Promises about property are made in all sorts of moments. At a bedside: “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the children get their share of the house.” At a funeral: “We’ll keep paying the taxes on Uncle’s land.” Over a handshake: “When I sell the lot, I’ll give you back the money you lent me for the deposit.” In the moment, the words are sincere. Then years pass. Circumstances change. The people who heard the promise move away or die. And quietly, without anyone deciding to break it, the promise fades.
One of the most moving stories in the Old Testament is about a promise that did not fade.
A question nobody expected
By 2 Samuel 9, David is firmly established as king. His enemies have been subdued. He has a palace in Jerusalem. The long years of running from King Saul are behind him. In many royal histories, this is the moment when a new king makes sure no one from the old dynasty is left to cause trouble.
Instead, David asks a surprising question: “Is there still anyone who is left of the house of Saul, that I may show him kindness for Jonathan’s sake?” (2 Samuel 9:1, NKJV).
Years before, David and Saul’s son Jonathan had been close friends. Jonathan had protected David from his father’s rage, and the two had made a covenant. Jonathan had asked David not to cut off his kindness from his house for ever (1 Samuel 20:14-15). Jonathan was now dead, killed in battle alongside Saul. Nobody would have blamed David for forgetting. There was no one left to hold him to it.
A grandson in Lo Debar
A former servant of Saul’s household, Ziba, tells David that there is one survivor: Jonathan’s son, Mephibosheth, who is lame in both feet. He was injured as a small child when his nurse fled with him after news of Saul’s and Jonathan’s deaths (2 Samuel 4:4). He is living in a place called Lo Debar, in someone else’s house, apparently with no land of his own.
David sends for him. Mephibosheth arrives terrified, falling on his face before the king and calling himself a “dead dog”. He has every reason to expect the worst. What he hears instead is this: “Do not fear, for I will surely show you kindness for Jonathan your father’s sake, and will restore to you all the land of Saul your grandfather; and you shall eat bread at my table continually” (2 Samuel 9:7, NKJV).
The promise to Jonathan becomes very concrete. Land returned. Servants appointed to farm it. A place at the king’s table for the rest of his life.
The promises that drift
Many families carry old promises about property that have quietly drifted. Consider a man who, when his brother died, promised his sister-in-law that he would make sure her children’s share of their grandmother’s land was protected. At the time he meant it. But the children were young, the paperwork was confusing, and he had his own mortgage to worry about. Twenty years later the land has been partly sold, partly occupied by a cousin, and the nieces and nephews living in England have no idea what happened to their father’s portion.
Nobody in that story is a villain. But a promise was made about property, and it was not kept. The cost falls hardest on those, like Mephibosheth, who were least able to speak up for themselves: children, widows, relatives abroad, those with disabilities, those who simply were not in the room.
Asking David’s question
David’s question is a good one for any of us to ask: is there anyone still left to whom I owe a kindness? In property terms, that might mean asking:
- Did I promise a parent, sibling or friend something about a house or land that I have not yet done?
- Is there a relative whose share of family property has been neglected, perhaps because they live far away or cannot easily advocate for themselves?
- Is there money I borrowed towards a house or a deposit that I have never repaid?
- Have I told a tenant, a caretaker or a builder I would do something and let it slide?
Keeping such promises may involve practical steps that are not glamorous: tracking down documents, speaking to an attorney-at-law, having an awkward conversation with a cousin, putting a long-standing understanding into writing so that it outlives you. It may cost money or time. David’s kindness to Mephibosheth cost him land he could have kept. That is what made it kindness.
A place at the table
The story ends with a simple line: Mephibosheth ate continually at the king’s table, and he was lame in both his feet (2 Samuel 9:13). He did not become strong or impressive. He was welcomed as he was, because of a promise made to someone else.
Christians have long seen in this a picture of the grace of God, who welcomes us to His table not for our own merit but for the sake of His Son. Those who have received that kind of faithfulness have every reason to show it. An old promise about property, kept years after anyone could have forced us to keep it, may be one of the clearest ways our households can reflect the character of the God who never forgets His word.
This article is general information only and is not financial, legal, tax or other professional advice. Please speak to a qualified professional about your own circumstances.
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