SAUL'S HOLLOW TRUNK AND DAVID'S DEEP ROOTS

Some trees look strong, but a storm shows what they’re really made of.

You know the kind of tree I’m talking about. From the street, it looks healthy and full of life. You might even think it could handle a tire swing and half the youth group hanging from its branches. But let a storm come through, and suddenly a branch snaps, the trunk splits, and the whole thing topples right into your flower bed. It’s a bit like those folding chairs at the church picnic that always seem to give out just as someone sits down with a plate full of fried chicken. The real issue isn’t what you see on the outside. It’s what’s happening inside the trunk that makes all the difference.

That, in a nutshell, is the story of Saul. 

Israel wanted a king like all the other nations had. They wanted someone tall, impressive, and who looked like he belonged on the cover of Israel Today—if they’d had magazines, that is. Saul checked every box. If Israel had a church directory, his photo would be right on the front page.¹ But Saul’s strength was all surface. He had enough charisma to get the job, but not enough character to keep it.

David, on the other hand, didn’t grow up in the spotlight. God shaped him out in the sheep fields, not on a stage.

Before David ever wore a crown, he wore out a few pairs of sandals chasing sheep. Before he sat on a throne, he spent plenty of nights hiding in caves. Before he led anybody else, he had to learn to lead himself—and sometimes that meant tears, mistakes, and singing psalms when nobody, except God, was listening. When God chose David over Saul, it wasn’t because David was perfect. The difference was deeper. Saul kept chasing the crown but never really gave his heart to God. David, even with all his failures, kept coming back to the Lord. That’s why the Bible calls him a man after God’s own heart—not because he never messed up, but because he kept turning back to God.²

This is where our “Christian Character Tree” comes in. If the soil is the True, the Good, and the Beautiful, the roots are the Beatitudes, the trunk is made up of the cardinal virtues, and the big branches are faith, hope, and love—then Saul and David are like two trees in the same storm. Saul looked tall, but his roots were shallow. David, on the other hand, was slowly formed by God’s grace into someone who could stand strong when the wind picked up.

And that difference still matters today. Like I’ve said before, the cardinal virtues—prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude—can show up in folks who don’t even know the Lord. You probably know someone who’s not a believer but still returns their shopping cart, pays their bills on time, and keeps their yard looking sharp. But faith, hope, and love are a different story. Those aren’t just personality upgrades; they’re gifts from God, the result of His work in our hearts.³ In the Old Testament, you see David’s heart waking up to God, while Saul is content to look religious without really surrendering.

Saul Had the Crown, but Not the Trunk

To be fair, Saul wasn’t your typical villain, nor did he intend to be. He had natural gifts. He had stature, battlefield energy, and at least some early modesty. At one point, he was literally hiding among the baggage when they went looking for him. That is not nothing. He was capable of decisive action in battle, and in flashes, he showed the kind of courage that rallies people in a crisis. If we were mapping him on the cardinal virtues, we might say Saul had hints of fortitude and leadership capacity. He could act. He could command. He could look the part.⁴

But Saul’s virtues didn’t go deep because they weren’t rooted in God.

He lacked prudence because he couldn’t control himself when things got tough. When Samuel was late, Saul panicked and made a sacrifice he shouldn’t have. When people pressured him, he gave in. When the Philistines threatened, he broke the rules and called it necessary. That’s not wisdom. That’s just fear dressed up as religion.

He lacked justice because he often chose to protect himself rather than do what was right. He disobeyed God’s command about Amalek, kept what he was supposed to destroy, and tried to cover it up with religious words. He kept the loot, blamed others, and acted like partial obedience with some worship music counted as faithfulness. It didn’t.⁵

He lacked self-control because his emotions ran his life. He made rash promises, threw spears, brooded, and got angry. He became jealous when people praised David. Saul couldn’t stand hearing someone else get credit. Once envy started, he kept feeding it.⁶

He also lacked real courage deep down. He could be brave in battle, but moral courage is different. C. S. Lewis said courage is not simply one virtue among others but “the form of every virtue at the testing point.” Saul failed that test again and again. He didn’t stand firm when obedience was hard, unpopular, or embarrassing. He was brave in a fight, but not brave enough to admit when he was wrong.⁷

That last point is at the core of why Saul fell.

Saul’s main problem wasn’t just that he sinned. David sinned too, and sometimes in terrible ways. Saul’s real issue was that he cared more about his image than about being honest. When Samuel confronted him, Saul said, “I have sinned,” but then quickly asked Samuel to honor him in front of the elders and the people. That’s the problem. Even his confession was about keeping up appearances. Maybe he wanted forgiveness, but he definitely wanted to look good. His need for the people’s approval was right up there with his need for air to breathe. 

