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.)
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