Identifying with the Bad Guy

And as the ark of the covenant of the LORD came to the city of David, Michal the daughter of Saul looked out of the window and saw King David dancing and celebrating, and she despised him in her heart. 1 Chronicles 15:29

Can you remember a movie where you cheered for – or even identified with – the bad guy? You know you weren’t supposed to, but his (or her) motives made sense and despite his questionable tactics, you found yourself on his side. Though it isn’t a movie, today’s passage is one of those stories in which I find myself on the same side as the bad guy.

In the story, David and the people of Israel celebrated as they brought the ark of the covenant home to Jerusalem. The worship band bellowed and as emotions swelled, the people reveled in the streets. King David got in on it, dancing wildly, wearing only a linen ephod – the underclothes of a priest. His wife, not approving of or participating in the celebration, watched David’s behavior with contempt, despising his reckless worship.

I’ve got to say, I sympathize with Michal. If I were inserted in the story, and I got to pick my character, I wouldn’t want to be King David. The thought of raising my arms in worship in church makes me squirm. And showing up in public in my underwear is literally a recurrent nightmare that I’ve had since I was a kid. The thought of dancing, while scantily clad, in public makes me profoundly uncomfortable. Never in a million years would I do such a thing. Rather, I’d be the one standing off to the side, recording with my phone, perhaps making fun of such a person. In this story, I’m not David. I’m Michal.

Michal though, was the villain of the story. David worshipped God with wild abandon, while Michal ridiculed him. David didn’t care about his public image. He cared what God thought. Michal, however, was more concerned with her own dignity and pride.

And that’s me. In church, when the worship music plays, I’m the one sitting back being critical of those who surrender most to the emotion of the moment. More concerned with my own dignity, I would never dance in church. My identification with the bad guy reveals my stubborn pride, making it obvious that I still have a lot to work on. I don’t have to be the bad guy, but today, I must admit that I am.