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Sunday’s Sermon – Down the Shore – Acts 16:9-15

May 26, 2019 Leave a Comment

This weekend marks the official start of summer for many Americans. Cookouts and time spent on the lake or in the backyard are the order of the day. School may have a few more hours for some, but on the whole children in our area this week are crying “freeedommm!” from studies. It’s a season marked by relaxation and recreation, and this weekend is often seen as a kick-off of such fun. In the first church I served, just outside of Philadelphia, I had a bit of a learning curve on what summer weekend life could look like when I first began in ministry. Almost every week from June until August, I heard people ask, “What are you doing this weekend?” “Going down the shore.” Down the shore. It took me a while to register the phrase that seemed odd to my Southern earns. It’s how those in the northeast, particularly those near enough to the coastline between New York and Delaware describe going to the beach. And the road from Philadelphia to the Jersey Shore, be it Ocean City or Cape May, was bumper to bumper every Friday afternoon. “Down the shore” was more than just about a destination, I learned. It was a way to describe getting away from it all to enjoy a time of rest or to let loose and breathe a little. For those who were living crazy busy lives in the city, it brought relief and much needed balance.

In today’s scripture reading, we have a story of going “down the shore.” Paul and his companions, Silas and Timothy, are on what we might call a European vacation, journeying throughout Roman colonies like Galatia and the district of Macedonia. We know from the text that they are following a vision from God, and have settled in the city for at least a few days to accomplish it. And then, the sabbath day comes, and they take a pause. They go to the river to pray, and find many kindred spirits present.

This part of Paul’s journey brings him into connection with a woman named Lydia. We are introduced to her as a “dealer in purple cloth,” which signifies that she is a businesswoman. And likely a successful one, as she is in charge of her own household. Her business dealings were with an extravagant material, reserved usually just for the elite class of Philippi. The very fact that she is named at all is significant to her place within the community and the story; and more she is presented with honor and recognition.

Lydia, on this day, has gone “down the shore.” We presume she is taking a break from her negotiations and is engaging in a time of prayer on the sabbath day. More than just a place to splash in the water or take a nap, the banks of a river are known throughout scriptures to be a place of nourishment and refreshment spiritually as well. We know Lydia is a worshiper of God, distinguishing her from other Gentiles in the area, but at the start her motivations are unclear. As Ronald Cole-Turner offers:

She came to the riverside, to a secluded place of prayer. Perhaps she expected to meet other women, Jewish worshipers or Gentile seekers, for prayer together. Perhaps she came regularly. What she did not know was that on this particularly day outside the city gates, she would be met by Paul and his companions, missionaries looking for anyone who was seeking God in this hidden place of prayer. There at the riverside, Lydia found the God who was finding her

. . .

Here is the center of the story, the moment of intersection between human obedience and divine initiative. Longing and grace meet there on the bank of the river. The longing heart of a faithful woman is opened by the gracious impulse of a faith-giving God in an action that, like the incarnation itself, is at once fully human and fully divine[i].

This seeming “chance meeting” is only possible because both Lydia and Paul dared to take time to go “down the shore.” They move outside the city, changing the pace and rhythm of their lives in a way that enables them to embrace a new vision from God. What a fitting text on this weekend that is the launch of a new season. Perhaps, as we make our summer plans, we might also consider in what ways we are opening ourselves spiritually to grow and encounter God in times of prayer.

Throughout my life, one of my favorite places to go is Montreat, North Carolina. In fact, I can’t wait to spend some time there in just a few weeks. The past few summers, I’ve accompanied our youth group to the high school youth conference there. And for at least a few minutes each day, I’ve found myself setting up “my office” for a time of reading and reflection next to either Lake Susan or one of the creeks that babble as ice cold water tumbles over smooth rocks. It is particularly peaceful, and offers a perfect backdrop for thinking and praying. There’s something about that environment that sets up the possibility of profound moments in faith, or at least a few moments for good deep breathing. And while it’s true, I can find those moments here in Georgia, it seems that sometimes I have to physically move myself to some new location in order to see what God is really up to in my life. I wonder if it was the same for Lydia.

We read in verse 14 that “the Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul.” She was hungry for some words of hope. No doubt he and his missionary companions spoke about the wonders of the resurrection and the joy of the living Christ. Here, though, we don’t get a lengthy account of Paul’s sermon. Perhaps, and I say this both anxiously and aware of the irony, what exactly Paul said wasn’t the point. What was most meaningful is that Lydia and others, were in a posture to receive the good news that was presented to them.

