The Valley of Dust and Curses

By Danny Saavedra

“As King David approached Bahurim, a man from the same clan as Saul’s family came out from there. His name was Shimei son of Gera, and he cursed as he came out. He pelted David and all the king’s officials with stones, though all the troops and the special guard were on David’s right and left. As he cursed, Shimei said, ‘Get out, get out, you murderer, you scoundrel! The Lord has repaid you for all the blood you shed in the household of Saul, in whose place you have reigned. The Lord has given the kingdom into the hands of your son Absalom. You have come to ruin because you are a murderer!’ Then Abishai son of Zeruiah said to the king, ‘Why should this dead dog curse my lord the king? Let me go over and cut off his head.’ But the king said, ‘What does this have to do with you, you sons of Zeruiah? If he is cursing because the Lord said to him, “Curse David,” who can ask, “Why do you do this?”’ David then said to Abishai and all his officials, ‘My son, my own flesh and blood, is trying to kill me. How much more, then, this Benjamite! Leave him alone; let him curse, for the Lord has told him to. It may be that the Lord will look upon my misery and restore to me his covenant blessing instead of his curse today.’ So David and his men continued along the road while Shimei was going along the hillside opposite him, cursing as he went and throwing stones at him and showering him with dirt. The king and all the people with him arrived at their destination exhausted. And there he refreshed himself.”—2 Samuel 16:5-14 (NIV)

The Jedi were supposed to be the peacekeepers of the galaxy—noble, self-sacrificing, devoted to truth and justice. But by the time the Clone Wars ended, their order had grown rigid, cold, and proud. They silenced emotion, thinking it made them stronger and wiser, training generations to suppress pain instead of process it. They put more trust in the Senate than in the Force. And in one swift betrayal—at the hands of someone they trusted, a beloved son of the Order named Anakin—everything crumbled. Order 66. The temple burned. Their reputation was slandered; their legacy was buried under suspicion and propaganda.

And in many ways...they were partially to blame. Friends, that’s literally David here.

He’s the anointed king, the man after God’s own heart, but he’s not innocent. He’s been forgiven, but the scars of his sins still bleed into his family. He told many lies that led to many deaths, and after many years of killing, he became desensitized to it, which eventually led to the wicked murder of Uriah to cover up his adulterous affair with Bathsheba. Additionally, his failure to act when Amnon assaulted Tamar—his silence in the aftermath and his absentee, neglectful fathering of Absalom—all contributed to the collapse now unfolding.

And so, when Shimei curses him, throws dirt, and shouts, “You have come to ruin because you are a murderer,” David doesn’t retaliate; he absorbs it. Not because Shimei is right (though there’s certainly truth in his words), but because David knows his own part in the ruin.

Unsurprisingly, his ride-or-die friend Abishai wants revenge—he wants to cut off his head. But David, weary and wise, replies, “Leave him alone; let him curse, for the Lord has told him to...It may be that the Lord will look upon my misery and restore to me his covenant blessing instead of his curse today.”

This is humility in the valley. It’s that moment when dirt’s being kicked in your face and you’re too tired to defend yourself, when people believe the worst of you and you’re too heartbroken to explain, when you know you’ve contributed to the mess, but you're clinging to mercy anyway.

Have you ever been there? Misunderstood. Accused. Beaten down by your own failures and others’ fury. Maybe someone in your family had said, “This is all your fault.” Or perhaps spiritually, the enemy has whispered, “God’s done with you. Look what you’ve become.”

The temptation is to immediately fight back, to clear your name, to swing the sword. But David teaches us something better: surrender—not to the accusation, but to the Lord. “Let him curse...”

But as with all of Scripture, this moment doesn’t just reflect David’s pain...it foreshadows Jesus’. Centuries later, the Son of David stood accused. He was spit on, mocked, and had a crown of thorns dug into His brow. Roman soldiers slapped Him and laughed, “Prophesy to us, Messiah. Who hit you?” (Matthew 26:68 NIV). And like David, He didn’t retaliate. He didn’t call down angels or clear His name. He didn’t open His mouth. In fact, Isaiah 53:7 (NIV) says, “He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth." Wow.

But there’s a key difference between David and the Son of David. You see, Jesus wasn’t guilty of anything. His silence wasn’t surrender to deserved shame; it was submission to His Father’s will. Just a few verses earlier, Isaiah 53:5 (NIV) says, “He was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.” Jesus bore the curse so we could receive the blessing. He was pelted with stones of accusation so we could be clothed in robes of righteousness. He let the dirt fly so we could be washed clean—white as snow, forgiven, and free (1 John 1:9; Isaiah 1:18). But He also warns us: “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first {...} If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also” (John 15:18, 20 NIV).

Friends, Jesus doesn’t just cleanse us—He calls us to follow Him and to entrust our reputation, our sorrow, our shame, and our enemies to Him. It won’t be easy. It will be painful sometimes. But with His warning also comes this promise: “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me...Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven” (Matthew 5:11-12 NIV).

Pause: Are you walking through a valley like David—wounded by your own failures or stung by the words of others? Is there someone cursing you, blaming you, misjudging you? Or maybe your own inner critic keeps throwing dirt. Stop and ask, “What accusations am I carrying right now? Are they true, half-true, or flat-out false? Regardless, have I brought them to Jesus?”

Practice: Rather than rushing to defend yourself, take David’s road: the road of humility and surrender. Write down the accusations you’ve heard—from others, from your past, or from within. Then write over them with these truths: “Forgiven.” “Clean.” “Loved.” “His.” Lay down your sword and ask Jesus to give you His peace, the peace He promised us through His Holy Spirit. Like David, choose to let God decide what seems good.

Pray: Jesus, You were slandered in silence. You were accused, though innocent. You bore my curse—the punishment I rightfully deserved in my wretched, wicked, sinfulness...and You did it so I could walk in freedom and salvation. Now, as one who has been washed clean by Your blood and redeemed through Your grace, I pray You’d teach me to respond like You. Teach me, dear Lord, to entrust my wounds, my reputation, my critics, and my failures into the hands of the Father. I surrender them now. You know what’s true. You know what’s best. Help me rest in that today. In Your name, Jesus, I pray. Amen.