DAVID

The Shepherd's Calling

The morning sun rose slowly over Bethlehem, casting a golden glow across the hills and valleys, promising yet another hot day in the land of Israel. Summer in Bethlehem was a season of warmth and intense brightness. The air, even in the early hours, carried a dry heat that would soon grow intense under the midday sun. The sky was a vast, endless blue, stretching far over the rugged hills and dusty paths of the countryside. Here and there, patches of wild grass and hardy shrubs clung to the rocky soil, their colors softened by the golden dust that swept across the land. Olive trees dotted the landscape, their gnarled branches casting spots of shade in the otherwise open fields.

In a small house on the edge of town, sixteen-year-old David was already awake and preparing for the day. His mother had prepared bread and olives for him, a simple meal to sustain him as he tended the flock through the long, hot hours. The morning air inside was cooler, a brief respite before he stepped out into the sun’s full glare. David’s lean frame was wrapped in a simple woolen tunic, tied with a cord at his waist. He wore leather sandals that had molded to the shape of his feet over the years, sturdy enough to carry him over rough, stony ground.

David’s appearance was striking, a blend of boyish energy and hints of maturity that came from long hours spent in solitude with the sheep. His skin was sun-kissed from countless days under the open sky, with a healthy glow that made his hazel eyes appear almost golden in the sunlight. Those eyes, filled with a quiet confidence and warmth, often held a curious, far-off gaze as if they saw things others missed. His auburn curls framed his face, softening the edges of his strong features and falling loosely to his shoulders. There was a liveliness in his expressions, a ready smile that seemed to carry a trace of mischief, as if he held the secrets of the fields and hills that he roamed so freely.

David admired his older brothers, who were everything he dreamed of becoming. His seven brothers were strong, tall, and skilled in the arts of battle. They were respected men, warriors who defended Israel and served under King Saul. Eliab, the eldest, was particularly impressive—broad-shouldered and powerful, with a confident stance that spoke of his experience and strength. Abinadab and Shammah, the next in line, were just as formidable, and the younger brothers were quickly following in their footsteps. David often watched them train, their swords flashing in the sunlight, their voices carrying as they practiced and sparred. There was nothing he wanted more than to be like them, to one day take up arms and serve his people.

But David’s father, Jesse, saw a different path for him, at least for now. Jesse was a man of wisdom and respect in Bethlehem, known for his kindness and integrity. Though he valued his sons’ strength and admired their service, he had always spoken to David in a gentler way, guiding him with words of advice rather than demands. Jesse understood his youngest son’s longing to be like his brothers, but he also saw something special in David, something that went beyond physical strength or skill in battle.

As David prepared to leave, Jesse placed a hand on his shoulder, his eyes warm but serious. “David, remember who you are,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “I know you look up to your brothers, but God has given you a unique gift. Don’t lose sight of that.”

David nodded, his heart swelling with the warmth of his father’s words. Though he sometimes felt the weight of being different, of not yet sharing in his brothers’ strength, he cherished his father’s love and acceptance. Jesse encouraged him to nurture his music and his quiet spirit, believing that David’s heart and voice were gifts that could serve in ways his son might not yet understand.

“Father,” David said, “I’ll do as you say. But one day, I hope to make you proud like Eliab, Abinadab, and the others.”

Jesse chuckled softly. “David, you already make me proud. You just need to be patient and continue to grow. Take your harp with you today, and play as you do. There’s beauty in those songs of yours, and God listens.”