Ten pm. Saturday night. Pregnant, I sat on the bathroom floor in tears.

“It’s just so hard to cook dinner every single night!” I sobbed.

My husband listened quietly. A patient man, he clearly empathized.

Then he spoke. I could make all the meals at the beginning of the week, he suggested. Perhaps, he offered, I could try cooking simpler dishes.

He was moving forward down this path, offering ideas, and suggesting alternatives, when I cut him off. “Sweety,” I interrupted. “I don’t want solutions right now.” I didn’t say what I was thinking: I don’t have to listen to you. You haven’t been through this.

Is this an appropriate attitude for a Christian? Should we listen to the opinions of someone who lacks the credentials or personal experience we have? Can we require people to walk a mile in our shoes before we consider their advice?

As we will see, my frustration and pride are as old as the world. Before David knew how the fight against the Philistines (read: Goliath) would end, when he first arrived at Israel’s army encampment, he found a garrison shaking with fear.

1 Samuel 17:1, 3–4, 10–11, 16. Now the Philistines gathered their armies for battle. And the Philistines stood on the mountain on the one side, and Israel stood on the mountain on the other side, with a valley between them.… And there came out from the camp of the Philistines a champion named Goliath of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span.… And the Philistine said, “I defy the ranks of Israel this day. Give me a man, that we may fight together.” When Saul and all Israel heard these words of the Philistine, they were dismayed and greatly afraid.
…
For forty days the Philistine came forward and took
his stand, morning and evening.

What a nightmare! For weeks, this massive, well-armed warrior stood in front of Israel’s army, day in and day out, them and goading them, insisting they choose a man to face him alone.

It’s a plausible scene: ancient sources attest to instances of representative combat like the one proposed by the Philistine warrior, where two fighters would face off, each supposedly representing their army’s god. The Bible does describe giants elsewhere, and while the text doesn’t call Goliath a giant per se, he is described both as remarkably tall and as wearing extraordinary armor.

Terrifying.

It was during these humiliating, dread-filled weeks that David arrived. His father had sent him to his older brothers carrying provisions and asked David to return with news of how they were doing.

When David arrives, he’s shocked:

1 Sam 17:24, 26–27. All the men of Israel, when they saw the man [Goliath], fled from him and were much afraid.…And David said to the men who stood by him, “What shall be done for the man who kills this Philistine and takes away the reproach from Israel? For who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God?”

Arriving late on the scene, faith-filled David has not been exposed to the culture of fear developing in Israel’s camp. He asks the obvious rhetorical question: “who does this guy think he is?”

David’s brother overhears:

1 Samuel 17:24–30. Now Eliab his eldest brother heard when he spoke to the men. And Eliab’s anger was kindled against David, and he said, “Why have you come down? And with whom have you left those few sheep in the wilderness? I know your presumption and the evil of your heart, for you have come down to see the battle.” And David said, “What have I done now? Was it not but a word?”

For weeks, Eliab, a trained warrior, has shuddered at the sight of the massive, heavily-armored Philistine. Certainly, he is afraid to face him alone; perhaps he is even ashamed at his lack of courage. Then his untrained little brother just waltzes up out of nowhere with some snacks and says, “Come on! Who does this guy think he is?” Embarrassed, Eliab scolds David, accusing him. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you doing your chores?

I sympathize with Eliab. In his shoes, I would probably have snapped at my little brother, too. But here’s the thing: even though
he had no experience or professional training in war, even though he had just arrived that day, even though he was younger and smaller than Eliab, David was right.

In the text, David goes around repeating the gist of this conversation with people around the camp. “And he turned away from him [Eliab] toward another, and spoke in the same way, and the people answered him again as before” (1 Sam 17:30). David’s willingness to ask this obvious, faith-filled question ends in him defeating Goliath himself with a sling and a stone.

What if Eliab had listened to David? What if he had responded to David’s question with vulnerability instead of defensiveness and anger, saying, “Good point. You know, I had forgotten that this guy is just an uncircumcised Philistine. We do serve the living God.” Instead, Eliab looked at his little brother with anger and scolded him. Eliab’s real problem was pride. Instead of remembering that God exalts the humble, he thought he had all the answers for his situation and David could not possibly contribute.

