Solomon and the Lion: A father son story

There is a short story which I’ve been meaning to write for a little while now that is essentially a conversation between King David and his young son, Solomon. From David’s perspective it is a heated but otherwise forgettable exchange, but for Solomon the conversation has much deeper implications. Now I’m an idea guy and a business guy – not really the Charles Dickens sort – so I doubt I’ll be able to do the idea much justice. However, I believe there is something powerful at work when we tell stories, so I’m going to give it my best shot, because I believe the themes in this short tale tease out themes we all need to hear. 

So picture with me King David in his palace. It’s the golden age of the nation of Israel and David is the greatest of her kings. All morning, David has been holding important meetings with advisors and specialists – stonemasons, carpenters, architects, priests, and treasurers. There is a rumor that the king has had a vision directly from God about a temple and is now making plans to fulfill it. 

One meeting has finished and another is about to begin. A man who smells like cedar and speaks in a strange northern accent is leaving the room as the young prince Solomon enters. Solomon is in the awkward stages of adolescence: tight stands of curled hair ringlets fall about his face. In the middle of the room, the king is speaking with a man who is holding bundles of parchment under each arm that are taller than the boy himself. 

The boy is excited. He has come to tell his father two important things, but soon finds that David isn’t listening. Disappointed, yet determined to have his father’s attention, Solomon blurts out a lie before he realizes what he’s saying. It works. The two men fall silent. David turns and gives the boy his full attention.

‘Did you say you killed a lion?’ he asks. 

Immediately, Solomon blushes and stutters over his reply. ‘Well,’ he admits, ‘I didn’t exactly kill a lion – but I did scare it off when it came after the sheep…’ 

‘Sheep?’ David says, his surprise turning to anger. ‘I assign Benaiah– my mightiest warrior – to train you each morning, yet you skip and go play at being a shepherd?’ 

The conversation is not going at all the way the boy imagined. With the pressure of his father and a strange man looking at him, all he can think to say is: ‘But you were a shepherd when you were my age!’ 

David pauses momentarily and grits his teeth. Rarely are his lowly beginnings mentioned anymore. 

‘I had no choice,’ he says at last. ‘I was born a shepherd, 12th son often forgotten, but you were born a prince of Israel, treasured and honored. You have access to the finest education – my best teachers, priests and soldiers. When I was out in the fields tending sheep, I would have given anything for the opportunities I’ve provided for you, yet you squander them.’ 

At this moment, the large figure of Benaiah comes strutting through the archway with a smile on his face. Being a man of battle rather than of courtly genteel, he is oblivious to the tension in the room, so he breaks the silence by asking David whether he’s heard about the lion yet.

This is it for the King who throws his hands in the air with frustration. He then turns to his guest and apologizes for the ridiculous interruptions. He suggests they get away from the distractions of the palace by going to examine the proposed building site instead. 

As they leave, Benaiah notices that Solomon is holding a crumpled piece of parchment in his hand. Solomon hands it to Benaiah. 

On the parchment is written some wise sayings that Solomon has collected – some he’s read and some he’s made up himself. Benaiah reads them and determines they are quite wise for a boy so young – incredibly wise, in fact. He looks at Solomon standing with his head hung and his eyes pointed down at the floor. He rests a large hand on his shoulder and says, ‘You’re your own man. Someday, he’ll appreciate that.’ 

            ::

Obviously, this is neither a true story nor is it particularly specific to David and Solomon. Conflict and misunderstanding between fathers and sons are not exactly an original idea for a story! Except for certain details, this story could easily be told about any king and prince that ever lived. For that matter, this story could just as easily be told about a Dad who’s a CEO and a son who just hit his first homerun.  

I chose David and Solomon for a reason – and not just because I’m a Jesus-loving evangelical! I chose these characters because we already know them. I don’t need to spend time introducing King David: we already know he’s a benevolent king and a great man of God; we know he’s a warrior poet and a man after God’s own heart; we also know that he is far from perfect. Neither do I have to spend time showing you that Solomon is brilliant in his own right too: we know he is destined to becomes the wealthiest man who ever lived; we also know he becomes the wisest man who ever lived, that he is sought out by the Queen of Sheba and other heads of state for his counsel; we know his writings and the book of proverbs; we know he went on to complete his father’s vision of building a temple for the Lord. As readers who already know the future of these two characters, we have a unique vantage on this story: we know more about this father and son than they themselves do. 

