Waiting in the Dark

1 Samuel 3: 1-10

Roger Lynn

February 19, 2017

(click here for the audio for this sermon)

Sooner or later, I suspect that all of us have an experience of “waiting in the dark.” Sometimes it’s frightening, like when we are small children who need a night light to keep the monsters at bay. Sometimes it’s unsettling, when we can’t see far enough down the path to know what’s coming next for us on life’s journey. Sometimes it’s humbling, when we don’t realize how dark it got until someone turns on the light. We know what it is to be in the dark, and we know what it is to come into the light. That may be why the experience is so often used as metaphor to describe spiritual and existential reality. Isaiah write, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined.” (Isaiah 9:2)

Certainly the writer who gives us the story of Samuel’s call recognizes the power of the theme. Over and over again he drives it home, just to make sure we get it. “. . . visions were not widespread . . . Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see . . . the lamp of God had not yet gone out.” (leaving unspoken but certainly implied “but it won’t be long”). He is writing to people who need to know that there is hope even for those who find themselves “waiting in the dark.” And the story has endured because the list of those who find themselves waiting in the dark includes all of us.  

Sometimes we’re in the dark and don’t know it. Sometimes we’re clueless about what’s going on. Sometimes it’s been so long since we’ve been in touch with the reality of God, and so long since anyone we know has been in touch with that reality, that we simply don’t recognize it even when it’s right in front of us. And sometimes we know perfectly well that we’re in the dark but we just don’t have any idea where to even begin looking for the light switch, so we wait.

And the good news is that it doesn’t really much matter how we came to be in the dark. Oh, there are usually lessons to be learned somewhere if we will pay attention. But there need not be any judgments and recrimination. Maybe we shot out all the light bulbs in a fit of rage. Maybe we didn’t pay the utility bill because we spent all our money on lottery tickets. Maybe we were raised in darkness and didn’t know any better. Maybe it’s just the middle of the night and dawn simply hasn’t come yet. However it is that we find ourselves waiting in the dark, that is never the end of the story. Isaiah never says, “the people who walked in darkness . . . are just out of luck.” Samuel was not ignored simply because “visions were not widespread.” There is always more to the story than just our darkness. The psalmist recognized this reality when he wrote, “even the darkness is not dark to you, O God.” (Psalm 139:12) Brian Wren, in a hymn he called “Joyful is the Dark” offers us a shift of perspective in which we begin to see God’s vibrant, active presence even in the darkness we so often find frightening.

And so it is that in the midst of our waiting, which is sometimes anxious, sometimes fearful, sometimes just clueless, the call will come to us. “Samuel, Samuel...” the call came to a young boy asleep on the temple floor. “Roger, Roger...” the call came to a young man sitting in church while home from college for the weekend. Listen and you will hear your name being called, because God is always calling our names. Not just a few of us. Not just once in a while. Always and all of us. The word of God was rare in those days, not because God wasn’t speaking but because the people had forgotten to keep listening. The light of God sometimes seems rare in these days, not because God isn’t shining, but because we start believing that our darkness defines the world.

We wait in the darkness of our living, unsure what’s coming next, confused about who we are, uncertain what we ought to be about. And into the darkness comes a call. It comes because it is always coming. God is eternally present and eternally calling. But the truth is that even when we notice, even when we hear it, we may not recognize it when it comes. Samuel thought it was Eli. Moses thought it was a wrong number. Mary thought it was the gardener. Some think it is a voice that will enslave them. Some think it is a distraction that will hinder them. Some think it is a power that will diminish them. And still the call persists. “Samuel, Samuel...” It persists until we recognize it for what it is – the voice of the eternal sacred presence of God calling us into the fullness of our living. It is a voice that will come in a variety of forms. Maybe for you it will sound like the voice of a family member affirming your gifts. Maybe it will sound like a passion rising up from deep inside you, connecting you to some project or undertaking. Maybe it will sound like a series of voices throughout your life that all lift up the same quality which you keep trying to ignore. Whatever it sounds like in your life, it is a voice that will continue to call you until you hear it, until you listen, until you respond. “Speak God, for now I am listening!”

We may be waiting in the dark, but we are never alone, and it won’t remain dark forever. Listen! Can you hear your name?