1 Sam.30:1-8
Their city had been decimated. Thin lines of smoke twisted upward to the heavens from the blackened ruins of what was left of their homes. Their enemies had done their work, each smoldering pile an offering to their pagan gods.
Just hours earlier jubilation had filled the hearts of king-to-be David and his band of men as they drew closer to home after a three-day trek into the wilderness. But the joy would soon be overtaken by panic as the men topped the rocky mountain ledge overlooking the valley where their hometown of Ziklag lay in the distance.
Upon arriving, the men were horrified to find that the city had been raided and torched, their valuables stolen—supplies, weapons, gold, herds. It was the Amalekites, barbaric plunderers known for cruel, ruthless, unrelenting brutality, doing all sorts of detestable things the Lord God hates, even burning their own sons and daughters as sacrifices to their false gods.
Weaving through the damage, the men realized something else was amiss. The atmosphere was eerily quiet, save the sound of their own horses’ beating hooves, dogs barking somewhere in the void, and angry embers crackling. No one was there, crying out to greet them. No women or children were running grief-stricken in the streets. No one was bent down by the piles of rubble, wailing.
Then it hit them. The town was vacant, and their most valued treasure had been stolen—their wives and their sons and daughters had been taken captive. When men let their walls down, the enemy is right there waiting to make its move—and the consequences are dire.
