How much value do you place on the talents God has given you? Their real value might surprise you.

Paul compares the body of Christians to the human body. Like the various parts of the body, each of us must coexist and work together, but none of us are exactly alike. Nor should we try to be.

How different from society’s message that we must all wear the same styles, have the same goals and do things the same way. When God created us, he crafted us uniquely, gifting us with various body types, personalities and talents. God’s work is bigger than any one “type” could perform. It takes all of us, using our talents for God’s glory, to complete the work He wants done here on earth.

The Parable of the Talents is a story about three men, each with a different set of talents and each using his gifts differently. This parable is important because it helps us understand what God values. We tend to read the story with our modern understanding of the word talent, and Jesus probably intended it that way. But regardless of whether we talk about money or gift mixes, the message is the same.

In the parable, talents refer to a unit of currency roughly equal to a man’s weight. While it’s impossible to calculate its value exactly, we know it was a large unit. One gold talent was a man’s weight in gold and in today’s dollars might be worth $800,000. So when the master entrusted his property to his servants, he was giving them a huge sum of money to manage. Probably the master thought carefully about who should receive this responsibility and how much each of them could manage. We see from the story he chose three men. To one, he gave five talents; to another, two; and to a third, one.

When the master returned from his journey, he asked for an account from each of his trustees. The first two men doubled the funds they were entrusted with. The last man buried his (which means with inflation, the funds actually lost value). Needless to say, the master was pleased with the first two men but furious with the third.

Talents are distributed unevenly

God doesn’t have to be fair by our standards. We may never know how God calculates who should be given what in the talent pool. Some people appear to have no end of talents, while others seem only to have one or two.

But we are all made for a different purpose. “For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do” (Ephesians 2:10). One of us may be a voice, while another is a hand. One is physically strong, while another is kind-hearted and merciful.

God’s work is a big job, and we were created for the bit of it God thought we could manage. We should never be jealous of others’ giftings. In fact, we shouldn’t worry at all about other peoples’ giftings, except to glorify God at his creativity.

God rewards us for doing our best with what we were given
 
Notice that the man with two talents received the same commendation as the man with five talents. God knows our abilities and life situations are different. He never holds us accountable for something we honestly can’t do. All he asks is that we give him our best.

All too often, we beat ourselves up over our inability to meet some standard of perfection we have in our heads. Yet all God wants from us is to honor him with our actions, words and attitudes. “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving” (Colossians 3:23-24).

When we use our gifts for God’s glory, he is pleased. But when we bury our talents or use them for evil, he is angered. Again, we don’t need to compare ourselves to others. If we must compare, we should measure ourselves against God’s purpose for our lives.

Our talents are valuable

Have you ever noticed that when you are operating in your calling, it doesn’t feel like work? God gives us talents so we can use them for his glory. He gives us joy in our talents because he wants us to enjoy working for him. But part of learning to use and enjoy our talents is learning the real value of those talents.

In Jesus’ parable, a talent was worth approximately $800,000. And since Jesus intended us to read a talent as a gifting, God obviously places a huge value on our talents. So should we.

Your gift may be an ability to make people smile. That’s a wonderful gift. And yes, it does further God’s kingdom. He commands us to be joyful: “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” (Philippians 4:4). Or you may be one who likes working behind the scenes, seeing a need and filling it. Your ability to work humbly is a huge gift.

We tend to value things that look big and important. But God scolded Samuel for judging by appearances: “The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).

And he tells us in 1 Corinthians 1:27, he prefers to use things we consider insignificant. “But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.”

If God has chosen to give us a talent, he obviously values it. We should honor him by developing that talent and using it for his glory.

Talents were meant to be used

Sometimes talents are obvious. Sometimes we know what our talents are, but we can’t figure out how to use them for God’s glory. Don’t worry too much about it. When you use your talents, use them as if for God, not man. That’s the easiest way to glorify God with your talents. Then, as God sees your abilities increasing, he may place opportunities in your path. Seize them. God may be leading you deeper into his purpose for your life.

Just remember:

•    You will enjoy using your gifts. But you were given those gifts for God’s glory, not your own. Be careful not to become prideful. Stay humble and you will stay usable.

•    Never devalue your gifts by comparing them to others’. God has a unique purpose for you. Enjoy the differences.

Discussion questions

•    What do you think God’s purpose for your life is?

•    Can we really stay humble as our talents develop? How?

I like maps—not so much the old you-can-never-get-it-refolded-correctly paper variety, but very much so the convenient point-and-click Internet kind. I just tell my computer where I want to go, and in seconds I am presented with a detailed roadmap from wherever I am to wherever I want to be. If I am in the mood for more realism, I can click on the satellite map option and zoom in so close I can count the grease spots on the roads down which I intend to travel.

