Sleeping by the Ark of God

Hannah and Elkanah brought their son, Samuel, to Shiloh to the house of the Lord when he was weaned. For over 10 years, Eli, the priest, had raised the young man. During that time, Eli had grown old, and God had made it known to him that the priestly lineage would end with him. Eli’s own deviant sons would not follow him as priests.

Then, one night, as Samuel slept in his usual place beside the ark of God, he awoke to the sound of his name being called. He came and woke Eli and asked why he had called. Eli sent him back to bed. A second time, Samuel came running saying he had heard him call. Eli sent him back to bed. The third time Samuel woke him in the night, Eli realized that the Lord was calling him and taught him how to answer, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” The Lord spoke, and Samuel received his calling. Samuel was a prophet, the last Judge God raised up over Israel, and he anointed Saul and then David, Israel’s first two Kings.

Not everyone’s call story involves God calling in the night. But, we can learn some important things from studying call stories about how to live the life God calls US to live.

I’m going to tell you the story of how another man heard and answered God’s call. Listen for similarities between his story and Samuel’s.

This man’s father was a tax lawyer. His mother did the bookkeeping for her family’s business. He had one younger brother, who grew up to be a prominent businessman. His parents had high expectations of him. But, he struggled with what he would be. He writes that his father expected him to “Make it in the world and be sure you can do it on your own.” “Make your mark. Be able to show the world…you are not afraid. Go as far as you want to go and be a man. Be a good older son and brother, and be sure you really do something relevant.” While his mother instructed him, “Whatever you do for the rest of your life, even if it’s not very important, be sure you hold on to the love of Jesus.”

What was he to do? He went to seminary…and at the same time studied psychiatry. When he graduated, he became a priest-psychologist and soon he was teaching at Notre Dame, then Yale, and when he went from the faculty of Yale to faculty at Harvard, his father said, “You are doing very well!”

But, Henri Nouwen was empty. He loved teaching, but something was missing. He wasn’t at home. He hadn’t found his true calling, his vocation. He was successful, published, respected for his spiritual insight, but his relationship with Jesus was suffering.

Then, a friend of his, Jean Vanier, called, “’Henri,’ he said, ‘I’m on a retreat here in Chicago, and I was thinking of you. Is there any chance you could come and join us here?’”

Quickly, he knew he did not have energy or want to teach any extra retreat. But, his friend clarified that he wasn’t asking him to give a retreat but to join him on silent retreat along with a number of people with disabilities from around the world.

Henri Nouwen describes the retreat and the way God’s call became apparent to him this way: I had a “sense that something important was happening [that] prompted me to drop everything and go to Chicago for several days. Nobody was talking, but more than fifty people were together there for conferences, meals, sharing, and worship. Apart from a daily visit with [my friend], Jean, in which I shared my angst in Harvard, I enjoyed a silent retreat with people for L’Arche around the world. When it was time to leave I felt rested as well as challenged by something Jean…had said to me in passing at one point: ‘Perhaps our people [{meaning} people with disabilities who live in L’Arche] could offer you a home.’

That one sentence, [says Nouwen], touched a chord in me and seemed like a prophetic call, so I visited Jean in his L’Arche home just north of Paris the next time I went to Europe. I felt related with the people with disabilities and in general I experience peace, rest, and safety in the community. I knew Harvard wasn’t the place for me, so I resigned at the end of the year and took a writing sabbatical in Jean’s community at Trosly. While I was there, L’Arche Daybreak community in Toronto, Canada, called me to come there for three years as their pastor and I said ‘yes’ to their invitation.”

How is Henri Nouwen’s call story like Samuel’s? And what does that have to do with us? I am going to suggest two important lessons for us as we seek God’s purposes for our lives.

First, both of them had deep friendships with people of faith that they respected. Samuel with Eli and Henri with Jean Varnier. Who are your faith mentors and guides? Do you consider them close friends? Who helps you see where God is working on you?

One of the most important questions one of my friends always asks when we are together is, “Where do you see God in that?” Whatever struggles I am having, whatever story of church work I share, the question is the same, “Where do you see God in that?” Who asks that question for you?

This fall, we will be offering another series of small group meetings, like the Journey through Lent groups. In these groups of 4-6 disciples, you will have the opportunity to ask and consider where God is working in your life. Consider making time to be a part of one of the groups.

Second, both of them placed themselves where they were likely to be in God’s presence and quietly listened. Samuel slept beside the Ark of God, the very symbol of God’s presence. Henri agreed to travel to Chicago to be in silent retreat with a gathered community of faithful, seeking God’s presence. Where do you most experience God’s presence? When have you placed yourself there and listened?

I wrote about Discernment in the June newsletter’s Deepening our Discipleship. I encourage you to take some time this month to try the practice outlined there of examining each day what things gave you joy and what things drained you. God created you for a purpose, for JOY and to enjoy God’s presence forever.

May you seek to live out the dream God had for you when he formed you in your mother’s womb. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.