Pity The Fool, Absalom

Estimated Reading time: 9 minutes · Written by Jenny Barthow

It is never easy to sit with a story that is painful, complex, and at times deeply uncomfortable. Yet, as followers of Christ, we are called to wrestle with the whole counsel of Scripture, even the passages that weigh heavily on our hearts. In this reflection, I want to share some thoughts on the life of Absalom, one of King David’s sons, whose story stretches across several chapters in the book of 2 Samuel.

Absalom’s narrative is tragic. It is a tale of family dysfunction, injustice, silence in the face of sin, ambition, rebellion, and heartbreak. As I studied these passages, I often felt overwhelmed by the weight of them. At times I doubted my ability to handle such material with sensitivity and wisdom. But again and again, I had to turn back to God, asking Him for help to process these texts, not only for my own understanding, but so that I might share something meaningful with others.

What emerges from Absalom’s life is not just a lesson in leadership gone wrong, but also a mirror to our own tendencies—our ambition, our desire for recognition, our failure to process pain, and our struggle with character. Ultimately, it is a story that drives us to consider the difference between Absalom’s path of self-promotion and David’s (often faltering) attempts to lean on God. And it is a story that points forward to the true King, Jesus Christ, whose humility and obedience stand in stark contrast to human pride.

The Shadow of David’s Failings

To understand Absalom, we must first understand something of his father, David. Many of us know David as the young shepherd boy who, armed only with a slingshot, defeated the giant Goliath. We know him as the one who eventually rose to become king of Israel. He was courageous, a gifted military leader, and at times a man of deep faith who trusted God with his very life.

But David’s story is not without blemish. As his life progressed, the humble boy who once clung to God’s promises began to fade into a man who grew comfortable, powerful, and complacent. He married many wives, had many children, and, in one of the most infamous moments of his life, committed adultery with Bathsheba and orchestrated her husband’s death.

The prophet Nathan confronted David, declaring, “Now therefore the sword shall never depart from your house” (2 Samuel 12). This warning reverberated through David’s family life. Though he was heroic in battle, he was deeply flawed as a husband and father. His failures created wounds that spread through his household, shaping the destiny of his children.

It is into this fractured family that Absalom was born. He was the son of David and Maacah, and he had a full sister named Tamar. He was also half-brother to Amnon, another of David’s sons. And it is here that the story takes a devastating turn.

The Sorrowful Story of Tamar

In 2 Samuel 13, we read of one of the darkest moments in Scripture. Amnon lusted after his half-sister Tamar. Driven by obsession, he schemed to lure her into his presence, and when they were alone, he raped her. Afterwards, he cast her aside with contempt.

The Bible records David’s reaction: he was furious. But that fury did not translate into action. He did nothing. He did not defend Tamar. He did not punish Amnon. He simply remained silent.

Absalom, too, said nothing at the time. Outwardly, he offered no comment. Inwardly, however, he seethed with hatred. He despised Amnon for what he had done to Tamar. Yet he, too, failed to speak up for his sister in the moment. Tamar was left abandoned—betrayed by her brother, forsaken by her father, and silenced by her culture.

And yet, the writer of Scripture ensures her voice is not erased. As Mary Evans, a biblical commentator, observes: “One element of light in this dark passage is the writer’s deep insight into Tamar’s feelings. Amnon, the surrounding society, and even David might have thought her feelings irrelevant, but the writer, and by implication God himself, most certainly did not.”

Tamar was seen by God. She mattered. And so do all who suffer injustice, abuse, or abandonment. If that is your story, know this: you are not invisible. God sees you.

Absalom’s Revenge

Absalom’s silence did not last forever. After two years, he plotted his revenge. He arranged for Amnon to be murdered. Then, he fled into exile. For three years he remained away from Jerusalem, estranged from his father.

David missed him, yet remained passive once again. Only after the intervention of an advisor was Absalom allowed to return. Even then, David refused to see him for two more years. The lack of reconciliation festered.

Here we begin to see Absalom’s trajectory: a man who refused to bring his grief, disappointment, and anger to God, but instead allowed them to harden into rebellion. We are told that Absalom erected a monument to himself, placing his own name and image at the centre of his life. Without reference to God, he became his own object of worship.

How differently might his story have unfolded had he entrusted his wounds to the Lord? How might his life have changed had he taken his bitterness, anger, and despair to his heavenly Father, instead of running from Him?

This is a question worth asking of ourselves. When life hurts, when we feel wronged, when leaders disappoint us, where do we run? Do we harden our hearts, erect walls, and set out to claim our own victories? Or do we lay our pain before the God who heals?

Charm Without Character

By the time Absalom was fully restored to Jerusalem, his heart was already far from reconciliation. Handsome, charismatic, and persuasive, he began to win the people’s loyalty away from David. The Bible notes that he was perhaps the most attractive man in Israel, with striking features and long, thick hair. But beneath the charm was a deficit of character.

