are where we ask God to do what He said He would do already. When Jesus tells us to pray, “Your will be done” (Mt 6.10) He’s ordering His disciples—us—to put aside our wills, our wants, our needs, and our agenda. He orders us to do this rather early in the Paternoster; before we get to asking after daily bread. We are to pray for God’s revealed will, and conform our will to God’s.
We’re often encouraged to pray such things—pray for God to bring His kingdom (Lk 11.2) or for Jesus to return (1Co 16.22). Such prayers help us learn how to want what God wants. It’s through this wanting what He wants that we begin to pray our most effective prayers—because God will give us the desire of our hearts once we delight in Him (Ps 37.4) and do His will.
