The Burning Desire of Saul: Part One
1. Prince
Imagine with me, if you will, a teenager with a nation upon his shoulders. This teenager is tall and handsome, a foot taller than any other boy or man. He is chosen to forge a destiny of kingship impressed upon him by the will of a lost people.
And on the day of his glorious coronation, he is missing.
Instead of walking onto the stage when his name is called, he is hiding behind a pile of swords and shields. The crowds are looking for him, and he knows it. They want to drag him out and thrust him into a future that will mark his very name as a metaphor for failure. And so he ducks behind the shadows, begging not to be found.
King Saul was Israel’s first king. And yet the original biblical text - written in Hebrew - never refers to him as such. Instead, the Hebrew word (nagid) is prince rather than the word we use, king. While the language itself is comfortable in calling Saul prince, we insist upon assigning him a loftier title. In this sense, we are just like the ancient Israelites. We try to make him into something he was not. But Saul, this looming figure of folly, speaks to us from the pages of the Bible, demanding that we see him for who he really is.
I say is and not was because Saul’s story is very much alive today. It is the timeless story of a young person on a pedestal given a platform by those who seek to benefit themselves rather than the person they exalt. And it is an example the explosive power of words rendered to such people when they make a mistake. But really, his story is for all of us. For leaders and those who choose them, for young generations and old generations, for parents and children. Most importantly, this story is for the Church - its tragedy is our tragedy; but its hope could be ours, too, if we look for it.
I invite you to go on a short journey with me in three parts. Meander along the story of this man as we consider the burning desire residing in the heart of Saul…desire that made him not so much a king, but a human. In Part One, I’ll introduce you to a framework for desire modeled by Hannah, and how that framework falls apart in the story of Samuel. In Part Two, I’ll explore the relationship between Saul’s rejection and rage, applying it to modern leadership contexts. In Part Three, I’ll conclude with a reflection on Saul’s encounter with a witch, and then explore how this story casts a vision for a healthier future in families, leadership, and the Church.
Let’s start where seemingly every great biblical tale begins: a barren woman.
What is a human being if not a breathing bundle of desires? Our story begins with this question, for it strikes at the very heart of what it means to be a person. No one - no king, no prophet, no Messiah - is immune from the experience of desire. It is desire itself that propels us into a relationship with God, others, and the beautiful creation upon which we walk.
First Samuel - the Old Testament book in which we find the story of Saul - is itself a story of desire. Notably, the desire it depicts in heartbreaking detail is that which resides within families. Even in biblical times, there was a deep awareness that every infant is born longing to be held and accepted by a loving family. That longing does not leave our bones at the age of adulthood; it persists into old age and will stay with us as we move into the life to come. With a stroke of beauty that only a loving Creator could design, our desire - if it is safely held by those around us - matures beyond the need to constantly receive, and instead flows out of a full heart into the heart of another.
The first sign of this desire in First Samuel is Hannah, a woman struggling to conceive. Hannah was married to Elkanah, a righteous man. Out of a desire for her love to move beyond herself, Hannah wished for a child. She was instead reminded of her barrenness by the pregnancy of Elkanah’s second wife, Peninnah (of course, polygamy was the norm in this context). Elkanah, though, saw Hannah, and he loved her dearly no matter the emptiness of her womb. In keeping with annual tradition, Elkanah brought Hannah to the tabernacle at Shiloh to offer sacrifices to God. In her grief, Hannah went into the place of worship and wept before God.
It is remarkable that First Samuel begins in this way. The extended story that follows - Second Samuel, First and Second Kings - is a cataclysmic story of mishandled desire. But here in the opening pages we find perhaps the only character who models healthy desire to us. Hannah is loved by a righteous husband who loves the Lord as she does. She desires to share that love, and Elkanah sees that in her, soothes her when she grieves, and makes their relationship a safe place to be a vulnerable human. This environment - fraught as it is - provides Hannah the security she needs to go into the house of God and pour out her desire in all its fullness of grief upon the Creator who desires her more than anything in all the world. It is a compelling and healthy picture.
But then, Eli, the local priest, did not see her sadness, and instead called her drunk.
Curt Thompson, MD, knows a lot about desire. He’s made a career of it. And he knows how to connect the dots of neuroscience and a deep, abiding faith in God.
Thompson’s book, The Soul of Desire, serves as one of my inspirations for this series. In it, he argues that every human being in their childhood years needs to know that desire is a healthy part of life that must be celebrated, albeit with boundaries. The manner in which infants have safe environments to feel desire plays a big part in their ability to handle desire appropriately later in life. And this desire of which Thompson speaks is far broader than sexuality - it touches every part of our lives.
It all begins in childhood. Thompson says that every child needs three things as it relates to desire. First, a child needs to feel seen. Being seen means that a caregiver knows you so well that they can tell what you desire without you having to state it. Perhaps they can tell that you are hungry. They may even recognize that you are uncomfortable in a certain situation and intervene. Later on, they might discern that you want to shed rules that were in place as a middle schooler and stay out late with your high school friends like an adult. When a caregiver can recognize these desires without you having to ask, it goes a long way towards feeling seen.
