Who’s Your Daddy?

A Boy Set Free

1David and his men reached Ziklag on the third day. Now the Amalekites had raided the Negev and Ziklag. They had attacked Ziklag and burned it, and had taken captive the women and everyone else in it, both young and old. They killed none of them, but carried them off as they went on their way. (1 Samuel 30:1–2)

My feet and knees were bleeding from the walk. The army that took us came when Dad and his friends were away. We had been walking for a few days now, stopping occasionally for water and a rest. After a few days’ journey, we reached a city. As I looked through the fence they built to hold us, I could see them laughing and drinking, celebrating their “victory.”

When they took us, they only found the mothers and children. We had no protection, no soldiers, no one. Dad told me he and his friends would be gone for only a few days, and when he got back we would have time together. He promised. Why was this happening?

At first I felt betrayed, then scared, and then I felt a darkness and anger start to fill me inside. “Daniel,” my mother said, “don’t worry; your father will come for us soon.” She looked down at me and smiled.

My mother was a very beautiful lady. She was kind and thoughtful. Her name was Abigail, and she loved and respected my dad; anyone could see that by the way they were together. Sometimes I would catch them looking at each other, smiling, even when Dad was in a meeting with the elders of the tribe.

I wasn’t a troublesome boy, but I didn’t like being played with, and because of that, some of Dad’s friends thought I was too old for my age. Slap … I felt the blow strong and hard on my face. “Get away from the fence, boy, before I have to clap you again.”

The soldier’s voice was rough and growling. My mother came up and grabbed me from behind, putting her arms around me and pulling me away from the fence.

“Leave him alone. He’s done nothing wrong,” she shouted.

“Keep him away from the fence.” He took a step toward her.

I broke her grasp and took a step toward him, looking up at his face and staring him in the eye.

“Stop playing around,” another soldier shouted. “After all, it looks like the boy would be too much a match for you.”

Laughter came from a group of men standing nearby, and then the soldier said, “Mark my words, boy—I’ll deal with you soon enough.”

“My father is going to kick your … hup.” My mother covered my mouth with her hand before I could finish.

“Daniel,” she whispered, “now is not the time.”

“You better keep a leash on your boy if you want him to live to see tomorrow,” the soldier said angrily.

“Oh, I’m sure he will outlive both of us,” replied my mother in a very precise, direct tone, looking at him unnerved. He turned and headed back to his friends.

She bent down and held my face with both hands. “Daniel, you must try and keep that temper of yours. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you.”

“Yes, Mother. I’m sorry.”

I usually sat down near the wooden fence anyway. Holding on to it with both hands, I looked at the men who had taken us captive as they walked by casually, talking and laughing as they went.

I could remember how I used to feel, carefree with my brothers and sisters playing in the fields near what used to be our camp, now just a collection of burned-down tents and huts—the place we called home.

Father had left a few days before we were attacked. He promised us that when he came back, he would bring fine linen, gold, cattle, and sheep. Father usually kept his promises.

What happened now? Where was his army? Had they forgotten us? Were they attacked and killed before we were captured? All these questions kept running through my mind, and then I asked myself, “Did my dad ever love me in the first place?”

My thoughts were shaken by loud shouting by the guards. Soldiers were running backward and forward, as if they were confused.

“What’s going on?” I heard a soldier ask nervously.

“It’s David,” another shouted. “David’s army is coming.”

David’s army is coming—the words rang in my heart. Dad’s coming. My father is coming. At that moment a feeling of peace and relief swept over me, followed by guilt and shame.

My father was fighting to save us. My mother told me not to lose heart, but there I was, thinking my dad didn’t want me. I felt like I had let him down. The noise grew louder and louder. The sound of fighting increased as it got nearer to us. And then I felt a large hand grab the back of my shirt, pick me up, and throw me into a clearing. I landed on my back and felt my right shoulder bang with pain as it took the brunt of the fall.

“I told you, boy, that you wouldn’t live long.” It was the soldier I had stood up to. “If I can’t kill David then I guess his son will have to do.”

His sword was drawn, and there was a big grin on his face as he walked toward me. Using my feet, I began to push myself backward, wriggling my back as I tried to get away. My heart began to race. I wanted to cry out for help, but nothing would come from my throat. And then, as if he was right there beside me, I heard my father’s voice.