Given that today is All Hallow’s Eve, I feel compelled to warn you about the potential presence of Zombies, Vampires, and Werewolves. Zombies are those in the church who crave the brains of visitors and new members, but they reject the ideas they produce. Vampires are those in the church that crave new blood, but only in order to sustain what they hold dear. Werewolves are those who seem normal and kind, but there are certain issues and topics that can turn them into ravenous beasts!
In case you are concerned, I am not calling out anyone in particular. I am instead acknowledging that each of us has the potential to be monsters when do not attend to the thing these monsters fear – the cross of Jesus Christ.
Our scriptures today, as they are from the Old Testament, speak of the anointing of David, which is of course the line established in the Bible that leads to Jesus. We’ll probably talk a little more about why that matters in a few Sundays when we talk about the Reign of Christ.
Today we’re going to focus on the hope we have in the way God judges by the heart rather than appearances. We’re told that in 1 Samuel 16:7 when God is rejecting all of David’s brothers from the selection pool of potential kings. In fact, in John 7:24, Jesus tells a group of Pharisees to do the same when they condemn him for healing on the Sabbath. “Do not judge by appearances, but judge with right judgment.”
Hold up. How are we, who are clearly not God, to judge with right judgment? That’s where Psalm 51 comes in with a plea to God to renew our hearts and place a new and right spirit within us – and isn’t that the need we bring with us as we approach the way of Jesus? You could argue that a renewed heart is the salvation that we receive. Sure, there are eternal rewards that go along with our salvation, but if we have to die to begin living then this life doesn’t seem to have much meaning to it.
The place of meaning, the source of renewal that we see in this text is not in the glory of God displayed and written across the heavens. It is in the still, small voice of inspiration that Samuel listens to throughout his life. You may remember the story of Samuel as a boy in the temple hearing God's call in the night. His mentor, the Prophet Eli, confirmed it – even when God condemned Eli’s successors, his sons, for abusing the privileges of the priesthood (and the people along with it).
Samuel was faithful where others were not and he listened to God who said, “You people don’t want a king. He will abuse you.” The people said, “No. We definitely want a king – a strong leader like other nations.” So Samuel listened to God and anointed Saul, and it worked out about like God said it would.
At this point in the story, Saul has become a tyrant king and in 15:11 God said, “I regret making him king.” My bad. Let’s try again, says the Lord. We also see in 8:1-3 that Samuel’s sons are no better than Eli’s and they are “perverting justice.”
I can’t help but think Eli feels like he’s done everything he can do to make things right, and everything just seems to turn out wrong. We know what that feels like, right? Sometimes that’s just the way things go. It’s an imperfect world. We can certainly look at the 1,000 failures of Thomas Edison that came before the first successful light bulb or the testimony of Michael Jordan who says that he’s missed over 9,000 shots, lost around 300 games, and missed at least 26 game-winning shots that others trusted him to make.
We can say that perseverance is all that matters and in some cases, we might be right, but that’s not the point of our text today – unless of course, we are talking about the perseverance of God.
Just as we saw in the call of Moses and the Manna in the wilderness, the hero in our story is still, believe it or not, God. I don’t mean to discount Samuel’s faith – because it matters – but the one who calls and ordains is, was, and shall be...God. I know it seems at times that God is pretty remote, what with spinning the planets and all of that, but this story reminds us that God is active and present and encouraging us toward the good.
I know that sounds good, but sometimes we all want to see it, right? I heard a comedian the other day saying that it sure would be nice if God would at least hold a press conference from time to time. So much could be cleared up. Is a platypus a mammal or a marsupial? I mean, what did you have in mind there?
Unfortunately, that’s just not the way it works, and if you went around telling people that God was giving you special messages they would probably become suddenly concerned with effective social distancing. What does work, and has worked, is that we hear these words from scripture, “How long will you grieve over Saul? I have rejected him from being king over Israel. Fill your horn with oil and set out.”
I say that these words matter because grief is a funny thing, and I believe that many of us are in its grip at this time – not over a political leader (though some may be) but over the loss of normalcy during a time of great social upheaval. Psychologists tell us that grief impacts everyone a little differently, and it’s not always an obvious thing. It often has physical symptoms like fatigue or mental confusion. It affects our motivation, and old grief can be triggered by new losses so that it becomes compounded and relived and just hard to get away from.
Of course, the classic model of stages of grief are denial, anger, depression, bargaining, and acceptance; but it doesn’t necessarily work like a checklist. Sometimes we think that we’ve gotten one done and then some memory triggers emotion and we realize, “Wow. I guess I’m still angry about that.”
