When Counting Cost More Than Trust

“Again the anger of the Lord burned against Israel, and he incited David against them, saying, ‘Go and take a census of Israel and Judah.’ So the king said to Joab and the army commanders with him, ‘Go throughout the tribes of Israel from Dan to Beersheba and enroll the fighting men, so that I may know how many there are.’ But Joab replied to the king, ‘May the Lord your God multiply the troops a hundred times over, and may the eyes of my lord the king see it. But why does my lord the king want to do such a thing?’ The king’s word, however, overruled Joab and the army commanders; so they left the presence of the king to enroll the fighting men of Israel.”—2 Samuel 24:1–4 (NIV)

Even great leaders have moments of insecurity, and David was no exception. He had experienced God’s deliverance over and over—from the hand of Goliath, from the threats of Saul, and in countless military victories. But here, we see a different David. A David who wanted to count the strength of his army. Not to prepare for a specific battle, but simply to know how powerful he was. This subtle shift from trust in God to trust in numbers marked a turning point.

We don’t often think of counting as a sin. What’s wrong with knowing how many soldiers you have? But it’s not the counting that’s wrong—it’s the heart behind it. David wanted security from data, not from divine presence.

This reminds me of a lesson I learned as a child. In elementary school, our class had a marble jar on the teacher’s desk. Every time we did something kind or followed the rules, she’d drop a marble in the jar. When it filled, we’d earn a class reward.

One day, a substitute teacher gave us extra marbles. Excited, I counted the marbles over and over. Soon, I wasn’t doing kind things to help others—I was doing them to add to the jar. I wasn’t motivated by love or kindness anymore, just the outcome. Eventually, our teacher noticed and removed the jar, saying we had lost the point.

That marble jar became my census.

Like David, I let the numbers become the goal instead of the heart behind the actions. And just like in Scripture, it cost me. Not in punishment, but in purpose. I had to relearn what kindness really meant.

In today’s passage, even Joab—a man not known for deep spiritual insight—sensed that David’s request was driven by pride or fear. Joab tried to stop him, asking, “Why does my lord the king want to do such a thing?” But David ignored him, pushing forward to number Israel’s warriors, needing to see his strength with his own eyes.

This decision would later bring consequences to David and his people. But what we learn here is powerful: Even seasoned believers can have moments where trust gives way to control. Even the faithful can drift toward needing visible evidence of God’s blessing instead of resting in the unseen assurance of His promises.

And that’s where we must return—to faith, to trust, to obedience without needing to count, measure, or control.

Pause: Before you move on, pause and ask:

  • Am I placing my confidence in God’s provision or in what I can count, control, or predict?
  • Is there an area in my life where I’m ignoring wise counsel to go my own way?

Let the Holy Spirit highlight any pride or self-reliance you may be harboring.

Practice:

  1. Identify what you’re “counting.” Is it followers, finances, achievements, influence, or progress?

  2. Lay it before God. Say, “Lord, I surrender this to You. I don’t want to rely on numbers—I want to rely on You.”

  3. Reaffirm your trust. Read aloud Proverbs 3:5–6 or Psalm 20:7 and let those truths steady your heart.

Pray: Heavenly Father, forgive me for the times I’ve trusted numbers over Your name. I confess the subtle ways pride and fear have led me to measure what You never asked me to measure. Help me walk in humility, not self-reliance. Teach me to listen when You speak through others, and give me courage to trust You even when I can’t see the outcome. I give You my plans, my pride, and my fears, and I ask You to lead me in faith. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.