Strictly speaking, maps do not actually give you directions. What they give you is perspective—a high-above-it-all view of where you are, where you want to end up and all the turns and course corrections you need to take in order to get from here to there.

One of the inherent limitations of being human is that we don’t have a built-in life map which enables us to know beforehand the ultimate outcomes of our life choices. We see clearly only that precise location on both the globe and the timeline which we happen to be occupying at present (and sometimes not even those).

We need the wisdom and knowledge of  someone who has the larger perspective in his mind—and our best in his heart—and then rely on that one to direct our journey. That is why, when we come to times of transition in our lives, if we are wise, we will invite God into the process of choosing which path to take.

When we come to 1 Samuel 8-12, we see the nation of Israel at a metaphorical fork in the road. Samuel was growing older, and many of the people were calling for a change in leadership for the nation. It was a time of uncertainty and transition, but sadly the people chose a path without seeking wisdom from the one who had the larger perspective in mind and their best at heart.

“So all the elders of Israel gathered together and came to Samuel at Ramah. They said to him, ‘You are old, and your sons do not walk in your ways; now appoint a king to lead us, such as the other nations have’” (8:4-5). Their first stated reason for wanting a king was that Samuel was past his prime and his two sons were unfit to replace him. But the elders also had a second reason for demanding a king to rule over them: Everyone else had one, and so they thought they needed one as well.  They wanted a king not so much because they were anxious for someone to lord it over them, but because they thought that in order to survive and thrive in the world they had to emulate the world’s way of doing things.
 
This moment had been anticipated from the earliest days of Israel’s life as an independent nation—Deuteronomy 17:14 predicts the words of the elders to Samuel virtually verbatim—but even then it is implied that leadership of Israel by an earthly king would be a second-best alternative. One of their nation’s founding principles was that they were to be different from the other nations, not similar to them; and one point of that differentness would be that God himself would be their king. 

Samuel took their rejection personally; it stung him to be told he wasn’t up to the task any more. But when Samuel prayed about it, God’s response basically was, “Welcome to my world; now you know how I feel” (8:6-8).

This event has profound implications for us as we struggle with issues of leadership and responsible Christian discipleship and service, and how our dual-citizenship in both spiritual and earthly kingdoms works itself out in our lives. Perhaps this especially is true as we consider and evaluate our methodologies for promoting the work and the values of Christ’s kingdom. Robert Bergen’s comment in the New American Commentary is provocative: “(Their demand for a king) amounted to an attempt to accomplish through a political act that which only could be achieved through ongoing spiritual responsibility.”

God would accede to their request, but he wanted them to know they were choosing a course that ultimately would have disastrous consequences (8:9-18). Implicit in God’s warning to Israel is that if they chose to be ruled by a human king, that decision would be irrevocable. Once they started down that path, they could never go back.

“But the people refused to listen to Samuel. ‘No!’ they said, ‘We want a king to lead us …’” (8:19). They were traveling down an unknown road, without a map; but they foolishly refused to listen to the one who had their best in his heart, and who had the perspective to know where their chosen path would lead them.

And so “the Lord answered, ‘Listen to them and give them a king’” (8:22).

We meet the man who would be Israel’s first king in chapter 9, and very quickly we see trouble ahead. Saul had impressive physical credentials (9:1-2), but little else to commend him for the responsibility that soon would be laid on his young shoulders.

He seems to have lived his life in a spiritual vacuum; although he lived only a few miles from Samuel, Saul evidently never had seen or possibly even heard of that great prophet of the Lord (9:8-19). Nonetheless Saul was the one whom God had chosen to be king, and the young man had the potential for greatness if only he would follow God’s leadership and lead the nation toward obedience to the Lord.

The focal passage of 10:20-24 is the capstone of a lengthy process by which God revealed to Saul he had been chosen to be Israel’s first king. That process had begun with the loss of some donkeys for which Saul had gone out searching, and it was that search which took him to Samuel’s house (9:1-6). Little did Saul realize how that search for lost livestock—at the time, the largest thing in his field of vision—would result in his wearing a king’s crown.

It is interesting to see how the things which concern us the most might in fact be mere small parts in the process of God working out a much greater purpose in our lives.

I enjoy telling the story about how my choosing a particular research project in my college English class back in 1985 was a vital link in a chain of events which led to my being called as the pastor of North Park Baptist Church almost exactly six years later. (It’s a long story, but well-worth hearing. Call me, and I’ll tell it to you.) 

