1 Samuel 16: 1–13
Ephesians 5: 8–14
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May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be
acceptable in thy sight, O Lord our strength and our redeemer. Amen.
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Lent, they say, is preparation for Easter, for the new life Resurrection
can bring to us. And two things have shaped my experience of Lent
this year. The first was Bishop Wright’s visit to us, just a
few short weeks before Lent began. For in preparation for his
visit we all re–examined the questions and answers of the old
Catechism, trying to see our faith through its authoritative
words. I can’t honestly say that my faith is now different
because of those ancient questions and answers, but studying them
certainly humbled me, giving me the sense that I have a lot to live up
to, a lot still to learn.
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The second thing that has – for me — been different about
Lent this year, has been image after image of God’s Holy Spirit
in our Gospel passages – in water and wind and in the person of
Jesus Christ – all to persuade us that God’s transformative
power is all around us, totally accessible — if only we have the
eyes to see it, if only we will allow the Holy Spirit free reign in our
own lives. So, as I approached the scripture passages for this
morning, I was looking for some of those big Holy Spirit
themes — and expecting to find them.
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But in that I was disappointed, at least at first. I could see
only the advice of St. Paul in his letter to the Ephesians that they
were to shun the works of darkness that others walked
in . . . and choose instead to walk in
the light of Christ. But this upright advice accompanied the odd
little story from First Samuel about the old prophet perpetrating a
kind of holy deception, right under the nose of King Saul, as he
anointed a new king for Israel. And all this by the guidance of
the Lord God himself. So, what was I to make of this? What
was the big Holy Spirit principle here? And how did it apply
to me?
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With these questions in mind, I looked again at the story in First
Samuel and saw, first, how eminently practical it was. The Lord
God had already found Saul lacking in any of the qualities he wanted in
a King of Israel – obedience, humility, self–control. He
also knew that Saul would kill Samuel if he ever discovered him in the
treasonous act of anointing a new king while he, the sitting king, was
still alive. So, in mercy, the Lord God gives Samuel a plausible
excuse to go in secret to
Bethlehem . . . and plausible lines to
speak that will conceal his true intentions. By God’s mercy,
I saw, both the young boy’s life and the old prophet’s life
were spared . . . and God’s
benevolent will was accomplished for all of Israel. So, that was
the first principle I found – that God in his mercy, God in his
providence, is always doing things for us that we don’t immediately
understand. Deception was not the lesson to be learned
here. But God’s mercy – even for the least in his
kingdom – was crucial.
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Still, I wondered what it was about young David that caused God to
choose him? All we really know about him is that he’s
good looking, though something like the runt of the litter. And
we understand there is something in his heart that God sees and
appreciates. But what was that quality, I wondered?
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That’s when I remembered what the life of a shepherd in Israel
was really like – not in romantic terms, but practical
ones. When you and I think of sheep and shepherds we tend to
think of lush green meadows planted in alfalfa, with maybe a quiet
stream meandering through. But in Israel, even today, any land
that is arable, well–watered and even fairly level is reserved
for growing crops that will feed people – not sheep, but people.
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So, the young shepherd’s job was a much more hazardous one than
we might think. He went ahead of the flock into the sparse
vegetation of the wilderness to uproot poisonous weeds and thorns and
to drive out any snakes or scorpions’ nests that might endanger
the sheep. Then, at night, he corralled them in a
sheepfold – keeping watch for prowling mountain lions or
bears. No wonder, in that wilderness, David learned to rely on
God for provision, for direction, for protection. No wonder he
began to see God as his close companion.
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But it went even farther than that. Thomas Merton once wrote,
Your life is shaped by the end you live for.
You are made in the image of what you desire.
Clearly, out there in that hazardous wilderness with only God as his
companion, David had begun to live for God. So, it’s hardly
surprising that though he was the youngest son of
Jesse . . . who belonged to the smallest
clan . . . of the smallest tribe of
Israel . . . God chose David to be King
over Israel. He wasn’t looking at the young shepherd’s
stature or his standing in the community. God was looking at his
heart, his heart that lived for God. No wonder that one day David
would be king of Israel, a man after God’s own heart.
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You and I can hardly hope for more.
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And once I thought of that, I began to see other similarities that you
and I share with David. For you and I too live in a kind of
wilderness, a wilderness where many people have forgotten that God
exists, that God cares for them. In fact, God has surrounded us
with people like that – wandering sheep to care for, to pray
for. What they don’t yet understand is this: though
they have largely forgotten God, God has not forgotten them. So,
no less than David with his sheep, with God’s help we are to watch
out for them, pray for them, care for them.
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And by the grace of God both shepherd and sheep will be cared for.
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I bid you all a holy Lent.
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Amen.
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