Where in your life are you in the best posture to receive God’s good news? Is it here in this Sanctuary? With a cup of coffee on your patio with your favorite devotional book? Watching the waves lap against the shoreline with your toes in the sand? Our text prompts us to carve out sacred spaces in our lives and engage in prayer that can be life-changing.

If you aren’t paying attention, you’ll almost miss what happens next. Lydia, and her household, were baptized, and she moves from opening her heart to God to opening her home to God’s missionaries. We imagine her to embark on a ministry of hospitality, worship and learning, becoming a model of leadership in the early church. Following their release from prison in verse 40 of this chapter, Paul and Silas will return to her house to encourage what appears to be a growing community of believers. The story of Lydia is sometimes characterized as evidence of the first European converts to Christianity. It is also seen as a powerful example of female leadership in the early church. But as inspiring as these two attributes are, I am most compelled by the fact that all of this was brought about by a willingness to set aside time for prayer and reflection. I read this text as an invitation to us today, to go “down the shore.” Or, as the gospel song goes, “down to the river to pray.”

In the movie O Brother, Where Art Thou, this song interrupts the 3 convicts trying to plan their next steps, as countless church-going singers in white robes descend on the river banks to be baptized. At the river, they find renewal and emerge refreshed for the journey of faith before them. One of the convicts is so swept up in the moment that he races into the water and emerges ecstatic that he has been forgiven. He calls to his friends “come on in boys, the water’s fine!” and one of them responds with an ear to ear grin. That is what it looks and feels like to be swept up in the gospel.

This morning, I’m not going to ask you to come be baptized; that’s not how Presbyterians work. But I am going to ask you to have a “baptismal moment” alongside Lydia and Paul on the banks of the river and consider what God might be calling you to this summer. Ask yourself how your might be nudged by the Spirit out of your comfort zone, out of the city gates if you will, and into a spirit of prayer that opens you to the possibilities for God’s transforming grace and radical good news to speak to you and through you into the building up of God’s community here on earth. Will your heart be opened, as Lydia’s was, to the gospel? Take a few moments, right here, right now, to go “down the shore” and find out.

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good old way
And who shall wear the starry crown
Good Lord, show me the way!

O sisters, let’s go down,
Let’s go down, come on down
O sisters, let’s go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good old way
And who shall wear the robe and crown
Good Lord, show me the way!

O brothers, let’s go down
Let’s go down, come on down
Come on, brothers, let’s go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good old way
And who shall wear the starry crown
Good Lord, show me the way!

Amen.

sermon preached by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

Heritage Presbyterian Church, May 26, 2019

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[i] Ronald Cole-Turner, “Acts 16:9-15: Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

Sunday’s Sermon – Listen. Look. Arise. – Song of Solomon 2:8-17

September 2, 2018 Leave a Comment

Imagine for a moment, life before Caller ID. The phone would ring, and you would not know who it was. So, you’d answer, and moments later some sort of greeting would come from the voice on the other end. I remember calling my grandfather, and how there would always be a slight pause after I chirped “Hi Paw-Paw!” I could hear him smile on the other end, and the warmth in the tone of his voice carried across the line. “Well, Elizabeth Kaye” he would always say, using my full name more often than not. It was more than just a cursory interaction to get conversation going; it was a moment of discovery and shared connection. He knew my voice. Whose voices do you recognize without a name on a screen or their face in front of you – parents? a best friend? I’ve found that even without seeing, I can pretty quickly determine whether a crying child belongs to me or not. Even the youngest infants will turn at a mother’s voice. Our ears seem trained on some voices, whether by instinct or simply hearing them more often.

Today’s text from the Song of Solomon begins with such a warm connection, as the poet hears the voice of her beloved, bounding in her direction. This book, not often one read from the pulpit, is a beautiful poetic masterpiece tucked into our Biblical canon, offering a sensual and profound reflection on one of life’s greatest gifts – love. The lyrics are descriptive and erotic, celebrating physical aspects of love and affection that may even make us blush when read, but laid out before us without shame. Instead, in this book we find a celebration of love the way it is meant to be, marked by passion and the sensuality of nature alongside mutual and reciprocal affection filled with delight.

