Hope on Display

2 Samuel 6:12–23 ESV

And it was told King David, “The Lord has blessed the household of Obed-edom and all that belongs to him, because of the ark of God.” So David went and brought up the ark of God from the house of Obed-edom to the city of David with rejoicing. And when those who bore the ark of the Lord had gone six steps, he sacrificed an ox and a fattened animal. And David danced before the Lord with all his might. And David was wearing a linen ephod. So David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the Lord with shouting and with the sound of the horn. As the ark of the Lord came into the city of David, Michal the daughter of Saul looked out of the window and saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord, and she despised him in her heart. And they brought in the ark of the Lord and set it in its place, inside the tent that David had pitched for it. And David offered burnt offerings and peace offerings before the Lord. And when David had finished offering the burnt offerings and the peace offerings, he blessed the people in the name of the Lord of hosts and distributed among all the people, the whole multitude of Israel, both men and women, a cake of bread, a portion of meat, and a cake of raisins to each one. Then all the people departed, each to his house. And David returned to bless his household. But Michal the daughter of Saul came out to meet David and said, “How the king of Israel honored himself today, uncovering himself today before the eyes of his servants’ female servants, as one of the vulgar fellows shamelessly uncovers himself!” And David said to Michal, “It was before the Lord, who chose me above your father and above all his house, to appoint me as prince over Israel, the people of the Lord—and I will celebrate before the Lord. I will make myself yet more contemptible than this, and I will be abased in your eyes. But by the female servants of whom you have spoken, by them I shall be held in honor.” And Michal the daughter of Saul had no child to the day of her death.

THIS IS THE WORD OF THE LORD

INTRODUCTION:

Introduction: When Someone’s Hope Annoys You

Today we are continuing our series on Advent as a season of hope.

And so much in our world right now is frantic and anxiety-inducing. From preparing family get-togethers, to making sure we have the right presents for the right people, to managing calendars and expectations—this time of year can feel like one long performance review of our lives.

We can be so reliant on our ability to figure things out and get things done… that we mistakenly start to believe our future hope depends on our present performance.

Advent comes along every year to remind us:

Our hope will never be fulfilled by our abilities or anything else in this world. Hope is rooted in Jesus, grown through His grace, and therefore should be put on display with our voices and our lives each and every day.

That’s what we’ve been walking through in this series:

From James’ message on hope rooted in Christ

To Toby’s message on hope grown in grace

To today’s message on hope on display

So with that, let me start with a very simple question:

Has someone else’s hope ever made you uncomfortable?

Not their arguments. Not their theological positions. But their hope.

They live in such a way that it annoys you and makes you think: “What are they hiding? What’s wrong with them? Why are they like this?”

I knew a man like that.

His name was Steve. He worked 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. at a steel yard in Fort Worth. And instead of going home to sleep after work, he would come and pick up a group of inmates—which included me—to work at a church where he volunteered as the facilities manager.

The church was on the south side of the city, and we were on the north side. So Steve would pick us up in this old church bus that didn’t go over 50 miles per hour, running on no sleep. Then he’d pull that thing onto I-35 and people would just light him up. Honking, riding his bumper, flying past at 80, flipping him off the whole way.

And instead of meeting those taunts with the aggression and anger I felt they deserved, Steve met them with a smile and would quietly say:

“Praise Jesus.”

And I remember hating it.

Like: “Dude, have some respect for yourself. Fight back. Don’t be such a pushover.”

But exhausted and overworked, he refused to be shaken and just kept going—with his hope on full display.

Then we got to the church. And I started noticing that he wasn’t the only one like that. There were others walking around with that same strange joy. People in terrible situations, who had every right to curse the world and everything in it, but chose instead to live out their hope where everyone could see it.

They annoyed me. Their hope annoyed me. Their peace annoyed me. Their joy annoyed me.

Until it didn’t.

Their visible hope finally broke me. It disoriented me and everything I thought the world was. Something in me went from, “These people are ridiculous” to, “I want what they’ve got?”

And if you know me at all, you know I’m a big doctrinal guy. I’m a Bible nerd that loves things like the doctrine of predestination, the doctrine of the Trinity, the doctrine of sin and the sovereignty of God. I love talking theology. Those conversations excite me—it’s how God wired me.

But none of those conversations has ever made me stop and ask,

“What is the hope that is in you?”

Not the way that church did.

