Let Him Do What Seems Good

By Danny Saavedra

“The whole countryside wept aloud as all the people passed by. The king also crossed the Kidron Valley, and all the people moved on toward the wilderness. Zadok was there, too, and all the Levites who were with him were carrying the ark of the covenant of God. They set down the ark of God, and Abiathar offered sacrifices until all the people had finished leaving the city. Then the king said to Zadok, ‘Take the ark of God back into the city. If I find favor in the Lord’s eyes, he will bring me back and let me see it and his dwelling place again. But if he says, “I am not pleased with you,” then I am ready; let him do to me whatever seems good to him.’ The king also said to Zadok the priest, ‘Do you understand? Go back to the city with my blessing. Take your son Ahimaaz with you, and also Abiathar’s son Jonathan. You and Abiathar return with your two sons. I will wait at the fords in the wilderness until word comes from you to inform me.’ So Zadok and Abiathar took the ark of God back to Jerusalem and stayed there.”—2 Samuel 15:23-29 (NIV)

It feels like something out of The Return of the King—only this time, in reverse. The king isn’t marching into the city in triumph with an army ready to win the day from the evil orcs. He’s walking out barefoot, broken, surrounded by a loyal few, and weeping as he crosses the Kidron Valley. He isn’t being enthroned; he’s being exiled. And he knows he may never return.

This is David...older now, slower, and wearied by years of war, sin, and sorrow. This time, he isn’t running from a mad king—he is the king. As you know by now, this time, it’s his own son who has stolen the hearts of the people and launched a coup. What do you do when betrayal comes from your own blood? When the pain isn't from a stranger—but a son you once held in your arms? What do you do when you know you’re partly responsible for this mess?

As the people flee with David, the Levites bring the Ark of the Covenant out of the city, but David stops them. He refuses to manipulate God's presence for his own protection. Unlike the Israelites in 1 Samuel 4, David isn’t operating on superstition or using something sacred and holy as military strategy. He tells them to take it back: “If I find favor in the Lord’s eyes, he will bring me back...but if he says, ‘I am not pleased with you,’ then I am ready; let him do to me whatever seems good to him.”

That’s not just humility, it’s surrender—the kind that trusts God's character more than personal comfort; the kind that doesn't bargain, doesn't twist Scripture, or make demands. It says, “I’m done trying to control the outcome. God, You do what You will and I will follow You.”

Have you ever been in a situation where you were no longer in charge? When you couldn’t fix it, spin it, or fight your way through? Maybe it was a relationship that slipped beyond repair. Maybe it was a prodigal child you couldn’t bring home or a health scare you couldn’t outrun. Or, perhaps, like David, it was a consequence of sin that finally caught up with you and you realized that all you could do was walk out of the city, trusting that God is still good even if the outcome doesn’t turn out the way you wanted.

As we learned yesterday, a thousand years later, another Son of David would cross the Kidron Valley. But He didn’t do it weeping over His failure. No, He did it to carry ours. Jesus wasn’t exiled for His rebellion; He was crucified for ours. More than just saying, “Let Him do what seems good,” Jesus prayed, “Not my will, but yours be done” (Luke 22:42 NIV).

Jesus, the Ark incarnate, the very presence of God dwelling with His people in the flesh, became the meeting place between God and humanity. He was the King who left the city, not because He lost the throne, but to pay the penalty for our sins with His own blood. That’s the gospel. A better King walking a harder road so prodigals like us could come to Him and be welcomed as sons and daughters!

David hoped for mercy. Jesus secured it. David trusted God to maybe let him return. Jesus tore the curtain so we’d never be cast out again.

So, when life falls apart, when whatever throne or platform you have slips, when the city, Twitter, or even friends and family turn against you, you can still say: “Let Him do what seems good.” Not as a passive resignation, but as an act of bold, surrendered faith in a God who gave up everything so you could be with Him forever.

Pause: Have you ever had to walk out of a season, a plan, or a dream with no guarantee of return? What part of your life feels uncertain right now? Where do you feel tempted to grab control instead of surrendering to God?

Practice: Get honest with God today. Write down the one thing you’re afraid to lose—the thing you feel like you need Him to fix. Then, in prayer, echo David’s posture: “If you bring me back, I’ll praise you. And if not—let Your will be done.” Say it. Mean it. Trust Him.

Pray: Heavenly Father, I lay down my need for control. I’ve tried to carry the ark into battle, hoping You’d bend to my will. But I want to be like David—faithful even when walking into the wilderness. Help me surrender. Help me trust. And thank You, Jesus, for walking the Kidron for me; for being exiled so I could be brought near. I belong to You. Do what seems good to You. In Your holy name, I pray. Amen.