Throughout the centuries of biblical interpretation, people of God have wrestled with what to make of it. Some have wondered if these are more historical poems referring to an actual human couple, such as Solomon, to whom the book is attributed, and a peasant bride. Contemporary scholars have offered that perhaps these are more anonymous secular ones, noting the similarities in style and function to Egyptian, Arabic, and Syrian love poems from around the same time. The most classic interpretation, is that it seems to serve as a masterful allegory of God’s love for Israel, although like the book of Esther, it never mentions the name of God directly. This morning, I’d like to offer a thought that resonated with me this week: rather than trying to draw a distinction between history and allegory, perhaps they aren’t really that different after all in relation to this book helping us better understand love – both in our relationships with others and in our relationship with God. Julia O’Brien notes that the lives of the soul and of the body are not that distinct, saying:

To be in love is to live beyond the boundaries of the self and to enter a realm of sheer delight, in which the human and divine can merge. Human love both allows us to celebrate God through our bodies and educates us in loving and being loved . . . [Song of Solomon] celebrates and perhaps even creates the feelings of passionate desiring and knowing oneself to be passionately desired. While loving and being loved are not the only goals of human existence, they can be transformative experiences that not only lead us to praise the One who makes joy possible but also exercise our capacities for love. Glimpsing oneself not as perfect but perfect for someone, wanted, sought after, is a cause for singing both secular love songs and hymns[i].

This passage in particular invites us into the joyful anticipation of being connected – to nature, to one another, and to God. It is a song of hope, brimming with energy, inspiring us to enter a new season of being in the world where we might be transformed by the renewing power of love, be it human or divine. How fitting to come to this text on the cusp of the beginning of fall and at a time in our church year when several new things are springing up around us. Next week, we will celebrate another beginning of learning and growing together in faith, and at the same time launch a longer visioning process in which we hope to be attentive to God’s guidance for our congregation in the future. Today’s verses prepare us for such a new vision and fresh start, with encouragement for how we might best engage with each other and with God in the process. It can be summarized in 3 verbs that almost outline our text: Listen, Look, and Arise.

Listen. That is what catches our attention, along with the poetess, at the beginning of the passage. Listening implies a certain posture of readiness; not being so self-involved or fixated on a task at hand that we become oblivious to the world around us. To listen to another person is one of the greatest gifts we can give one another. Rather than just waiting to insert our opinion, when we are truly listening, we are setting our own egos aside and are fully engrossed in accepting the gift of what someone else has to say to us. In a moment, our listening affirms that person’s self and says “I care about you. I’m here.” It is the most powerful relationship tool we can have with each other, yet it is one of the most difficult ones to maintain in the midst of all the noise around us.

In the case of our faith, listening for God’s voice can feel like a daunting task. It is awkward and confusing as we try to discern which is God’s voice and which are the voices around us. Nevertheless, we are called to listen for it, attentively, prayerfully. To do so well means engaging in a deep relationship with our Creator. The more we spend time in conversation with God, otherwise known as prayer, and the more we engage with God’s Word as revealed in Scripture, the sooner we begin to pick up on the whispers of God’s voice around us. Listening, with those we love, and with God, is an activity marked by relationship. Even before we are able to see what is coming, we hear the voice of our beloved.

When this happens, we cannot help but look. Our energy picks up and we begin to scan the horizon in anticipation of love’s light breaking through. Words evoke a vision for what could be. In this poem, it is clear that things have been difficult, but those days are no longer, “for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone” (verse 11). Such words imply that what has been spoken is not just sweet nothings or platitudes, but hope that springs even from dry places. It implies the reality of those things in life that keep us shut in and frozen, or looking out at dreary skies once again with lament. While it should be noted that any one relationship should not be the be-all-end-all of our happiness, it is certainly true that the love we share with others has the potential to turn even our worst days around. What is more, being connected with others helps us look in new directions. How often has a friend comforted you and helped you see things in a more positive way, or work through something? Or perhaps there has been tough-love, when a loved one forces you to take a hard look at some things that are not good for you or those around you. To look as a follow up of listening means that we truly “see” one another, not just on a surface level, but in deep real ways that encompass the whole spectrum of emotions and experiences. Looking involves both an awareness of the past, an honest analysis of the present, and even the ability to begin to imagine the possibilities of the future. It is seeing things as they have been and are, but in a way that is mindful they don’t always have to be that way.

