Adonijah - Glenn Conjurske

Adonijah

by Glenn Conjurske

The first thing which we know of this man is that “his father had not displeased him at any time in saying, Why hast thou done so?” (I Kings 1:6). The verse continues, “He also was a very goodly man,” and we suppose he must have been a very goodly child also, the sort of child who will take the heart by the first glance of the eye, by his very outward appearance. David’s heart was no doubt taken by this beautiful child, and he was therefore soft on him. He “had not displeased him at any time.” He never called him to account for his actions, saying, “Why hast thou done so.” His father gave him his own way, and the result was that the child was wayward, and as was the child, so was the man.

We suppose his mother must have been as soft on him as his father was, for one parent who requires a child to do as he ought will usually be sufficient to secure his character. We know that mothers are much more apt to be soft on children than fathers are. I vividly recall the many bitter reproaches which my father laid upon my mother, when I was a child, for pampering us. Mothers have a natural weakness in that direction, and when a child is pampered by both parents, what chance is there of finding any character in him?

We can hardly doubt that most of the training of Adonijah fell upon his mother. This is usually the case, even in ordinary households, but must certainly have been so in the household of David, who had many wives besides the mother of Adonijah, and an army to lead and a kingdom to rule besides. And David had evidently sought only his own pleasure in the taking of his wives, and exercised no care to take a woman who would train up his children in the way they should go. He took beautiful women, and had beautiful children. It was hard to displease such darlings, and if hard for a father, how much more for a mother? Adonijah therefore had his own way, and came to his manhood entirely destitute of character.

We may pity such a man, but we must blame him also. God will surely do so, and this though “God is love.” None but the overcomers shall have his approval, and among those things which we must overcome are the evil influences of our environment. God did not excuse Eve because she was deceived by the devil. She had no right to be deceived by the devil, and surely could have resisted his advances. And Adonijah could have overcome the deficiencies of his parental training. Many others have done so. Adonijah did not.

He was accustomed to having his own way. He was accustomed to doing his own will, to getting his own wishes. He had no habit of self-denial. Unchecked by either self-denial or parental chidings, his wayward desires grew large, and what he desired, he took. What would it, then, but he must desire the kingdom also? And desiring it, what else but he must have it? “Then Adonijah the son of Haggith exalted himself, saying, I will be king.”

Observe, “he exalted himself.” He knew nothing of faith and patience, nothing of waiting upon the Lord. Faith takes the low place, and waits patiently upon the Lord, till he exalts it in his own way and time. And we may add, worth takes the low place, and waits till God and man give it a higher. Little worth exalts itself. Little worth must seize the moment, and secure the place which it desires, while true worth bides its time, expecting surely to receive the exaltation which it deserves. Solomon therefore sat still, while Adonijah “prepared him chariots and horsemen, and fifty men to run before him. … And he conferred with Joab the son of Zeruiah, and with Abiathar the priest, and they, following Adonijah, helped him.” Why this restless scheming, preparing, conferring, running? If he is worthy of the position, will it not be given him? Does not all this restless seeking and conferring proclaim the little worth of the man who does it? What need of all this, if he is worthy of the place which he seeks? Will no man discover his worth? Will the stone which is fit for the wall be left in the field? Is there no God in heaven to exalt the worthy? What can the man be worth, who must exalt himself?

Nor is it the fact alone of Adonijah’s exalting of himself which condemns him, but the manner of it. Such men know instinctively where to turn for their help, and it is never to the men of the highest honor or character. They resort to the shady, the compromised, the selfish, the unworthy. They carefully avoid the men of high worth and character. Benaiah the son of Jehoiada was none of Adonijah’s train. No, “he conferred with Joab the son of Zeruiah.” We have seen enough of this in the church. Bypassed by men of solid worth and honor, and bypassed precisely because he is unworthy of the honors he seeks, the ambitious man in turn bypasses the men who overlook him, and resorts to men of whom he ought to be ashamed. But this nothing concerns him. He has an ambition, and these men “help” him. All other considerations are subjected to this one.

