Rizpah was a concubine of King Saul of Israel. She had two sons, Armoni and Mephibosheth. Saul was now dead. In
2 Samuel 21 we read the disturbing account of how God brought a famine on the land of Israel because of the ‘bloodguilt’ of Saul (v. 1), who had persecuted the people of Gibeon. Saul’s successor David delivered Rizpah’s sons, together with five of Saul’s grandsons, to be executed by the people of Gibeon in reparation for their persecution. The seven men were hanged, and their bodies left hanging, denied burial.
Can we imagine what Rizpah must have felt? Saul had filled her life, but now he was dead. Her sons would have been a great comfort to her—and now they too were dead. Helpless in her grief, there remained only one thing she could do.
Then Rizpah the daughter of Aiah took sackcloth and spread it for herself on the rock, from the beginning of harvest until rain fell upon them from the heavens. And she did not allow the birds of the air to come upon them by day, or the beasts of the field by night (v. 10).
Two months passed, then three, then four. That period from the beginning of harvest to the start of the rains is around five or six months. Rizpah kept her watch through the heat of the day and the cold and danger of the night, perhaps sleeping fitfully, always alert for the approach of scavengers. Perhaps she recalled her life of luxury and glamour in Saul’s household, the joys of her family life. Now the days and nights were welded together by sorrow, tears and fatigue.
At last the rains came. Someone told King David of Rizpah’s vigil. He had the corpses taken down and gave them a burial.
Hope in Sorrow
In this sad world, there will always be those who have no course of action available to them but to wait and watch, with only their sorrow for companionship—their sorrow, and God. What is the answer for the human heart distraught with grief? What can we say to those whose lives have been overturned by bereavement or illness or tragedy? There is nothing easy to say.
But there is a way of making sense of grief and sorrow, because God exists. Because Jesus came, to give hope of everlasting life.
I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die (John 11:25–26).
Sometimes we may see a reason for what happens in our lives. Rizpah suffered for her husband’s sin. Sometimes we may feel responsible ourselves. I heard a report of a young woman, who had stayed up till the early hours preparing for the family holiday. In the morning they set off, but she was so tired she fell asleep at the wheel, their car crashed and her husband and all but one of her children were killed. Can you imagine that poor woman’s grief? Then again, sometimes things happen to us and we can simply see no reason. But whether or not we think there is a reason, and whatever that reason may be, it’s natural to ask the question, “Why?”
If we let Him, God will break through our doubt. He has anticipated our question. On his cross, Jesus cried, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ (Matthew 27:46). He was not forsaken. He knew the prophecy, ‘You will not abandon my soul to Hades, or let your Holy One see corruption’ (Acts 2:27). But he has cried ‘Why?’ for us. He cried, as he laid down his life, that we might have life.
If we belong to Christ, if we are part of God’s family, we will know that everything that happens to us is for our benefit, in God’s purpose, somehow (Romans 8:28). With this knowledge, it is for us to cooperate with Him in making creative use of our sorrow and grief. God is a redeeming God. He wastes nothing.
There are still Rizpahs in our world. Perhaps you know one. Perhaps you are one. God reminds us in Jesus Christ that where He is, there is always hope.
Rizpah did the only thing she could do for her sons. She gave. Giving unlocks our hearts to God’s comfort, and to His plans for our lives after tragedy and grief have done their worst.
God is a redeeming God. He wants us to waste nothing—not even our tears.
Jenny Ingham
