1 Samuel 3:1-10; May 26, 2024; Memorial Day Sunday
If you follow me on Facebook or Instagram, you would have seen about a million photos from this past week of my trip to Disney World, which was a father and son exclusive. Yes, just me and my son, Seth. And as exhausting as it was, it was also truly magical and awesome in every sense of the word. As I wrote on Facebook, it was full of moments and experiences that will fill the memory book of my life.
For this trip, Seth was all about character meetups and shared dining experiences with them. And, as such, we spent most of our time in Hollywood Studios hunting down Star Wars goons and villains to satisfy him. But truth be told, we also dined with the likes of Winne the Pooh, Mickey, Goofy and all of the princesses too. So, it wasn’t all so dark and evil, thanks be to God.
But interestingly, the one character we didn’t see or dine with is perhaps also one of the most iconic, and synonymous with the castle on all of those postcards from the Magic Kingdom: Cinderella. And boy, Seth really wanted to see her too (I think he has a crush on her, and yes, Seth has aged up to knowing what a crush is), but it just wasn’t meant to be. We didn’t see her.
And so, I kept thinking about Cinderella when trying to write this sermon on the plane ride home, through unbearable turbulence, babies screaming, and loud music to drown it all out. I kept thinking about her life trapped in a house with those evil sisters and doing the grunt work of service and hospitality. And I kept thinking about how her story turned out. From being the runt of the litter so to speak (though, a beautiful runt at that) to the one who fits the glass slipper, who is chosen, and whisked away to a dream far beyond the harshness of reality.
And so, I kept thinking about her as I kept reading my scripture. And drawing a line of connection from her story to how God is also, surprisingly, almost always choosing the runts and whisking them away from a life to a calling. To a dream.
From the rugrats of the disciples, to women like Ruth and Esther, and to the brutes of Paul and David, God surprisingly calls on those least expected to be chosen as God’s authors, God’s prophets, judges, and kings. I mean, heck, God even anointed that little guy in the manger in crummy old Nazareth, born to a young girl and a lowly carpenter, to be the Messiah of messiahs — who would then, ironically, live out a life of service and hospitality for the sake of the whole world.
And so, I thought about how God is constantly working through the overlooked, the scorned, and rejected. And even, surprise, through young children just as much as God works through older, more experienced adults.
See, according to the Jewish historian Josephus, Samuel, in our text, was only 12 years old when God called him. 12 turning 13. And while the correlation can easily be made between that age and Jewish celebrations of bat and bar mitzvahs, I yet kept thinking about how surprising and amazing it was that God called such a young child to be God’s chosen mouthpiece and prophet through a difficult time in the life and story of the Jewish people.
And I thought that perhaps it’s because young children often see the world as full of possibilities and imagination and wonder without all the jaded skepticism and harshness of reality that the encroaching glacier of older age usually brings.
Whereas, for instance, this past week I would find myself thinking: “I wonder how much Disney pays these guys to walk around in 90-degree heat in these furry costumes – do they get health insurance and benefits and OT, yeah, I bet not –” when likely, at the same time, all that Seth was thinking about (because he repeatedly told me so) was, “Daddy, that’s the real Kylo Ren! And he must be so happy to be here! And yeah, he’s going to take me on his prisoner transport back to a Star Destroyer!”
You see, kids, mercifully don’t see what we see, and just as mercifully, don’t think as we think. And again, thanks be to God for that.
But also, thanks be for the good and surprising news today, that God can literally work through anyone, the Cinderellas and our youngest here among us, to bring hope and happiness to dreary minds and collapsing worlds; for almost always, God in scripture and in our lives goes out of the way to choose the most obscure and surprising of all people to wear the glass slipper and lead the rest of us through and out of the wilderness.
Such that even when we don’t want to acknowledge those people as anointed, due to our eyesight being dim, God both can and will. For unlike ours, the lamp of God does not go out.
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Yes, the lamp of God does not go out.
Even if surrounded and hounded by the machinery of monotony and repetition, the lamp and energy of God does not go out.
Isn’t it amazing how our kids don’t notice when our lamps go out; how they can just ask for the same thing over and over and over again, and not get tired of it? Isn’t that amazing?
I mean, Seth and I rode Rise of the Resistance (a superb ride!) four times and we went to the same live-action show about “The First Order searches for a Spy” five different times, even though the story never changed! And each sequential time might as well have been the very first time for him. For apparently, that repetition didn’t bother him at all, nor did it feel monotonous, even when I, as his father, wearily pointed it out.
But you see, that’s what separates me as an adult from my son as a child, and more, from entities like God. For unlike mine, God’s lamp, surprisingly, and amazingly, does not go out.
For here also in this interaction with Samuel, three different times Samuel is called, and yet three times the exact same scenario plays out with Samuel rising, running, and lying down again. It’s monotonous, as you heard, and it repeats and repeats again. It’s only on the fourth time that the narrative finally changes.
Perhaps then, another surprise today, is learning that God might actually like monotony and repetition just as much as our children do!
I mean, somewhat tangentially, I always thought that living for eternity would feel like a chore… but perhaps if God sees as if through the eyes of an innocent child, perhaps eternity, just like monotony and repetition is the most amazing thing ever!
A reminder then that just as the sun rises, so mercifully does God and God’s son, ready to forgive us, and call us, and wait on us again, and again, and again, and again.
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And so, I think that the final surprise today my friends, is that God waits on us and calls us, again and again, even if not especially when we’re shutdown and at rest.
Samuel is told in our text today to lie down four times. Four times he is told, Samuel, just lie down.
And it’s on that fourth time to lie down that God’s calling is finally understood, and that Samuel’s response is finally actualized.
You see, we often think in this world that in order to get by and achieve our dreams, that we need to constantly be in motion, in movement, but here we are reminded that we need to hit pause.
To pause, lie down, and listen. And to do so again and again.
For we’ll never be able to see or hear God, little runts and rugrats as we are, if our lives remain full of noise and distraction.
So, my friends, here at the end, let us try that now.
And let us surprise ourselves by just how long we can sit still and remain silent.
Amen.
