One evening David got up from his bed and strolled around on the roof of the palace. From the roof he saw a woman bathing—a very beautiful woman. So David sent someone to inquire about her, and he said, “Isn’t this Bathsheba, daughter of Eliam and wife of Uriah the Hethite?” David sent messengers to get her, and when she came to him, he slept with her. Now she had just been purifying herself from her uncleanness. Afterward, she returned home. ~2 Samuel 11:2–4
One night our little family was enjoying dinner together. When our daughters were young, one of the things we tried to do during mealtime was to have fun together—in addition, of course, to eating our food in a basically well-mannered way.
Thanks to my creative late wife, Bobbie, we had already learned to play the “what- was-our-happiest-thing-today” and “what-was-our-saddest-thing-today” games. Dinner had become a great time of learning to know one another and, as I said, fun.
One evening I had an idea. “Let’s play the no game.” My family looked at me as though I had just suggested we follow a house painter around to watch his paint dry. “I’m serious,” I said, trying to get more than blank stares. “It’ll be fun.”
Still not convinced, they diplomatically nodded as if to tell me to go ahead and explain the rules. “Between now and tomorrow night, let’s all say no to something. It doesn’t have to be something bad, only something we’d like to do but something we decide not to do. Let’s just see if we can say no.”
The next evening, we gave our reports. I had said no to a big fat dessert at a luncheon meeting. Missy had said no to talking too long on her phone. Julie had said no to an extra thirty minutes of television. Following each report, the rest of the family celebrated. My game was a hit. Why? Because we had discovered that there was joy in knowing that we have the power to voluntarily govern ourselves, to say no when we could say yes.
The story of David and Bathsheba is one of the most famous in the Bible. Because of its lurid script, Hollywood has done more than its share of reenactments. And for centuries, preachers have capitalized on its powerful message of the wages of impurity. But at least for me, the most important message in this story is David’s pathetic inability to say no.
Kings have spectacular privileges. David was no exception. Most of them live with few unfulfilled physical needs. They have the luxury of saying yes to everything. For David, this day included: “I think I’ll take a vacation from battle.” “I feel like going for a little walk.” “I believe I’ll have that woman over there.” No one said no, including the king himself.
Losing the ability to say no is losing everything. We become whimpering and pitiful victims. The strength and pleasure of living a disciplined life atrophy into uselessness. As men, you and I are faced with myriad opportunities and temptations—inconsequential ones and life-changing ones. When those temptations begin to take charge because we have lost the will to turn away, everything in our world crumbles.
Even if you and your family never play the no game, try a few rounds on your own. Experience the sheer pleasure of knowing that God can give you the strength to help you do the right thing or not to do the wrong thing. Especially when no one is watching.