When we arrive at 1 Samuel 31, we’re brought face-to-face with the heartbreaking conclusion of a long and troubled journey. It’s a chapter that feels heavy from the first verse, one that doesn’t flinch from the weight of death, loss, and the consequences of drifting from God. In these closing words of the book, we see the unraveling of a king who once stood tall but now falls in battle, and we’re left to wrestle with what it means to lose something so deeply connected to God’s people.
The Philistines were once again battling against Israel, but this time, the defeat was devastating. The Israelites were overpowered, fleeing before their enemies, and many fell slain on Mount Gilboa. It wasn’t just a military loss—it was a shattering blow that reached deep into the heart of the nation. Saul’s sons, including Jonathan, Abinadab, and Malchishua, were killed in the heat of battle. For us, the loss of Jonathan is particularly painful. We’ve walked with him, seen his courage and loyalty, his humility, and his deep friendship with David. Jonathan’s death is not just the fall of a prince; it is the extinguishing of a light that had shone so brightly in a darkening world.
As the battle rages, Saul himself is wounded by the archers. Knowing death is near and fearing the humiliation of being captured or tortured by the Philistines, he pleads with his armor bearer to kill him. But the young man refuses, unable to raise his hand against the anointed king. And so, Saul takes his own life. His armor bearer, seeing that Saul is dead, follows suit and also falls on his own sword. It’s a sorrowful moment—a king and his sons lying lifeless on the battlefield, their reign brought to a bitter end.
We can’t help but feel the weight of Saul’s story. He was chosen by God, anointed by Samuel, and given every opportunity to walk in obedience. But over time, pride, fear, and disobedience crept in. Saul lost his way, and in the end, he lost his kingdom, his family, and his life. It’s not a tale meant to leave us in despair but to urge us to remember that our choices have real consequences. When we stray from God’s ways, when we let fear or anger guide us, we risk losing the very things we were called to steward.
After Saul’s death, the Philistines move in to take full advantage of their victory. The next day, as they strip the slain, they discover Saul and his sons. They cut off Saul’s head, strip off his armor, and send word throughout their land to declare their triumph. They place his armor in the house of their idols and fasten his body to the wall of Beth Shan. This is more than an act of war—it’s a spiritual insult. The enemies of Israel claim their gods have triumphed over the God of Israel. In their minds, this was not just a victory over Saul but a victory over everything he represented.
But the story doesn’t end with humiliation. There is still honor to be found, even in the ashes. The men of Jabesh Gilead hear of what has been done to Saul. These were the very people Saul had once delivered when he first became king, rescuing them from the Ammonites. They remember his courage, his leadership, and they refuse to let his body remain disgraced. Risking their lives, they travel all night, take down the bodies of Saul and his sons from the wall, and bring them back. They burn them, then bury the bones under a tamarisk tree and fast for seven days. It’s a quiet act of dignity and respect, a final gesture of gratitude and remembrance. Even when all else seems lost, they remind us that honor and loyalty still have a place.
What 1 Samuel 31 offers us is more than just a historical account of a battle. It’s an invitation to reflect. We’re reminded of the cost of turning from God, of allowing fear to rule us, and of what happens when leadership loses sight of the One who gave it purpose. Saul’s journey is tragic, not because he was destined to fail, but because he chose again and again to walk apart from God’s will. And yet, even here, in the depths of loss, we see flickers of light—Jonathan’s noble heart, the bravery of Jabesh Gilead, and the sobering reality that God’s purposes continue, even when earthly thrones fall.
As we stand at the edge of this chapter, we don’t simply mourn Saul’s fall. We look ahead with hope. The kingdom won’t end here. God is not finished with His people. David, the one after God’s own heart, waits in the wings. The story of redemption presses on. And for us, it’s a reminder that no matter how broken things may seem, God’s plans are never undone. If we remain close to Him, seek Him in both joy and sorrow, and follow where He leads, we will find that He can bring purpose even from our pain.