By Larry Barnes in 2 Samuel — 06 Feb 2026

2 Samuel 5

02/06/2026

I just read 2 Samuel 5 NKJV, and David finally becomes king of all Israel. I guess that since Abner and Ishbosheth are no longer in the picture, there is no one to oppose accepting David as king.

Yes, you're exactly right in your observation. By the time we reach 2 Samuel 5 (NKJV), the major obstacles to David's kingship over all Israel had been removed with the deaths of Abner and Ishbosheth, which cleared the path for the northern tribes to unite under David.

To recap the key background leading into chapter 5:

After Saul's death, David was anointed king over Judah in Hebron (2 Samuel 2:1–4), but the northern tribes followed Ishbosheth (Saul's surviving son), who was set up as king over the rest of Israel by Abner, Saul's army commander (2 Samuel 2:8–10).
This created a divided kingdom, with ongoing tension and even skirmishes between David's forces (led by Joab) and Ishbosheth's (led by Abner).
In 2 Samuel 3, Abner defects to David's side after a falling out with Ishbosheth. He begins working to bring the northern tribes over to David, but Joab murders Abner in revenge for his brother Asahel's death (2 Samuel 3:27). David publicly mourns Abner and distances himself from the killing, which helps preserve his reputation.
In 2 Samuel 4, two of Ishbosheth's own captains assassinate him while he sleeps, hoping to gain favor with David. David condemns the murder, executes the assassins, and has Ishbosheth's head buried honorably with Abner.

With both Abner (the military strongman who had propped up Ishbosheth's rule) and Ishbosheth (the figurehead king from Saul's house) now gone, there was effectively no credible rival or organized opposition left. The northern tribes no longer had a leader to rally around, and David's long-standing reputation as a capable leader (even under Saul), combined with God's clear anointing on him, made unification natural.

So in 2 Samuel 5:1–3 (NKJV), we read:

Then all the tribes of Israel came to David at Hebron and spoke, saying, “Indeed we are your bone and your flesh. Also, in time past, when Saul was king over us, you were the one who led Israel out and brought them in; and the Lord said to you, ‘You shall shepherd My people Israel, and be ruler over Israel.’” Therefore all the elders of Israel came to the king at Hebron, and King David made a covenant with them at Hebron before the Lord. And they anointed David king over Israel.

This shows the elders acknowledging kinship ("bone and flesh"), David's proven leadership, and God's promise — leading to his anointing as king over the whole nation. He was 30 when he began reigning (over Judah), and after 7½ years in Hebron, he goes on to reign over united Israel for 33 more years from Jerusalem (5:4–5).

It's a pivotal moment — the fulfillment of God's earlier promise to David through Samuel, and the end of the civil war-like division after Saul's death. From here, the narrative shifts to David's successes: capturing Jerusalem, defeating the Philistines, and bringing the ark to the city.

After having read through Joshua, Judges and the reign of Saul, it is good to see David consistently consult God concerning battles. And in keeping with God's nature, He keeps changing up how He chooses to defeat His enemies, thus the need to keep consulting Him.

That's a really insightful observation. After the cycles of rebellion, deliverance, and decline in Judges, and then Saul's reign—where Saul often acted impulsively, made rash vows, or consulted God only partially (or even turned to mediums when desperate)—David stands out sharply for his consistent habit of inquiring of the Lord before major decisions, especially battles.

In 2 Samuel 5:17–25 (right after his anointing as king over all Israel), the Philistines come up against him twice in the Valley of Rephaim. David doesn't assume that because God gave him victory once before (or because he's now king), he can just charge in. Instead:

First battle: David inquired of the LORD, asking, “Shall I go up against the Philistines? Will You deliver them into my hand?” The Lord answers directly: “Go up, for I will doubtless deliver the Philistines into your hand.” David obeys, attacks head-on, and wins decisively—so much so that he names the place Baal Perazim (“Lord of Breakthroughs”), saying, “The LORD has broken through my enemies before me, like a breakthrough of water” (v. 20).
Second battle: The Philistines return, and David again inquired of the LORD. This time the answer is completely different: “You shall not go up; circle around behind them, and come upon them in front of the mulberry trees. And it shall be, when you hear the sound of marching in the tops of the mulberry trees, then you shall advance quickly. For then the LORD will go out before you to strike the camp of the Philistines.” David follows this unusual strategy—an ambush with a supernatural signal—and again defeats them thoroughly, driving them back from Geba to Gezer.

