Kill One Fool, Kill Another

What small moments reveal about who we're becoming

Three chapters of Scripture have been on my heart for years now: 1 Samuel 24, 25, and 26—ninety-one verses. Three locations: a cave, a wilderness, a desert. Three encounters that reveal something about what it means to become who we are in the small moments when we think nobody’s watching.

The Wilderness of Maon

Let’s start in the middle—in the wilderness of Maon, with a man whose mother named him Nabal. Which is a bit shocking. Nabal literally means “fool.” What’s the backstory there? Did she hold that baby, look around the room, and think, “Anyone else seeing what I’m seeing here?” Or was she just really upset with her husband?

Either way, Nabal lived up to his name. Scripture says he was “harsh and badly behaved”—not exactly the legacy you want carved on your tombstone. He was also spectacularly wealthy: 3,000 sheep, 1,000 goats. And it was shearing season, which meant feast time, profit time, ego time.

His wife Abigail, by contrast, was “discerning and beautiful.” This is a marriage so uneven you can see the tilt from miles away.

Enter David.

Not yet King David—this is David in exile, wandering with 600 hungry men, fleeing from Saul’s murderous jealousy. David hears about Nabal’s feast and sends messengers with a reasonable request: We protected your shepherds. Share what you have. Peace be with you.

Nabal’s response is a seven-layer dip of contempt:

“Who is David? Who is the son of Jesse?” (Everyone knows who David is. That’s like saying, “Beyoncé? Never heard of her.”) He accuses David of rebellion against Saul—which cuts deep—and piles up the pronouns: “Shall I take my bread and my water and my meat?” Nabal speaks as if the world were a small room and he stood at the center of it.

Everyone has a breaking point. David’s arrives right here: “Every man strap on his sword.”

Four hundred men set out with one intent: to slaughter every male in Nabal’s household by morning. Maybe a slight overreaction.

But then comes Abigail.

She hears what’s happening and acts—no panic, no delay, just wisdom in motion. She gathers provisions, rides out to intercept David, and falls at his feet. What follows is the longest speech by any woman recorded in Scripture, and it’s worth reading in full. But here are the highlights:

“On me alone, my lord, be the guilt. Let not my lord regard this worthless fellow, Nabal, for as his name is, so is he... The Lord has restrained you from bloodguilt and from saving with your own hand... The Lord will certainly make my lord a sure house, because my lord is fighting the battles of the Lord.”

Abigail takes Nabal’s foolishness on herself.
She names the sin.
She reminds David of God’s calling.

And then comes the key line:

“The Lord has restrained you from bloodguilt and from saving with your own hand.”

She offers David not just food, but a future—a conscience without blood on it.

David’s response is a threefold blessing:

“Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who sent you this day to meet me! Blessed be your discretion, and blessed be you, who have kept me this day from bloodguilt and from working salvation with my own hand!”

Abigail goes home in peace. Nabal feasts, drinks, collapses. Ten days later, the Lord strikes him down. David marries Abigail.

The scene ends.

Great story. Dramatic.

But why is it here?