And not the way Steve did.

Their joy was evangelism. Their hope was contagious. Their quiet, unwavering love for Jesus awakened my dead heart.

Because the Holy Spirit wasn’t just a doctrine to them. He was living and active in them. And I saw it through their hope on display.

And that’s the thing about real hope:

It never just sits still.

It shows.

It moves.

It disrupts.

It exposes.

It draws.

And it multiplies.

Sometimes hope looks foolish. Sometimes hope makes other people uncomfortable. Sometimes it’s the most powerful sermon anyone will ever witness.

Which brings us to 2 Samuel 6.

Because David, in this passage, is doing exactly what Steve was doing: putting his hope on full display.

And not everybody likes it.

Setting the Scene: A Dangerous and Good God

Before we zoom in on this story, we need to set the context.

David has just been anointed king. One of his first acts is to defeat the Philistines and bring the ark of the covenant—the symbol of God’s presence—out of Abinadab’s house, where it had sat for around 20 years.

So they put the ark on a cart, they’re singing and celebrating, and then the oxen stumble. And a man named Uzzah reaches out to steady the ark, touches it, and dies on the spot.

This rattles David. He becomes afraid of the Lord and decides, “We’re not taking this thing into the city right now.” So they leave the ark at the house of a Gentile man named Obed-edom.

And something surprising happens:

“The Lord blessed the household of Obed-edom and all that belonged to him, because of the ark of God.”

God’s holy presence is now parked in the living room of a foreigner… and everything in his house is flourishing.

The same ark that brought death to Uzzah brings blessing to Obed-edom.

This is a huge tension you feel across the Bible:

God is holy and we are not, which make His presence dangerous. But God is also good and the source of all blessing, which makes His presence necessary.

That’s what David is wrestling with. He even asks earlier in the chapter:

“How can the ark of the LORD come to me?”

He’s saying,

“How can a holy God come near a sinful people and not kill us?”

But when he hears about God blessing Obed-edom, he decides to try again. But this time he does things differently.

The ark is not carried on a cart, but like God commanded.

By Levites or priests, who cover the ark with sacrifices at the start and at the end of the journey.

And David does not dress in royal robes, but wears a linen ephod, like the rest of the priests.

The first attempt:

Starts with celebration and ends with death and fear.

The second attempt:

Starts with sacrifice and ends with blessing, joy, and a meal in God’s presence.

What’s the difference?

A priest and a sacrifice. Which all points to Jesus.

Answering the question:

“How can the presence of the Lord ever come to me?”

Through a mediator.

Whole nother sermon at a whole nother time, but that’s the backdrop as David brings the ark into Jerusalem.

Point 1: Hope on Display Delights in God’s Presence (vv. 12–15, 17–19)

Look at verses 12–15 again:

David brings the ark with rejoicing.

Every six steps, they offer another sacrifice—like they’re saying, “Every part of this journey is by grace.”

David dances “with all his might” before the Lord.

All Israel shouts and blows trumpets.

Then verses 17–19:

The ark is set in the tent David pitched for it.

David offers burnt offerings and peace offerings.

He blesses the people in the name of the Lord.

He hands out bread and meat and raisin cakes to everyone.

The people go home full and blessed.

Do you see the picture?

God has come to His people, and they share a meal in His presence.

In the Bible, eating a meal in God’s presence is one of the great pictures of reconciliation and joy. It points us all the way forward to the marriage supper of the Lamb.

This is what hope does when it’s on display:

It delights in God’s presence.

It responds in sacrificial worship.

It overflows in blessing toward others.

Let me say it like this:

Hope doesn’t just believe truth about God; it enjoys God.

David isn’t just checking a religious box. He is celebrating before the Lord. He’s not thinking, “How do I look?” He’s thinking, “How great is God?”

And this is where it starts to sound like Advent again:

Our hope is not vague optimism centered in worldly things.

Our hope is anchored in a God who has actually come near.

A God who blesses those who have no right to His presence.

A God who invites us to feast instead of flee.

Hope on display delights in that.

Point 2: Hope on Display Makes Some People Uncomfortable (v. 16)

Now, verse 16:

“As the ark of the Lord came into the city of David, Michal the daughter of Saul looked out of the window and saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord, and she despised him in her heart.”

She doesn’t sigh. She doesn’t roll her eyes. She despises him.

Why?

Because passionate hope exposes what is hollow in our own hearts.

