And David said unto him [Mephibosheth], Fear not: for I will surely shew thee kindness for Jonathan thy father’s sake, and will restore thee all the land of Saul thy father; and thou shalt eat bread at my table continually—2 Samuel 9:7

What a day it was when kindness came to the sad village of Lodebar to “fetch” a lame, lost, and fearful son of the covenant and carry him to be seated at the king’s table!

Was this merely David’s kindness to a lame man? Was it only a kindness kindled by David’s memories of his beloved Jonathan? No, David had said that his desire was to show the kindness of God to him (2 Sam. 7: 3).

We see here the appearance of the “kindness and love of God our Saviour toward man” (Tit. 3:4), a kindness flowing out of “the exceeding riches of his grace in his kindness toward us through Christ Jesus” (Eph. 2:7). It was God’s covenant kindness, proceeding from the eternal thoughts of His heart, and established in the blood of our Mediator. It heals all our diseases, soothes all our sorrows, and redeems our life from destruction.

When the lame and helpless Mephibosheth fell on his face before his throne, David saw in him the features of his father Jonathan. This moved him to show great kindness. So our God sees us in the countenance of His only begotten Son, and is moved to show us His consolation and saving kindness when we are “pressed out of measure, above strength, insomuch that we despaired even of life” (2 Cor. 1:8).

Mephibosheth was five years old when his father Jonathan, his grandfather King Saul, and all but one of his uncles were killed in battle against the Philistines at Mount Gilboa. His nanny, realizing that she held in her arms the heir to Saul’s throne, and fearing that a rival king would seek to kill the child, fled with Mephibosheth. She was unaware of the covenant David had made with Jonathan—sworn before God to preserve each other’s family (1 Sam. 20:42). In her hasty flight she dropped him, and he suffered a severe injury which paralyzed his legs for life (2 Sam. 4:4).

Soon after, the boy was secreted away to Lodebar. There he lived out his childhood, married, and “had a young son whose name was Micha” (2 Sam. 7:12). Lodebar means “no pasture” or simply “nothing there.” It was on the east side of the Jordan River in a dry desert north of the Dead Sea, the Death Valley of Palestine. He lived in obscurity in the house of Machir, a follower of David (2 Sam. 17:27). The little we know about Mephibosheth’s life in Lodebar is grim. He was obviously totally dependent on others, had little say over his life, enjoyed few visitors (if any), and was severely limited in his movements. Lodebar in Scripture is a byword for spiritual dryness, hopelessness, and brokenness of heart (see Amos 6:13). So it was with Mephibosheth, that is, until God’s lovingkindness came to his house to seek and save this lost son of Abraham (Luke 19:9).

Now it is important that we recognize that this is not simply a matter of David being nice to someone. His actions did not flow from the well of his own compassion. His kindness sprang from a deeper source. It was a response to the covenant kindness God had shown to him!

The history of 2 Samuel 9 begins with David asking whether Saul had any surviving descendants to whom “I may show kindness for Jonathan’s sake” (2 Sam. 9:1). This desire was not a random thought passing through his mind—occasioned by the relative peace that his kingdom enjoyed (see 2 Sam. 8). Rather, his desire to show kindness arose in his soul from amazing promises God had spoken to him in 2 Samuel 7.

Second Samuel 7 records David’s long-held desire to build a house for God. The prophet Nathan was sent to tell David that instead God would build a house for David. This house would be His presence with David and His promise that from David’s lineage would come the Messiah. When David hears God speak of the great mercy shown to him, he sees the sheer kindness of his God who had taken him “from the sheepcote and from following sheep and made him to be ruler over [His] people” (v. 8). David was overwhelmed by God’s kindness: “Who am I, O Lord God, that thou hast brought me hitherto?“ (v. 18).

It was out of his personal experience of God’s gracious kindness that David desires to show kindness to Mephibosheth. It was not the milk of human kindness which flowed towards Lodebar, but the offerings of a heart overwhelmed in gratitude for God’s grace. Likewise we do not show kindness to another from our own perceived position of superiority, but instead we recognize our own lowliness and God’s amazing goodness to us sinners.

Kindness is mercy in action. Kindness is seen in what it does, heard in the tone in which it speaks, and felt in the bearing of the giver. God’s lovingkindness is seen in what He has done. He has not “spared his own Son but delivered him up for us all” (Rom. 8:32). God’s kindness is heard in the words He speaks, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee” (Heb. 13:5). Jehovah’s kindness is felt in the compassion He has for us in our infirmities and weaknesses.

We see this kindness pictured in David’s dealing with Mephibosheth. What David did for this man from Lodebar is a glorious, full-framed picture of God’s kindness found in our enthroned Christ.

