“The LORD will repay every man for his righteousness and his loyalty. I wasn’t willing to lift my hand against the LORD’s anointed, even though the LORD handed you over to me today.” 1 Sam 26:23

The high road is seldom traveled. The low road, however, has been made into a virtual highway with signs, lights, and guardrails. The alternative high trail can be easily overlooked, if not looked on with suspicion. Few trudge the slower, thorn-ridden way, now rumored to be bandit infested and crossed by wild beasts. It’s old-fashioned, and stands in stark contrast to the paved and popular low road, which in time winds lower, and lower.

David took the high road. His spear-flinging and giddy adversary was in his hands not once, but twice. His companions encouraged the son of Jesse to do him in. His commander stepped aside to give David the “honor” of slaying his crazed pursuer. Who among the crowds would have questioned him, or considered such an act unworthy? One. Yes, One. There is One who stands unseen among the crowds, Who watches, Who points the way upward. Who has bivouacked the high road before us. Who notices. Who repays.

David’s acts and words inspire me. In this hour of instant gratification, of anxiously groping for the approval of men (“likes”), the high road of integrity and honor has indeed become overgrown. Rumor mongers speak of treachery along its heights. Those who hold to ideals are smugly discarded as idealists. Those who promote standards of excellence, like Joseph of old, are sold as dreamers. Those who mimic “when they go low, we go high” slogans start so low that high is just a bit higher than low, which is, in fact, not really high at all. The smirking hyena seems high to the slithering, fork-tonged serpent. Neither knows anything of the currents propelling the soaring eagle miles above their sunken gazes.

As promised, David was repayed. Granted, he lived in caves and in exile year after year first. He was maligned, despised, betrayed. Security, comfort, even food and sleep became like words of a foreign language. Not days. Not weeks. Not months. Years. By grace, through trust, David did not abandon his hope that righteousness and loyalty was being recorded, and would be rewarded. When tempted, prodded, enticed and applauded to choose the low road, David flinched not and looked high.

Did Saul of Kish deserve retribution? Most definitely. Did Saul of Tarsus deserve restoration? Most definitely not. How does one unknot this paradox? It depends, with whose eyes do I judge or justify? When standing there stone in hand, Who is there to ask the most pertinent question of all: Which one is going to be the first to let theirs fly? When others threw low, David looked high, which meant actually that he did not throw at all. His eyes had become fixed on the bruised and bloody One whose Words advocate for all men, everywhere, at all times:

“let him who is without sin…”
“the reproaches of those who reproached you fell on me…”
“forgive them, for they know not what they do…”

I have determined to stand by the way and search for the ancient paths. Though a thousand pass on my right and left and veer not from Broadway, sliding down to the lowlands, I have laden my pack with mountain gear, gritting my teeth to machete my way up to where the hinds are afoot upon the high road.

“God, the Lord, is my strength; He makes my feet like the deer’s; He makes me tread on my high places.” Hab 3:19