The hospice nurse says it can’t go on much longer. Even though it feels like we have been on this journey forever, it now appears that La Donna’s dad only has a few more days at best. Prayers are always appreciated, thank you.
Last Sunday we got a call that it seemed like the end, so instead of leaving on Tuesday, like she has been doing for a couple of months, she left on Sunday afternoon. Now it is Saturday and he is still hanging in. But because death seems so close, La Donna is not coming home this weekend. And in fact is making plans to be gone all next week too, should that be necessary. She is where she needs to be, and we are happy to make it possible for her to be there. But we seem a bit lost around here.
It’s not that I’m incompetent as a dad and runner of a household. No, really. It’s not. It’s just that we get used to certain patterns, certain rhythms. We get used to defaulting to certain ones to make certain decisions, to fulfill certain tasks. And when the one who usually makes those decisions, does those tasks, is no longer around, there is a void. An emptiness that seems to suck the life out of everything. It becomes hard to do the things that we would normally do ourselves. There is a lack of focus, a depletion of will, a general malaise that settles down up all of us and we don’t even know why for sure.
All of which describes the situation for the boy Samuel. But he didn’t know it. He was just a kid, doing what he was told. He didn’t have any sense of the big picture. He didn’t know what was behind the scenes, what was underneath the daily duties he performed without question, or what was above the ceiling which caught to wisps of smoke from the lantern in the holy place. All he knew was duty, and he did it. Mostly because there wasn’t anyone else to do it. Eli, his mentor, was going blind and could no longer perform the duties of his office. And his sons, who should have been stepping up to fulfill those duties had already made such a mess of their power and authority that faith in the institution of the priesthood was at a very low ebb.
But Samuel just did his job. No matter what was swirling around him, he performed his duties. And this was the result.
1 Samuel 3:1-10 Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the LORD under Eli. The word of the LORD was rare in those days; visions were not widespread. 2 At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; 3 the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the LORD, where the ark of God was. 4 Then the LORD called, "Samuel! Samuel!" and he said, "Here I am!" 5 and ran to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." But he said, "I did not call; lie down again." So he went and lay down. 6 The LORD called again, "Samuel!" Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." But he said, "I did not call, my son; lie down again." 7 Now Samuel did not yet know the LORD, and the word of the LORD had not yet been revealed to him. 8 The LORD called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." Then Eli perceived that the LORD was calling the boy. 9 Therefore Eli said to Samuel, "Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, 'Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.'" So Samuel went and lay down in his place. 10 Now the LORD came and stood there, calling as before, "Samuel! Samuel!" And Samuel said, "Speak, for your servant is listening."
“The word of the Lord was rare in those days.” Seems an odd sort of beginning for a story that takes place in the temple of the Lord. And yet there it is. So, Samuel’s days were filled with the thousand little details that Eli could no longer perform in order to keep the rituals ready for the people of God, who were like sheep without a shepherd, because the word of the Lord was rare in those days.
Makes you wonder what people turned to when they didn’t have access to the voice of God, doesn’t it? What sorts of authority did people call on, what sorts of diversions did they obsess over, what sorts of voices did they listen to? To fill the empty nights and to cover up the loneliness of living what sounds did they ache for?
Living a directionless life is draining as well as pointless. It messes with your sense of self-worth as well as emptying you of ambition and of hope. So, what are we left with these days, when “the word of the Lord is rare”? Are we just supposed to generate our own direction? Are we left to our own devices? It is, indeed, all about us after all?
Or do we listen deeper? Is there something to hear after all? We’ve convinced ourselves that what we see is what we get, or this is all there is, or ... whatever. But even though the word of the Lord is rare, even though those who are supposed to speak for the are going blind, the “lamp of God has not yet gone out.” We may have given up on God, but God has not given up on us.
The Voice still calls. It may be night in our souls, the darkness of doubt and fear and emptiness, but the voice still calls. That is what our faith tells us, when our ears are wearying of listening to the silence. But then, there isn’t any silence any more, is there? That may be why we don’t hear, not because it is too quiet, but because it is too loud. Loud in our world with distractions aplenty, voices calling, blaming, warning, vying for our attention. Loud in our souls where we are filled up with our own questions and fears, filled up with our own failures and inadequacies. It is so loud we don’t hear the Voice any more, the Voice that leads and comforts, the Voice that challenges and guides. We don’t hear it anymore because we’ve stopped listening. Or if we do hear it it sounds just like all the other voices around us. No wonder Samuel thought it was Eli. No wonder we think it is a spouse or a friend, or a book we read or a song we heard. No wonder we thought it was indigestion or an impulse to do something really crazy. Because we’ve forgotten how to listen for the voice.
When Eli finally, finally!, figures out what is going on he begins to teach, he begins to mentor. Instead using Samuel as someone to do the grunt work, to clean now ask questions later, he finally begins to introduce him to the source of the voice. He names that source “Lord.” Say “Speak Lord,” says Eli, that’s what you say. That’s the beginning of putting yourself within hearing distance of the Voice. And then, having identified the source, put your self in position, “your servant” the one who follows, the one who obeys, the one who does. “Your servant is listening,” that’s what you say, says Eli. You say, I know who you are, I know who I am, and I want to hear what you have to say. I want to be led, I want to be taught. I want to be claimed, you say.
It isn’t easy, Samuel gets it wrong at first. Speak your servant is listening. Misses the address, missed the identification. But that’s ok, that will come. Because it comes from a servant’s heart. Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.