Michal grew up around royalty. She knew protocol, image management, respectability. She was used to a king who cared a lot about how he looked in front of people.

She sees David stripped of royal robes, wearing a simple linen ephod like any other priest, dancing like a commoner, not acting like “the king.”

And from her window, from a safe distance, she judges:

“That’s beneath you. You look ridiculous. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Here’s the reality:

When you live with your hope on display, there will always be a Michal somewhere watching from a window.

It might be a family member. A co-worker. A fellow Christian. A spouse.

They don’t understand your devotion. They think your joy is fake, your passion is weird, your risk-taking obedience is irresponsible. Your visible hope becomes a mirror reflecting their spiritual dryness, and rather than repent, they despise you.

Some of us in this room have a Michal in our lives. Some of us, if we’re honest, are Michal.

We’ve become more concerned with “looking put together” than actually rejoicing in the Lord. We’ve become more suspicious of joy than of sin. We’re more bothered by someone raising their hands in worship than we are by our own coldness toward God.

And then we wonder why our spiritual lives feel barren.

Point 3: Hope on Display Cares More About God’s Honor Than Our Own (vv. 20–22)

Look at the confrontation in verses 20–22:

“And David returned to bless his household. But Michal the daughter of Saul came out to meet David and said, ‘How the king of Israel honored himself today… uncovering himself… as one of the vulgar fellows shamelessly uncovers himself!’”

She is dripping with sarcasm. “Some king you are. You looked like a fool. No royal dignity. No kingly honor.”

She accuses him of acting like a vulgar man in front of the lowest of the low—“the female servants of his servants.”

This is about honor and image for her. “You didn’t live up to the weight of your position. You made yourself small.”

David’s response is so important:

“It was before the LORD, who chose me above your father and above all his house, to appoint me as prince over Israel… and I will celebrate before the LORD. I will make myself yet more contemptible than this, and I will be abased in my own eyes. But by the female servants of whom you have spoken, by them I shall be held in honor.”

In other words:

“I wasn’t dancing for you. I wasn’t dancing for them. I was dancing for the Lord.”

“I am willing to be humiliated in my own eyes, if it means God is honored. I care more about His glory than my reputation. I care more about what He thinks than what you think.”

Here is one of the core marks of hope on display:

Hope frees you from being ruled by the opinions of others.

Saul—Michal’s father—was obsessed with what people thought of him. And it destroyed him.

David is willing to look small, look foolish, even look unstable to some, as long as his heart is right before God.

Church, some of us are stuck spiritually because we care more about what others think than what God thinks.

We won’t confess sin because we’re afraid of being exposed.

We won’t step into serving or leading because we’re afraid of failing.

We won’t sing loudly or respond in worship because we don’t want to look emotional.

We won’t share the gospel because we don’t want to look weird or pushy.

And we call it wisdom or balance. But so often, it’s just pride.

Hope on display says:

“If I have God’s favor in Christ, I can live without everyone else’s approval.”

This doesn’t mean we become reckless or rude. It means that God’s opinion weighs more in our hearts than anybody else’s.

Point 4: Hope on Display Multiplies; Contempt Leaves You Barren (v. 23)

The story ends with a haunting line:

“And Michal the daughter of Saul had no child to the day of her death.”

The text emphasizes, again, that she is “the daughter of Saul.” The house of Saul has no future; the line dies with her.

It’s a picture.

Her contempt for David’s hope, for David’s worship, for David’s humility, leaves her fruitless.

Now to be clear, the Bible does not teach that every childless person is under judgment. That’s not what this is saying. This is a specific narrative statement about this specific woman in the storyline of redemptive history.

But spiritually, it’s making a point:

Pride is barren. Contempt is barren. Cynicism is barren.

Michal’s posture toward God’s presence and toward David’s joy produces nothing.

David’s posture—humble, responsive, rejoicing, sacrificial—brings blessing to the nation and honor among God’s people.

Hope on display is fertile. It multiplies joy. It multiplies courage. It multiplies hunger for God. It multiplies disciples.

That’s what Steve’s life did in that little church. That’s what God wants to do through your life.

Not because you’re impressive, but because your hope points to an impressive Savior.

Bringing It All Together: Dangerous and Good

So what do we do with a story like this in Advent, as we think about hope?

Let me draw the lines clearly:

God is holy and set apart, but God is gracioius and near.

