David’s act of kindness was extravagant. With one spoken edict, Mephibosheth became a wealthy man. But most surprising of all, Mephibosheth would not need to eat any of the produce of the lands restored to him; he would eat at the king’s table, as one of his sons. It is the high point of the narrative, the perfect place to put one’s pen down or move to the next chapter. But that is not how the account ends. Instead we read the anticlimactic “His feet had been injured.”

Why return to this seemingly insignificant detail? Why not end on the high note of Mephibosheth eating with David as a son? Perhaps this concluding sentence is there merely to remind us of how unlikely an event this was. To remind us of the fall and rise of Mephibosheth. That could be. But there may be another reason. Perhaps this is to remind us of who we are supposed to relate to in the story – not David, but Mephibosheth. Perhaps we need to remember how great of a fall and rise we have experienced in Christ Jesus – how He extended kindness and grace to us when we were spiritually hopeless and helpless. Perhaps the story ends where our application is supposed to begin.

How do you tend to read the stories in Scripture – through the lens of the hero or through the lens of the ones in need of a hero? How should our understanding of the Gospel shape how we read?