King David, King Jesus, and Me? Mourning a Loss

When the Crown Falls

Learning to Grieve Without Withering

1 Samuel 31; 2 Samuel 1–2

Grief doesn't wait for a convenient time. It doesn't check your calendar or ask if you're ready. It shows up in a phone call, a diagnosis, an empty chair at the table, and suddenly you're standing in wreckage you never planned for. If you've been there, or if you're standing in it right now, I want you to know something before we go one word further: you are not doing grief wrong. Let's walk through this together.

This week we land on one of the rawest, most human moments in David's whole story. Saul is dead. Jonathan, David's dearest friend, is dead. And the man who might have had every reason to celebrate — the man Saul hunted through caves and wilderness for years — instead falls to the ground and weeps. What David does next teaches us something we desperately need: how to grieve in a way that honors what was lost without letting that loss become the thing that defines the rest of our lives.

A Kingdom in Ruins

First Samuel 31 is a hard chapter to read. The Philistines overrun Israel's army on Mount Gilboa. Saul's sons, including Jonathan, are killed in the fighting. Saul himself, badly wounded and unwilling to be captured and mocked by his enemies, takes his own life.

It's the collapse of everything Saul had been given — the crown, the anointing, the calling — undone by years of disobedience and deceit. A life built on cutting corners with God doesn't hold up under pressure. It never does. That's a hard truth, but it's an honest one, and I don't want to soften it: it is never right to do a wrong thing, no matter who tells you to do it or what you fear will happen if you don't.

This chapter isn't really about Saul's failure, though. It's about what happens next in the heart of the man Saul spent a decade trying to destroy.

A Song for the Man Who Hunted Him

When the news reaches David in chapter 1, he doesn't throw a party. He tears his clothes. He weeps. He fasts. And then he does something remarkable — he writes a song. Second Samuel 1:19-27 records David's lament for Saul and Jonathan, and it's one of the most tender pieces of poetry in all of Scripture.

A gazelle lies slain on your heights, Israel. How the mighty have fallen!  — 2 Samuel 1:19, CSB

David praises Saul's leadership. He praises Jonathan's love, calling their friendship “beloved and lovely.” He doesn't mention the caves. He doesn't mention the spear Saul threw at him, or the years spent running for his life. He grieves the man Saul could have been and the friend Jonathan truly was.

Sit with that for a second. David had every human right to feel relief, maybe even satisfaction, at Saul's death. Instead, he grieves honestly and completely. That's worth noticing, because it tells us something important about grief: it isn't only for the people who were perfectly good to us. Sometimes we grieve complicated relationships. Sometimes we grieve what could have been, alongside what actually was. David shows us it's possible to hold both the hurt and the honor in the same hand.

What Grief Actually Is

Before we go further, let's define our terms, because I think sometimes we throw around words like “grief” and “bereavement” without really understanding them. To grieve means to feel or express deep sorrow, especially over a loss. Bereavement is the state of having lost someone, the season you're in after death has taken someone from you — it comes from an old word meaning “to be robbed” or “to be deprived.” That word choice matters. Grief isn't dramatic or excessive when it feels like something was stolen from you. Something was.

Every single one of us will grieve in some way. Not one of us gets to skip it. The question was never whether you'll grieve — it's whether you'll grieve in a way that leads you toward healing or in a way that leaves you stuck.

The Stages No One Warned You About

If you've lost someone, you may recognize this progression, even if no one ever explained it to you in advance. First comes shock — that strange, foggy numbness where your body is still moving but your mind can't quite catch up to what's happened.

Then denial creeps in, that quiet refusal to accept what you already know is true. Anger often follows, and here's something I want you to hear clearly: it is safe to tell God you're angry. He is not surprised by your anger, and He is not fragile enough to be wounded by your honesty. The psalms are full of people shouting their anger straight at heaven, and God never once tells them to be quiet. Depression can settle in next, a heaviness that sits on your chest for days or weeks. And eventually, in its own time, acceptance arrives — not the erasing of the loss, but the willingness to live inside the reality of it.

Grief can genuinely feel like you're losing your mind. You forget things. You cry at strange moments. You laugh and then feel guilty for laughing. None of that means something is wrong with you. It means you loved someone, and love doesn't disappear just because the person did.

