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good to have you back, David. We missed you while you were away.

9
    PLOPPING POINTS
    I RECENTLY SAW a woman walking a dog on a leash. Change that. I saw a woman pulling a dog with a leash. The day was hot, I brutally. The dog had stopped, totally. He’d plopped, belly down, in wet grass, swapping blistering pavement for a cool lawn.
    The woman tugged and tugged. She’d have had more success pulling a parked semi.
    The dog’s get-up-and-go had got up and gone, so down he went.
    He’s not the last to do so. Have you ever reached your “plopping point”?
    Blame it on your boss. “We need you to take one more case.”
    Your spouse. “I’ll be out late one more night this week.”
    Your parents. “I have one more chore for you to do.”
    Your friend. “I need just one more favor.”
    The problem? You’ve handled, tolerated, done, forgiven, and taken until you don’t have one more “one more” in you. You are one tired puppy. So down you plop. Who cares what the neighbors think. Who cares what the Master thinks. Let them yank the leash all they want; I ain’t taking one more step.
    But unlike the dog, you don’t plop in the grass. If you are like David’s men, you plop down at Brook Besor.
    Don’t feel bad if you’ve never heard of the place. Most haven’t, but more need to. The Brook Besor narrative deserves shelf space in the library of the worn-out. It speaks tender words to the tired heart.
    The story emerges from the ruins of Ziklag. David and his six hundred soldiers return from the Philistine war front to find utter devastation. A raiding band of Amalekites had swept down on the village, looted it, and taken the women and children hostage. The sorrow of the men mutates into anger, not against the Amalekites, but against David. After all, hadn’t he led them into battle? Hadn’t he left the women and children unprotected? Isn’t he to blame? Then he needs to die. So they start grabbing stones.
    What else is new? David is growing accustomed to such treatment. His family ignored him. Saul raged against him. And now David’s army, which, if you remember, sought him out, not vice versa, has turned against him. David is a psycho in the making, rejected by every significant circle in his life. This could be his worst hour.
    But he makes it one of his best.
    While six hundred men stoke their anger, David seeks his God. “But David strengthened himself in the Lord his God” (1 Sam. 30:6).
    How essential that we learn to do the same. Support systems don’t always support. Friends aren’t always friendly. Pastors can wander off base and churches get out of touch. When no one can help, we have to do what David does here. He turns toward God.
    â€œShall I go after these raiders? Can I catch them?”
    â€œGo after them! Yes, you’ll catch them! Yes, you’ll make the rescue!” (30:8 MSG
    (I used to believe only saints could talk with God like this. I’m beginning to think God will talk with anyone in such a fashion and saints are the ones who take him up on his offer.)
    Freshly commissioned, David redirects the men’s anger toward the enemy. They set out in pursuit of the Amalekites. Keep the men’s weariness in mind. They still bear the trail dust of a long campaign and haven’t entirely extinguished their anger at David. They don’t know the Amalekites’ hideout, and, if not for the sake of their loved ones, they might give up.
    Indeed, two hundred do. The army reaches a brook called Besor, and they dismount. Soldiers wade in the creek and splash water on their faces, sink tired toes in cool mud, and stretch out on the grass. Hearing the command to move on, two hundred choose to rest. “You go on without us,” they say.
    How tired does a person have to be to abandon the hunt for his own family?
    The church has its quorum of such folks. Good people. Godly people.