Saul seemed far more troubled by losing the kingdom than by grieving the God who gave it. That’s why his confession always feels like he’s lifting his finger to see which way the wind is blowing. He was not mainly trying to get right with God. He was trying to keep the throne from wobbling.

In the language of my tree metaphor, Saul was a tall trunk with rot at the center. In the language of Lewis, he was a man without a chest—outer frame, inner deficiency.⁸ In the language of Tolkien, he’s the man who keeps thinking that power can be managed if he just holds it with better intentions. But power doesn’t politely stay in the tool shed. It gets into the bloodstream. At the Council of Elrond, the Ring is declared unusable because it is “altogether evil.”⁹ That is a useful warning here. Saul kept trying to hold onto kingship on worldly terms and then use it for godly ends. That never works. You don’t sanctify disobedience by stamping a Bible verse over it.

David Grew in the Field Before He Ruled in the Palace

David’s life is almost the opposite pattern.

He was anointed young but didn’t get the throne until much later. That waiting period wasn’t wasted time—it was God’s mercy at work.

Alan Redpath observed that conversion may happen in a moment, but the making of a saint is the task of a lifetime.¹⁰ That fits David exactly. God was not misplacing the crown while David was in the pasture and in the caves. He was seasoning the timber.

God sent David to “Oak School” in a sheep pasture. There, he learned hiddenness, faithfulness, and courage before applause. He killed lions and bears when no choir was singing about it. Then, when Goliath stomped into the valley running his mouth against the living God, David was ready—not because he had attended a leadership conference, but because his private life had already been formed by trust. He refused Saul’s armor and went out in the name of the Lord. That is faith, not as vague religious sentiment, but as in-the-moment dependence on God.¹¹

There, right at the front end of the story, David begins to show the theological virtues.

He has faith. “The battle is the Lord’s” is not a slogan on a coffee mug. It is a worldview. David lives as though God is actually there, actually holy, actually involved, and actually decisive.

He has hope. Read the fugitive psalms (psalms written while running from Saul and his army), and you find a man who gets afraid, grieves deeply, and still turns his face toward God. Hope in Scripture isn’t wishful positivity. It is confidence in valid promises. David hopes because he believes God’s character is sturdier than his circumstances.

And he has love. You see it in his zeal for God’s name, in his loyalty to Jonathan, in his mercy toward Saul, in his later kindness to Mephibosheth, and in his aching grief over Absalom. David’s love was not always clean and unconflicted, but it was real. The branch bent toward God and toward neighbor, not just toward self.¹²

Now add the cardinal virtues.

David had prudence, especially in his early years. He learned to wait. That may be one of the most underrated virtues in the whole story. Twice, he had Saul in his grasp. Twice, he might have sped up the promise with a knife. Twice, he refused. He wouldn’t seize by sin what God had promised by grace. That is practical biblical wisdom. It's knowing that the wrong means will deform the right end.

David had justice. At his best, he ruled with righteousness, sought the good of the people, honored covenant loyalty, and used power to bless rather than merely to dominate. His treatment of Mephibosheth alone is a flashing sign that he understood kingship as stewardship.¹³

David had temperance, though not perfectly. For long stretches, he showed remarkable restraint: he wouldn’t kill Saul, wouldn’t retaliate as quickly as his men wished, and repeatedly submitted his timing to God. But this is where we have to tell the truth. No playing favorites here. David’s collapse with Bathsheba and Uriah was not a small lapse. It was catastrophic. The man who once refused to grab a kingdom used his power to grab a woman. The man who once protected the weak arranged the death of a devoted soldier. In that chapter, the trunk cracked. But it didn’t split. This should give many flawed men hope that he may still be used by God. 

David also had fortitude. He faced giants, exile, betrayal, civil war, grief, and public shame. But the deepest form of his fortitude may not be in combat at all. It may be in his willingness to be humbled by God. Lewis was right: courage is every virtue at the testing point. For David, one of the fiercest tests was not whether he would face a Philistine with a sling, but whether he’d face his own sin without excuse when Nathan said, “You are the man.”

That is where the real difference between Saul and David becomes impossible to miss.

Both men sinned. Both men were confronted. Both men said, in one form or another, “I have sinned.”

