It’s obvious that King David of Israel possessed a deep desire for intimacy with his Lord based on what he wrote.

And after reading his Psalms over many times, I couldn’t help but notice there were some notable consistencies in his thoughts.

There were frequent expressions of awe and fear [respect] before God, in the hope of being protected from the onslaught of his enemies. There were also regular expressions of thanksgiving for the Lord’s many temporal blessings throughout his life.

But there was another one—one I didn’t catch until the second or third round: David was inescapably aware of his fate. That is to say, to the same degree that he was willing to accept the consequences of his actions, so was he also keenly aware of the inevitable plight of his death. He and the other authors of the Psalms were never subtle about contemplating what they surmised to be the wretched state of existence connected to dying:

“And my soul is greatly dismayed, but You, O Lord—how long? Return, O Lord, rescue my soul. Save me because of Your lovingkindness. For there is no mention of You in death. In Sheol [or the grave], who will give You thanks?” [Psa. 6:5]

“For Your righteousness, O God, reaches to the heavens. You who have done great things, O God, who is like You? You who have shown me many troubles and distresses will revive me again, and will bring me up again from the depths of the earth.” [Psa. 71:19-20]

“Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord, O my soul! I will praise the Lord while I live. I will sing praises to my God while I have my being. Do not trust in princes, in mortal man, in whom there is no salvation. His spirit [or breath] departs, he returns to the earth. In that very day his thoughts perish.” [Psa. 146:1-4] [my emphasis all]

So, somewhere along the line, a light bulb came on.

Based upon the Biblical texts, I simply could not believe that some realm of continuity existed after death in the mind of an ancient Jew.

These passages are but a few examples of what their theology was—and continues to be to this day.  Their hope has always been to be resurrected from the dead. It was never about existing in some immaterial form anywhere. Their beliefs were grounded in the prophecy of the Old Testament, spoken and recorded long before any pagan Greek myths peddling human immortality infiltrated Christ’s church sometime in the third century.

The Biblical patriarchs and ancient prophets hoped for the same Medium of salvation as the authors and disciples of the New Testament. Even Job lamented over his dismal future with an humble expectation of deliverance in the end. [Job 14:7-15, 19:25-27]

So, not until I fully realized what they actually hoped for could I begin to grasp why they did. It’s the same hope that any serious disciple of Jesus Christ should have today. That hope is realized in an opportunity to be included in the promise given by God to the Gentile Abraham to inherit the covenanted land on the Earth, and how that promise has been fulfilled by Him raising Jesus Christ from the dead, so that the righteous dead—that is, those whose lives were spent suffering in His name, might also be resurrected [or transformed] at Christ’s return to the Earth, and share in His inheritance commensurate to the fruit they’ve produced. [see: Isa. 14:1; Eph. 2:17-22, 3:1-6; Gal. 3:13- 14, 27-29; ICor. 15:50-52; Rom. 8:16-17]

[see: It’s All About Also.]

The sting of death is real and imminent, forcing the concept of time into the consciousness of the living. But it holds no such authority over the dead.

[see: Bridging the common gap of fear.]

So how can I be like David—a servant after the Lord’s own heart?

The original Greek language of the New Testament uses several different words that are translated as “servant.” The more common usages include διάκονος [servant, helper, minister, deacon] and παίς [servant, child, boy]

But a more significant form, usually translated as “slave” or “bondservant,” often designating voluntary servitude is recorded as δοῦλος [slave, servant]. The Gospel accounts of Christ’s parables and His direct communications to His disciples often make use of this word. The New Testament apostolic authors had the same Jewish mindset of their ancestors when it came to understanding this term:

“If you buy a Hebrew slave, he shall serve for six years, but on the seventh he shall go out as a free man without payment. If he comes alone, he shall go out alone. If he is the husband of a wife, then his wife shall go out with him. If his master gives him a wife, and she bears him sons or daughters, the wife and her children shall belong to her master, and he shall go out alone. But if the slave plainly says, I love my master, my wife and my children, I will not go out as a free man, then his master shall bring him to God, then he shall bring him to the door or the doorpost. And his master shall pierce his ear with an awl, and he shall serve him permanently.” [Exo.21:2-6] [my emphasis]

Based on what he wrote and what’s written about him, it seems that the fabric of David’s character was secured by his enduring belief in the One he trusted unequivocally.

His hope of a glorious future regeneration of human life in the next age was undoubtedly the foundation on which his servitude was built. His service reflected a persistent desire to actualize his Master’s will through what He taught him.

So I’m going out on a limb here and speculate that the man after God’s own heart had it right.