An Open Table for Mephibosheth 9 1One day David asked, “Is there anyone left of Saul’s family? If so, I’d like to show him some kindness in honor of Jonathan.” 2It happened that a servant from Saul’s household named Ziba was there. They called him into David’s presence. The king asked him, “Are you Ziba?” “Yes sir,” he replied. 3The king asked, “Is there anyone left from the family of Saul to whom I can show some godly kindness?” Ziba told the king, “Yes, there is Jonathan’s son, lame in both feet.” 4“Where is he?” “He’s living at the home of Makir son of Ammiel in Lo Debar.” 5King David didn’t lose a minute. He sent and got him from the home of Makir son of Ammiel in Lo Debar. 6When Mephibosheth son of Jonathan (who was the son of Saul), came before David, he bowed deeply, abasing himself, honoring David. David spoke his name: “Mephibosheth.” “Yes sir?” 7“Don’t be frightened,” said David. “I’d like to do something special for you in memory of your father Jonathan. To begin with, I’m returning to you all the properties of your grandfather Saul. Furthermore, from now on you’ll take all your meals at my table.” 8Shuffling and stammering, not looking him in the eye, Mephibosheth said, “Who am I that you pay attention to a stray dog like me?” 9David then called in Ziba, Saul’s right–hand man, and told him, “Everything that belonged to Saul and his family, I’ve handed over to your master’s grandson. 10You and your sons and your servants will work his land and bring in the produce, provisions for your master’s grandson. Mephibosheth himself, your master’s grandson, from now on will take all his meals at my table.” Ziba had fifteen sons and twenty servants. 11“All that my master the king has ordered his servant,” answered Ziba, “your servant will surely do.” And Mephibosheth ate at David’s table, just like one of the royal family. 12Mephibosheth also had a small son named Mica. All who were part of Ziba’s household were now the servants of Mephibosheth. 13Mephibosheth lived in Jerusalem, taking all his meals at the king’s table. He was lame in both feet.
The Message® / © 2002 Eugene H. Peterson About