Lust and King David

Vices and Villains, Part Three

June 29, 2025

Rev. David Collins

2 Samuel 11:1-5, 14-15

Matthew 5:27-29

Psalm 51:10, 17

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Today we’re on part three of our series Vices and Villains and today we’ve gotten to LUST! This sermon is rated PG-13 for thematic content and mature subject matter. Viewer discretion advised.

But seriously, lust is something we all deal with, just not in the same way, or at the same time, or with the same consequences. But it’s deadly all the same.

The “seven deadly sins” aren’t listed that way in the Bible. They come from early Christian reflection. A desert monk first mapped out the inner temptations that pull us away from God. His list had eight. Later, the list got trimmed down by Pope Gregory into the seven we know now.

Lust made the list not because sex is bad, but because it’s powerful. Lust takes something meant for connection and twists it into consumption. And over time, it can hollow us out.

Our original plan was to connect lust to the Biblical villain known as Jezebel, mostly because I’d never preached a sermon about her, but when I looked at the texts about her, it didn’t really connect. Plus, that would have played into a horrible thing that the church has done for centuries, which is not going to happen today, or any day at this church, and that is to blame women for men’s lust.

So instead, we’re going to look at someone who is not usually listed among the villains of the Bible, but he sure did do something villainous once that will haunt his legacy forever.

Today we’re going to look at the story of David and what he did to Bathsheba and her husband, Uriah. And we’ll look at what Jesus taught us about lust too.

David and Bathsheba

2 Samuel 11:1 In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle, David sent Joab with his officers and all Israel with him; they ravaged the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah.

But David remained at Jerusalem.

That line sticks out. It’s easy to gloss over it like it’s just a scheduling note, but it tells us something important. Spring was the time when kings were supposed to go to battle, lead the charge...show up. But David didn’t. He stayed home and he got bored.

Boredom can be deadly for anyone, but especially for someone like David, who can literally have whatever he wants all the time. He doesn’t have any more challenges in his life, not compared to what he did when he was younger. And that’s a dangerous place to be. For him, and especially for the people around him.

2 It happened, late one afternoon when David rose from his couch and was walking about on the roof of the king’s house, that he saw from the roof a woman bathing; the woman was very beautiful.

How many sermons do you think have been preached that posited Bathsheba picked that spot on purpose? I know I’ve heard at least one. There’s a long-standing, shameful habit in Christianity that always shifts the guilt onto the woman. Especially when a powerful man is involved.

You should notice in this text that it never suggests Bathsheba did anything wrong. Never says she was trying to be seen, or hints at seduction. It just says she was bathing to purify herself after her period, as the law required. The only one doing the looking…was David. And David had all the power.

Lust is about power

Lust isn’t about being tempted by something beautiful. Lust is about power. It’s the belief that if you want something, or someone, you should be able to have it. That’s what happened here.

3 David sent someone to inquire about the woman. It was reported, “This is Bathsheba daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite.”

And while it never should have gotten this far, it should have stopped right there when David found out that she was married. But it didn’t.

Because lust doesn’t care about boundaries. In fact, boundaries just seem to spur it on. Lust doesn’t back off when it hears the word “no.” It just looks for a loophole. Lust doesn’t ask questions like, Does she want this? or Is this right? It only asks, Can I get away with it?

And David could.

He was the king. Bathsheba didn’t have the power to say no. There’s no moment in this story where she’s given a choice. No conversation or agency. She is summoned like an object and used like one too.

4 So David sent messengers to get her, and she came to him, and he lay with her. (Now she was purifying herself after her period.) Then she returned to her house. 5 The woman conceived, and she sent and told David, “I am pregnant.”

After Bathsheba sends word that she’s pregnant, David scrambles to cover it up.

He sends for her husband, Uriah, calling him back from the battlefield under the pretense of checking in. David pretends to care about how the war is going, but what he really wants is for Uriah to go home, to sleep with his wife, so that the child can pass as his.

But Uriah won’t do it.

He sleeps outside instead. He refuses the comforts of home while his comrades are still in danger. David tries again the next night, this time he even got him drunk, but Uriah still says no to the shortcut.

Which only makes David’s failure stand out more. All he’s done in this story is take every shortcut to temporary relief he sees. He treats every person like a pawn. He even makes Uriah carry the order that will get him killed, knowing it seems, that the same integrity that kept him from going home for some R&R, will also keep him from reading the note.

14 In the morning David wrote a letter to Joab and sent it by the hand of Uriah. 15 In the letter he wrote, “Set Uriah in the forefront of the hardest fighting, and then draw back from him, so that he may be struck down and die.”

And that’s exactly what happens.

All because David saw something he wanted and didn’t stop. He let his desire run the show. He used his power to take what wasn’t his, and then tried to hide the consequences. And when that didn’t work, he made it worse. He lied, he manipulated, and in the end, he got a good man killed.

And that’s the thing about lust. It doesn’t stay private. Lust starts with desire, but it grows into entitlement. And when someone feels entitled, they start thinking the rules don’t apply to them. That people are there to be used, even if it’s just to be leered at.

Lust isn’t just about sex. It’s about what happens when we stop seeing others as people and start seeing them as something to take.

And that’s not just David’s problem. That’s ours too.

