Today’s devotional reading from Fruit of the Vine comes from I Samuel 3, the story of the voice in the night. I find it an apt word for us in the Northwest Yearly Meeting of Friends.
This month we gather again for mid-year board and representatives’ meetings. And once again we are focusing on our response to questions of human sexuality, particularly same-sex committed relationships.
The voice came to Samuel during a historical period when “the word of the Lord was rare.” That may describe us as a community of faith. We simply have not yet discerned together the word of the Lord on this issue. Many, with widely differing perspectives, claim to know “way forward” (that great, but slightly overused, Quaker phrase), and the “knowings” bring together a maze of options.
I take courage from this simple story in I Samuel. Even in that winter season, the word of the Lord did, finally, come. And it came to a young person. Samuel was probably around 12 years old at the time. He was in training under Eli the priest and regularly “ministering before the Lord,” carrying out temple duties and serving Eli, as instructed. He had never before directly discerned God’s voice, but he was certainly accessible to God.
When the word finally came, an adult respected God’s choice and encouraged that young person. Eli finally understood the nature of the voice and instructed Samuel in his response. Eli’s role in the story was crucial, even though it thrust him into the background as young Samuel would gradually assume a leadership role. And even though the message that came that night was not what Eli would have hoped for.
Yes, I take courage. In this, our winter season, God can speak to us. We need to prepare ourselves, be accessible, continue active in “ministering before the Lord,” even when we don’t hear God’s voice. We need to be open to whatever messengers God chooses, including our young people. In fact, we need to actively encourage the younger generations to wait for, expect and respond to God’s word to them, for all of us. And we need to be ready to listen, even when the words are hard to take.
As I write this, it’s a cold but bright winter morning. Not dark at all. Snow covers the hills, and ice makes the roads dangerous. But hope is in the air. I choose to keep open. Waiting.
“Speak, Lord, for your servants are listening.”
(Thanks to Chuck Orwiler for his week of devotionals. Insightful and encouraging.)