87: Skeptics Called David a Myth. Then the Tel Dan Inscription Turned Up

In November 2024, my wife and I stood inches from one of the most significant biblical archaeological discoveries ever made.

The Tel Dan inscription sat behind glass at Armstrong Auditorium in Edmond, Oklahoma, thousands of miles from its ancient home.

We stared at broken basalt fragments covered in Aramaic script, and I felt the weight of what we were seeing.

This wasn't a replica or a photograph. This was the real thing.

This ancient stela contained two words that provided the first undisputed proof that King David was real and not a legend.

For decades, skeptics had dismissed David as a figure like King Arthur, but when archaeologists found these stone fragments at a dig site in Israel, everything changed.

A team found the first fragment in July 1993 at Tel Dan, an archaeological site in northern

Israel. They were digging near the site's ancient city gate when they spotted a piece of stone with writing on it.

Archaeologists Avraham Biran and epigrapher Joseph Naveh recognized its significance immediately, and they published their findings together.

The team found two more fragments the following year in 1994.

Someone had broken the original stela and reused the pieces as building materials centuries ago.

Where is Tel Dan? Tel Dan is the ancient biblical city of Dan, and it sits at the base of Mount Hermon in northern

Israel. It's where one of the Jordan River's main sources begins.

This site witnessed pivotal moments in biblical history. According to Genesis 14,

Abraham pursued the kings who had captured his nephew Lot all the way to Dan.

Later, after Solomon's kingdom split in two, King Jeroboam established a rival worship center at Dan.

You can read about that in 1 Kings 12. He set up a golden calf there and another one in the south at Bethel.

These were to keep the northern Israelites from traveling to Jerusalem's temple.

What is a stela? A stela, which is sometimes pronounced steely or maybe even

Stella, is a stone monument that ancient rulers erected to commemorate victories, record laws, or mark boundaries.

Think of it like an ancient billboard carved in stone. Kings wanted everyone to know their accomplishments, so they placed these monuments in public spaces where people would see them.

The fragments discovered at Tel Dan surprised researchers because they referenced a biblical dynasty that many scholars had doubted even existed.

An earlier discovery, the Mesha stela, also called the Moabite stone, which was found in 1868, also mentions the house of David.

However, damage to the stone made the reading uncertain and heavily debated.

Although recent research has confirmed the reading of the Mesha stela, the 1993

Tel Dan inscription changed everything because its text was clear.

The inscription described a military victory by an Aramaean king, probably

Hazael of Damascus. He bragged about defeating the kings of Israel and Judah in battle, but one phrase in that ancient boast changed everything.

Line nine of the inscription contains two Aramaic words that sent shockwaves through the archaeological community.

The words were Beit David, and these words translate to House of David.

This discovery mattered because minimalist scholars didn't believe David ever existed as a historical figure.

Minimalism in biblical archaeology refers to an approach that treats biblical texts with extreme skepticism.

Minimalists argue that most biblical narratives were invented centuries after the events they describe.

They consider the biblical histories to be theological literature and not reliable historical sources.

Many minimalists had relegated David to the realm of legend, a King Arthur -type figure whose stories inspired later generations.

The problem was there was no undisputed inscription from David's era or shortly after which mentioned him by name.

We had the biblical texts, but critics dismiss those as biased religious documents.

Without external confirmation, minimalists argued that David was either entirely fictional or perhaps a minor chieftain whose reputation grew wildly over time.

But the Tel Dan inscription changed that conversation with one simple phrase.

The House of David wasn't a reference to a legendary hero or a mythical founder.

The phrase described a real ruling dynasty that Israel's enemies recognized and fought against, and Aramaean king used this designation to describe the kingdom of Judah and its royal line.

He wasn't recording folklore or repeating religious propaganda. He was documenting a military campaign against an actual political entity.

For historians, the inscription provided the first undisputed extra -biblical mention of Israel's most famous king.

It confirmed that David wasn't just a theological construct, but a figure significant enough that neighboring kingdoms remembered him.

The discovery reminded scholars that absence of evidence isn't evidence of absence.

Just because we haven't found something doesn't mean it never existed. The Tel Dan inscription showed that the biblical text documented real people and real events.

Unlike the disputed Moabite stone, the Tel Dan inscription's reading was clear and unambiguous.

A few deniers attempted to dispute the translation of the Tel Dan stela, but their claims lacked credible foundation.

The context, grammar, and parallel usage of House of constructions for dynasties throughout the ancient

Near East all confirmed the reading. The inscription dates to the second half of the 9th century

BC, which was roughly two centuries after David reigned. This timing strengthens the case for David's historicity.

Within 200 years of his reign, foreign nations referred to Judah's ruling family as David's descendants.

Nations don't name dynasties after mythical figures. They name them after real founders whose legitimacy everyone acknowledges.

The timing of this reference argues against the theory that David's reputation developed gradually from folktales.

Standing in that Oklahoma exhibition, I thought about the stela's journey. Aramean workers had carved it over 28 centuries ago.

Israelites had smashed it at some point, possibly either smashed by King Jehoash or his son

Jeroboam II. Ancient builders had recycled the fragments into a wall, and modern archaeologists had pulled those pieces from the ground.

Now my wife and I stood there staring at words on a stone carved during the time of the kings of Israel and Judah.

The inscription reminds us that faith and history intersect in tangible ways.

That November day in Edmond, we saw history written in stone. Two Aramaic words had survived 2 ,800 years as testimony to something important, but something we already knew from the

Bible, and that is, a shepherd boy who became king was real.