I have started and scrapped at least three posts this week. Perhaps I am Stella, and I lost my writing groove. I have prayed for the words God wants me to share, and I have heard nothing but silence for days. Here I am, bumping up against another (self-imposed) deadline, and I’m ready to throw in the towel on this blog idea.
I can’t do it, God. Pick someone else. You have chosen the wrong girl. This girl specializes in carbs and naps, not blogs to speak to the divisions slicing through every subsection of the world.
I considered writing a post about racial inequalities as seen through the eyes of our internal value system – if we could somehow perceive the value of each other as defined by God, would the injustices of the world disappear? It is a nice thought, if a bit unrealistic, but each sentence I typed just didn’t feel right. My kids are of the opinion that no one wants to read commentary about racial injustice from an Albino-Irish-American who uses a lighter shade of foundation than Casper. I can’t say that I disagree with them. I’m white – pasty, blinds-pilots-when-she-wears-shorts-outside white – and discussing racial inequalities is not my wheelhouse.
The math nerd in me tried – twice! – to take us all back to seventh grade algebra, expounding upon the mathematics of absolute value by inferring that the absolute value of every person on the planet is the same when God is the center of our number line. My inner math nerd was ridiculously excited about the number line images she found online. Ultimately, I concluded that no one should be forced to travel back to seventh grade for any reason whatsoever, but you should know that this conclusion was hard fought. Out of sheer stubbornness, the post about absolute value was more than half-finished before I quit forcing it in the wrong direction.
See, more often than not, I feel a sense of peace while writing, when the message and the timing are right, and the words are flowing effortlessly. There was no peace to be found, though, until I opened up a blank document and stopped trying to write the message I thought I should write. Peace came tonight when I opened my heart to the message God wanted me to write. It was in the quiet of that surrender that God brought to mind the story of how Saul became king.
The beauty of Old Testament stories is how relatable many of them are, and this is one is no exception; I can relate so well to Saul’s choices and behavior. Maybe you will find that you can relate to them, too.
Saul, the Donkey Wrangler who would be King
First Samuel 9 sets the stage with a description of Saul’s physical attributes and heritage. Saul is a tall, dark and handsome man from an influential and wealthy family of the tribe of Benjamin, and Saul has a prosperous career wrangling donkeys. (I don’t make this stuff up; it’s in the text.) As we join the story, Dad’s donkeys have gone missing, and Saul and his servant are sent on a journey to find them. They travel for many miles, but after three days, they come up empty handed. Not only is Saul without donkeys to wrangle, but their food is gone, and they are down to their last quarter-shekel of silver. This piece of silver, they decide, will buy them an audience with a prophet in hopes that the prophet can tell them where to find their illusive donkeys.
Enter the prophet, Samuel, stage left. Throughout the Old Testament, God spoke through prophets, and in this story, God told Samuel that he would soon meet Saul. As an interesting plot twist, Saul is introduced as the one God has chosen to lead the nation of Israel as their first king.
Samuel, on his way to the shrine to bless the sacrifices before the people can eat, invites Saul to join him for dinner. Samuel sits Saul at a place of honor, gives him the priest’s portion at the feast and does everything but have “1st King” spelled out with green beans on Saul’s plate or serve him a steamy latte with an image of a jeweled crown crafted into the delicate foam. Seemingly ignorant to the cues, Saul shrugs off the extra attention, eats his dinner and falls asleep on the roof of the prophet’s home.
Was Saul really that oblivious? Maybe. Or maybe he couldn’t perceive his value as anything other than that of a Donkey Wrangler.
The story picks up again the next morning after Samuel sends Saul’s servant away. Samuel pours oil over Saul’s head and privately announces to Saul that God has anointed him as ruler over Israel. Samuel describes a series of signs that Saul will encounter on his way home, all of which happen exactly as Samuel foretells. The drama thickens again when Saul later narrates his donkey wrangling adventures to his family, and he leaves out a minor detail: not once does Saul mention God’s new calling on his life.
Was Saul being timid? Humbly waiting for the grand reveal? Maybe. Or maybe, he was so focused on forcing his storyline into the story he thought should be written that he wasn’t open to the story God was calling him to write.
Fast forward a week, and the time has come for a king to be chosen from the twelve tribes of Israel. Samuel circles the Israeli wagons and lots are cast over and over again until – lo’ and behold – Saul is named the winner of the Old Testament Royal Lottery. Samuel calls Saul forward, but Saul cannot be found. Remember, Saul is a super-tall hottie. The Bible says he stood head and shoulders above everyone. While I, personally, have never been the tallest one in a crowd (I am usually not even the tallest person in a 2nd grade classroom), Saul has probably been the center of attention his whole life. So, what’s a guy to do, this future king who doesn’t want to be king? Where does he choose to hide?
