Full Circle: When the Past Comes Knocking Again

By Danny Saavedra

“A messenger came and told David, ‘The hearts of the people of Israel are with Absalom.’ Then David said to all his officials who were with him in Jerusalem, ‘Come! We must flee, or none of us will escape from Absalom. We must leave immediately, or he will move quickly to overtake us and bring ruin on us and put the city to the sword.’ The king’s officials answered him, ‘Your servants are ready to do whatever our lord the king chooses.’ The king set out, with his entire household following him; but he left ten concubines to take care of the palace. So the king set out, with all the people following him, and they halted at the edge of the city. All his men marched past him, along with all the Kerethites and Pelethites; and all the six hundred Gittites who had accompanied him from Gath marched before the king.”—2 Samuel 15:13-18 (NIV)

Some moments in life feel like a rerun of the worst chapter you thought you'd already closed. Like déjà vu...but heavier. Like the past has come knocking, wearing a new face, but dragging the same old pain behind it.

That’s David here. A messenger arrives breathless: “The hearts of the people are with Absalom.” What a strange turn of events this is—a reversal of fortunes. 1 Samuel 18:16 (ESV) says, “But all Israel and Judah loved David, for he went out and came in before them.” This is what made Saul so insecure and fearful, to the point where he thought to himself, “What more can he have but the kingdom?”

As we know, though, David wasn’t actually after Saul’s crown or his head. In fact, I wholeheartedly believe David would’ve faithfully served and loved Saul until his dying breath, he would’ve made Jonathan his second over the whole of Israel, and Judah would’ve kept Saul’s family in high position. David wasn’t trying to take the kingdom. But here in today’s passage, Absalom’s actually doing what Saul once feared David would do. That’s what makes this such a bitter full-circle moment for David: His own son staged a quiet coup, his people are defecting, and, just like that, the once-mighty king is on the run again.

It feels like a glitch in the matrix. There’s an iconic scene from The Matrix where Neo sees a black cat walk by twice. The same movement, the same moment, on repeat. “Déjà vu,” he mutters. But it's more than that—it’s a sign that something’s broken beneath the surface. Something’s off in the system. Something’s repeating because it was never fixed.

That’s what it seems like is happening here. It’s a glitch in the matrix of David’s reign; a glitch in his home and in his heart.

He’s already lived this story—betrayed, hunted, fleeing into the wilderness. But back then, it was different. When he ran from Saul, he was young and strong, a skilled warrior with the stamina and vigor of a 20-year-old man. He was also unjustly accused. No crown or kids... . . . just a harp, a sling, and a calling. In that season, David wrote Psalm 59:1, 3, 8, 16 (ESV): “Deliver me from my enemies, O my God {...}They lie in wait for my life {...} You, O Lord, laugh at them {...} I will sing of Your strength.”

That was David full of hope and holy fire. He hadn’t failed yet. He had no blood on his hands. He sang boldly about God’s rescue. But this time the betrayal cuts deeper because the enemy is his own son, and he knows he helped create this.

He didn’t protect Tamar. He didn’t discipline Amnon. He didn’t reconcile with Absalom. Instead, he exiled him. Oh sure, he brought him back to Jerusalem, but he still kept him exiled because he refused to see him. And now, the sword Nathan promised has arrived at David’s own door.

This time, David writes Psalm 3:1, 3 (ESV): “O Lord, how many are my foes! Many are rising against me...But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.” Here we see the same fear, the same wilderness, but not the same man. This David is older, worn, and weary. And yet, he’s still worshiping. “I lay down and slept; I woke again, for the Lord sustained me” (Psalm 3:5 ESV). Imagine that: sleeping while being hunted; having peace in the chaos. That’s not denial; that’s faith—it’s quiet, weathered, seasoned faith.

Here’s the truth: Sometimes we end up walking familiar roads for unfamiliar reasons. Sometimes, tragedy and seasons of suffering play on repeat, but with different actors playing the same role. This doesn’t happen because God failed, but because sin leaves cracks that time alone doesn’t fix. Sometimes, the glitch isn’t in the plan, it’s in us. It’s deep within what we avoided, what we neglected, what we thought would never catch up to us.

But even here, God hasn’t abandoned David—and He won’t abandon you! The ground beneath you might feel shaky, your past might be loud, your heart might be broken, but God’s still your shield and the lifter of your head. God’s still writing redemption into the very places where sin tried to write ruin.

David didn’t need to relive the past. He put himself in this situation because he failed to live up to the calling as both father and king that God had given him. But walking through it again, older and more aware, became another opportunity to lean not on his own strength, but on the mercy of the King of kings.

Pause: Where in your life do you feel like you're back in a place you thought you'd moved on from? What unhealed cracks are resurfacing?

Practice: Read Psalm 59 and Psalm 3 side by side. Journal how your own worship has matured between past trials and present ones.

Pray: Father, when my life feels like a painful rerun, remind me that I’m not the same—and You never change. Thank You for being a shield around me, even when the wounds are self-inflicted. Teach me to trust You again in familiar valleys. Lift my head and sustain my soul. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.