You're spot on: God deliberately varies the method. One time it's a straightforward frontal assault with divine empowerment; the next it's a patient, roundabout maneuver waiting for a specific audible sign of God's presence moving ahead of them. This pattern echoes earlier in Scripture (Gideon's reduced army and strange trumpet/jar strategy, Joshua's march around Jericho, etc.) and shows God's desire to keep His people dependent on Him rather than on a repeatable formula, human strength, or past success.

David's pattern of seeking God isn't just occasional—it's habitual. We see it repeatedly in his fugitive years too (e.g., 1 Samuel 23:2–4 before rescuing Keilah, 1 Samuel 30 before pursuing the Amalekites, 2 Samuel 2:1 before going to Hebron). It's one of the clearest contrasts with Saul, who drifted toward self-reliance and disobedience.

This reliance on God for direction—and willingness to accept that the how may change each time—really highlights David's heart after God's own. It keeps the glory firmly with the Lord rather than the king's strategy or army size.

It also seems that by varying tactics, God is keeping their enemies on their toes, because they won't know how Israel will attack.

That's a sharp military insight, and it fits perfectly with what we see in the biblical accounts.

By giving David (and Israel in general) different tactics each time, God not only keeps His people humble and dependent on Him, but He also introduces real operational unpredictability into Israel's warfare. Enemies who think they've figured out "how the Israelites fight" or "what David will do next" are repeatedly caught off guard. In modern military terms, this is the advantage of asymmetric or non-repetitive tactics—the opponent can't develop reliable countermeasures, can't pattern-match effectively, and can't prepare defenses for the "expected" approach.

Look at the two Rephaim battles in 2 Samuel 5:

First encounter — God says go straight at them (frontal assault). David obeys, breaks through decisively, and the Philistines suffer a rout. If the Philistines survive or regroup, they might conclude: "These Israelites rely on bold, direct attacks when their God is with them."
Second encounter — Same location, same enemy, but God flips the script completely: no direct approach. Instead, flank and ambush from behind the mulberry trees, wait for the supernatural signal (the sound of marching in the treetops), then strike when God Himself moves out ahead to confuse the camp. The Philistines, expecting (perhaps) another head-on charge, are hit from an unexpected direction at an unexpected moment.

The Philistines never get to adapt. They can't say, "Last time they came straight down the valley; we'll reinforce the front and set traps there." Because last time doesn't predict this time.

This pattern shows up repeatedly in Scripture, reinforcing the same principle:

Jericho (Joshua 6) — No siege engines, no ladders, no battering rams. Just silent marching, trumpets, and a shout on the seventh day. Walls collapse supernaturally. Canaanite kings hear about it and are terrified precisely because the tactic is so bizarre and unpredictable.
Ai (Joshua 8) — After the initial defeat, God instructs a classic feint-and-ambush combination: pretend to flee, draw the defenders out, then hit the undefended city from the rear.
Gideon vs. Midian (Judges 7) — Reduce the army to 300, arm them with torches, jars, and trumpets instead of swords. Create chaos through noise and light in the night camp so the enemy turns on itself.

In each case, the tactic isn't just "effective"—it's unrepeatable in a way that prevents the enemy from learning and countering. The Philistines (or Canaanites, Midianites, etc.) can't say, "We've seen this before; here's how we beat it." They face something new, something they can't prepare for, because the strategy originates from divine wisdom rather than human military doctrine.

From a purely tactical standpoint, this keeps enemies psychologically off-balance and operationally reactive instead of proactive. They stay on the defensive, never quite sure what form the next blow will take.

It also beautifully illustrates a deeper truth: when God is the strategist, the battle isn't won by mastering a single playbook—it's won by listening afresh each time. That dependence is what keeps Israel (and us) from pridefully thinking we've "got it figured out."

I think we need to keep this in mind for our daily lives. It seems when God acts on our behalf, we assume a pattern of formula, and start depending on that formula. We then get flustered because we don't understand why it is not working anymore.

Yes, that's a very perceptive and honest application to everyday life.