Uzzah’s death shows us God’s holiness.

Obed-edom’s blessing shows us God’s grace.

The sacrifices and the priestly ephod show us that the only safe way into God’s presence is through a mediator and a substitute.

Jesus is that Mediator and Substitute.

He is the true Priest.

He is the true Sacrifice.

At the cross, God “broke out” against Him so that we could be brought near.

That’s why Hebrews says we now come, not to Sinai, but to Zion—into the presence of God Himself through the blood of Jesus.

Knowing this should produce hope on display.

A hope that delights in God’s presence.

A hope that moves us to worship, to sacrifice, to obedience.

A hope that doesn’t apologize for loving Jesus.

A hope that cares more about God’s honor than our own.

A hope that multiplies in the lives of others.

Application: Where Is Your Hope Hiding?

So let me ask you a few heart questions as we land this:

Where are you more like Michal than David?

Do you quietly despise other believers who seem “too emotional” or “too expressive”?

Do you roll your eyes at visible joy, while your own spiritual life feels dry?

Do you find it easier to critique worship than to enter into it?

Whose opinion matters most to you right now?

Are you ruled more by the eyes of people or by the eyes of the Lord?

Is there something you know God is calling you to do—but you haven’t, because of what people might think?

Where has your hope gone silent?

Maybe you’re a Christian, but your hope has gone into hiding.

Your worship is more routine than responsive.

Your joy feels distant.

Your faith feels more like a set of ideas than a living relationship.

Friend, Advent is a season where God is inviting you back. Back to delight. Back to dependence. Back to devotion. Back to hope on display.

The Good News for Cold Hearts

Here’s the good news:

If you see yourself in Michal—bitter, critical, closed off—it doesn’t have to end the way it ended for her. In Christ, there is mercy. You can repent of your pride. You can admit your dryness. You can ask God to soften your heart again.

If you see yourself in David—wanting to dance, wanting to rejoice, but feeling the pressure of people’s opinions—you can ask God to give you courage to care more about His honor than your own.

If you see yourself in Uzzah—too casual with God, playing around His holiness—you can run to the cross where His holiness and grace meet in Jesus.

And if you see yourself in Steve, that tired man in the bus, just trying to live out your hope in ordinary faithfulness—you can be encouraged that God uses that kind of life more than you know.

Advent & Christmas: The Ultimate Hope on Display

This whole series on hope has been moving us toward Christmas Eve:

Where we see:

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. Hope didn’t just stay in heaven. Hope stepped into a manger, into poverty, into danger, into our world.

Jesus is God’s hope on display.

So when you put your hope on display—when you rejoice, when you serve, when you endure, when you love your enemies—you are simply reflecting the One who first displayed His hope for you.

Invitation & Closing

So here’s the invitation today:

If you do not know Christ, come to Him. Come to the dangerous and good God through the blood of Jesus. Come to the One who died so you could draw near without fear.

If you know Christ, but your hope has gone quiet, ask Him: “Lord, restore to me the joy of your salvation. Make me more concerned about Your honor than my image. Put my hope back on display for Your glory.”

And let’s be a church where people could say what I had to say about that little church in Fort Worth:

“I found them extremely annoying… until their hope finally broke me.”

May the Spirit use your hope on display to break open hearts in this city.

COMMUNION – Hope on Display at the Table

Let us come to the Lord’s Table together this morning.

Because this story of David dancing and sacrificing and feasting in the presence of God is a shadow of something better:

Jesus, our true King.

Communion is:

Hope remembered in Christ.

Hope proclaimed in Christ.

Hope on display in Christ.

Every time we come to the Table, we’re saying:

Our hope is in something far greater than our circumstances and ourselves.

Invitation

If you belong to Jesus, this meal is for you.

If you’re not sure where you stand with Him, I’m glad you’re here. Instead of taking the bread and the cup, I’d invite you to take this time to consider Christ Himself, to talk honestly with Him, or come talk with one of us after the service. There’s no shame in staying seated; but there is always great danger in going through religious motions without a heart of faith.

On the night when He was betrayed, the Lord Jesus took bread, and when He had given thanks, He broke it and said,

“This is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”

In the same way also He took the cup, after supper, saying,

“This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.

For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until He comes.”

Benediction

May the God of hope, who has rooted you in Christ, who is growing you by His grace, now fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope— and put that hope on display in every place He sends you this week.

Go in Peace.