“Zadok and Abiathar were the priests,” the Scriptures tell us, equal in office, but men of different sorts, and Adonijah knew which one of them he could count on. “He conferred with Joab the son of Zeruiah, and with Abiathar the priest, and they, following Adonijah, helped him. But Zadok the priest, and Benaiah the son of Jehoiada, and Nathan the prophet, and Shimei, and Rei, and the mighty men which belonged to David, were not with Adonijah.” We know not what precisely was the difference between Zadok and Abiathar, but Adonijah knew which of the priests he could secure for his help, and with him he conferred. The other he left alone. All this marks itself as the proceedings of an unworthy man.

But there is more, and worse. “Adonijah the son of Haggith doth reign, and David our lord knoweth it not.” The secrecy of his operations condemns them as nothing else could do. Men who have nothing to hide, men who have the approbation of their own consciences, men who have faith in God, can work in the broad light of day, and more especially, under the eye of their superiors. Supplanters and thieves must do their deeds in secret. They may enlist the support of others such as themselves, but the eye of the Lord’s anointed they will avoid. I have known a man to undertake some project of his own, and endeavor to enlist the help and support of almost everyone in the congregation under my care, and never speak one word of it to me. Such secrecy is always the sign of something amiss. He knew quite well that I would not approve his operations, but he was determined to go through with them regardless of that. The worthy man would go directly to the authorities above him, and say, This I wish to do; will you help me? But the unworthy are doubtless too well aware that they can expect no help from that quarter. They must seek it therefore from lesser men, by baser means.

Adonijah knew well enough that David would not make him king. But what did he care for David? His whole course is proof that he despised David in his heart. Such was his pride that he supposed himself worthy of the place which he sought, though he well knew that David judged otherwise. He must therefore, of necessity, despise the opinion of the Lord’s chosen and anointed king, and act independently of him, in secrecy. He would court the help of all the unworthy, and the approbation of all the people, but the chosen of the Lord he must leave out of his plans, his confidence, his operations. He “called all his brethren the king’s sons, and all the men of Judah the king’s servants, but Nathan the prophet, and Benaiah, and the mighty men, and Solomon his brother, he called not.” Such is the folly of those who pursue an unworthy course. Being unable to gain the approbation of the great and the worthy, they seek support from the base and the ignorant, and content themselves with that, whereas the very quarters from which they are obliged to receive their support ought to teach them the error of their way.

Such was the course of Adonijah, a course of pride, lust, unbelief, and base ingratitude—-common yoke-fellows, which will usually be found walking hand in hand.

And all this Adonijah did in the wake of Absalom’s unsuccessful rebellion, and ignominious end. “His mother bare him after Absalom.” He had the example of Absalom before him, but what did he learn from it? Precious little, indeed. He learned nothing of the evil of pride and ambition. He learned nothing of the evil of acting in secret, without the king whom God had set on the throne. He learned nothing of the evil of exalting himself, or of usurping his father’s place. He only learned to do all this more cautiously than Absalom had done, with less appearance of evil. He would not act against David, as Absalom had done, but only for himself—-as though he could do one without the other. Yea, he will act for the Lord and all Israel. He fails not to secure a priest in his train, and the captain of the host also. This was excellent policy, but he would appear to do nothing against David. He would wait therefore until David lay impotent on his death bed. What harm to David, if he took the kingdom then, when David could no longer retain it, and when the throne must bear a new king of course? He thus doubtless persuaded himself that he did David no wrong, as Absalom had done. He did good to himself—-yea, to the kingdom also—-but no harm to David. So soon as David lay in his grave—-and this was soon expected—-his mouth could be all praise for David, and every word of it would turn to his own advantage, for he was David’s son. Meanwhile, he is careful not to traduce his father, as Absalom had done. He only acts for Adonijah, and says nothing yea or nay of David.

Adonijah thus took a better course than Absalom had, but showed himself to be little or nothing above him in character.

David is soon apprised of the matter, and Adonijah is soon told, “Verily our lord King David hath made Solomon king.”