Grieve, But Don't Wither

Here's where David's story gives us something crucial. After the mourning in chapter 1, David doesn't stay frozen. In 2 Samuel 2:1-7, he inquires of the Lord about what to do next, moves to Hebron, and is anointed king over Judah. Life continues. The calling God placed on him doesn't evaporate because of the grief he's carrying. He even sends word to the men of Jabesh-Gilead, commending them for their loyalty to Saul and blessing them for it.

This is the balance so many of us struggle to find. Grieve — fully, honestly, without rushing it. But don't let grief become a grave you climb into alongside the person you lost. David wept, and then David kept walking in obedience to God. Both things were true at once. Both things can be true for you too.

Crying Is Cleansing, Not Weakness

Somewhere along the way, a lot of us picked up the idea that crying is a sign of weakness, that “strong” people hold it together. I want to push back on that gently. Tears are not a malfunction. They're part of how God built you to process pain, and they do real, physical, cleansing work in your body and your spirit. Take the time to grieve. It hurts, and it's supposed to hurt, because love always leaves a mark when it's taken from us. Don't apologize for the tears. Don't rush yourself past them.

And if it's your friend who's grieving instead of you, here is the simplest and hardest instruction I can give you: just be there. You don't need the perfect words. You don't need a theological explanation for suffering. Show up. Sit in the discomfort with them. Presence ministers in places explanation never can.

The Memory That Becomes a Blessing

Grief doesn't end when the funeral does — in many ways, that's when the harder, quieter work of grieving actually begins, once the casseroles stop coming and everyone else's life moves on. Take time to celebrate the life that's gone. Tell the stories. Laugh about the memories.

The remembrance of the righteous is a blessing, but the name of the wicked will rot.  — Proverbs 10:7, CSB

The people who lived well leave behind more than an absence. They leave a legacy that keeps giving long after they're gone. Let yourself receive that blessing instead of only feeling the loss.

What Support Actually Looks Like

If you're walking through loss right now, or love someone who is, here's a practical list worth keeping close: face your feelings honestly — crying is allowed. Remember that healing takes time and can't be rushed on someone else's schedule. Draw comfort from your faith in God rather than pulling away from Him. Turn toward friends and family instead of isolating. Be careful how you engage with social media in the middle of grief — comparison and performance don't mix well with mourning. Don't let anyone else tell you how you're supposed to feel or how long you're allowed to feel it. Plan ahead for grief triggers, like anniversaries and holidays, so they don't blindside you. Look after your physical health, because grief lives in the body as much as the heart. Consider a support group where other people understand this specific kind of pain. Talk to a therapist or grief counselor if you need one — that's wisdom, not failure. Try to maintain hobbies and interests that still bring you a little light. Express your feelings creatively, through writing or music or whatever fits you. And find a place to serve, because sometimes the most healing thing you can do with your pain is let it turn you toward someone else's.

Death Has Lost

Here's where David's story points us somewhere even bigger than David. Every lament, every grave, every goodbye in Scripture is aching for something death can't deliver on forever. Paul writes it plainly:

When this corruptible body is clothed with incorruptibility, and this mortal body is clothed with immortality, then the saying that is written will take place: Death has been swallowed up in victory.  — 1 Corinthians 15:54, CSB

David composed a funeral song over a fallen king. Jesus stood at a friend's tomb and wept real tears (John 11:35) — He knows exactly what your grief feels like from the inside. And then He walked out of His own grave, breaking death's grip once and for all. David could only lament death. Jesus defeated it. Whatever grave you're standing beside this week, it does not get the final word. He does.

Your Plan of Action

Grief isn't something you manage once and move past. It's something you walk through, a step at a time, with God and with people who love you. Here's a practical rhythm to help you do that.

Daily	This Week	This Month	Ongoing
Tell God honestly how you feel, even the anger	Reach out to one friend or family member for support	Consider joining a grief support group	Keep the memory of your loved one alive through stories, photos, or traditions
Allow yourself to cry without guilt	Write down one memory of the person you lost	Schedule a conversation with a counselor or pastor if you need one	Watch for grief triggers around anniversaries and holidays, and plan ahead
Take one small step to care for your body — water, rest, a short walk	Say yes to one hobby or activity that brings a little light	Find one tangible way to serve someone else	Keep returning to Scripture and prayer as your steady place

Help · Hope · Home

Wherever you are in your grief today, you don't walk it alone. Our church family is here to sit with you, pray with you, and remind you that healing is possible. Reach out — we want to help you find hope, and help this place feel like home.