The Chosen King

1 Sam 16:1-13

Our Need: The Grief of Failed Kings (vv. 1–3)

This morning is traditionally known as Christ the King Sunday.

About Christian Calendars: Seasons of the church, marking the flow of time, recalling events of Biblical significance or theological emphasis (Advent, Easter, Pentecost).

Christ the King Sunday is a late addition to the calendar. Following the first World War, a time of social unrest, failed governments, rising dictators, and deep fear about the future. The church looked at the world and said, “Before we give our hearts to any earthly power, let us remember who truly reigns.”

It’s a day meant to anchor us in Christ. A day to remind the church, in every age, that our hope isn’t in political systems or in the next election cycle. We may wish for better leadership, we certainly feel the failures of the ones we have, but few of us long for another human king. Israel tried that. History has tried that. And every human monarch eventually disappoints.

But while we may not desire a king politically, we do long for something deeper: there is an innate longing for a sovereign who would reign in righteousness over us; A leader who would guide God’s people in God’s ways. Someone steady, trustworthy, true. Someone who doesn’t use people, but shepherds them. Someone whose heart is aligned with the heart of God.

And that’s why this passage speaks so clearly today. Because we live in a world full of broken kings, leaders who look impressive on the outside but lack the character to walk faithfully with God. Leaders who rise quickly and fall even faster.

Samuel knew that world. He lived in the grief of a failed king. Saul, whom he had anointed to be the King of Israel, had failed miserably, violating God’s commands, even practicing divination and making sacrifices.

But into that grief, God speaks a word of hope: “I have seen for myself a king.”

Christ the King Sunday tells us that God has not abandoned His people to the “Sauls” of this world. He sees; He provides; He gives the King we need.

God’s Provision: The Heart of His Chosen King (vv. 4–12)

The Lord says to Samuel, “I have seen for myself a king…”

Not “you have found one,” not “the people have put forward a candidate,” but “I have seen.”

This is the providence of God: His most holy, wise and powerful preserving and governing of all his creatures.

When our eyes are clouded with grief, God’s sight is clear.

Samuel obeys God, though cautiously. Saul is still on the throne and not exactly the stable type. God’s provision doesn’t wait until our fear is gone; He calls us to obey even as fear remains.

God sends Samuel to Bethlehem to make a sacrifice, and He invites Jesse and his sons to consecrate themselves before the Lord.

Consecrating is a ceremonial washing, purifying before an expected encounter with God (Jos 3:5).

Jesse brings to Samuel his sons, and when the firstborn, Eliab, steps forward he is tall, impressive, the kind of man you would put on a campaign poster.

Even Samuel thinks, “There he is, this must be the Lord’s anointed.” But remember, this is what he thought of Saul. Saul stood taller than any other man, had the look of a king.

And God says: “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature… for the Lord sees not as man sees. Man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.”

This is a word our world still desperately needs. We are mesmerized by charisma. We chase competence and overlook character. We admire polish and ignore pride. We select a leader more to keep the other party from gaining power, and give little thought to the one we choose.

But God is not swayed by outward appearances. He evaluates where we cannot see, the heart. With each of the sons of Jesse - all could have been chosen by outward appearances in Samuel’s eyes, but none were chosen by God.

And just when Jesse runs out of sons, the forgotten one is summoned, the youngest, the shepherd boy, smelling more like sheep than royalty. God says, “Arise, anoint him, for this is he.”

But what marked him, what God saw, was a heart honestly turned toward Him:

A heart that trusted God in obscurity.

A heart that repented when confronted.

A heart that loved the Lord’s name more than his own.

Now let’s be clear: When Scripture says David had a heart after God’s own heart, it is not claiming sinlessness. David’s biography will leave no doubt of that.

David was raised in the quiet places, pastures, not palaces. While Saul cared about being seen, David cared about being faithful.

The Lord values what the world ignores: humility, trust, obedience, repentance.

But as remarkable as David is, his arrival is not the climax of Scripture’s story. The whole structure of Scripture insists: David is not the destination, but the signpost. God is not merely repairing Israel’s monarchy, He is preparing His Messiah. David’s anointing points beyond himself, toward a greater King.

The Shadow of the Greater King (vv. 13–end)

David is a type, a foreshadow, of Christ.

First, David was overlooked.

His own father didn’t think to bring him inside.

Likewise, when Jesus arrives, people say, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Christ comes without outward majesty. No credentials. No office. No earthly pedigree that would draw us to Him.

Second, David was a shepherd.

The shepherd tends the wounded, seeks the lost, defends the flock, carries the frightened, restores the straying.

David did this imperfectly. Jesus does it perfectly. He is the Good Shepherd who lays down His life for the sheep.

Third, David was beloved.

That is what his name means.

But Jesus is the Beloved in the fullest sense, at His baptism and transfiguration the Father declares, “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”

David is Anointed.

David’s anointment was with oil, and the spirit moved upon him, but Christ is anointed with the Spirit without measure. And in David’s anointing, we see a promise: One day God will provide a King who will rule in perfect righteousness, heal perfectly, love perfectly, and reign forever. That King is Jesus.

Standing in the Light of the King. What does this mean for us?

Knowing Christ the King is comfort. Samuel grieved the sins of his king, the sins of his nation, and for the glory of God.

When describing God’s kingdom, Jesus said, “Blessed are those who mourn.” Not those who ignore evil. Not those who pretend everything is fine. But those who mourn, who bring their grief over sin, over broken leadership, over the world’s darkness, to the feet of Christ.

He turns mourning into joy. Not by minimizing our pain, but by ruling over it.

Knowing Christ is king calls us to trust in God’s provision.

Stop looking to outward appearances. Stop judging by worldly standards. Stop thinking the next impressive Saul will fix what is broken.

God provides the King we need, Christ Jesus, crucified, risen, reigning. The heart of the passage is the heart of the gospel: In our grief and sin, God provides His King. And in Him, our despair becomes faith.

Knowing Christ as King calls us to faith in Him alone.

We long for righteous leadership. We long for justice, truth, steadiness, glory. But every earthly king disappoints.

Have you been looking to the kings of this world to bring you peace? Have you been living as the king of your own life, and grieve now over how things have gone wrong?

Know Christ as King, the Lord of Salvation, the Sovereign of your Life. Bow to him, seek his favor, yield to his word, for you will find that his yoke is easy and his burden is light.

And so, in the fields of Bethlehem, God whispers the gospel for the first time in this story: “I have seen for myself a king.”

Not Saul. Not Eliab. Not any of the kings we would choose. But Christ, our Shepherd, our Beloved, our King.

Christ is the only King who will never fail you, and the only King who can heal you. So the call today is not simply to admire Him, but to entrust yourself to Him; to let His kingship reorder your fears, your loyalties, and your hope.