Saul stands as a controversial first king in Israel’s history.
At times, he fought valiantly against the Philistines and judged them on behalf of the Lord. At other times, we see a man selective in his obedience. Still at other times, we see him with a King Lear paranoia, hurling spears at David, raging at his daughter, and threatening to kill his own son. He had the Spirit, and he had the Spirit taken away; he had the kingdom, and he had it torn from him; he ascended to the throne and then was violently cast down.
King Saul was worthy of death and worthy of song honoring him at his death. When Saul and Jonathan fall together in battle, David, the victim of Saul’s demon, leads Israel in the dirge: “Your glory, O Israel, is slain on your high places! How the mighty have fallen!” (2 Samuel 1:19).
He is a conflicted character in the storied history — more like Boromir (we hope) than Smeagol. We can sympathize with him. He never asked to be king, after all; he hid from the crown behind the baggage. Though a head taller than everyone else in Israel, he seemed small in his own eyes. Most know the temptation to feel unequal to the task and tiny before others.
I want us to learn from his origin story. How did Saul, an unassuming Benjamite from the humblest clan of the least tribe, ascend to the throne once reserved for God himself? In this article, I want to remind you of the meticulous sovereignty of our gracious God, his care then and his care now, and his ordering of seemingly irrelevant details to further his great name and our great good. Saul stumbled onto the throne at the end of a long search for donkeys.
Scene One: Out with the Old
In 1 Samuel 8, Israel has just asked Samuel to find them a human king so they might be like the nations. Samuel is getting old; his sons are taking bribes; why not catch up to modern times and find a human king? Samuel tries to reason with them, yet Israel will not be moved, no matter the cost.
“Obey the voice of the people in all that they say to you,” the Lord tells Samuel, “for they have not rejected you, but they have rejected me from being king over them” (1 Samuel 8:7). Samuel relents and sends the people home. Where is he to find this new king?
Scene Two: Lost Donkeys
The next verse introduces us to Saul’s father, Kish. A wealthy man of Benjamin, his son is the handsome giant of Israel: “From his shoulders upward [Saul] was taller than any of the people” (1 Samuel 9:1–2). But the first domino falls rather unexpectedly: “Now the donkeys of Kish, Saul’s father, were lost. So Kish said to Saul his son, ‘Take one of the young men with you, and arise, go and look for the donkeys’” (1 Samuel 9:3–4).
Saul and his servant pass through territory after territory but fail to find them. Saul wants to return: “Come, let us go back, lest my father cease to care about the donkeys and become anxious about us” (1 Samuel 9:5). But before they turn, an idea just happens to come to the servant’s mind: “Behold, there is a man of God in this city, and he is a man who is held in honor; all that he says comes true. So now let us go there. Perhaps he can tell us the way we should go” (1 Samuel 9:6). Saul asks what gift they might offer the man for his help. “Here, I have with me a quarter of a shekel of silver, and I will give it to the man of God to tell us our way” (8). Persuaded, Saul goes forth to meet the man who would make him king.
Now, here is what should amaze us. Rewind to the previous day:
Now the day before Saul came, the Lord had revealed to Samuel: “Tomorrow about this time I will send to you a man from the land of Benjamin, and you shall anoint him to be prince over my people Israel. He shall save my people from the hand of the Philistines. For I have seen my people, because their cry has come to me.” (1 Samuel 9:15–16)
Behold the God of meticulous, donkey-dispersing sovereignty. A God who brings forth a king from a nobody wandering after lost beasts of burden. A God who brings along just the right companion to bring him into his destiny. And a God, not just of meticulous sovereignty, but of meticulous mercy. Did you catch it? “I will send to you a man. . . . He shall save my people from the hand of the Philistines. For I have seen my people, because their cry has come to me.” This God has no equal. When rejected as king over the people, he nonetheless sees and hears their cries and brings his replacement to deliver them.
At any point, the plan could have aborted; yet it couldn’t have, because at every point the Lord guided the plan. He told Samuel to expect Israel’s deliverer “tomorrow about this time” — and in stumbles the clueless Saul from stage left. When Samuel sees Saul, the Lord tells him, “Here is the man of whom I spoke to you! He it is who shall restrain my people” (1 Samuel 9:16–17).
Providence, Not Puppetry
Can’t we be reminded of God’s minute orchestration in Saul’s life and learn how to better read our own stories?
First, consider the nature of our God’s “sending” of Saul to his fate. From lost donkeys, to the right servant chosen, to the idea about going to Samuel for help — these were finely tuned secondary causes (or means) used by the First Cause to fulfill his will and achieve his ends. Westminster helps us understand the mysterious interplay: “Although, in relation to the foreknowledge and decree of God, the first cause, all things come to pass immutably and infallibly: yet, by the same providence, He ordereth them to fall out according to the nature of second causes, either necessarily, freely, or contingently” (5.2).
In other words, the Lord sent Saul to Samuel, not by taking over Saul’s mind and puppeteering him against his choices, but by creating the precise circumstances (secondary causes) to guide his will this way and that. As God guides the stream of a king’s heart, so he directs the steps of kings-to-be (Proverbs 21:1). So, over the same event, it can be spoken: Saul chose to obey his father and search for the donkeys and go to the man of God, and God sent him to Samuel. God placed the walking stones that he knew Saul would freely step upon to bring him to Samuel. I will send to you a man from the land of Benjamin.
Lost in the Fields
Saul remains a controversial first king in Israel’s history. I do not know whether those lost donkeys led him down a path that ended in eternal life. God will judge. But we do know that for his children, minute sovereignty is working for them, not against them, for their eternal good.
Apply this lesson to your own life, Christian. If we believe in this God of meticulous providence, we will put more confidence in him than in our meticulous planning. “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps” (Proverbs 16:9). We do our little planning, but if we know this God, we will mostly pray that he will establish our steps and keep us open to his many surprises along the way.
Trusting God to govern our lives quiets many anxieties and affords much peace. Think of it: isn’t the unfolding of our lives wrapped in mystery? One small step this way and not that, one thoughtless act, one unexpected conversation, one small tilt in the rudder, and all is changed. One insignificant donkey hunt ends in a throne. If left to navigate ourselves, ours are perilous waters below and a sky of shifting stars — we would be lost before morning. How vital for us not to play Captain: Lord, establish my way!
And praise be to God that he hears our cries and will deliver us, even after we once rejected him as King. Lay hold of the promise: “For those who love God all things work together for good” (Romans 8:28). And he will not merely wave the wand at the end of time and renew our shipwreck, but he is working all things for good now — even that thing you never chose. He surrounds his children with inescapable good — even though his providence can be hard and confusing, and we foolish and sinful. His promise to us shall not break.
You cannot see now how a path of pain or fields of pointlessness lead to eternal good, but he does. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths” (Proverbs 3:5–6) — even when those straight paths follow wandering donkeys.