Three months and ten days. Assuming our little baby arrives on her due date—which she won’t—but assuming she does, that’s how long my wife and I have left of getting a full night’s sleep every night. Three months and ten days. But, come April 24—give or take a few days—we’ll be back to the same routine we had when our first daughter was born. Waking up in a zombie-like-trance every hour or two to the sounds of new lungs and vocal chords being exercised with impressive decibels, as infant cries startle us to attention. We’ll get up in the darkness, flip on the light, change this little newborn, feed her, then probably change her again. And back to sleep to start the cycle over again.
It can be bittersweet to be called out in the middle of the night—in the midst of the darkness when the silence is broken. On the one hand, I already dread waking up in the night like that, so often. I remember how it was! I just know, I’ll be getting into a good, deep sleep, and it’ll happen. That cute little baby is going to cry and scream, trying to get our attention and inform us we’ve got a job to do. My wife and I will have bouts of grumpiness toward each other, thinking it’s definitely the other’s turn to rock her, bounce her, anything to get her back to sleep. And we’ll express it through huffs and puffs and grunts and the exaggerated pulling of the covers. And, regardless of how much or how little sleep we get in the night, our firstborn WILL be awake by 6:30 or 7. The first couple weeks can be tough, like that.
But at the same time that I dread it…I cannot wait. I am actually excited to be awakened in the night like that. Because, as much as I dread getting startled awake over and over, I take pride in the job I get to do. She’s breaking the silence, calling out to ME in the night; calling out MY name in the darkness. It sounds like “waa waa,” but she really means, “Dada” and “Mama.” She is calling us specifically, telling us we’ve got a job to do; and she trusts US to do it. I’m excited to get to hold this precious life in my hands. To swaddle her, tightly wrapped like a little burrito baby. To rock her with her little head on my chest. To sing to her. To hold her and quietly talk to her to let her know I’m there. And when she falls asleep in my arms, it will be the greatest compliment and show of love she can give me. It can be bitter, but so, so sweet to be called out in the darkness when the silence is broken.
And, in a sense that’s kind of what we see taking place in our 1 Samuel passage, today. The roles are somewhat different. But there was darkness. There was silence. And that silence was broken as God called out in the night. But before we get too much further, I think an interesting thought that many have with this passage is, why doesn’t God do that today? I mean, sometimes it seems like God is just “too quiet.” We think, if only God would speak to us…or to our neighbor, or children, grandchildren—folks who have wandered from the faith. If only God would break the silence; call them by name out of the darkness, and speak to them directly, personally, maybe they’d change. Maybe that would bring them back. So, maybe we think God is just too quiet, sometimes.
But then again, we’re pretty comfortable just the way things are! We’re comfortable with the idea of God calling out others…but when He confronts US; when God’s voice breaks the silence and we hear Him calling…well, that’s where we would prefer He stay out of it. We’re fine, then, for God to keep His distance. Fine with God keeping silent. It can be a bittersweet thing to be called out of the darkness like that!
Well, in the opening verse of 1 Samuel 3, we see that it was silent. “The Word of the Lord was rare in those days,” the passage says. God wasn’t speaking to His people through visions as often, like He had with the Judges of Israel. He was not calling out from a burning bush or from a cloud-covered mountain, like He had with Moses. No, God was just silent. And yet, they still had His written Word to guide them—the Words written and handed down by Moses. The Lord may have been silent, but He was still speaking loud and clear…if only they would listen.
Finally, after a time of the Lord’s “silence,” in the middle of the night, God called to Samuel. Like a newborn crying out to him in the night Samuel would start to get into a really good deep sleep, and then, out of the darkness, he was called by name. This happened throughout the night. And it was bittersweet that God would call Him out of the darkness like that. It was sweet, because at a time when God’s Word was “rare,” here He speaks! It was sweet, because God’s got a job for this sleepy young man. The job wasn’t to rock a baby to sleep, but it was to care for and nurture God’s children. To feed them, spiritually. To comfort them, to talk to them and let them know He is with them. And it was sweet, because God gave no one else this job—only Samuel was called to this special vocation at that time. And Samuel would take pride in this role. The Lord would break His silence through Samuel, as this prophet would bring Israel the Word of the Lord, again.
And yet, as sweet as it all was, it was bitter. It was bitter, because, to bring the Word of the Lord…well, this meant the difficult task of confronting the darkness. Even the darkness of those Samuel cared about. You see, during the “silent years,” the darkness had crept in. Yes, they had God’s Word, but there were some—even priests—who had allowed it to become “rare” in their lives, so to speak. Our passage stops at verse ten. But, if you read on, the first job God has for Samuel as He breaks the silence, is a message to Eli, the priest who raised Samuel.
The next morning, Eli was asking Samuel if he heard that voice calling to him again. Samuel was silent at first. He didn’t want to say it, but Eli pried it out of him. So, reluctantly, Samuel told Eli what God said, which was, “that I am about to punish his house forever, for the iniquity that he knew, because his sons were blaspheming God, and he did not restrain them.” That’s a tough first assignment. That’s the bitter part of Samuel’s special, God-given job—to bring a hard, painful word to a loved one.
I mean, who among us would like the job of telling the person who raised us; the one who fed us, taught us, held us in the night when we were scared—who wants the job of telling them God is going to punish them? Who wants to be the bearer of that news that God is going to hold their sin against them? That’s not a pleasant message to hear, or to speak.