But Saul’s confession curved back toward public image. David’s confession fell forward into the mercy of God. “I have sinned against the Lord.” No spin. No committee statement. No attempt to save face with the donors in the lobby. Then came Psalm 51, which I believe to be one of the most searching prayers in the Bible. Here, David asks not simply for consequences to be softened but for the heart to be remade. This isn’t a man trying to keep his reputation intact. This is a man asking God to tell the truth all the way down and then create in him a clean heart.¹⁴

That may be the clearest contrast between the two kings. Saul looked devastated at the thought of losing the kingdom. David looked devastated because he had sinned against the Lord. Saul grieved the collapse of his image. David grieved the rupture of communion. One wanted the throne secured. The other wanted the Presence restored. 

That's why David became a great king, even though he was never a perfect one. His greatness wasn’t that he never fell. His greatness was that grace had made him returnable. Oh Lord, may we all be returnable. 

Saul was hard.

David was breakable.

Saul defended himself against the light.

David eventually collapsed into it.

Saul wanted enough God to help preserve the throne.

David wanted God—even when the throne itself became part of the discipline.

That breakability is not frailty. It is one of the surest signs of spiritual life.

The Difference Was in What They Loved

This is where the Transcendentals help.

Saul had a disordered relationship to the True, the Good, and the Beautiful. He did not want truth in the inward being; he wanted manageability. He’d use truth when it helped him and dodge it when it threatened him. Goodness, for Saul, often became whatever preserved his position. Beauty, in the biblical and classical sense, requires rightly ordered love, but Saul’s loves were badly bent. He loved approval, control, and survival more than he loved obedience.

David, by contrast, shows a heart increasingly captured by the True, the Good, and the Beautiful. He wanted truth in the inward parts. He wanted goodness, not merely success. And he wanted the beauty of the Lord. When he says, “One thing have I asked of the Lord… to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord,” he isn’t speaking like a pragmatist or a religious performer.¹⁵ He’s speaking like a man whose loves are being reordered.

Peter Kreeft has argued that the deepest movements of the human heart are directed toward truth, goodness, and beauty because they ultimately point toward God.¹⁶ David increasingly lives that way. Saul increasingly does not.

Or, to borrow another Lewis image, Saul kept feeding the Tragedian. In The Great Divorce, Lewis portrays a tiny Dwarf dragged around by a grandstanding theatrical self.¹⁷ In my opinion, it is one of the best pictures of image management ever put on paper. Saul keeps polishing the public self while the inner man shrivels. David does ugly things, grievous things, but by grace, he keeps dragging the real self back into the presence of God, where truth can do its painful work.

What Saul Did Not Have, What David Was Still Learning

So what did Saul lack among the seven virtues, and what did David possess? Glad you asked.

Saul showed fragments of prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude (courage) in natural form, but none of them were stable enough to carry the load. They were not rooted deeply enough in the fear of God. His faith was shallow, his hope collapsed into despair, and his love curved inward. He ended as a man consulting a medium in the dark because he’d spent years refusing the clear Word of God in the light.

David, on the other hand, showed all seven virtues in real, although imperfect, form. Prudence in waiting. Justice in ruling. Temperance in restraint. Fortitude in suffering. Faith in battle and exile. Hope in the Psalms. Love in worship, loyalty, mercy, and grief. But he remained weak in the places many gifted leaders are weak: sexual appetite, comfort, and family management. David’s story is not “be like David because David was awesome.” David’s story is “behold what grace can build in a man, and behold how badly that man still needs mercy.”

Dallas Willard loved to say that grace is not opposed to effort but to earning. David’s life illustrates that better than most. His hidden years weren’t earning the kingdom; they were training for it. His habits in the pasture and cave became what Willard would call a kind of habitual capability. When the moment of testing came, character did what character does. Saul kept reaching for hacks. David was being trained into a heart.¹⁸

And that, honestly, is where this lands for us in the church today, particularly in our Southern Baptist ones.

We in the church still know how to pick Sauls. We are suckers for height, charm, confidence, a big platform, and the kind of polish that makes you think someone was born holding a microphone. We still confuse giftedness with godliness and charisma with character. One does not preclude the other, yet we don’t often differentiate and then choose the more important. We still want kings like the nations.¹⁹

But God still looks at the heart, not the highlight reel.

He’s still less impressed with the shine than with the solid joinery underneath.

He’s still less impressed with the platform than with the root system.

He’s still less impressed with quick results than with long obedience in the same direction.

The crown doesn’t make the man stronger. It just shows what’s already there.

If there’s a final lesson here, it’s this: The real question isn’t whether you have public gifts—Saul had plenty. The question is what kind of person you’re becoming when nobody’s watching. Can truth get past your defenses? Does goodness matter more to you than success? Has God’s beauty started to change what you love? Are faith, hope, and love alive in you by God’s grace? And when the pressure comes, do you harden up like Saul or break open like David?