For the people of God hearing these words from Song of Solomon, there may have also been a deep longing for a restored relationship with the Divine. When all else seems to have failed, we too search the horizons for signs of hope and promise. Looking is also discovering the possibilities and beauty in the world. When we look in this way, we engage in an appreciation of the amazing work of our Creator. It is no surprise that this poem is rich with images of nature – it is one way we glimpse the love of God for us, and all of the world. To take the pleasure in looking is to revel in God’s glory, and to open ourselves to God’s vision for the world, as it is, and as it should be.

Together, listening and looking lead us into a new vision – for our relationships with others, and for our relationship with the Divine. They draw us into authentic, intimate encounters in ways that transform us, and become an invitation for a new way of being in the world. Arise, repeated several times in the poem, is our summons to not just hear and see from a distance, but participate in the new creation that is springing forth. It reminds us that for love to be fully personified it must be acted upon. We cannot just assign it some words and paint verbal pictures of the beauty of nature. We must engage it with our whole selves and act.

This is the message of James in a nutshell, captured in the verses that accompany our poem in the lectionary. They remind us that in our lives and in our faith, it is not enough to simply think or say that we believe something. Our faith has to lead us to action if it is to be alive and true.

Listen. Look. Arise. These are the markers of strong, committed, intimate relationships. When we practice them, as individuals and community, they lead us to a rhythm of life marked by love and faith. They become our way of live, interwoven with creation, with each other, and with our Creator, and our lives will be richer as a result. A new season is coming. May these words, and the Word of God, lead us into it and into the new possibilities it contains, so that our lives ring out with poetry and song. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
September 2, 2018

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[i] Julia M. O’Brien, “Exegetical Perspective: Song of Solomon 2:8-13,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

Sunday’s Sermon – God Speaks – Psalm 50:1-6; Mark 9:2-9

February 11, 2018 Leave a Comment

Check 1 – 2 – 3 . . . testing . . . 1- 2- 3. Is this thing on? Don’t worry, we aren’t having sound issues this morning, but chances are you’ve heard this more than once as someone steps up to the microphone. Sometimes it’s even accompanied by the tapping of the mic, which makes every sound person I know cringe because it can cause damage to the microphone head (tip: don’t do that). Mic checks are an important part of presentations. Without good sound, a message can get lost. If a speaker is unsure, he or she will often start with something like this, or other inconsequential phrase, to test the waters and make sure people are listening before continuing with the main parts of the message.

The verses from our Psalm today are God stepping up to the microphone. While many of the other psalms are written from the perspective of the worshipping people, offering praise, lament, or thanksgiving, this one is different. Here we find the words of God alone, with the people of God listening in silence[i]. It is a captivating thing, to hear God speak. No mic check is needed for this, because this is God, the almighty, the one who has created the entire earth out of nothing, and who rules heaven and earth. We might imagine that God taking a place behind the figurative microphone would have ushered in a moment of stillness in the crowd, a silence brimming with eager anticipation of what was to come. Awe and wonder enveloping those listening ears.

The overarching message of the Psalm is the mightiness and the bigness of God. And God has something to say. Can you imagine it? How many times must the people of God have wondered about God’s ways, or if God was even present with them? How many times do we have those same questions? It seems we are far more accustomed to God working through other people, or in the words of the pages of our Bibles, or at least in subtle, quieter ways. But here, God is on display in full force. God speaks to God’s people, loud and clear. This is not business as usual. Something big is on the horizon.

In the same way, our gospel text marks an extraordinary revelation from the divine with the story of the transfiguration of Christ, when his very appearance changed beyond that which anything in this world could possibly create. It is meant to be overwhelming and impressive, larger-than-life. The scene gets even bigger with the appearance of Moses and Elijah, two superstars of the Hebrew people. Their presence is a marker that this is a big deal, and would have been in line with the expectations for people who had paid any attention to the promises made in the Hebrew Scriptures. If you imagine this mountaintop moment as a Super Bowl halftime show, fitting in many ways as it sits almost at the exact middle of the story according to the gospel of Mark, it would have been like N’Sync and Janet Jackson or Britney Spears joining Justin Timberlake on stage last Sunday night (I’ll let you decide who is who in that scenario). They weren’t the featured act, of course, but the crowd would have gone wild. And if they hadn’t been there, the entire scene might have gotten overshadowed by people wondering or even complaining about their absence.