We humans are wired to look for patterns and repeatable formulas—it's how we feel safe, in control, and competent. When God moves powerfully in one season (through a certain kind of prayer, a specific kind of worship, a particular decision-making process, a style of ministry, a way of fasting, a devotional habit, etc.), we tend to canonize that method. We think, “This is how God works. This is the key. If I just keep doing this exact thing, the breakthrough will keep coming.”

Then the next season arrives, the same approach doesn’t yield the same result, and we’re left confused, frustrated, or even doubting:

“Why isn’t God answering like He did before?”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Is He still with me?”
“Maybe my faith isn’t strong enough anymore.”

But often the issue isn’t a lack of faith or hidden sin—it’s that God has moved on to a new way of working, and we’re still trying to fight the previous battle with yesterday’s strategy.

Scripture is full of this dynamic:

The Israelites couldn’t just march around Jericho again and expect the walls of the next city to fall the same way.
Gideon’s 300 men with torches and jars worked once; trying to replicate that exact odd tactic in the next conflict would have been disastrous.
David couldn’t assume that because God gave him a frontal breakthrough at Baal Perazim, the next Philistine attack would be defeated the same way. He had to inquire again—and listen to a completely different plan.

In our personal lives this shows up in so many places:

The way God comforted you through Scripture in a dark season might not be the exact way He comforts you in the next one.
The small group or mentor that was life-giving for years might need to give way to a different kind of community or solitude.
The career door that flew open after much prayer might close, and the next open door might come through a completely unexpected path.
The prayer style or worship expression that once felt like “fire from heaven” might feel dry for a season—not because you’re backsliding, but because God is inviting you into fresh dependence.

The common thread is this: God is jealous for our trust to stay fixed on Him, not on the method.
When we start trusting the formula more than the One who gave it, the formula itself becomes an idol of sorts. So He lovingly disrupts the pattern to pull us back to the place of childlike listening: “Lord, what do You want to do this time?”

The healthiest posture becomes:

“Thank You for how You moved last time.”
“I release my expectation that You must do it the same way again.”
“What are You saying now? How do You want to show up in this situation?”

It’s not easy—our flesh hates uncertainty—but it’s where real growth and deeper intimacy happen.

Have you noticed this pattern playing out in your own life recently? A place where something that used to “work” spiritually or practically just… isn’t? How are you navigating that shift?

I see this in the legalistic approach the religious leaders in Israel, prompting God on many occasion to declare that obedience is better than sacrifice.

Yes, that's an excellent connection you're making.

The religious leaders in Israel (especially in the later monarchy, prophetic era, and by the time of Jesus) often fell into exactly the trap you described: they turned God's past instructions into a rigid, repeatable formula—and then trusted the formula more than the heart behind it. They treated obedience as a mechanical checklist rather than a living relationship, and sacrifice/ritual as a substitute for actual submission.

God repeatedly had to break through that mindset with the same pointed message:

1 Samuel 15:22 (to Saul): “Has the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed than the fat of rams.”
Psalm 51:16–17 (David, after his own failure): “For You do not desire sacrifice, or else I would give it; You do not delight in burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and a contrite heart—These, O God, You will not despise.”
Isaiah 1:11–17 (to a whole generation going through the motions): “To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices to Me?” says the LORD… “I have had enough of burnt offerings… I do not delight in the blood of bulls… Bring no more futile sacrifices… Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean… Cease to do evil, learn to do good…”
Hosea 6:6: “For I desire mercy [steadfast love, loyalty] and not sacrifice, and the knowledge of God more than burnt offerings.”
Micah 6:6–8 (perhaps the clearest summary): “With what shall I come before the LORD… Shall I come before Him with burnt offerings…? Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams…? He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?”
And then Jesus Himself quotes Hosea 6:6 twice against the Pharisees: “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick… I desire mercy and not sacrifice” (Matthew 9:13; 12:7).

In each case, the problem wasn’t that sacrifice or ritual was wrong—God Himself had commanded it. The problem was that people began to depend on the system rather than on God Himself. They assumed: “If I offer the right number of lambs, observe the right Sabbaths, wash the right way, tithe the right mint and cumin—then I’m safe. I’ve fulfilled the formula.” And once they trusted the formula, they could stop actually listening, stop inquiring, stop having a soft heart toward God and people.

