I regretted the day Father told me I would marry David, the day he summoned me to the courtyard to meet him. There I saw the man, fully clad in a soldier’s armour, only his face visible—and it was the most beautiful I had ever seen. His eyes spelt such peace that I wondered how it could be so for a man of war, a man who had just slain 200 Philistines single-handedly to win my hand.
His hand rested on his sword hilt, ready to draw at any moment. “Be still, man of war!” I almost said, but held my tongue. There was no imminent battle; the only war was the one raging in my heart.
“Meet my daughter, Michal,” Father said
David removed his helmet and bowed slightly as Father introduced me. I returned the gesture as nicely as I could.
As Father spoke, my eyes roamed freely over his form. His golden hair cascaded to the nape of his neck, his skin the colour of caramel, and his lips a perfect feature on his face.
Oh, how I loved him! Father must have known this, perhaps explaining why he chose me to be his wife. Secretly, I was grateful that Merab, my elder sister, had been given to another. Now, this man could be mine alone.
Father beckoned David forward and placed my hand in his. As our hands touched, he knelt and kissed mine. A shiver ran through my entire body, from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes. When he released my hand and stood, our eyes met, and I blushed—a princess, flushing for a man in his very presence! But he was no ordinary man. He was a commander in my father’s army, the one who had saved our land from the Philistine giant, Goliath and ended the war.
Father dismissed me, and I tried to walk gracefully back to my chambers, conscious of his gaze boring into my back.
Years passed, and he became not just my husband and the greatest warrior in the land, but also the King. He ascended the throne after my father’s death, elevating me to the position of a queen.
My warrior king was everything to me: my passion, for he alone could set me aflame; my priest, for he kept his covenant with God and communed daily with the divine; my king, who made me his queen; my husband, whose leadership and priesthood I submitted to. He was the envy of all, and I felt blessed to be his wife.
But there’s more to our tale—he was also a fiercely jealous lover. In a cruel twist of fate, my father gave me to another man, a spiteful act aimed at wounding him. Yet, upon his triumphant return after my father’s passing, he demanded my restoration as his rightful wife.
Seeing his devotion to me, I vowed to reciprocate. I resolved to be the epitome of a devoted wife—to desire him ceaselessly, to commit myself to him alone, and to adore him with every fibre of my being. These were the expectations placed upon a wife, and I embraced them wholeheartedly.
But I failed him. I failed the day the Ark of God was returned to Jerusalem.
That day, I looked upon my king with contempt and despised him in my heart, for he debased himself before the people. Why should the great King of Israel dance so vigorously, nearly becoming unclad? Such behaviour did not befit royalty! It was a complete humiliation of royal dignity!
When he finished the offerings and came to bless us, I took him aside and berated him for his unseemly actions. “We have a legacy to uphold,” I hissed. “What will our servants think?”
My king listened silently to my anger, then replied, “In God’s presence, I’ll dance all I want! He chose me over your father and the rest of your family and made me prince over God’s people, over Israel. Yes, I’ll dance to God’s glory even more recklessly than this. And as far as I’m concerned… I’ll gladly look like a fool…”
His words left me speechless, and as he walked away, my heart shattered.
I realized then that I had despised not just him, but the God of Israel. I had forgotten the scripture that says, “He inhabits the praises of His people.” He had been dancing for Him, not for me or the people. It was his expression of love, shown through jubilant dance.
I had despised his worship, his sacrifice to the King of kings, his devotion to the Maker. I had despised a man of God, a man after God’s own heart. I had despised the very offering for the Ark of the Covenant and the fact that he had gone out of his way to bring it back to Israel.
I had despised the man on whose shoulders God had placed the governance of His people. I had despised his priesthood and his kingship. I had despised the covering over my head.
Oh, how I had despised my king!
Afterwards, I would go to my king when summoned, or he would come to me at will, but I could not conceive. It was as if his seed fell on infertile ground—for that is what I had become after I disdained him.
A mark had been made in the womb of time: a woman is to honour her head, and I had failed to do so. How could I conceive for a man I loathed? What good could I receive from a man I disdained? What blessings could I obtain from his God, whom I had treated with contempt?
I remained barren in his house, the only barren woman in Israel until the day I died.
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