The best thing I’ve ever heard about grief is that we do not get over our losses, we move forward with them. Grieving is like walking on a beach. The waves of memories come and go. Sometimes the tide rolls in too quickly and it knocks you down or gets you uncomfortably wet, and you just keep going. It’s not the loss that defines you or your experience – it’s the fact that you keep going. You don’t live on the beach (though some of us might like to, metaphorically and physically).
Get up and keep going is what God is telling Samuel to do in this text. More than that, God is saying, “I will send you. I have provided.” When Samuel asks about Saul, God says, “Don’t worry about Saul. Just go to church with Jesse.” The text doesn’t say if Samuel told Jesse why he wanted to anoint one of his sons, but we can guess that Jesse knew who Samuel was. It had to have been a great honor no matter what.
We also have no idea why the others were passed up, accept that God wanted to make the point that the choice wasn’t based on the appearance – which is funny since David is described as “ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome.” I honestly don’t know what to do with that, but I do think it is interesting that the one who was not present because he was serving others is the one whose heart was closer to God’s.
You know David is often described as “a man after God’s own heart,” which is also interesting given that David did some pretty terrible things in the time before and during his kingship. Perhaps the difference is that David never turned to foreign gods, and David was wise enough to express, or at least to commission Psalms like Psalm 51 that express, the longing for a renewed heart and a good and right spirit.
That longing is what keeps us from becoming the monsters that we fear. That longing is what opens us up to what God is already doing – the renewal that comes with every new day.
Here’s the beautiful thing. God is so persistent in bringing about love and justice and mercy that God has set things up in such a way that the one who judges you by your heart – by the content of your character – is also the one who renews your heart and restores your soul!
It’s kind of like God is inspecting God’s own handiwork. That doesn’t mean that you and I don’t have a role to play. It just means that we aren’t alone. It means that we have the chance to talk to one another about the monsters that we have been and find a new way that is “without bloodshed. (51:14)”
You and I may have a lot of work to do to figure out how to restrain our sin without bloodshed, but I think there’s a lot of hope in the joy and wonder of children. One of you told me the other day about your grandchild who is dressing as Santa for Halloween. He’s not going trick or treating, even though he is the right age for it. He’s staying home and giving out candy because Santa doesn’t take things. He gives.
May it be that we can all be renewed in a similar way, not judging others by what we see and instead focusing on our own renewal and the chances to demonstrate love and hope and justice unperverted wherever we go – and all to the glory of God. Amen!
In case you are concerned, I am not calling out anyone in particular. I am instead acknowledging that each of us has the potential to be monsters when do not attend to the thing these monsters fear – the cross of Jesus Christ.
Our scriptures today, as they are from the Old Testament, speak of the anointing of David, which is of course the line established in the Bible that leads to Jesus. We’ll probably talk a little more about why that matters in a few Sundays when we talk about the Reign of Christ.
Today we’re going to focus on the hope we have in the way God judges by the heart rather than appearances. We’re told that in 1 Samuel 16:7 when God is rejecting all of David’s brothers from the selection pool of potential kings. In fact, in John 7:24, Jesus tells a group of Pharisees to do the same when they condemn him for healing on the Sabbath. “Do not judge by appearances, but judge with right judgment.”
Hold up. How are we, who are clearly not God, to judge with right judgment? That’s where Psalm 51 comes in with a plea to God to renew our hearts and place a new and right spirit within us – and isn’t that the need we bring with us as we approach the way of Jesus? You could argue that a renewed heart is the salvation that we receive. Sure, there are eternal rewards that go along with our salvation, but if we have to die to begin living then this life doesn’t seem to have much meaning to it.
The place of meaning, the source of renewal that we see in this text is not in the glory of God displayed and written across the heavens. It is in the still, small voice of inspiration that Samuel listens to throughout his life. You may remember the story of Samuel as a boy in the temple hearing God's call in the night. His mentor, the Prophet Eli, confirmed it – even when God condemned Eli’s successors, his sons, for abusing the privileges of the priesthood (and the people along with it).
Samuel was faithful where others were not and he listened to God who said, “You people don’t want a king. He will abuse you.” The people said, “No. We definitely want a king – a strong leader like other nations.” So Samuel listened to God and anointed Saul, and it worked out about like God said it would.
At this point in the story, Saul has become a tyrant king and in 15:11 God said, “I regret making him king.” My bad. Let’s try again, says the Lord. We also see in 8:1-3 that Samuel’s sons are no better than Eli’s and they are “perverting justice.”