That’s precisely the danger you identified earlier: when we lock onto a pattern that once reflected God’s will, we can end up resisting the new thing God wants to do, or the fresh obedience He’s calling for in a changed situation. The Pharisees became masters of the old playbook while missing the living voice of God standing right in front of them in Jesus.

So the repeated divine refrain—“obedience is better than sacrifice”—is God’s way of saying:
“Don’t substitute a religious routine for a responsive heart. Don’t trust yesterday’s method more than today’s word from Me. I’m not after your performance; I’m after you—your attention, your trust, your willingness to follow wherever I lead, even if it looks different this time.”

It’s a safeguard against exactly what you noticed: getting flustered when “the thing that used to work” stops working—not because God has changed, but because He’s inviting us to walk by present faith and present listening rather than by past patterns.

Does this resonate with any specific situations you’ve seen in church life, personal faith, or even broader religious culture where people cling to “the way we’ve always done it” at the expense of actually hearing God afresh?

Well, I know a lot of messages out there seem to be focused on formula. How to pray to get answers, Health and Wealth, and many others. Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and all these will be added to you.

Yes, you’ve put your finger on one of the most widespread modern versions of the same old problem we were just talking about.

A huge portion of popular Christian messaging today revolves around formulas:

“Pray these 7 exact words / pray at this exact time / use this prayer model → God must answer.”
“Sow a seed (financial gift) → reap a harvest (financial breakthrough).”
“Declare / speak it / name it and claim it → health, wealth, promotion, etc.”
“Follow these 5 steps / 3 keys / 12 principles → guaranteed success / healing / answered prayer / victorious life.”

These approaches often sound spiritual, they quote Scripture, and they can even produce temporary results for some people. But at their core, they do exactly what the Pharisees did: they turn relationship with God into a technique or transaction rather than a living, moment-by-moment dependence on Him.

And then, when the formula doesn’t “work” the way it was promised (the healing doesn’t come, the money doesn’t arrive, the breakthrough is delayed, the marriage doesn’t improve), the fallout is often devastating:

People feel they must have “lacked faith” or “didn’t sow enough” or “had hidden sin.”
They become disillusioned with God Himself (because they were taught He operates like a vending machine).
Or they double down harder on the formula, becoming more rigid and legalistic.

Yet Jesus gave us the antidote to all of this long before these modern versions appeared:

“But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.”
— Matthew 6:33 (NKJV)

Notice what Jesus does not say:

He doesn’t say, “Seek first your breakthrough, your healing, your wealth, your answered prayer, and God will give it to you.”
He doesn’t say, “Seek first the right technique, the right confession, the right seed-faith amount.”
He doesn’t even say, “Seek first answers to your specific requests.”

He says: Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness.

That is:

Seek God Himself — His presence, His rule, His will, His character, His glory.
Seek to live under His kingship in your heart and in the world.
Seek to be conformed to His righteousness (not just moral behavior, but alignment with who He is).

When that becomes the first and controlling pursuit, Jesus promises that “all these things” (the daily needs, the provisions, the guidance, the protection, the healing, the wisdom we actually need) will be added — not because we manipulated a formula, but because a good Father takes care of children who are living for His kingdom.

This is the exact opposite of formula faith. It’s relationship faith.
It’s listening faith — “Lord, what do You want in this situation? What matters to Your kingdom right now?”
It’s trusting faith — “I don’t know exactly how or when You’ll provide, but I know You see and You care.”
It’s flexible faith — willing to receive God’s answer in a completely different way than last time.

The moment we flip the order—seeking “these things” first and trying to use God or His principles as a means to get them—we step back into the performance trap, whether it’s dressed up in prosperity teaching, certain kinds of spiritual warfare formulas, or even hyper-detailed “how to pray effectively” systems.

So when you hear a message that presents a new “key” or “secret” or “guaranteed method” to get God to move, a helpful question to ask yourself is:

“Does this point me to seek God’s kingdom and righteousness first… or does it point me to seek my desired outcome first, with God as the mechanism to deliver it?”

That distinction usually reveals whether it’s life-giving direction or just another well-meaning (but ultimately burdensome) formula.