Previously on the chosen people.

The Lord is your enemy's all, and his will is like a coursing river.

You cannot force what is to come.

Because you had disobeyed him, he has delivered you into the hands of the Philistines.

To Saul's right, Jonathan stood ready, flanked by his other sons, Abinadab and Malkaishua.

They stood atop the rise with their men behind them, gripping shields and spears.

Jonathan glanced toward his father once, and that glance held everything.

Love, loyalty, farewell.

And then they charged.

The army of Israel poured down the slope of Gilboa like a wave crashing onto rock.

Jonathan, son of Saul, lay in the dust, surrounded by his brothers and the dead.

His sword had not broken.

His faith had not wavered, but his heart had ceased to beat.

Saul's weary arms slashed through the enemy as they advanced closer and closer.

They pressed, but the king stood his ground until it hit.

An enemy arrow whistled through the air, finding its mark on Saul's side, through flesh, through bone, into the lungs.

So this is how it is.

I was the first.

But not the last.

But not the last.

And so Saul, the first king of Israel,

pressed the hilt of his sword against the earth,

...