As it is, though, the scene in Mark is spectacular, so much so that the disciples are terrified and overwhelmed. Peter stammers, trying to figure out what to do, offering to build three dwellings for them. He’s scrambling, unsure of what to make of all of this, and hinting that the pattern of the disciples’ misunderstanding of Jesus will continue. As if it wasn’t difficult enough to understand this man who they had been following around the hillsides, now Jesus is shining and there are two of the most legendary leaders in faith next to him. It should have been overwhelming to the disciples, and to us. What is happening matters.

Again, God takes to the microphone. Although it’s not written explicitly this way, I like to imagine a booming voice from the clouds. “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” These words echo those from the very beginning of the gospel spoken at Jesus’ baptism. But while in that story they are directed to Jesus, and we might wonder if anyone else even heard them, in this mountaintop setting, it is clear they are meant to be a divine proclamation, making sure that the disciples and anyone else within earshot gets the message – Jesus is the real deal. He is God’s Son. They better pay attention.

Brian Erickson notes that in both of these texts:

God is out in the open, speaking boldly, shining even on mortals (even church folk!).
The veil is torn, the gloves come off[ii].

The story of the Transfiguration in Mark and God’s speech in Psalm 50 are powerful words of warning to God’s people. They are meant to strike a sense of fear and respect. In the case of the Psalm, they are followed with reminders that the people of God need to get their act together, and that God has paid attention to both the good and the bad. In a similar way, the text in Mark follows Jesus predicting his death and resurrection, going so far as to identify Peter as Satan for setting his mind on human things not divine things. Our texts are bold words that command attention and response. Erickson continues, reminding us that:

God does not gather us together just for a divine fireworks display, God always has something to say, usually something to ask[iii].

In both texts, the request seems fairly straightforward: listen. For the disciples, this means paying attention to the teachings of Jesus and presumably following where he leads them. This seems at once both easy and impossible, particularly after God speaks with the clear affirmation that this is God’s Son. It is a tall order to be sure. Writer Madeleine L’Engle describes the revelation to the disciples on the mountaintop, and us today, in this way:

Suddenly they saw him the way he was,
The way he really was all the time,
Although they had never seen it before,
The glory which blinds the everyday eye
And so becomes invisible.
This is how he was, radiant, brilliant,
Carrying joy like a flaming sun in his hands.
This is the way he was – is – from the beginning,
And we cannot bear it.
So he manned himself, came manifest to us;
And there on the mountain they saw him, really saw him,
Saw his light.
We all know that if we really see him we die.
But isn’t that what is required of us?
Then, perhaps, we will see each other, too[iv].

The story of the transfiguration is meant to draw us into the mystery of Christ, into a moment where we, like the disciples, might be overwhelmed and maybe a little bit terrified. After all, God is speaking, and that’s a pretty big deal. If we take God’s words, and the incarnation of God in the person of Jesus Christ seriously, it should surround us with a sense of awe that makes us a bit uneasy. This isn’t a story we’re supposed to figure out. It’s a story we’re supposed to marvel in, and from there, deepen our own desire to listen more.

Put this way, our texts call us to attention, with God behind the microphone to show us the way. God does this in one of the biggest ways God can so that we don’t miss it all, and maybe, just maybe, we’ll take it to heart. God finishes each speech, and then, in a move usually reserved for epic musical performances or comedians, completes a “mic drop” – that moment where the microphone is intentionally dropped to signal triumph and completion, with complete confidence that there is nothing that could come back worthy of a response to change what has been said. Boom. That. Just. Happened.

It leaves us wondering what we’re going to do with it all, that truth God just laid down. God speaking tends to leave us speechless, stumped in how exactly to respond. It’s a huge message to undertake – how big and mighty God indeed is. But maybe that’s exactly the point. That on this Transfiguration Sunday, we don’t figure the story out completely, but instead take time to listen, soak in all of its mystery and epic nature, and simply exist in a state of awe and wonder. In doing so, we might just be modeling the kind of worshipful spirit both texts call us to. And when the mic drops, we might just be startled back into a way of being in the world that is transfigured ourselves, because we, too, have heard God speak. And after that, nothing will ever be the same. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
February 11, 2018

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[i] Charles Quaintance, “Theological Perspective: Psalm 50:1-6,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[ii] Brian Erickson, “Homiletical Perspective: Psalm 50:1-6,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[iii] Brian Erickson.
[iv] Madeline L’Engle, as printed in Imaging the Word: An Arts and Lectionary Resource, Volume 3, Susan A. Blain, Editor, (Cleveland, Ohio: United Church Press, 1996).