We can only surmise what Mephibosheth was anticipating as he made his journey to Jerusalem. He must have been apprehensive and afraid. After all, he was the grandson of Saul who had tried to kill David! He belonged to the tribe that had led Israel in a seven-years war against David, whom God had named to be the king. He was powerless and alone.

David shows the kindness of God to him. He speaks personally to Mephibosheth and calls him by name. His first words are “Fear not! For I will surely shew thee kindness for Jonathan, thy father’s sake” (v. 7). In other words, anything you will enjoy as a result of my kindness is not on account of anything in you. I made a promise concerning you long ago, a promise you know nothing about.

And then David explains the provisions that he has made. “I will restore to you all the land of Saul, your father” (v. 7); I give to you an inheritance among the saints. I will adopt you as my own son; you shall live with me in Jerusalem as an heir enjoying my protection. You will have a place at the king’s table each day; what I intend to give you is not simply things, but myself in fellowship, not simply bare necessities, but the fullness of blessing.

Such is God’s kindness to us in Christ! He has given us a place in His church, adoption as sons and daughters of God, and covenant fellowship with Him. “And of his fulness have all we received, and grace for grace” (John 1:16)

What was Mephibosheth’s response? “And he bowed himself and said, What is thy servant that thou shouldest look up upon such a dead dog as I am?” (v. 8).

His response showed a deep humility, and then sheer astonishment. He does not say; “Well finally someone woke up and is doing something for me! Here I am, forgotten and forsaken for all these years. This has not been fair to me, I deserved better.”

No, his response is the very opposite. He is astonished. David’s kindness does not make any sense to him. Why would you do this for a dead dog?

That is a very self-deprecating thing to say. Should he have said that?

Mephibosheth meant what he said. The term “dead dog” is not too strong for a believer to use when we stand in the reality of our sins before the tender mercies of God.

Have we faced the fact that whether we are gifted or limited, beautiful or homely, agile or arthritic, quick or slow, our sinful nature places us at the bottom of the pile? We are unable and unwilling to walk in God’s good paths: lame, sinful, diseased, and unworthy. The message comes to us today from every side: “God really likes nice people, and you are a nice person. You should celebrate you. You have a good chance of being brought to the King’s table because you deserve it.”

The truth is the reverse. Mephibosheth gives the only response to God’s amazing mercies. The response we give to God, who shows His lovingkindness is:

“And can it be?”

“What wondrous love is this?”

Remember this was David’s awed response to God for His mercy when he was seated on a throne (2 Sam. 7:19), and this was Mephibosheth’s response when he lay upon his face before a throne. We are debtors to grace. God’s grace to the undeserving always humbles and brings us to our knees in astonishment.

If Mephibosheth was humbled by David’s mercies, how then shall we respond in the presence of our gracious God?

Grace is light; it illumines us to see ourselves and God at the same time. When God’s grace is at work in us, we will see our own impurity, helplessness, and utter need. And at the same time we will see exactly what is so amazing and astounding about God’s grace.

We will sing, “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name!”

Why? “Who healeth all thy diseases, who redeemeth thy life from destruction, who crowneth thee with loving kindness and tender mercies” (Ps. 103:1-4).

An earthly king would invite the beautiful, strong, and powerful people of his kingdom to be his guests about his table. What King sends out His messengers to bring to His table “the poor, and the maimed, and the halt, and the blind” (Luke 14:23)? What King, after drawing publicans and sinners to His house, will sit down and eat and drink with them and then call them sons and daughters? The King of glory does!

Mephibosheth was not at the king’s table to bring something to his king but to reveal something about his king. He was not there to add what was lacking, but to receive what he was lacking. The greatest blessing you will ever receive is fellowship with the King Himself in all your burdens and trials. In His presence you will be renewed by His promise that all things will work for your good. At His feet you are assured that His grace will be sufficient for whatever He sends into your life.

Under our King’s table are lame legs. Seated around His table are the lowly and contrite in heart. All at His table are humbled and astounded at the amazing kindness of our King who has so exceedingly loved us.

The burdens of our bodies do not rob us of the privileges that are ours in Christ. At the Lord’s Table we learn to rejoice in our infirmities that the power of Christ may rest upon us. Our infirmities do not cause us to fall into despondency, but rather at His table, the lame leap as a deer, the blind see, and the deaf hear.

No matter the lot God has assigned to us or the burden we must bear, we have all been fetched from Lodebar—out of loneliness and exile—and brought to the feast of God’s lovingkindness. Freely we have received, freely we show His kindness to each other.