Because lust is capitalism’s favorite sin. It sells everything from hamburgers to pickup trucks.

And we don’t have to shirk our responsibility and hang out on our roofs for it to get its hooks in us. All we have to do is go online.

And I’m not just talking about images of people in various states of dress, either. I’m talking about the steady stream of words and ideas that shape how we see others. Lust isn’t always loud. It’s often subtle. Sometimes it just sounds like the way someone talks about women at the office, and then gets offended if he’s called out.

Lust doesn’t just hurt the person being looked at. It also warps the one doing the looking.

When you let lust lead…when you train your mind to see others as things to be wanted or ranked or dismissed…you lose something. It eats away at your ability to love and connect.

Lust shrinks your soul.

It turns people into parts. And in extreme cases, like in the incel movement or certain corners of the internet, that used be hard to find but are now right out in the open, it grows into real hatred and violence.

You become less human the more you objectify others. Lust makes you think you’re powerful, but you’re really pathetic.

So maybe today is the day for you to stop hiding, and stop making excuses. Sometimes the best thing for you to see is a mirror. Because everyone else can see it, even if they’re not calling you out.

They see where your eyes go.
They notice when you linger too long.


They feel the shift when you stop seeing them as human.

It’s not secret. It’s not subtle. It’s gross.

And your kids can see it too


It makes you look weak, not wanted.

You think you’re in control but you’re not.


You’ve just trained yourself to fantasize instead of connect.
To consume instead of love.

And the more you give in to it, the harder it is to remember how to actually be with someone…with curiosity, and respect, and presence.

But lust doesn’t just warp the one doing the lusting. It also leaves deep scars on the person being lusted after.

Lust leaves scars on the person being lusted after

When they’re reduced to an object. When they’re blamed for the way someone else looks at them. When they’re controlled, catcalled, manipulated, or worse.

And let’s be honest about who bears the brunt of that. It’s most often women and girls. It’s queer and trans folks. It’s people of color. It’s anyone whose body is already seen as something to manage or control.

Lust doesn’t just sexualize…it silences. It makes people feel unsafe in their own skin. It tells them their worth is tied to someone else’s craving.

And if that’s been you, you need to know that’s not the way that God sees you.

God doesn’t see you as a body to be judged or a temptation to be managed.

God sees you as beloved. Worthy of protection and tenderness.

So if you ever heard that your body was dangerous, or shameful, or that what happened to you was somehow your fault.

Know that that’s a lie from the pit of hell.

And the truth is that God never agreed with what they said or did. And God didn’t turn away either. God wept with you. And God is still here, offering you a different story. One where your worth is not determined by someone else’s gaze, but by God’s gaze.

One where you don’t have to shrink or hide or protect everyone else’s comfort.

Just look at what Jesus says about it.

Jesus on Lust

Matthew 5:27 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ 28 But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. 29 If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.

Jesus doesn’t tell those being lusted over to try harder to not get noticed, he tells men to tear out their own eyes, if they can’t use them properly.

You deserve to be seen clearly. To be loved well. And to feel safe in your own skin.

That’s what Jesus came to offer. Not just forgiveness for the one who’s failed, but restoration for the one who’s been harmed. Not just correction for the one doing the looking, but dignity for the one who’s been looked at the wrong way for far too long.

Jesus commands all of his disciples to take responsibility for our own eyes and hearts, and the way we treat each other.

And that starts with taking accountability for ourselves, and for each other. King David didn’t stay a villain. God sent him the prophet Nathan to tell him the truth about what he had done, when no one else would. And to David’s credit, he listened, and repented.

David Repented

He wrote Psalm 51 in response. That’s where we get these lines of hope:

10 Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.

17 The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

And it’s that spirit of brokenness that opens the door to healing.

Not shame or self-hatred. And definitely not pretending like it didn’t happen. But a heart that’s honest before God, that says, “I need help.”

That says, “You know, my instincts might not be the best guide in all this, and all those voices that are telling me to follow my urges might just be full of it.” And they totally are.

But you can’t be shamed into holiness. You are given Jesus’ to borrow and hold as your own so you know what it feels like to have it. And that gives yours some time to grow. And it grows not by force of will, or actually tearing out your eyeballs, but by using them differently.

That’s where the healing begins, for you and for the people around you.

Because this isn’t just about personal guilt. It’s about what kind of people we’re becoming. What kind of community we’re building. One where no one is reduced to their worst choice, and no one is reduced to cleaning up after it.

That’s a big part of what it means for us as a community to love like Jesus. A community like that, like us, (who we could be even if we’re not there quite yet) doesn’t just forgive. It restores.

It restores people to their dignity. It restores the truth and the possibility that healing is real, and that no one has to walk through it alone.

A community like that knows how to say hard things with love, how to sit in discomfort without rushing past it, how to tell the truth about what went wrong, without giving up on what could still be made right.

King David wasn’t supposed to be the villain today, but that’s the thing about vices. They don’t care about you. They don’t care about your legacy, or your potential, or the good you’ve done in the past. They don’t care that you’re “a man after God’s own heart.”

They just keep asking for one more shortcut. One more rationalization. One more secret.

And if you follow them long enough, they’ll take everything.

But the grace of God meets us even there, with real hope. With the chance to stop, to tell the truth, and turn around.

All that matters is what you do next.