In 1985, that research project loomed large in my field of attention; but taking the long view, I see now that it really was a small thing which God used to accomplish a greater purpose in my life.

Saul was reluctant to see himself as a king, but finally he accepted his new responsibility and was installed as Israel’s first monarch (10:20-27, 11:14-15). Saul’s coronation marked the beginning of a new phase in Israel’s national life, and Samuel took the opportunity to give a sort of farewell address in which he both reproved the people for their faithlessness as well as encouraged them to allow this transition to become the beginning point of a new pathway of faith and obedience to God (12:13-22). 

This was by no means the end of Samuel’s role as judge and spiritual advisor to Israel, but publicly he was turning the reins of national leadership over to Saul.

Samuel was disappointed in the people, but he did not (nor did God) give up on them utterly. He promised to continue to pray for the people and teach them God’s ways (12:23). They had done a pretty poor job of seeking and following God’s leadership up to that point, but the situation wasn’t totally hopeless. God gave them what they wanted, and they would live to regret it; but God nonetheless would work in and through that situation to move his purposes toward fulfillment.

In my many years of life, 40 years of ministry and more than 35 years of marriage, I have learned a lot. One thing that sticks out is this: If we truly love someone, we are never fully ready to let them go. We always want more. One more year. One more day. One more hour. One more minute.

For this reason, we should do all we can to share our love for others—and accept theirs—while we can.

This especially is true when it comes to our relationship with God. So far in Ephesians, we have studied how Paul has dealt with some pretty basic issues: Jesus died to break down the barriers that separate us from God and from each other; God loves all and wants us to do the same. Paul did not want to stop there. He knew there was much more to what Jesus wants for us.

In Ephesians 3:1-13, Paul explains the reasons for his concern. It was not simply from his being a Christian. Beyond that, Paul explains that God had called him “to preach to the Gentiles” (v. 8) and “to make plain to everyone (my emphasis, but also notice Paul’s continuing inclusion) this mystery” (v. 9). The mystery, Paul continues, is that “through the church, the manifold wisdom of God should be made known” (v. 10).

To really know God is an awesome concept. God is above and beyond us—beyond our human powers of complete comprehension. It was this special thought and concern that drove Paul to prayer. We read in verse 14 that Paul actually was driven to his knees.

You may recall that, in Matthew 6:5, Jesus referred to those who “love to pray standing [emphasis added] in the synagogues and on the street corners.” Standing was typical position of prayer for Jews. One would kneel in submission to one who is superior. One would also kneel in cases of special requests—such as in our day when a man might kneel to propose marriage.

Perhaps one of those is the reason Paul knelt. He may have fallen to his knees at the very thought of the “manifold wisdom of God” and the request he was about to make in his prayer we find in verses 16-21.

And what a prayer it was—and is. Notice that, as we read in the way Jesus taught us to pray (in Matthew 6:9-13), it all starts with God. Paul starts, in verse 14, by confessing that the church (God’s “whole family”) derives both its name and its existence from God, the Father. Then, Paul prays that God, the Holy Spirit, would give strength and power to the church (v. 16). That is followed with an appeal that Jesus Christ would “dwell in (Christian) hearts” and that this would be “rooted and established in love” (v.17).

This prayer follows some interesting patterns. First, it revolves around the Trinity—the fullness of God. Receiving all that is God—and all God has to offer—means receiving the strength, power and love of God. Second, it moves from the inward to the outward. It begins with the capability. That capability is put into action. Finally, that action is used in the right way and for the right purposes.

It is, indeed, only the strength and power of God that makes possible our living out Jesus’ love.

Some of the things Jesus calls us to do would take ability and courage beyond our human ability. So, to accept and live in fullness, we must open ourselves to God’s strength and allow Jesus’ love to dwell in our hearts.

As infomericals often tell us, “But wait! There’s more!” In the latter part of verse 17 and through verse 19, we read about the result of receiving all God has for us. The more we get, the more we learn about God’s love. A never-ending process, Paul writes about it in terms of our grasping “how wide and long and deep is the love of Christ” (v. 18). Paul describes this love as one that “surpasses knowledge” (v. 19).

For Jews, “knowledge” implied intimate experience and involvement with a fact, event or person. For Greeks, it was more rational. For both, in their respective ways, knowledge was something to be greatly desired. Paul, is telling them—and us—that experiencing the love of Jesus is beyond anything else they could experience or think of.

Significantly, Paul prayed with hope, confidence, excitement and vision for the future. In verse 16, Paul had asked that his prayer be answered out of God’s “glorious riches.” In verse 20, he expresses confidence in God’s ability “to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is in us.” 