Notice here that the important thing is not that the caregiver grants the desire, but that they see the desire.
The second thing a child needs is to be soothed. To be soothed is to have a caregiver comfort you when you do not get what you desire. As a child you probably wanted lighthearted, tangible things like toys or french fries instead of vegetables. Or maybe you had relational desires that were more serious - you wanted a friend but could not make friends. You wanted the affection of extended family members but could not seem to get it. When a caregiver soothes you in the moments in which you do not receive what you want, it builds trust that desire is a good thing that can be grieved when left unfulfilled.
Again, though, it is important to note that a caregiver soothing a child does not mean that the child should always get what he or she wants. Many times it is necessary for the caregiver to not grant these desires. However, when a caregiver can offer compassion when the child’s desires go unwanted - even if they may not be good for the child - the child can be soothed. It’s the difference between an adult saying, “No, you can’t have that toy. Stop asking and be grateful for what you’ve got.” And, “That looks pretty cool. But how about we play with your other cool toys at home.” The latter affirms and recognizes desire without granting it.
Thirdly, a child needs to feel safe. To feel safe isn’t just about the lack of danger. The safety we’re talking about occurs when a caregiver cultivates an environment in which desire is allowed to be expressed. As a child, you need to know that it is okay to vocalize what you want, even that you want. In this kind of environment, you know you’re allowed to say that you want fries and toys. Or, more importantly, that you want attention, opportunities for independence, and friends to play with. In adolescence, that desire grows into creative outlets, romantic pursuits, and endeavors to succeed in a learned craft. If a caregiver scolds or belittles a young person for saying that they want things, it can have detrimental effects. But, when a caregiver is comfortable talking about their own desires and affirming it in others, it normalizes healthy desire.
To summarize, caregivers have a huge role in the formation of healthy desire in children who must learn to handle it as they grow up. When caregivers help children feel seen, soothed, and safe, it results in what Thompson calls security. That child can have a secure relationship with themselves and their caregiver, moving forward into a messy world backed by confidence in themselves and their support system.
However, when a child does not feel seen, soothed, and safe in their desire, complications can ensue. Why? This is an essential point: desire, when avoided our denied healthy outlets, does not go away. It stays in the heart and burns, waiting to burst like an angry river against a weak dam. It is this kind of festering desire that causes problems. It is this kind of desire that Thompson says can have its roots in childhood environments that promote an insecure relationship to desire, environments in which a child does not feel seen, soothed, and safe.
And as we’ll see in our story, adults are little more than children in big bodies. Adults develop this same insecurity, too, when these needs aren’t met. But adult insecurity burns even hotter if compounded with insecurity that was present in childhood.
I invite you, then, to look once more at Hannah. Hannah was seen by Elkanah - he could discern her longing. She was soothed by Elkanah - he comforted her breaking heart. And her relationship was made safe by Elkanah - he vocalized his love for her regardless of her ability to bear children. All together, he helped create an environment in which Hannah could be secure in who she was and her support network, giving her the boldness to march into the tabernacle and offer her grief-filled desire to the one who placed it inside her in the first place: the God who loved her.
The writers of these ancient stories were highly intentional in how they told it. Ancient does not mean ignorant; on the contrary, these writers were intelligent artists. This artistry means that the details are there for a reason. In fact, the details speak louder than the man events throughout this story, which we will resume now.
Eli the priest could not see Hannah, thinking instead she was drunk. But thankfully, God could see Hannah. Hannah and Eli had a brief conversation that resulted in the promise of a child. It’s our first clue that the living God works through broken characters such as Eli. But the brokenness around Eli and his family was real nonetheless.
Hannah did conceive after this encounter. Overwhelmed by joy, Hannah promised God that her child would be raised in Shiloh under the care of Eli to serve in the priestly house. That child’s name was Samuel (which means “God heard”). He was weaned by Hannah, and then according to her word, was taken to Shiloh where he grew up.
Eli, though, was not a great role model, and we get two clues to support such a claim. First, he had two sons who frequently hoarded sacrificial food for themselves. Rather than acting as a good parent and setting guidelines around his sons’ unchecked desires, he let it persist. This passivity did not set a good example of healthy desire.
Second, when Samuel was still a boy (the Hebrew word indicates he’s probably 8-10 years old), the text tells us that Samuel did not know the Lord. Such ignorance speaks volumes about Eli’s lack of leadership as a priest responsible for Samuel’s formation. Hannah’s desire was for Samuel to know the Lord, but Eli couldn’t see that desire in Hannah, just like he couldn’t see her grief in the tabernacle. (It is no mistake that just before Eli’s death in 1 Sam 4, the writers tell us that “his eyes had failed and he could not see.” Indeed, the details are there for a reason.) One time, Samuel was so unfamiliar with God’s voice that when it came to him in the nighttime, he mistook it for Eli’s voice. Funny how vulnerable people can mistake the voice of God for the voice of their religious leader.