I got an email and now I have laundry to do. Listen, and follow.
Shalom,
Derek
Last Sunday we got a call that it seemed like the end, so instead of leaving on Tuesday, like she has been doing for a couple of months, she left on Sunday afternoon. Now it is Saturday and he is still hanging in. But because death seems so close, La Donna is not coming home this weekend. And in fact is making plans to be gone all next week too, should that be necessary. She is where she needs to be, and we are happy to make it possible for her to be there. But we seem a bit lost around here.
It’s not that I’m incompetent as a dad and runner of a household. No, really. It’s not. It’s just that we get used to certain patterns, certain rhythms. We get used to defaulting to certain ones to make certain decisions, to fulfill certain tasks. And when the one who usually makes those decisions, does those tasks, is no longer around, there is a void. An emptiness that seems to suck the life out of everything. It becomes hard to do the things that we would normally do ourselves. There is a lack of focus, a depletion of will, a general malaise that settles down up all of us and we don’t even know why for sure.
All of which describes the situation for the boy Samuel. But he didn’t know it. He was just a kid, doing what he was told. He didn’t have any sense of the big picture. He didn’t know what was behind the scenes, what was underneath the daily duties he performed without question, or what was above the ceiling which caught to wisps of smoke from the lantern in the holy place. All he knew was duty, and he did it. Mostly because there wasn’t anyone else to do it. Eli, his mentor, was going blind and could no longer perform the duties of his office. And his sons, who should have been stepping up to fulfill those duties had already made such a mess of their power and authority that faith in the institution of the priesthood was at a very low ebb.
But Samuel just did his job. No matter what was swirling around him, he performed his duties. And this was the result.
1 Samuel 3:1-10 Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the LORD under Eli. The word of the LORD was rare in those days; visions were not widespread. 2 At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; 3 the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the LORD, where the ark of God was. 4 Then the LORD called, "Samuel! Samuel!" and he said, "Here I am!" 5 and ran to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." But he said, "I did not call; lie down again." So he went and lay down. 6 The LORD called again, "Samuel!" Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." But he said, "I did not call, my son; lie down again." 7 Now Samuel did not yet know the LORD, and the word of the LORD had not yet been revealed to him. 8 The LORD called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." Then Eli perceived that the LORD was calling the boy. 9 Therefore Eli said to Samuel, "Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, 'Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.'" So Samuel went and lay down in his place. 10 Now the LORD came and stood there, calling as before, "Samuel! Samuel!" And Samuel said, "Speak, for your servant is listening."
“The word of the Lord was rare in those days.” Seems an odd sort of beginning for a story that takes place in the temple of the Lord. And yet there it is. So, Samuel’s days were filled with the thousand little details that Eli could no longer perform in order to keep the rituals ready for the people of God, who were like sheep without a shepherd, because the word of the Lord was rare in those days.
Makes you wonder what people turned to when they didn’t have access to the voice of God, doesn’t it? What sorts of authority did people call on, what sorts of diversions did they obsess over, what sorts of voices did they listen to? To fill the empty nights and to cover up the loneliness of living what sounds did they ache for?
Living a directionless life is draining as well as pointless. It messes with your sense of self-worth as well as emptying you of ambition and of hope. So, what are we left with these days, when “the word of the Lord is rare”? Are we just supposed to generate our own direction? Are we left to our own devices? It is, indeed, all about us after all?
Or do we listen deeper? Is there something to hear after all? We’ve convinced ourselves that what we see is what we get, or this is all there is, or ... whatever. But even though the word of the Lord is rare, even though those who are supposed to speak for the are going blind, the “lamp of God has not yet gone out.” We may have given up on God, but God has not given up on us.
The Voice still calls. It may be night in our souls, the darkness of doubt and fear and emptiness, but the voice still calls. That is what our faith tells us, when our ears are wearying of listening to the silence. But then, there isn’t any silence any more, is there? That may be why we don’t hear, not because it is too quiet, but because it is too loud. Loud in our world with distractions aplenty, voices calling, blaming, warning, vying for our attention. Loud in our souls where we are filled up with our own questions and fears, filled up with our own failures and inadequacies. It is so loud we don’t hear the Voice any more, the Voice that leads and comforts, the Voice that challenges and guides. We don’t hear it anymore because we’ve stopped listening. Or if we do hear it it sounds just like all the other voices around us. No wonder Samuel thought it was Eli. No wonder we think it is a spouse or a friend, or a book we read or a song we heard. No wonder we thought it was indigestion or an impulse to do something really crazy. Because we’ve forgotten how to listen for the voice.
When Eli finally, finally!, figures out what is going on he begins to teach, he begins to mentor. Instead using Samuel as someone to do the grunt work, to clean now ask questions later, he finally begins to introduce him to the source of the voice. He names that source “Lord.” Say “Speak Lord,” says Eli, that’s what you say. That’s the beginning of putting yourself within hearing distance of the Voice. And then, having identified the source, put your self in position, “your servant” the one who follows, the one who obeys, the one who does. “Your servant is listening,” that’s what you say, says Eli. You say, I know who you are, I know who I am, and I want to hear what you have to say. I want to be led, I want to be taught. I want to be claimed, you say.
It isn’t easy, Samuel gets it wrong at first. Speak your servant is listening. Misses the address, missed the identification. But that’s ok, that will come. Because it comes from a servant’s heart. Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.
I got an email and now I have laundry to do. Listen, and follow.
Shalom,
Derek
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