The ultimate end of Paul’s prayer is not simply for the benefit of the church in Ephesus. It was that God’s glory would show “in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations” (v. 21).

Let all God’s people say—no, let us  live the “Amen”!

Questions to explore

• What does “being Godly” truly mean? Why is that so difficult for us?

• How would your life give glory to God if you let Jesus live more fully in and through you?

• Ephesians 2:11-22

Last week, we examined the difference God makes. This week, we pick up where we left off. Obviously, that is true with the reference. However, it is also true with the theme. It is a kind of a “so what” that grows out of last week’s lesson.

The world calls us to exclude those different from us. We see it all around us in just about every area of life. One aspect of human nature always has been that it drives us to look with suspicion on those who differ from us. The differences may be physical: race, clothing, length of hair, clean-shaven vs. bewhiskered, old vs. young and so on. They may be less visible: religion, politics, sexual orientation, etc. It may be our way of justifying ourselves and the way we are.

In any case, what are some ways you see that we treat differently those who disagree or are at odds with us, or look or acts in ways we do not? Often, we create epithets. We call them names and pigeon-hole them as if we have them totally “figured out.” Sometimes, we simply choose to avoid or ignore them.

This was true in Paul’s day. We speak so often of “Judeo-Christian” values although we have forgotten how different the Jewish way of thinking and living was from that of the Greeks and many of the other gentiles of the New Testament era.

God’s call and promise to Abraham was that Abraham’s seed be a blessing to “all peoples on earth” (Genesis 12:3). God also commanded Israel to be “a holy nation” (Exodus 19:5). By the New Testament days, the Jews had become so focused on being “holy” in terms of being separate from the rest of the world, that they had little regard for Gentiles. Gentiles were considered unclean—even from birth!

Then, Gentiles lived, dressed and worshipped in ways that Jews considered impure. Gentiles ate food considered unclean by Jewish law. They were even cut off from the inner areas of the Jewish temple—lest that very special place be defiled.

Paul alludes to this situation in verse 11. He notes that before, the Gentile Christians of Ephesus were given an epithet by the Jews: “uncircumcised.” More importantly, Paul continues in verse 12, they were without hope, cut off not only from the Jews, but also from the source of life. In Jesus, however, the Gentiles had been brought to the source of life. Now, they had hope (v. 13).

In Micah 4, we read of the day when even Gentiles (“the peoples” and “many nations”), will seek God’s council and ways. Important it is to recall that Jesus, when cleansing the temple, referred to Isaiah 56:7 and reminded those around him that the temple was to be a “house of prayer for all nations” (Mark 11:17). One wonders if, when Jesus said they had made the Temple “a den of robbers,” Jesus meant that the worship of God had been stolen from the Gentiles.

Paul wrote that Jesus had “made the two (Jews and Gentiles) one” and had “destroyed the barrier” and the “wall of hostility” that had divided Jews and Gentiles (v. 14). According to verses 15-17, now the two were—through the work of Jesus—“one body” (the church) and both had “access to the father by one Spirit.”

Now, rather than having temple places in which Jews could worship and Gentiles could not, they were “being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit” (v. 22). They are one. One body. One family.

Though human nature is to distrust the different, the Jesus nature is to cherish all. Remember that Jesus, in John 3:16, refers to God’s love for the world. Which person in the world and in all its history is excluded from that? It seems to reason that, if one is excluded, we all are. In specific terms, if John 3:16 does not apply to the most heinous person you can name, it does not pertain to me—or you. Yes, that is the extent of God’s love and grace. Amazing, isn’t it?

The world just does not share grace, nor true love, easily. However, throughout 1 John we read the command to “love one another.” Unfortunately, as individuals as well as in our churches, denomination and country, we too seldom tolerate well people who differ from us in thought or appearance. (In this political season, have you tried having a civil discussion with another Christian whose deeply-held political views differ from yours?) Much less do we cherish and value them as equals in Jesus.

Why? What will it take for us to understand that there are no second-class citizens in God’s kingdom? When will we stop treating some as second-class members of Jesus’ church? Why have we failed so badly in realizing the cooperative, peaceful unity God offers in Christ, and what can we do about it?

We can allow God to change us. The issue is not how “they” need to change. Let’s allow God to truly build all of us up together. 

Questions to explore

•  What does 1 Corinthians 12-13 suggest about how we need to change so that we will truly cherish everyone in Jesus’ family?

•  What difference would those changes make in the ways you and your church would cherish everyone in God’s family?

• Matthew 25:1-13

Years ago, while my husband was at seminary, we received a unique job offer—house-sitting a multi-million dollar mansion. Needless to say, it was an offer we couldn’t refuse.

