Kingdom Series: Wages

The Two Mountains: A Tale of Two Kings
There are moments in Scripture that stop us in our tracks—not because they inspire us, but because they terrify us. The final chapter of 1 Samuel is one of those moments. It's a story of death, defeat, and devastating consequences. Yet within this darkness, a light breaks through, pointing us toward hope we desperately need.
The Wages of Sin
Mount Gilboa witnessed a tragedy that day. The armies of Israel fled before the Philistines, their bodies littering the mountainside. King Saul, who once stood head and shoulders above his people, now writhed in pain on the ground, pierced by enemy arrows. His sons—Jonathan, Abinadab, and Malchishua—lay dead around him.
The irony of their names would not have been lost on ancient readers. Jonathan means "Yahweh has given"—the gift now taken away. Abinadab means "my father is noble"—yet nobility had long departed from Saul's reign. Malchishua means "my king is salvation"—but this king brought only destruction.
As death closed in, Saul made one final choice consistent with his character. Fearing humiliation more than death itself, he commanded his armor bearer to kill him. When the young man refused—showing more reverence for God's anointed than Saul himself possessed—the king fell upon his own sword.
Even in death, Saul remained rebellious.
The Ripple Effect of Rebellion
What makes this story particularly haunting is not just Saul's death, but the death of everyone around him. His sons died. His armor bearer died. His army died. The cities of Israel were abandoned, and the Philistines moved in to occupy them.
This is the brutal truth about sin: it never affects only us. We live in an age that whispers the lie that our choices are our own business, that what we do in private stays private, that personal sin has no public consequences. But the Bible has never endorsed this fantasy.
Sin is corporate. Sin is communal. Sin ripples outward like a stone thrown into still water, touching shores we never intended to reach.
Saul's vanity—his obsession with what people thought rather than what God thought—seemed like such a small thing. It wouldn't make most people's list of "serious sins." Yet it destroyed him, his family, his army, and his nation. The so-called "little sins" we nurture and rationalize often do the most damage in our lives.
Desecration Beyond Death
The horror didn't end with death on the battlefield. The Philistines came the next day to strip the slain, and when they found Saul's body, they cut off his head and stripped his armor. Then they sent messengers throughout their land to carry "good news" to the temples of their false gods—Dagon and Ashtoreth.
Think about that. The good news being proclaimed was that the gods of the Philistines had defeated the God of Israel. Saul's sin didn't just disgrace him; it defamed Yahweh. The consequences of his rebellion provided ammunition for God's enemies to mock the name of the Lord.
They fastened Saul's body to the wall of Beth-shan, a public display of humiliation and defeat. The king who feared disgrace more than anything else received exactly what he feared most.
This is what sin does. It doesn't just destroy; it desecrates. It doesn't just take your life; it takes your dignity, your honor, your legacy. It corrupts everything it touches.
A Glimmer of Mercy
Yet even in this dark narrative, there's a moment of light. The men of Jabesh-gilead remembered that Saul had once rescued their city. Despite everything, despite his failures and rebellion, they risked their lives to retrieve his body and give him a proper burial.
They traveled at night, took down the desecrated bodies, burned them for purification, and buried the bones under a tamarisk tree—a place associated with sacred space. Then they fasted for seven days, mourning what had been lost.
This was covenant loyalty in action. This was mercy in the face of judgment. These men showed love and faithfulness even when Saul had broken it.
But as beautiful as their act was, they couldn't undo what had been done. They could bury the body, but they couldn't reverse the curse. They could honor the dead, but they couldn't raise the dead. They could fast for seven days, but they couldn't pay the wages of sin.
Two Mountains, Two Kings
The story of Mount Gilboa demands that we turn our attention to another mountain—Mount Calvary. Two mountains. Two kings. Two deaths.
Both Saul and Jesus were anointed. Both died on mountains surrounded by enemies. Both were pierced. But the similarities end there.
Saul's death was judgment for his rebellion. Jesus' death was obedient substitution for ours.
Saul got what he deserved. Jesus got what we deserve.
Saul died in fear, terrified of humiliation. Jesus died courageously, enduring the shame for our sake.
Saul's death brought defeat and dishonor. Jesus' death brings victory and honor beyond imagining.
Saul's death ended his story. Jesus' death begins ours.
The Gift That Reverses the Wages
Romans 6:23 captures the entire arc of Scripture in one sentence: "The wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Wages are what we earn. Gifts are what we receive. Saul earned his wages—death, defeat, disgrace. But Jesus offers us something we could never earn: life, victory, honor, restoration.
Perhaps you feel like Saul today. Maybe you've made choices you can't undo, sinned in ways that have consequences you can't escape. Maybe you feel surrounded by enemies with no way out.
Here's the truth you need to hear: You're not Saul. You're not the villain of this story. You're the people that Saul failed to save and that Jesus succeeded to save.
There's another King, a better King, who didn't fail, who didn't fall, who didn't flee. He stood His ground on another mountain and took the judgment you deserved so you could have the life He earned.
Which King Will You Follow?
The question before us is simple but profound: Which king will you follow?
The king who lived for himself and died for himself? Or the King who lived for others and died for others?
The king who feared man more than God? Or the King who feared God more than man?
The king buried in a tomb under a tree? Or the King who died on a tree, emptied the tomb, and now lives forever?
The wages of sin is death—that's Mount Gilboa. But the gift of God is eternal life—that's Mount Calvary.
The choice is yours.