Leadership without integrity is always dangerous. I once heard someone say that whatever flaws exist in us will only be magnified if we are given a platform. We see this often in public life—be it in politics, business, entertainment, or even the Church. Talent and charisma can take a person far, but only godly character sustains true leadership.

Absalom had everything outwardly—beauty, charm, and popularity—but inwardly he lacked humility, wisdom, and self-control. He sought the throne not as a steward of God’s people, but as a prize for his own ego.

This should serve as a sober warning to us. Our culture celebrates platform, image, and influence. Yet God looks at the heart. He cares about the unseen places—what we do when nobody is watching, the motives that drive us, the quiet posture of our souls.

The Folly of Discontent

One of Absalom’s great failings was his discontentment. As David’s son, he already held a position of honour. He had been restored to Jerusalem. He had family, status, and wealth. Yet it was not enough. His eyes wandered to the throne.

Proverbs 17:24 tells us: “A discerning person keeps wisdom in view, but a fool’s eyes wander to the ends of the earth.” Absalom could not rest in what he had. He longed for more, and that longing consumed him.

How often do we do the same? How often do we fix our eyes not on God’s gifts, but on what others have, or on what we think we deserve? The wisdom of contentment is a gift. To miss it is to live perpetually restless, never satisfied, always chasing the next thing.

Brokenness and Rebuilding

As I wrestled with Absalom’s story, I was reminded of my own home. My husband and I live in an old house that has required extensive renovation. Every time we peel back a layer, we discover another problem beneath. Demolition is messy and uncomfortable, but it is the necessary first step towards renewal.

I see in this a picture of what God longs to do in our hearts. Sometimes He has to strip us back to the brick. It can feel painful, exposing, and messy. But it is the path to true rebuilding. God does not discard us; He reshapes us for His purposes.

Absalom, I believe, was not beyond redemption. But he never allowed God into the hidden places of his heart. He chose rebellion over restoration.

David’s Posture of Trust

The rebellion that Absalom orchestrated eventually forced David into action. Absalom won enough support to threaten Jerusalem itself. But David did not stay and fight. Instead, he left the city, refusing to cling to power at all costs.

At one moment, David’s supporters brought him the Ark of the Covenant, the symbol of God’s presence and approval. Yet David sent it back, saying: “If I find favour in the Lord’s eyes, he will bring me back… but if he says, ‘I am not pleased with you,’ then I am ready; let him do to me whatever seems good to him” (2 Samuel 15).

This is extraordinary. Rather than assuming God was automatically on his side, David surrendered. He trusted that God’s will was greater than his own desire to hold the throne. Later, as he climbed the Mount of Olives barefoot and weeping, we see a broken man still leaning on God.

It was during this time, many believe, that David wrote Psalm 61:

“Hear my cry, O God;
listen to my prayer.
From the ends of the earth I call to you,
I call as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”

David was flawed, deeply so. But unlike Absalom, he returned to God in his brokenness.

The True King

Ultimately, both David and Absalom failed. David failed as a father, Absalom failed as a son and brother. Both remind us that no human leader can ever be perfect. But their stories point us towards the One who is.

A thousand years after Absalom’s rebellion, another King entered Jerusalem. But unlike Absalom, He did not exalt Himself. Unlike David, He did not fail in His calling.

The apostle Paul writes in Philippians 2:

“[Christ Jesus], being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant…
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death—
even death on a cross.”

Where Absalom sought glory, Jesus emptied Himself. Where David was passive, Jesus defended the weak. Where we are broken, Jesus carries our sin.

This is the King we need.

Our Response

So where does this leave us? I believe there are several ways we might respond.

Perhaps you identify with Tamar—broken, discarded, overlooked. If so, know that Jesus sees you, loves you, and is not indifferent to your pain. Please, do not carry it alone. Seek help, and allow others to walk with you.

Perhaps you see something of Absalom in yourself—anger at those who have let you down, grief that you have carried alone, walls you have built to keep God out. If so, run to Him. He does not intend for you to suffer in isolation.

Or maybe you recognise in yourself character flaws or persistent sins that hinder God’s work in your life. Do not hide them. Let Him shine His light into your heart, even if it means demolition before rebuilding.

And for those in leadership, look again to Jesus. Let His humility, not ambition, be your model. Leadership is not about image, charisma, or popularity. It is about character, integrity, and obedience to God.

Absalom’s story is tragic. It is the story of a man with great potential who allowed bitterness, ambition, and pride to consume him. But it is also a story that reveals God’s heart: He sees the unseen, He longs to restore the broken, and He calls us to trust Him above all else.

David’s failures remind us of our own, but they also point us to Christ. Absalom’s rebellion warns us of the dangers of self-promotion, but it also stirs us to pursue godly character.

And above it all, Jesus stands as the true King—the one who did not seek His own glory, but humbled Himself for our sake. He is the King who never fails, the King who defends the vulnerable, the King who carries our sin, the King who rebuilds our brokenness into something new.

The original teaching has been edited for clarity and brevity; This is not a transcript.