I can’t help but think Eli feels like he’s done everything he can do to make things right, and everything just seems to turn out wrong. We know what that feels like, right? Sometimes that’s just the way things go. It’s an imperfect world. We can certainly look at the 1,000 failures of Thomas Edison that came before the first successful light bulb or the testimony of Michael Jordan who says that he’s missed over 9,000 shots, lost around 300 games, and missed at least 26 game-winning shots that others trusted him to make.
We can say that perseverance is all that matters and in some cases, we might be right, but that’s not the point of our text today – unless of course, we are talking about the perseverance of God.
Just as we saw in the call of Moses and the Manna in the wilderness, the hero in our story is still, believe it or not, God. I don’t mean to discount Samuel’s faith – because it matters – but the one who calls and ordains is, was, and shall be...God. I know it seems at times that God is pretty remote, what with spinning the planets and all of that, but this story reminds us that God is active and present and encouraging us toward the good.
I know that sounds good, but sometimes we all want to see it, right? I heard a comedian the other day saying that it sure would be nice if God would at least hold a press conference from time to time. So much could be cleared up. Is a platypus a mammal or a marsupial? I mean, what did you have in mind there?
Unfortunately, that’s just not the way it works, and if you went around telling people that God was giving you special messages they would probably become suddenly concerned with effective social distancing. What does work, and has worked, is that we hear these words from scripture, “How long will you grieve over Saul? I have rejected him from being king over Israel. Fill your horn with oil and set out.”
I say that these words matter because grief is a funny thing, and I believe that many of us are in its grip at this time – not over a political leader (though some may be) but over the loss of normalcy during a time of great social upheaval. Psychologists tell us that grief impacts everyone a little differently, and it’s not always an obvious thing. It often has physical symptoms like fatigue or mental confusion. It affects our motivation, and old grief can be triggered by new losses so that it becomes compounded and relived and just hard to get away from.
Of course, the classic model of stages of grief are denial, anger, depression, bargaining, and acceptance; but it doesn’t necessarily work like a checklist. Sometimes we think that we’ve gotten one done and then some memory triggers emotion and we realize, “Wow. I guess I’m still angry about that.”
The best thing I’ve ever heard about grief is that we do not get over our losses, we move forward with them. Grieving is like walking on a beach. The waves of memories come and go. Sometimes the tide rolls in too quickly and it knocks you down or gets you uncomfortably wet, and you just keep going. It’s not the loss that defines you or your experience – it’s the fact that you keep going. You don’t live on the beach (though some of us might like to, metaphorically and physically).
Get up and keep going is what God is telling Samuel to do in this text. More than that, God is saying, “I will send you. I have provided.” When Samuel asks about Saul, God says, “Don’t worry about Saul. Just go to church with Jesse.” The text doesn’t say if Samuel told Jesse why he wanted to anoint one of his sons, but we can guess that Jesse knew who Samuel was. It had to have been a great honor no matter what.
We also have no idea why the others were passed up, accept that God wanted to make the point that the choice wasn’t based on the appearance – which is funny since David is described as “ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome.” I honestly don’t know what to do with that, but I do think it is interesting that the one who was not present because he was serving others is the one whose heart was closer to God’s.
You know David is often described as “a man after God’s own heart,” which is also interesting given that David did some pretty terrible things in the time before and during his kingship. Perhaps the difference is that David never turned to foreign gods, and David was wise enough to express, or at least to commission Psalms like Psalm 51 that express, the longing for a renewed heart and a good and right spirit.
That longing is what keeps us from becoming the monsters that we fear. That longing is what opens us up to what God is already doing – the renewal that comes with every new day.
Here’s the beautiful thing. God is so persistent in bringing about love and justice and mercy that God has set things up in such a way that the one who judges you by your heart – by the content of your character – is also the one who renews your heart and restores your soul!
It’s kind of like God is inspecting God’s own handiwork. That doesn’t mean that you and I don’t have a role to play. It just means that we aren’t alone. It means that we have the chance to talk to one another about the monsters that we have been and find a new way that is “without bloodshed. (51:14)”
You and I may have a lot of work to do to figure out how to restrain our sin without bloodshed, but I think there’s a lot of hope in the joy and wonder of children. One of you told me the other day about your grandchild who is dressing as Santa for Halloween. He’s not going trick or treating, even though he is the right age for it. He’s staying home and giving out candy because Santa doesn’t take things. He gives.
May it be that we can all be renewed in a similar way, not judging others by what we see and instead focusing on our own renewal and the chances to demonstrate love and hope and justice unperverted wherever we go – and all to the glory of God. Amen!
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