Samuel, nonetheless, grew into a prophet of great renown. His reputation was so great, in fact, that he became a leader of all Israel. Unfortunately, he did not grow up around a person who taught him how to set limits on the desires of those in his care, which negatively affected his leadership. Samuel’s sons grew up to act out the very sins of Eli’s sons - they took what was not theirs and reveled in bribery. As a result, the Israelite people approached Samuel with the desire to have a new leader - a king (the Hebrew word here really is “king”) who would make war against their enemies - their reason being that Samuel was old and that his wicked sons would not lead them well.
But to ask for a king, from the perspective of the narrator, was to effectively say that the people had disavowed God from being their king as God intended (1 Sam 8:7). Interestingly, Samuel’s first inclination was to weigh their request for a king rather than confront unchecked desires of his sons who were intended to lead the people. He, like Eli, didn’t seem all that interested in parenting.
We should look at Samuel with compassion here. He did not have a great role model. But he also had agency. And that agency led him to grant the people’s request rather than confront his inability to manage the desires of the people under his care, a theme that will only continue.
Let us end this first reflection where we began: a teenager hiding behind a pile of swords and shields. We ought to be asking, Has this young man been seen? Has he been soothed? Was he made to feel safe? The fact that you know how his story ends may lead you to view him through the lens of failures that have not yet occurred. But right now, he’s just a scared, trembling boy. With this image in mind, let’s proceed by honing in on the first need for healthy desire, to be seen. So - Have you seen him?
Consider how he got here. Just days before this moment, his father had sent him out to look for a group of lost donkeys with a household servant, another boy his age. The day got late enough that Saul knew his father would begin to worry about him, but the servant told Saul that a seer was residing in a village close by, and this seer could tell them where to find the donkeys. On their way in to the village they encountered a group of teenage girls coming out to draw water, and they asked them where to find the seer. The text of the Hebrew indicates short, choppy, remarks between the boys and girls, full of teenage shyness and flirting. Saul and his servant proceeded to go up to the “seer," who happened to be named Samuel.
When they went in, Samuel could see it right away. God had told him that he would encounter the one who would be king. Saul checked all the boxes - he was tall, handsome, built like a warrior. And conveniently, he came from a wealthy family of Benjamin. This family was wealthy enough to afford servants, and Benjamin was a perfect, centrally located tribe…from there, a king could unify a nation. And here came a tall warrior still in his youth walking through the front door. Samuel called a banquet and fed Saul with the best meat, which was probably intended to be sacrificed to God (but taking the best food for personal pleasure ran in Samuel’s family). Samuel then invited Saul to sleep in luxury on the top-floor suite. The next morning, Samuel pulled Saul aside on his way out and anointed him to be Prince (negid) of Israel to his utter bewilderment.
Saul was then told to look out for three signs when he left the village. First, his lost donkeys would be found. Second, a group of men would meet him under a tree at Tabor and offer him and his servant food for the journey. Third, a group of prophets would encounter them. These men would be in a religious “frenzy,” and their fervor would infiltrate Saul and send him into a frenzy, too. All of these things happened. Saul did in fact allow himself to be caught up in a frenzy as he was told, and the text tells us that the Spirit of God came upon him and made him a different person (1 Sam 10:6). Saul, a young teenager, was given orders from a religious giant to become something different. And so he did as he was told. Soon, a summons came for a coronation.
Earlier, before Saul left the village, Samuel had told him that the desires of all Israel had turned upon him and his family (1 Sam 9:20).
I wonder if those words are ringing in his ears now as he trembles in the shadows? I wonder if he is asking himself what his desires are and if God cares about them - and if anyone else can even see them? Or if anyone can see him at all?
Again I ask - Have you seen him? Are his actions not indicative normal desires, this boy who roamed the countryside for lost animals, flirted with girls, and spent time among his family tribe? Now he is being asked to risk his life in warfare for people whose very desire of him was a desire to turn away from God. He’s being asked to be a king while never even wanting to be a prince.
It may make you feel strange in this series as we ask if Saul, this rugged mythological figure, was seen, soothed, and safe. It might make you raise your eyebrows and ask, “Who cares?” But we should care. Because Saul, before he was a mad king, was a vulnerable child, and every child needs a healthy environment that affirms their desire. To not care is to miss the tragic ways in which this relational harm still happens in our churches, families, and hearts. To not care is to ignore that every person - even failed leaders - are human with a need to feel secure in love. Saul models this dynamic about as clearly as anyone you’ll find in the Bible. It’s urgent that we learn from him.
Unfortunately for Saul, the swords and shields he’s hiding under don’t protect him. They are the very instruments he’ll be forced to take up against Israel’s foes. His name has been announced from the stage a second time. The people are searching. He hears footsteps that come closer. With the shouts of the masses, he has been found and lifted to his feet.
And as we’ll see in the next two posts, his normal human desire that is not seen, soothed, and made safe won’t go away. It will stay in his heart, burning, until it explodes - like it does for all of us when it has no one one to hold it.
Coming Soon
Part Three: Tamarisk