“Samuel went back to God: ’Is he anywhere around?’ God said, ‘Yes, he’s right over there – hidden in that pile of baggage.”
1 Samuel 10:22 (MSG)
Oh, Saul. Oblivious, insecure, self-doubting Saul.
And yet…
If my story were to be told from an Old Testament perspective, I am afraid that this moment would be my story, too. The moment where Saul, the first king of Israel, is hiding his calling – his God-given destiny – behind piles of baggage? Perhaps I can relate.
Life’s baggage – the disappointments and the fears, the frustrations and the setbacks – they get heavy after a while, do they not? Sure, they start out light, just a few “momentary afflictions” in my backpack. Somewhere along the rocky path of life, I pick up another painful souvenir or two. The zipper opens, I stuff them inside and resume my trek. Time passes, and I’ve upgraded the college backpack to a five-piece luggage set that’s better suited for international travel. Bills, marriage, children, employment, life – very quickly, the wheels of my baggage are digging deeper into the dirt, scaring the landscape as I barrel my way down the path. Over time, the baggage is bursting at the seams, and my stubborn self is bouncing on the bag just to get the zipper closed. Fast forward a few more years, and my baggage is heavy. Too much to carry, and one of the wheels on my bag fell off somewhere between Happy New Year and have a safe Fourth of July.
So, what’s a girl to do when she’s worn out, no longer able to haul around her Samsonite? Where does she choose to hide, this girl who specializes in carbs and naps? In all honesty, this girl circles her bags and camps out in the middle, hiding among the travel-worn bags with a glass of wine, a box of Swiss Cake Rolls and her weighted blanket. Calling-schmalling. Don’t wake me up until pancake syrup is no longer a target of race wars.
Perhaps this is your story, too?
Believe me, I get it. There is so much about this life that strips away the beauty of God’s unique calling, minutiae that devalues the precious gifts entrusted to us by our Creator. From subtle distractions to shattering setbacks to immense spiritual warfare, the enemy of our soul is most pleased when we are playing hide-and-seek with the purpose for which we have been called. Likewise, it breaks the heart of God to see that our pile of baggage has become a makeshift security blanket behind which we choose to hide.
But from this same passage of scripture in First Samuel, I find immense hope.
First, I find hope in a God who sees and hears our collective struggles:
“The very day before, God had confided in Samuel, ‘This time tomorrow, I’m sending a man from the land of Benjamin to meet you. You’re to anoint him as prince over my people Israel. He will free my people from Philistine oppression. Yes I know all about their hard circumstances. I’ve heard their cries for help.’”
1 Samuel 9:15-16 (MSG)
Our cries do not go unheard. Even when it feels as though our prayers are bouncing away from the very throne of God, He’s listening. Never doubt this for a moment: He has heard our cries for help, and He knows all about our hard circumstances.
Second, we serve a God who speaks directly to our immediate issues and meets our personal needs.
“’Accompany me to the shrine and eat with me. In the morning I’ll tell you all about what’s on your mind, and send you on your way. And by the way, your lost donkeys – the ones you’ve been hunting for the last three days – have been found, so don’t worry about them. At this moment, Israel’s future is in your hands.’”
1 Samuel 9:19-20 (MSG)
These words came from Samuel’s mouth, but God gave him the words to speak to Saul. God might as well have said, “I see what worries you, child, and it has already been taken care of. Eat and find rest. I have something more, something better in mind.”
Most importantly, we serve a God who is inviting us to unpack the Samsonite and walk unencumbered on the path He has called us to walk. As much as I love the stories of the Old Testament, one of my favorite passages comes from the first book of the New Testament:
“’Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-filling on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.’”
Matthew 11:28-30 (MSG)
Unforced rhythms of grace.
I don’t know about you, my friend, but that sounds like freedom from the shackles of stress and pressure. That sounds like the foundation upon which I should be building everything of value in my life. And that sounds like the place of security from which I can rise from my baggage and embrace His calling and the story He wants me to write.
This world is hurting. This world is being torn apart at the seams, and your anointing – your God-given destiny – is needed now more than at any other time in history. Arise from the baggage that you were never meant to carry, child.
It’s time.
Hope awaits!