What consternation now takes hold of the heart of Adonijah, while all the guests who were lately banqueting with him “were afraid, and rose up, and went every man his way,” slinking away as thieves do when the policemen enter the premises. Not one man remains to stand by him now, for the name of “our lord King David” is yet feared, though he lies on the bed of death. And now what an abject coward is the erstwhile king of Israel. “And Adonijah feared because of Solomon, and arose, and went, and caught hold on the horns of the altar. And it was told Solomon, saying, Behold, Adonijah feareth king Solomon, for lo, he hath caught hold on the horns of the altar, saying, Let king Solomon swear unto me to-day that he will not slay his servant with the sword.” Here are the workings of an uneasy conscience. “The righteous are as bold as a lion, but the wicked flee when no man pursueth.” Was the sword of Solomon unsheathed against him, that he should flee to the temple, and lay hold of the horns of the altar? Why should he flee, when no man pursued? If he was righteous, why was he not bold as a lion? A righteous man, conscious that he had done nothing amiss, would have gone boldly to Solomon himself, to adjust any matter which might call for explanation. Not so Adonijah. He cannot face Solomon, and he who exalted himself to be king yesterday must now beg of his servants to face Solomon in his stead, and secure a word from him to spare his life. Thus are those who exalt themselves humbled by God, and Adonijah clinging to the horns of the altar is a fine picture of the end of pride and ambition.

Yet the caution and restraint with which he had acted towards David left Solomon no handle by which to lay hold of him to condemn him—-not, at any rate, without condemning himself before the people, for Adonijah had had a large following, and that but yesterday. To have executed him today, and as the first public act of his reign, would likely have made Solomon odious in the eyes of the people. Yet Solomon certainly understood the state of the case better than the people did. He certainly knew that he could not trust Adonijah, and therefore put him on probation. “If he will shew himself a worthy man, there shall not an hair of him fall to the earth; but if wickedness shall be found in him, he shall die.”

What more reasonable than this? But then how could such a one as Adonijah “shew himself a worthy man”? He soon shows himself as destitute of discretion and honor as he was of humility and loyalty. Any man who had been so signally defeated and humiliated as he had been—-any man who held the tenure of his life only by the grace of him whom he had so lately endeavored to supplant—-any such man ought by all means to have walked softly and lain low. Mere discretion would prescribe this, to speak nothing of humility. Mere policy, to say nothing of shame. But Adonijah has learned nothing by his fall. He knows nothing of the place which becomes him. He has no sense of the fact that he deserves nothing. He is proud enough to think himself always deserving of what he desires. He knows nothing of self-denial. What he desires he must have. He now therefore lays eyes upon Abishag the Shunamite, the fair young damsel who had been sought out through all the coasts of Israel, to be the concubine of David in his last sickness. None could be found so fair as she in all the land of Israel, and she was doubtless desired by a thousand other men besides Adonijah, but a thousand other men did not ask her hand. This was left to the audacity of Adonijah, and there is something singularly impudent in this brazen request of a man who ought by all means to have walked softly, and hid his face for shame. Why should he have what a thousand worthier men desired? But pride never knows its place, always over-estimates its worth, never supposes that it may not deserve what it desires, and is always therefore presumptuous. His asking for the fair young damsel was exactly of a piece with his taking the kingdom.

And if his request was presumptuous, the manner in which he made it was cowardly and shameful. Till now he had doubtless kept his distance from Solomon, doing nothing at all to establish confidence, and now he goes to his mother. Women are soft. They are apt to pity where they ought to blame, and to sympathize where they ought to rebuke. They feel the man’s misfortune, but not his guilt—-feel his need, but not his fault. And who can soften a man as a woman can? Who could secure the consent of the young king better than his mother? Adonijah knew all this, and therefore determined to use the mother of Solomon to gain his desire. Only enlist her in his cause, he thinks, and his success is sure.

He comes, therefore, to Bath-sheba, but she no more trusts him than Solomon does, “and she said, Comest thou peaceably? And he said, Peaceably.” He then proceeds to enlist her sympathy. “Thou knowest that the kingdom was mine, and that all Israel set their faces on me, that I should reign. Howbeit, the kingdom is turned about, and is become my brother’s, for it was his from the Lord.” All he means now is to ask one small favor, a little consolation in his disappointment and defeat. “And now I ask one petition of thee, deny me not. … Speak, I pray thee, unto Solomon the king, (for he will not say thee nay,) that he give me Abishag the Shunamite to wife.”

