Close, But Not Reconciled

By Danny Saavedra

“Then Joab went to Geshur and brought Absalom back to Jerusalem. But the king said, ‘He must go to his own house; he must not see my face.’ So Absalom went to his own house and did not see the face of the king.”—2 Samuel 14:23-24 (NIV)

In Finding Nemo, Marlin the clownfish goes on a desperate journey to rescue his son. But here’s the thing: Marlin wasn’t a bad father; he was just a scared one. After losing his wife and children in one traumatic moment, he becomes so overprotective that he stops actually connecting with Nemo. They live in the same reef, but there’s emotional distance. Marlin’s fear of losing his son ironically pushes him further away.

In a similar story—one Jesus told in Luke 15—the older brother of the prodigal son lives in the same house as his father, but their hearts couldn’t be further apart. When the younger son returns, the older refuses to come near. He has proximity without relationship. He won’t join the feast, and the father has to go out and plead with him. The Father essentially says to him, “All I have is yours. But you never asked. You never came close.”

Both stories—animated and divine—highlight a key truth: Proximity doesn’t equal presence. That’s exactly what we see in 2 Samuel 14:23–24.

As we saw yesterday, David finally agreed to bring Absalom back from exile. After Joab’s elaborate plan and the wise woman’s story, the king relented. But then he said: “He must go to his own house; he must not see my face.” So, Absalom is back in Jerusalem, back in the land, and back in proximity, but he’s not back in relationship. He’s not back in love or in the father’s presence.

Why did David do this? When you get right down to it, this is more than just emotional immaturity on David’s part; it’s a tragic failure of spiritual and familial responsibility, because David wasn’t the wounded child in this story. He was the father. And guess what? He failed first. He was JUST AS RESPONSIBLE as Absalom.

When Absalom’s sister Tamar—David’s daughter, who was likely around 15 years old—was raped by their older (around 25 years old) half-brother Amnon, David got angry, but he did nothing. As both father and king, he failed to punish Amnon, and he failed to comfort or bring about justice for Tamar. He didn’t pursue healing or enforce God’s law. He just...left it.

So, Absalom—who was around 17-20 years old—watched his sister live in shame and trauma, his brother walk free, and his father—the king of Israel, the man after God’s own heart—do nothing. For two years, bitterness grew. Then, Absalom killed Amnon and fled.

And after all of this, when David finally brings Absalom back, he still refuses to face him. No healing. No truth. No “I failed you.” Just more distance.

Like the older brother and Nemo, Absalom was close enough to see the house, but far enough to miss the heart. Unlike Marlon and the father in the parable, David didn’t pursue his son and lovingly seek restoration.

Why wouldn’t David see his son’s face? Maybe because Absalom had become a mirror, a reflection of all the pain David had ignored: Bathsheba and Uriah, the priests at Nob, the years of raiding and murdering while in Ziklag, his silence with Tamar, his failures as a father, his shame. And as we see here, relational silence doesn’t heal, distance doesn’t restore, and partial forgiveness isn’t true forgiveness.

What Absalom needed was a father who would say, “What you did was wrong, but I’m your dad—and I failed, too. I’m sorry. I love you. Let’s go to Tamar. Let’s talk, let’s pray, let’s try to heal.” Would this have made a difference for what was coming next? I believe so.

Absalom needed his dad. Instead, David chose avoidance...but God doesn’t!

Our heavenly Father doesn’t bring us close only to keep us at arm’s length. He runs to us. He embraces us. He seats us at His table. He says, “You were dead, and now you’re alive. You were lost, and now you’re found.”

That’s the kind of Father we have, the kind of King we serve. Unlike David, our heavenly Father has never failed or sinned or done wrong. He’s perfect, and the fault of our distance is entirely on us. And yet He, by the blood of His Son Jesus, draws us near and brings us home. He doesn’t just forgive us; He restores us fully.

So, here’s the challenge: Don’t be like David here. Don’t be like the older brother. Don’t let silence win.

Pause: Is there someone in your life you’ve allowed back into the picture, but not back into your heart?

Practice: Take one step toward healing this week—whether it's writing a letter, making a call, or owning your part in a broken relationship.

Pray: Father, thank You that You don’t hold me at a distance. You run to me. You welcome me. You restore me fully. Help me to love like You love, to face what I’ve been avoiding, and to pursue real healing with the people I’ve hurt or been hurt by. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.