Sunday’s Sermon – Sleeping In – 1 Samuel 3:1-10, Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18

January 14, 2018 Leave a Comment

Do you think Eli just wanted five more minutes of sleep, or at least peace and quiet? Rest, after all, is hard to come by. Studies consistently show that very few of us get the suggested seven or eight hours at night, and for a variety of reasons, much of that becomes interrupted. So perhaps Eli just wanted a moment to collect himself before another day in the temple; another day of endless questions from the young Samuel; another day of wondering where God was in the midst of it all. His eyesight had grown dim, which we might read as a sign of aging, yes, but also a sense that the priest’s theological vision and faith might be waning as well.

“The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread,” begins our story. It was a quiet, somber time for God’s people that followed a difficult cycle which we read about in Judges. Throughout that book we hear the refrain “In those days there was no king in Israel; all the people did what was right in their own eyes.” God would send the people a judge to correct their ways, and the people would comply, only to eventually falling back into doing whatever they wanted to, prompting God to send yet another judge. They have taken matters into their own hands, taking things where they could get them and essentially ignoring all that God had set before them for ways of living in covenant relationship. Later verses will reveal that Eli’s own sons have abused their positions as priests, committing some pretty heinous sins, including stealing from the offerings and sleeping with women like Hannah who had come to worship God at the tent of meeting.

The picture is fairly bleak, and understandably so the people are cynical, and may have even wondered if God had fallen asleep on them. The narrative grinds to a halt just before our text, with the slow stillness of silence. The people of God have fallen asleep, far from an engaged relationship with the divine.

In 1819, Washington Irving published what has become an iconic short story about “Rip Van Winkle.” It is set in the years before and after the Revolutionary War in a small village at the foot of New York’s Catskill Mountains. The title character is loved, but lazy. He avoids the hard work, so much so that one day he wanders into the mountains and encounters an odd group of old men. He drinks some of what they have to offers, and falls asleep. For twenty years.

A long nap sure is tempting, isn’t it? In these cold winter months, sleeping in is quite the tempting offer. We want to remain comfortable, and so we burrow deeper under our covers where it is warm and cozy. But when applied to our spiritual lives, this proves to be a troublesome metaphor for living. As Commentator Lawrence Wood notes:

We are sleeping. We do not fully sense the divinity around us. Exhaustion has so dulled our hearts, minds, and souls that we can work all day in the temple but never hear God[i].

There are so many draining things in our lives that it is easy to become fatigued and weary. When the world gets heavy, so do our theological eyelids. It can become harder and harder to see God in our midst. We may even turn to other sources for answers. When all seems at a dead end, we resign ourselves to dormancy and sleep. This is the position of Eli, and perhaps other priests in today’s text. They are asleep, and because of this they almost miss the rise of a new day. Fortunately, there is an early bird in their midst.

Samuel, the long awaited and prayed for child from a faithful woman named Hannah, has been dedicated to a life in the temple. We don’t know his exact age, only that he is a young boy, ministering to the Lord. It seems he is not so deep into his sleep that he is unable to be stirred. He hears a voice calling his name. And he responds. Except it isn’t the voice of Eli like he would expect, and so he is sent back to his slumbers. The voice calls again. Again Samuel comes. Again he is dismissed.

A lot can be missed if you stay asleep long enough. After twenty years Rip Van Winkle woke up and discovered that everything had changed, from his appearance to the town. An entire revolution has come and gone, and Rip has missed all of it. Can you imagine missing something as big as this? And yet, we too are at risk of losing sight ourselves of the transformation God is doing in the world. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. offers powerful reflections on this story in a sermon he delivered at the National Cathedral almost exactly fifty years ago. He noted:

one of the great liabilities of life is that all too many people find themselves living amid a great period of social change, and yet they fail to develop the new attitudes, the new mental responses, that the new situation demands. They end up sleeping through a revolution[ii].