But, for Eli, it had become more comfortable to ignore his sons’ sins—easier to ignore God’s Word—than to confront the darkness. In fact, in my Bible, in the chapter before this—in 1 Samuel 2—there’s a section title that reads “Eli’s Worthless Sons.” That’s how bad they were. They were so bad that today, a few thousand years removed, we mark their memory with the adjective, “worthless.” That's the best word we could come up with to describe them. "Worthless." They were living in darkness. Eli’s own complacency led him into darkness. And, along with them, these leaders of Israel were dragging God’s people back into the darkness, too. God had called out to Samuel in the darkness of night, but now, through Samuel, He would call Israel out of their spiritual darkness—starting right there in the house of the Lord.
But, this was nothing new…and it wouldn’t be the last time God would break His silence and call His people out of the darkness. Samuel would be the last of the Judges of Israel, but he would not be God’s final spokesperson. Through prophets and poets, kings and priests, God would guide His people. He would appoint kings and rulers. He would speak. He would shine upon them. The problem is, God was breaking the silence—they had His word—but they made it “rare” in their lives…or they would ignore the parts they didn’t like. And so, after years of warning; after prophet after prophet calling Israel out of the darkness; after all that, God went silent.
This silence and deep darkness would last some 300 years. God was silent. Israel and Judah were in darkness, and ruin. Everyone acted like they wanted the light, but they didn’t mean it—they were too used to the darkness. Too content to wake up from the comforts if they were to be called out by name. Sure, they had God’s written word to guide them…but they heard it all wrong, if they heard it at all. Various Jewish parties and sects tried breaking the silence, each of them speaking louder than the next, but the sounds of politics and power drowned them out. Rabbis, scholars, and would-be-messiahs attempted to shed light on the meaning of Scripture, but still the darkness deepened. And the best they could do, the best anyone could come up with…was worthless. All of it worthless.
But then, in Christ, God broke the silence and entered our darkness. This Jesus, the Word made flesh; the Light of the world exchanged the radiant glory of heaven for a warm, dark womb. Grew up in a town viewed in a negative light. He hung out with shady figures—even calling them out by name to follow Him. He was captured and accused in the night. On the cross, the Son was shining, but the sun was dimmed. The crowd shouted and roared. “He trusts in God; let God deliver him now,” they said. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” Jesus cried out. But it appeared as though God was silent as He hung there. Until He said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
“Father, forgive them…” In Christ, God broke the silence once and for all. In Christ, He called out to you and me out of our darkness. Because that’s what He was doing. “Father, forgive them…” You are included in the “them.” And in that light, we realize it can be a bittersweet thing to be called out of the darkness, sometimes. Bitter, because of what He gave up for you and me. Bitter, because His death was undeserved. Bitter because He took our place, receiving God’s wrath. It’s bitter, because we know that death scene soon went quiet; and the body placed in a cold dark tomb.
Yet it is so, so sweet—because we know it was a job no one else could do. It was sweet because “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,” because of Jesus’ resurrection. Sweet because in Jesus’ death and resurrection, God was displaying the greatest show of love He could give. Sweet because in Christ, God the Father draws us to Himself, holding us tight, speaking to us, letting us know He’s here, and will never leave us or forsake us.
Our temptation is to find our identity in the darkness. Our temptation is to resort back to the old life we once had before Christ. Our temptation is to carry our guilt, our shame, our sins of the past with us—like shadows following us. But, in Baptism, He has called us out of darkness! Your identity is now in Christ; you are a child of the Light and of the Day. No matter where we’ve been, He is calling us in love and forgiveness. Leave the past behind, live as a forgiven child of the Light, because God has called you out of the darkness by name, and He has a job for you—to be His spokesperson. In your home, in your community, in our nation, and around the world.
How do we walk as children of the Light? We get into the Word. I mentioned how it’d be nice if only God spoke to us today like He did to Samuel. I also talked about how “the Word of the Lord was rare” in Samuel’s time. But I pointed out that God’s written Word was still there. So I wonder: is the Word of the Lord “rare” in our lives? Because I have news for you—God IS still speaking today. God is not silent. He continues to speak through the pages of Scripture. He speaks to us here in worship. He speaks to us in devotions and Bible studies. God speaks to us through the fellowship of believers—even when it comes to those times we have to share a difficult word with someone we love. It’s not a matter of God not speaking to us, giving direction…it’s a matter of whether we’re listening or not. And when we’re not listening, that’s when the darkness creeps back in.
I know it’s easy to allow other things to have a priority in our lives. It happens to me, too. It’s bitter sweet to be called out of the darkness sometimes. Bitter because it may take away from other things we busy ourselves with. But the rewards are so, so sweet.
So, my prayer for you, for me, for our whole Holy Trinity congregation is that this would be a year that we listen and hear the voice of the Lord calling us by name, out of the darkness. Take a minute to read a Bible passage while waiting in the check-out line. Sign up to receive our E-News Devotions. Listen to a Christian podcast. Grab one of the weekly devotional books we prepared, or a Portals of Prayer. If you don’t have a Bible Study throughout the week, maybe make the Sunday 9:30 time-slot a dedicated hour for Christian Education. Invite someone to your current Bible study if you are already attending one. Whatever the case may be, don’t let the Word of the Lord become “rare” in your life. But let us, together, listen and hear the voice of the Lord who is continually calling us out of the darkness.
Come soon, Lord Jesus. Amen.
