Adultery in High Places: A Closer Look at King David

It has become standard operating procedure for disgraced politicians looking to make amends with religious constituents to invoke the name of King David. From Bill Clinton to Mark Sanford, "the man after God's own heart" has become the bipartisan patron saint of presidents, senators, and governors who break their marriage vows but still hope to cling to power by simply saying, "I'm sorry." It is a cynical attempt to sugar-coat an egregious violation of the public trust by drawing a parallel between the politician in question and Israel's greatest king. In Sanford's case, it is particularly unconvincing, as Al Mohler points out.

When speaking to the Cabinet, Governor Sanford referred to the biblical story of King David. The governor spoke of "the way in which he fell mightily -- he fell in very, very significant ways --- but then picked up the pieces and built from there." The governor also suggested that remaining in office would set a good example for his four boys, teaching them to persevere after a fall. The great shame is that the governor did not have his four boys in mind as he committed adultery.

Naturally, questions emerged related to the extent and duration of the extramarital affair. The governor's initial statement was unclear about several key issues. The days following would render the situation even more unclear.

Most recently, in a lengthy interview granted to the Associated Press, Governor Sanford added what the wire service called "explosive details" that made the picture all the more troubling. In the first place, the governor admitted to having "crossed the lines" with other women. "There were a handful of instances wherein I crossed the lines that I shouldn't have crossed as a married man, but never crossed the ultimate line," said the governor.

But the most troubling words from the governor concerned the nature of his relationship with Maria Belen Chapur, the woman with whom he had the affair. "This was a whole lot more than a simple affair, this was a love story," he said. He added: "A forbidden one, a tragic one, but a love story at the end of the day."

Speaking, not of his wife, but of his mistress, Governor Sanford declared that he would go to his grave "knowing that I had met my soul mate."

Immediately following the governor's first admission, it seemed that he might survive politically and remain in office. The nation found itself once again in a debate about the relationship between personal virtue and public responsibility. This is a question that is particularly vexing to Christian conservatives, who must simultaneously understand that all are sinners in need of redemption and, at the same time, affirm that some sins disqualify individuals from public service and influence.

America's recent political history indicates that some politicians can survive revelations of adultery. While Christians should be less concerned about the political consequences and more concerned about the spiritual consequences, it is fair to observe that those politicians who survive more often than not do so when the adulterous relationship is clearly over and in the more distant past and when the politician has given himself in a demonstrable way to the priority of rebuilding his marriage and reestablishing credibility with his family.

Put simply, Governor Sanford's most recent comments point to a worst-case scenario. His words make clear that his heart is still inclined toward his mistress, and not his wife. With tragic candor, the governor has spoken of trying to fall back in love with his wife. He refers to his mistress, not his wife, as his soul mate, and speaks wistfully of the affair as "a love story at the end of the day."

Governor Sanford may cite King David, and he may even suffer the illusion that his response is similar to that of Israel's King. Nevertheless, the difference is clear. David's adultery was mixed even with murder, but his own acknowledgment of sin came in a flood of contrition, remorse, broken heartedness, and humility. David acknowledged the reality of his sin, expressed his hatred of the sin, and became a model for us all of repentance. Governor Sanford, on the other hand, demonstrates the audacity to speak wistfully of his sin, longingly of his lover, and romantically of his dissent [sic] into unfaithfulness.

Governor Sanford is no King David, and the people of South Carolina -- as well as the watching world -- now observe the sad spectacle of a man who, while admitting to wrongdoing, shows no genuine repentance. As the Christian church has long recognized, true repentance is reflected in the "detestation of sin." This is a far cry from what we've heard from Governor Sanford.

It is also important to note that, contrary to the impression Sanford and all who have come before him wish to give, David did not get off that lightly for his adulterous liaison with Bathsheba. He was forgiven, because he truly repented, but the son born of his illicit union died and another son, Absalom, led a rebellion which eventually cost him his life, but not before plunging Israel into two years of bloody civil war. David's transgression yielded devastating consequences for the whole nation, which enjoyed precious few intervals of peace throughout his reign.

Mark Sanford is no King David. If he took a closer look at the whole story, he wouldn't want to be.