As it turns out in this text, God is not sleeping. Far from it. God is about to embark on a radical new way of interacting with God’s people. God is preparing to send them a king to lead and guide them. And God’s voice will not be silenced or ignored. It comes again, surer than the snooze button on your alarm clock, and Samuel is awake. This third time, Eli finally clicks in. It’s the voice of God. Suddenly, everything changes. Eli gives Samuel a response that will shape the course of his future, “speak Lord, for your servant is listening.” The time to sleep has ended.

There is a raved about alarm clock among parents of young children. It’s called the “ok to wake clock.” Essentially, it is a clock to help little ones stay in their room until the right time in the morning, and for ones who can’t yet read the clock, it gives a color cue, turning green when the time comes. Then the child knows that it’s ok to wake up. Our text for this morning should be our “ok to wake” cue to listen to the calls God is placing on our lives.

As Joseph Price describes it:

To be called by God is an act of spiritual intimacy and divine urgency. To be called by God means that God knows one’s name and, in knowing one’s name, exercises a powerful influence on the person. To be called by God also indicates a need for immediate response because the Almighty has indeed summoned one to a specific vocation or course of action[iii].

Call is a powerful thing. It begins by listening, but isn’t fully complete until we respond with our actions, lived out discipleship as we seek to follow Christ. This is what King was getting at when he talked about developing new attitudes and mental responses that the new situations demand in our world. We are called to participate in the ongoing revolution God has going in this world. To do so, we have to wake up and look around, listening with a servant’s heart.

It is fitting that this passage comes to us on a holiday weekend where we remember the life and legacy of Dr. King. He embodied a spirit of wakeful listening, and his words and actions inspired many to listen to callings in their own life to stand up against systemic injustice in our country. Although the work is not yet finished, far from it in fact, his servant spirit lives on. Tomorrow, many will do so with intentional acts of service in his honor. But the truth is, it is ongoing work that should be done every calendar day. The key for us is to pay attention, and listen for God’s word to come to us, even when we least expect it, because we all have a part to play in that calling.

If you find yourself hesitating in your own qualifications, consider the promise laid out in Psalm 139, that God knows us, intimately and deeply, and that we are, body and soul, marvelously made in the image of our creator, shaped from the inside out, created to be a part of what God is doing in the world. It isn’t a journey we travel alone. God is behind us, ahead of us, around us, a “reassuring presence, coming and going[iv].” We were made for this.

We have been knit together in our mother’s womb, and knit together as a part of the family of God. And God calls us not to stay asleep, but to wake up and do something with the gifts we have been given.

The call story of Samuel gives us a rich understanding of how call comes, and the reminder that our God is persistent with it. Even if it takes three or more times to get the message across, God calls. Samuel also reminds us that God’s call extends to everyone. As Professor Richard Boyce notes:

It takes both the attentiveness of the young Samuel’s ears and the wisdom of the old priest’s heart and mind to birth this new office in the service of the Lord[v].

Answering God’s call is the work of community, old and young together, to bring about the revolution God has in store. For the people of God in 1 Samuel, God is ushering in a new age, a new way of being in the world, a new way of leading God’s people. And it all starts with the courage a young boy and an old priest have to wake up, and pay attention. May it be so with us. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
January 14, 2018
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[i] Lawrence Wood, “Homiletical Perspective: 1 Samuel 3:1-10 (11-20),” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[ii] Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., “Remaining Awake Through a Great Revolution,” sermon delivered at the National Cathedral on March 31, 1968. https://kinginstitute.stanford.edu/king-papers/publications/knock-midnight-inspiration-great-sermons-reverend-martin-luther-king-jr-10, accessed 1/13/18.
[iii] Joseph L. Price, “Theological Perspective: 1 Samuel 3:1-10 (11-20),” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[iv] Psalm 139:5, The Message
[v] Richard Boyce, “Exegetical Perspective: 1 Samuel 3:1-10 (11-20),” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).

Sunday’s Sermon – Down the Shore – Acts 16:9-15

Sunday’s Sermon – Listen. Look. Arise. – Song of Solomon 2:8-17

Sunday’s Sermon – God Speaks – Psalm 50:1-6; Mark 9:2-9

Sunday’s Sermon – Sleeping In – 1 Samuel 3:1-10, Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18

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