There is a profound contrast in Scripture between Saul and David, and it is not merely the difference between two kings, but between two kinds of men, two kinds of callings, and two kinds of authority.
Saul is chosen by men. He fits the visible criteria. He is tall, impressive, outwardly commanding. He looks like a king. Yet when the moment comes for him to step into what God has spoken, he is found hiding among the equipment. The one selected to lead is crouched among baggage.

He has already spoken of his small tribe, his insignificant family, and while those words sound humble, they reveal a man measuring himself by human categories and shrinking beneath the weight of them. His humility is not rooted in trust, but in fear. When pressure comes, he preserves himself.

David is altogether different.

David’s story does not begin on a battlefield or in a palace, but in obscurity. He is the youngest. He is forgotten by his own father when Samuel comes to anoint a king. Yet long before any man sees him, the eye of the Lord is already upon him.

Scripture reminds us that God knows His own before they ever draw breath, that He forms them and calls them while they are yet in the womb. David is such a man. The hand of God, the presence of God, and the purpose of God are upon him from the beginning.

This is no man hiding among the equipment.
While Saul hides, David fights. While Saul shrinks from visibility, David embraces responsibility. Alone in the fields, with no audience and no reward, David lays his life on the line for the sheep.

When the lion comes, when the bear comes, David does not calculate his odds. He does not preserve himself. He runs toward danger, because something in him already understands what it means to be a shepherd. The sheep matter more than his own safety.

This is the true shepherd, contrasted with the king men choose.

Men look for height, strength, charisma, and persuasive speech. God looks for the heart. Men crown what impresses them outwardly. God entrusts authority to those who are faithful inwardly. Saul is anointed first, but David is formed first.

David’s courage does not begin after anointing, it precedes it. His confidence is not in himself, but in the Lord who has already delivered him before anyone was watching.

This distinction is not confined to ancient Israel. It is painfully relevant today.

In every generation, men continue to choose leaders who are tall, handsome, articulate, and compelling. They gather crowds, build platforms, and command loyalty. Yet many have never been touched or shaped by the Spirit of God in secret. They are appointed by men, affirmed by numbers, and sustained by applause.

When the crux of the matter comes, when the cost is high and the wolves are near, they preserve themselves. They protect the institution, the reputation, the platform, rather than laying down their lives for the sheep.

David stands as God’s rebuke to this pattern.
God is not impressed by appearance. He is not moved by charisma. He does not entrust His flock to those who hide when the cost becomes personal. He looks for shepherds who have already proven, in hidden places, that they will bleed for what is His. He looks for hearts that run toward danger when others retreat, for men who fear God more than visibility, and obedience more than survival.

The tragedy of Saul is not that he was small.
The glory of David is not that he was strong.
The difference is this: Saul belonged to himself.David belonged to God.

And that difference still determines everything.