
On the first day at West Point — R-Day — new cadets are issued Bugle Notes, a small book containing West Point's defining knowledge: military ranks, unit missions, quirky facts, and most importantly, the great quotes of famous military leaders.
One of the most memorable is General Douglas MacArthur's: "Upon the fields of friendly strife are sown the seeds that on other fields, on other days will bear the fruits of victory." The more you reflect on it, the more impactful it becomes.
"The corps, bareheaded, salute it, with eyes up, thanking our God — That we of the corps are treading where they of the corps have trod… Grip hands with us now, though we see not. Grip hands with us, strengthen our hearts — As the long line stiffens and straightens with a thrill that your presence imparts."
— Bishop H.S. Shipman, USMA Chaplain 1896–1905
These songs rekindled a deep affection in me for West Point — a reminder of connection to a great military heritage over 200 years old, to the long gray line, and to the reality that one day I too will grip hands from the shadows, joining those who went before.
There is power in songs, hymns, and poems. Power to inspire. To unite. To mobilize. David knew that well — and so does the Church.
"Your glory, O Israel, is slain on your high places! How the mighty have fallen!… Saul and Jonathan, beloved and lovely! In life and in death they were not divided; they were swifter than eagles; they were stronger than lions… I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; very pleasant have you been to me; your love to me was extraordinary, surpassing the love of women. How the mighty have fallen, and the weapons of war perished!"
— 2 Samuel 1:19–27
David ordered this lament taught to the people of Judah (v. 18). More than personal grief, it was a national act of remembrance — recorded in the ancient Book of Jashar, alongside the miracle of the sun standing still over Israel, signaling its extraordinary weight.
The word for "glory" — tsebi — also means gazelle. Combined with the imagery of swift eagles and strong lions in v. 23, David is mourning Jonathan specifically as Israel's fallen glory.
"How the mighty have fallen" — repeated three times. To David, Saul and Jonathan were more than leaders. They were mighty. Peter Leithart: "Jonathan and Saul not only had weapons, but were weapons."
David commands silence before the enemy. He knew military victories get publicized — and indeed, 1 Samuel 31:9 records the Philistines carrying the news of Saul's death to their temples. This was not only a military defeat, but a spiritual one.
David turns his grief toward the terrain itself: "You mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew or rain upon you" (v. 21). He curses the mountain that failed to protect their king — let it be dry, lifeless, cut off from Israel's worship.
The shield of Saul was defiled — anointed not with oil in victory, but with the blood of God's anointed. Israel looked upon that blood-stained shield and concluded the battle was lost.
About a thousand years later, many reached the same conclusion looking upon the blood-stained cross of Christ. But where Saul's death marked Israel's defeat, Jesus' death secured His victory — and ours. What appeared to be Satan's triumph became God's.
David commands the daughters of Israel to weep over Saul, who created the peace and security that clothed them in scarlet and gold (v. 24) — worthy of honor and heartfelt gratitude.
"I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; very pleasant have you been to me; your love to me was extraordinary, surpassing the love of women."
— 2 Samuel 1:26
Robert Bergen calls this the "thematic center" of the lament. David lost his closest ally, his confidant, his battle buddy. Far from suggesting anything improper, this is the language of a bond no romantic relationship could compete with. David wanted every man in Judah to memorize this lament — to let it stir a battle cry in their hearts.
David reigned in Judah for seven and a half years before being crowned king of all Israel. This lament was likely forged during that period of national civil war — a tool to reunite the nation under God's anointed king.
Once united, Israel defeated the Philistines so decisively that David described it as the Lord bursting through enemies "like a bursting flood." The Philistines left their idols on the battlefield — 2 Samuel 5:21.
This lament became known as "the lament of the bow" after David's words about Jonathan in v. 22. Like "Remember the Alamo," it became a rallying cry — Remember the bow!
We've seen the power of friendship, the power of gratitude for leaders who protected and blessed us — but most striking is the power of lament. It is something we don't do well anymore. Perhaps we lack the discipline. Perhaps we lean on others' songs and poems to weep for us.
But the Bible supplies lament as a powerful tool for navigating hardship. Every one of us has shattered dreams, broken relationships, missed opportunities, or loss of people we love. Yet the Christian never grieves alone. We grieve with a Savior who was "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief" (Isaiah 53:3) — who knows betrayal, loss, and death. And because He conquered death, lament is never the last word for those who belong to Him.
"How the mighty have fallen" — over the lifeless bodies of Saul and Jonathan, slain on Gilboa.
"He is not here, for He has risen." — Matthew 28:6. We lament to the risen King, slain on Calvary and seated in glory.
"He lives to make intercession for us today." — Hebrews 7:25. Christian lament is not hopeless — the story does not end in death.
We sing because we forget. We preach because we forget. We come to the Lord's Table because we forget. We lament as people who know the story ends in resurrection.
Bugle Notes & the Power of Memory