He has evidently thoroughly enlisted the sympathies of this woman, and he doubtless leaves her presence in an elated frame, his heart full of fond dreams of his possession of the fair Shunamite, almost tasting the sweet fruits which he promised to himself. But alas for a proud and sinful heart. He had but tasted of the throne of Israel when it was dashed from his lips. Of Abishag he shall never taste at all, but shall taste of death instead. We cannot help but feel most deeply for the disappointments and humiliations of this man, and for his bitter end, but it was all his own doing. It was all his own inveterate pride and presumption. His life was secure enough, if he could but show himself a worthy man, but this was simply not in him.

Meanwhile he leaves the presence of Bath-sheba as confident as he was presumptuous, and as happy as a good hope could make him, almost tasting the delights of Abishag the Shunamite. Bath-sheba goes directly to the king, full of sympathy for this disappointed man, and presents his petition as though it were her own: “I desire one small petition of thee; I pray thee, say me not nay.” Solomon trusts his mother, and replies, “Ask on, my mother, for I will not say thee nay.”

“And she said, Let Abishag the Shunamite be given to Adonijah thy brother to wife,” but she must be fairly stunned by his peremptory and determined response. “And king Solomon answered and said unto his mother, And why dost thou ask Abishag the Shunamite for Adonijah? Ask for him the kingdom also, for he is mine elder brother, even for him, and for Abiathar the priest, and for Joab the son of Zeruiah. Then king Solomon sware by the Lord, saying, God do so to me, and more also, if Adonijah have not spoken this word against his own life.”

But what sort of judgement is this? He had stolen the kingdom, without the knowledge of the king, and Solomon spared him. Now he but asks a wife from the hand of the king, and Solomon will put him to death. Is this righteous judgement, to put a man to death for so small an offence, for so innocent a request? Undoubtedly it was, for Adonijah’s offence was not small. If it appeared small, it was only as the tip of the iceberg. Neither was his request innocent. It might have been innocent enough coming from another man, but from one in Adonijah’s position it was criminal. So Solomon saw it, however innocent it may have appeared to Bath-sheba.

And in this we see most plainly the difference between men and women. She is all sympathy. She suspects no evil, sees no evil, sees only a disappointed and disheartened man, and desires only to assuage his grief. What harm in granting him a little consolation in his disappointment? She is taken in by his pious talk, and thinks him humbled and penitent. He acknowledges that the kingdom was Solomon’s from the Lord, and he only desires a little solace in his loss. The eye of Solomon penetrates through all of this, and sees plainly that there was not a whit of difference between his asking for Abishag, and his taking the kingdom. He has not changed an iota. His defeat has taught him nothing. He is as proud and presumptuous as ever. He knows nothing of his place. He knows nothing of what becomes a man in his position. He cannot be trusted, therefore. It will be Abishag the Shunamite today, and the kingdom of Israel tomorrow. By this audacity he has violated the terms of his probation. He has proved himself an unworthy man, and he must die.

While Adonijah, therefore, awaits the sweet fruit of his presumptuous petition, expecting momentarily to hear the approach of the king’s messenger, and to feel the embrace of the fair damsel of his dreams, he must feel instead of the sword of vengeance. He hears the approaching footsteps. He looks out at the window, and his heart leaps with expectation at the approach of the well known face of Benaiah the son of Jehoiada—-surely coming directly from the king, surely with the news that his petition is granted. But no, nothing of this, for “king Solomon sent by the hand of Benaiah the son of Jehoiada, and he fell upon him that he died.” Oh, this is hard! but it is the legitimate end of a long course of pride and presumption, impatience and ambition, grasping unbelief and base ingratitude—-a long course of unrestrained selfishness and presumptuous self-seeking. Adonijah could not be cured of this by the awful example of Absalom, nor by the humiliating defeat of his own. He remains just the same as he was, and judgement must overtake him at the last.

Glenn Conjurske

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