In 1 Chronicles 20 we find David’s reign tested again by the resilient foes that ring his borders, and through two very different battles we see how loyalty and courage shape the fate of a kingdom. First comes the campaign against the people of Ammon, who have long fought a bitter struggle with Israel over pasturelands east of the Jordan. Their great city of Rabbah stands like a fortress on the horizon, its walls tall and its towers formidable. David’s army approaches under the command of Joab, his nephew and skilled general, with Abishai at his side. We can almost feel the tension as the Israelites gather around the city gates, their weapons poised, their hearts steeled for the assault that will decide not just territory but honor.
David himself remains in Jerusalem, a king learning to balance the demands of leadership with trust in his commanders. From the palace heights he watches the smoke rise when the siege engines batter Rabbah’s walls. He waits through the night, and when morning comes, word arrives: Joab and Abishai have broken through the defenses. The king girds himself and leads the people to finish the conquest. In the city’s center they find the Ammonite king cowering, stripped of crown and dignity, and David takes the royal diadem, fastening it on his own head before gifting it to the Lord’s treasury. He distributes spoils—gold, silver, and garments—to every soldier who stood his ground. In this victory we see a unity of purpose: the battlefield holds both the strategy of war and the mercy of provision for those who fight.
No sooner is the Ammonite threat quelled than another challenge emerges from the rocky fields of Philistia. Word reaches David of armaments being mustered in Gath, Ekron, and the surrounding towns—rusted scimitars, armor plates, and helmets lined in copper. The enemy seeks to intimidate Israel with symbols of war, but David will have none of it. He sows fear among Philistine cities, hardening their resolve only to break it again. We sense the harshness of these raids, the nights spent under siege of their own walls, until the Philistines bring forth such weaponry that David must act.
The true test comes when these same foes send their champions to meet Israel in single combat. In the valley, alongside a stream called Araunah’s threshing floor, a towering figure emerges. Some say he stands over nine feet tall; others claim his spear alone weighs more than a fully armed soldier. His name, lost to time, echoes across battle lines as he taunts Israel’s troops each morning and evening. On the twelfth day, David’s soldiers reach the end of their tether. But instead of David himself, it is Elhanan son of Jair who steps into the giant’s shadow. Elaborately armed with coat of mail, bronze helmet, and shield, Elhanan closes the distance, thrusting a spear through the giant’s heart. As the massive warrior falls face down into the dust, Israel’s ranks swell with confidence. In the next moments the army routs the Philistines, scattering chariots and foot soldiers alike.
Yet Israel’s deliverance is not done. A second giant, Ishbi‐Benob of Gath, appears, brandishing a spear that seems as fearsome as a cedar tree. With David’s own armor bearer and a group of veterans at his side, David confronts this threat. We imagine him standing with spear in hand, courage fierce in his eyes, even as the giant looms above. Abishai, ever faithful, leaps forward—not to save the king, but because he refuses to let the giant’s blow fall on David’s head. In that moment of desperate valor, Abishai’s hand finds its mark, and the Amalekite‐turned‐Gathite falls, turning the tide once more.
But the story does not end with these two. A third Philistine champion, “Lahmi of Gath,” is said to be the brother of the famed Goliath. He comes equipped with a massive club, his gait confident with the memory of his brother’s victory until that day in Bethlehem. Yet he too meets his match when Shammah son of Agee steps out from the ranks. In a place once known for lentil fields, Shammah stands alone, refusing to back down when the Philistines surround him. With a single thrust of his spear he brings Lahmi down among the grain, and Israel’s warriors, encouraged by Shammah’s fierce stand, break the Philistine lines entirely.
Through these three encounters we see a recurring theme: David’s reign is upheld not by his own sword alone but by the loyalty and bravery of his closest companions. Elhanan, Abishai, and Shammah each embody a facet of what it means to stand for something greater than oneself: Elhanan’s steadiness under a daily barrage of fearsome threats; Abishai’s fierce loyalty that risks life to protect his king; and Shammah’s lone stand in the face of overwhelming odds. Their victories teach us that deliverance can come when ordinary men step forward with courage shaped by faith.
As readers, we sense that these stories, though they unfold in the heat of battle, are ultimately about trust—trust in a king who honors God and trust in one another when the path seems darkest. When David sends his own men into harm’s way, he trusts their skill and their hearts. When Joab lays siege to Rabbah, he trusts his nephew’s leadership. In turn, these warriors trust David’s promise to stand with them, to guide them through the perils of war and into the peace of victory.
In reflecting on 1 Chronicles 20, we carry away a portrait of a community formed in crucibles of conflict. We learn that leadership flourishes under confidence in divine calling, that loyalty transforms the fortunes of war, and that even the tallest giants can be felled by hearts determined to defend a vision of God’s purposes. In our own moments of challenge—when fears loom larger than our swords—we can remember these ancient stands and step forward, trusting that valor guided by faith can bring deliverance far greater than any weapon.