Let’s read a text replete with helpers and advice:

2 Kings 5:1–4. Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Syria, was a great man with his master and in high favor, because by him the LORD had given victory to Syria. He was a mighty man of valor, but he was a leper. Now the Syrians on one of their raids had carried off a little girl from the land of Israel, and she worked in the service of Naaman’s wife. She said
to her mistress, “Would that my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.”

Hearing about the possibility of deliverance from his skin disease, Naaman asks his king to get him a meeting with Elisha, the prophet of Israel.

2 Kings 5:9–14. So Naaman came with his horses and chariots and stood at the door of Elisha’s house. And Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go and wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored, and you shall be clean.” But Naaman was angry and went away, saying, “Behold, I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call upon the name of the LORD his God, and wave his hand over the place and cure the leper. Are not… the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them and be clean?” So he turned and went away in a rage. But his servants came near and said to him, “My father, it is a great word the prophet has spoken to you; will you not do it? Has he actually said to you, ‘Wash, and be clean’?” So he went down and dipped himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God, and his flesh was restored like the flesh of a little child, and he was clean.

On the surface, the narrative is simple: Naaman, an important foreign leader afflicted with skin disease, approaches prophet Elisha, does some stuff he says to do, and is healed. But look closely. The narrative begins and ends with Naaman taking the advice of his inferiors: initially, he listens to his wife (who, in turn, listened to her slave) about Israel’s miracle-working prophet. And in verse 13, he obeys his “servants”.

Ironically, there is one figure to whom Naaman struggles to listen: the prophet of Yahweh! When Elisha’s messenger tells him to wash seven times in the unimpressive, dirty river Jordan, Naaman’s reflex is to reject the instructions in fury. Just wash? He thinks. I could do that at home. Only Naaman’s willingness to listen to his servants brings him to carry out Elisha’s directive, and after he washes, his skin is miraculously restored to him.

Even though Naaman initially refused to obey the prophet of God, his willingness to humble himself to listen to his servants led to his healing.

Another important leader took advice from someone who didn’t have his experience: Moses. As the traditional writer of the Torah began leading the people of Israel in the wilderness, he received a visit from his father-in-law, Jethro, who joined Moses in praising God for what He had done.

Exodus 18:13–16. The next day Moses sat to judge the people, and the people stood around Moses from morning till evening. When Moses’ father-in-law saw all that he was doing for the people, he said, “What is this that you are doing for the people? Why do you sit alone, and all the people stand around you from morning till evening?” And Moses said to his father-in-law, “Because the people come to me to inquire of God; when they have a dispute, they come to me and I decide between one person and another, and I make them know the statutes of God and his laws.”

Jethro, seeing Moses slave over his duty to shepherd Israel, asks what he is doing, and Moses does not answer “My best!” Instead, he willingly explains the situation to Jethro.

Exodus 18:17–24. Moses’ father-in-law said to him, “What you are doing is not good. You and the people with you will certainly wear yourselves out, for the thing is too heavy for you. You are not able to do it alone. Now obey my voice; I will give you advice, and God be with you! You shall represent the people before God and bring their cases to God, and you shall warn them about the statutes and the laws, and make them know the way in which they must walk and what they must do. Moreover, look for able men from all the people, men who fear God, who are trustworthy and hate a bribe, and place such men over the people as chiefs of thousands, of hundreds, of fifties, and of tens. And let them judge the people at all times.… If you do this, God will direct you, you will be able to endure, and all this people also will go to their place in peace.” So Moses listened to the voice of his father-in-law and did all that he had said.

Jethro offered Moses excellent advice. Certainly, Moses could have said, “You aren’t leading thousands of people through the wilderness after your God defeated the armies of their enslavers. You couldn’t possibly understand.” (He may have thought it.) Instead, Moses listened to his father-in-law’s suggestion.

How teachable are you? When someone outside your situation offers an idea, do you heed them, or do you get angry? James advises us: “Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God” (Jas 1:19–20). Unlike Eliab, who responded with anger, James counsels us to be like Moses and listen first, instead.

We should humble ourselves before God, becoming willing listeners who heed counsel from others, even if we think they don’t know what they’re talking about. Even if they haven’t walked a mile in our shoes. Even if they haven’t been through our situation.

We should emulate Naaman, who, even though he thought Elisha’s directions were stupid, listened when his servants urged him to follow them. We should emulate Moses, who, though he was the only person in the world with his job, still listened to Jethro. We should listen, too.