You know, I can’t think of the last time I saw a monument built for a skeptic.
It makes sense, doesn’t it? Skeptics don’t build things up; they tear them down. And if you sit in that seat of scorn long enough, you might find it hard to get up. (More on that in a bit).
I was reminded of this while reading the story of David and Goliath. We all know the heroes and the villains of that story, but we often skip over the original cynic: David’s own brother, Eliab.
Picture the scene: The entire army of Israel, including Eliab, who was a general is frozen in fear of Goliath. Then along comes David, the little brother, full of faith and ready to fight. He calls Goliath an “uncircumcised Philistine.” Back then, that wasn’t just an insult; it was a statement of fact. Circumcision was the sign of God’s covenant, His promise to protect and provide for His people. David was standing on that promise. Eliab? Not so much.
Instead of being inspired, Eliab’s “anger burned.” He basically said, “Who do you think you are? Why aren’t you back where you belong, watching your few little sheep? I know your arrogant heart you just came to see a show!”
Here’s the kicker: the name Eliab means “God is my Father.”
That hit me hard. Eliab isn’t just a symbol of the secular critic. He represents the cynic inside the church. Yes, we have them. We might be them. And all it takes is one person in a community, speaking from that place of scorn, to pull others with weaker faith into a vortex of negativity.
It’s a dangerous game. The Bible warns us about it right in Psalm 1: 1 “Blessed is the one who does not sit in the seat of the scornful.” Think about that phrase "sit in the seat." It’s a choice. A posture. And if you stay there too long, it can become your identity.
And sadly, I have to confess, I know that seat well. Lately, I’ve become that person.
My own disappointments have piled up, and without even realising it, I let a constant stream of negativity pour out. I got drawn into other people’s stories of woe, stories that were often just masks for manipulation, looking for sympathy rather than solutions. I found myself not just listening to the cynicism but starting to act on it, getting tangled in a web of deceit and despair that wasn't even mine to begin with.
But here’s the turning point. I’ve started to repent. I’m making a conscious choice to stop listening to the toxic narratives and to stop my own negative talk. I’m praying for God to help me not just close my ears to the scorn, but to actively get up from that seat.
Because 1 Corinthians 13:7 tells us that love “always believes.” Not that it’s naive, but that it chooses faith over fear, and hope over scorn. That’s the antidote.
My prayer now is for the strength to be a builder, like David, not a tearer-downer, like Eliab. It’s a daily struggle, but it’s one worth fighting. Because no one wants to be the person for whom no monument is ever built.
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