Because eventually the storm comes.

Eventually, the branch bears weight.

Eventually, the throne gets heavy.

And when that day arrives, hacks will not hold you.

Image management will not save you.

A borrowed suit of armor will not make you strong.

Only roots. Only trunk. Only Limbs. Only the slow, steady work of God’s grace.

God didn’t just hand David a throne. He spent years growing a tree that could hold the weight.

Know someone who could use this encouragement? Why not share it with them now?

Endnotes

1. 1 Sam. 8:5, 20; 9:2; 10:23–24 (English Standard Version [ESV] ).

2. 1 Sam. 13:14; 16:7; Acts 13:22 (ESV). See also S. A. Fix and J. Robert Vannoy, “1 Samuel,” TGC Bible Commentary, The Gospel Coalition, https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/commentary/1-samuel/ ; Sinclair Ferguson, “A Man After God’s Own Heart,” Ligonier Ministries, November 20, 2008, https://www.ligonier.org/posts/a-man-after-gods-own-heart. 

3. Saint Thomas Aquinas. The Summa Theologica. Edited by Mortimer J. Adler et al., Translated by Laurence Shapcote, Second Edition, vol. 18, Robert P. Gwinn; Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 1990, pp. 60-61.

4. 1 Sam. 10:22, 26; 11:6–13 (ESV).

5. 1 Sam. 13:8–14; 15:1–24, 30 (ESV).

6. 1 Sam. 18:7–11; 19:9–10; 22:16–18 (ESV). See also John L. Mackay, “Was King Saul Possessed by Demons? (1 Samuel 19),” Crossway, June 24, 2021, https://www.crossway.org/articles/was-king-saul-possessed-by-demons-1-samuel-19/. 

7. C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters (New York: HarperOne, 2001), chap. 29. See also 1 Sam. 15:20–31 (ESV).

8. C. S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man (New York: HarperOne, 2001), 25.

9. J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, Illustrated ed. (New York: William Morrow, 2020), “The Council of Elrond,” p.267.

10. Alan Redpath, The Making of a Man of God: Lessons from the Life of David (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Publishing Group, 2004).

11. 1 Sam. 16:11–13; 17:34–47 (ESV). See also Burk Parsons, “The Heart Restored,” Ligonier Ministries, https://learn.ligonier.org/articles/heart-restored; Alan Redpath, The Making of a Man of God: Lessons from the Life of David (Grand Rapids, MI: Revell, 2004).

12. 1 Sam. 24:3–12; 26:7–11; Pss. 56:3–4; 57:1; 2 Sam. 1:17–27 (ESV).

13. 2 Sam. 8:15; 9:1–13; Ps. 27:4 (ESV); see also 1 Sam. 23:2; 30:8; 2 Sam. 5:19 (ESV).

14. 2 Sam. 11:1–27; 12:1–13; Ps. 51 (ESV). See also Matt Erbaugh, “The Heart of True Repentance,” Desiring God, December 26, 2017, https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/the-heart-of-true-repentance; Trevor Laurence, “8 Steps for Real Repentance from Psalm 51,” The Gospel Coalition, April 24, 2018, https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/steps-repentance-psalm-51/.

15. Psalm 27:4 (ESV). 

16. Peter Kreeft, Wisdom of the Heart: The Good, the True, and the Beautiful at the Center of Us All (Charlotte, NC: TAN Books, 2020). See also Peter Kreeft, “The Good, the True and the Beautiful,” PeterKreeft.com, accessed March 28, 2026, https://www.peterkreeft.com/audio/27_good-true-beautiful_org.htm. 

17. C. S. Lewis, The Great Divorce (New York: HarperOne, 2001), chap. 13.

18. Dallas Willard, The Great Omission: Reclaiming Jesus’s Essential Teachings on Discipleship (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2006), 61–62. See also Dallas Willard, “Personal Soul Care,” Dallas Willard Ministries, accessed March 28, 2026, https://dwillard.org/resources/articles/personal-soul-care; Dallas Willard, Renovation of the Heart: Putting on the Character of Christ (Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress, 2002).

19. R. Scott Pace and Jim Shaddix, “3 Ways That Scriptural Leadership Differs from Secular Leadership,” Crossway, January 9, 2024, https://www.crossway.org/articles/3-ways-that-scriptural-leadership-differs-from-secular-leadership/. See also 1 Sam. 16:7 (ESV).