So let me ask you, how did it make you feel when David dismisses his son’s humble accomplishment? Did you find it ironic that David is so busy with his work that he ignores the very person whom God has chosen to complete this same work? Did it make you at all angry to see Solomon called entitled for simply desiring to be like his dad rather than a prince of Israel?

We have the advantage of knowing who Solomon will become, but still the clues are apparent in this story for anyone who will look closely enough. But David isn’t looking at all. The audience sees the shadow Solomon already casts as a great king, but David is too focused on the moment to see it. 

What about your heirs? Are you looking for the clues of who they will become or are you busy running the kingdom?  We don’t know the struggles that will mold our children into the people they’re going to be, but we know they won’t look like the same struggles we experienced. 

This is perhaps the only thing that can be guaranteed, so it’s worth repeating: ​their struggle will be different from yours​.

Often we parent autobiographically, trying to fill in the gaps we experienced as a child. Autobiographical parenting won’t work. So how often do we put ourselves in our children’s shoes and try to see their problems from their perspective? How often do we ourselves what it’s like to be our son or our daughter? 

We’re so busy being king we forget to ask ourselves what it’s like to be a prince. 

One day Solomon will be king of Israel and he will be a good and wise king – but, from this story, do you think David sees his son’s value? David’s problem – and our problem too – is that often we cannot see things from our children’s perspective. It seems like a simple enough concept, so why is it so difficult? 

The struggle between fathers and sons is as old as time, yet money often exacerbates and amplifies these natural tensions. Through my story I am attempting to bring to life one of the most telling statistics we have regarding wealth today: 80% of wealthy are the first wealth creators. This means that the parents who create the wealth have a very different experience than their children who benefit from and eventually inherit the wealth. 

In his book Strangers in Paradise, ​James Grubman likens these differing experiences to the experience of moving to a new country. It’s like immigration. While the parents are strangers in this new land of abundance, the children are completely at home there; the parents are immigrants, yet their children will grow up natives. While the parents preserve customs from the old country, their children instead readily adopt the practices of the new. 

This disconnect is often where the real trouble begins. Robert Frost said that every affluent father wishes he knew how to give his son the hardships that made him rich. 

We know that people who are given what they have don’t value it as much as someone who works for what they have; renters are typically worse neighbors than owners; members of a church sacrifice more than those who simply attend. There is something about ownership that makes things valuable to us, so it’s no secret that unearned wealth often spoils and ruins heirs. Proverbs alluding to this problem abound: shirtsleeves to shirtsleeves in three generations, stalls to stars to stalls. 

So, how do we solve it? There is no simple answer. There is no short solution. And it’s probably not going to be found  in writing. You can’t wipe out years of relational tension and neglect in weeks. Yet there is hope. You can start the conversation. 

I hesitate to solve here but I’ll offer you some tough assignments for tense relationships. 

For G1s here are my tough assignments that might just lead you to solutions. Listen in to their story. Take notes, and really listen. “Seek first to understand, then be understood.” Don’t correct their emotional reality. Get them talking and keep them talking. The problem needs to be fully understood first, before you solve. Err on the side of listening too long. Consider letting someone else step in to solve it. Pray regularly for them. 

Here are some tough assignments for G2s. Listen. Relax. Let your parents be flawed. “Seek first to understand, then be understood.” Don’t ramp up the conversation too far. Balance what you say with grace. See this from there side of the table. Be okay with slow progress. Hear them out and see their strengths too, not just their flaws. Pray regularly for them

There is hope. Big ships turn slowly. 

Action Step: 

1)    Look at your relationship with your kids. Do you need to apologize? Do it. I’d write a note rather than a phone call. Craft your message well. 

2)    In what ways do you need to change your view of your kids? Find an outside perspective to help.