SAMUEL - Week 7
By the time we reach 2 Samuel 22, we’re nearing the end of David’s story. The rebellions have been crushed, the crown is firmly back on his head, and the long arc of conflict -with Saul, with foreign armies, with his own sons - is, for the moment, still.
What we get here, then, is not another episode in the plot, but a pause.
A breather.
It’s placed deliberately late in the narrative. David has lived through betrayal and battlefield, grief and triumph. This song is framed as a kind of summary;
“David spoke to the Lord the words of this song on the day the Lord delivered him from all his enemies” (2 Sam 22:1, NRSV).
These words represent a theological interpretation of a life. David looks back not just on what happened, but on what it all meant.
Interestingly, the chapters around it are also retrospective: a famine resolved by an old injustice (ch. 21), a list of military heroes (ch. 23), and David’s final poetic words (23:1–7). This song is a bit like one of those montages you might get at the end of a series of a tv programme, looking back fondly at not just events, but a journey of faith.
The song begins with a declaration of identity:
“The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer” (v.2).
It’s deeply personal. David doesn’t begin with doctrine, but with metaphor - God is solid, protective, faithful. These images aren’t abstract, they’re rooted in experience. Caves in the wilderness, fortresses under siege - this is someone who’s lived the metaphors.
As the psalm unfolds, there are rich poetic flourishes: earthquakes, fire, smoke, seas parted by divine breath.
“He reached down from on high, he took me; he drew me out of mighty waters” (v.17).
David credits God with his military victories, but also makes a bold claim:
“The Lord rewarded me according to my righteousness” (v.21).
There might be a few raised eyebrows here. What righteousness, exactly? We’ve all read 2 Samuel 11…
But the language here is covenantal, not legalistic. David is not claiming sinlessness, but recognises that he has been made righteous by God. He was chosen, anointed, forgiven, and upheld not because he never failed, but because he always returned. This is what makes the song so theologically significant: it tells the story of a king whose legitimacy rested not on personal perfection but on divine promise.
Now, whilst there is definitely a Psalm like feel to this chapter, you’d have to be particularly sharp eyed to notice that 2 Samuel 22 is almost word for word the same as Psalm 18. This is quite unusual. We’re not used to seeing psalms duplicated in the narrative books.
So, what’s going on?
Most scholars think 2 Samuel 22 is the older version. The song likely originated as a royal psalm of thanksgiving - a personal testimony, possibly composed by David or by court poets during his reign. It then found its way into the story of David’s life as a literary conclusion: history summed up in a song.
Psalm 18 represents its later, liturgical form. It’s been slightly edited for use in Israel’s worship with small changes in phrasing or structure, but the substance is the same. What began as David’s personal song becomes part of the nation’s collective prayer life. His individual experience is canonised and communalised. In other words: what was once private is now public.
This movement from story to song shows how Israel understood its history. The story of David’s survival, struggle, and salvation wasn’t just about him. It became a template for how God deals with His people: rescuing, forgiving, delivering.
As Walter Brueggemann might put it, the psalm moves from autobiography to theology.
2 Samuel 22 isn’t just an appendix to the story of David, it’s the key to reading it. It reminds us that, for all the mess and scandal and bloodshed, David’s life is still a life shaped by grace. His failures didn’t undo the covenant.
His song doesn’t get rid of the darkness, rather it puts it in the context of light.