We were given full run of the house, and all we had to do in return was keep the place in show condition. The rules were few and simple. We weren’t allowed to invite anyone into the house. We only were allowed to keep our personal belongings in our bedroom. And if anything needed attention, we should notify the owner’s mother, Mrs. B, in Arkansas.

And one other thing. Occasionally, Mrs. B would drop in from Arkansas to ensure all her instructions were being carried out.

We never knew when Mrs. B would arrive. But our job—and a cushy job it was—depended on fulfilling her expectations. So as you can imagine, we were meticulous about keeping the mansion clean. Before going to work, we would do a walk-through to ensure the house was in order. After dinner, we’d do a white-glove test on the kitchen counters. No laundry went unfolded. And no mess was ever left for the next cleaning day. In short, every day was cleaning day.

During our years at the mansion, I grew to appreciate Matthew 25:13, “Therefore, keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.” A day is coming when our Lord will return. On that day, we must be ready.

The image of the wedding

Most often, when Jesus refers to his second coming, he uses the image of a wedding feast. To our modern ears, these references are pretty, but not very meaningful. For Jesus’ audience, however, this image made perfect sense. You see, our eternal relationship with Jesus is based on Jewish wedding customs, so the language Jesus used to describe salvation and his second coming were words his audience used in their everyday lives.

During that time, when a man wanted to marry, he would draw up a wedding contract outlining the terms of the marriage. In it, he would describe how he intended to provide for his bride and the bride price he would offer for her. He would then go to his intended’s home and offer this contract to his intended bride and her father.

The man would pour a cup of wine. If the bride accepted his offer, she could drink from the cup, and the covenant would be sealed. He would give her gifts and tell her, “I go to prepare a place for you. I will return for you when it is ready.” Then he would leave and they would not see one another until he came for her on their wedding night.

The betrothal was as binding as a wedding is today. Although the relationship was not consummated until later, the couple was considered married. During this interim period, the bridegroom and the bride got ready for the wedding feast. She was ceremonially cleansed. She purchased expensive cosmetics and learned to apply them. If she went out in public, she wore a veil. And each night, she and her attendants would get their things ready in case that was the night the groom would appear.

Meanwhile, the bridegroom built a honeymoon room for his bride. While he had full responsibility for building the room, the decision that it was finally complete belonged to his father. The groom’s father held his son to the highest standards during these preparations and only gave his approval when he felt those standards had been met.

When the father finally gave his approval, the son would gather his attendants and go to his bride’s house. Usually, we would arrive in the middle of the night, his attendants announcing their arrival with blasts of a ram’s horn. This allowed the bride to gather her belongings and her attendants to light their lamps. Only invited guests were allowed to celebrate with the couple, and any attendant not ready would miss her opportunity to participate.

Jesus’ covenant with us

Jesus came to earth, our home, to introduce a new covenant, the marriage contract. John the Baptist verified this when one of his disciples asked about Jesus’ ministry. “The bride belongs to the bridegroom. The friend who attends the bridegroom waits and listens for him, and is full of joy when he hears the bridegroom’s voice. That joy is mine, and it is now complete” (John 3:29).

The bride price Jesus offers us is his own life. 1 Corinthians 6:20 tells us, “You were bought at a price.” And 1 Peter 1:18-19 explains that our bride price wasn’t paid with silver or gold, “but with the precious blood of Christ.” Our bridegroom paid the highest price possible for his bride, the church.
And having poured the cup of communion, Jesus waits for us to accept his offer. When we become Christians, we essentially become betrothed to Jesus. From that moment it is our responsibility to guard our purity and make ourselves beautiful to him. (Fortunately, God values the beauty of our hearts, not our faces.)  Having accepted Jesus’ covenant, we receive the gifts of the Holy Spirit and we may receive Jesus’ promise that he is preparing a place for us. Some day the Father will tell Jesus the honeymoon room is ready, and our bridegroom will come for us. We must be ready.

How the parable applies to us

In today’s parable, the bride is the church and her attendants are the members of the church. But by “church,” we mean the universal church, which resides in our hearts. In essence, we can learn from both the bride and the attendants. They each have a lesson for us.

What can we learn from the attendants? We must be prepared. Rather than assuming Jesus will not return soon, we should look for his return daily. Rather than waiting until our last hours of life to get right with God, we should live right each day. “So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him” (Matthew 24:44).

We can learn from the bride how to prepare. The bride in ancient Israel prepared for the wedding feast by being ceremonially cleansed; we are baptized after accepting Christ as our Savior. To ensure purity and modesty, she wore a veil in public; we put on a spiritual veil when we separate ourselves from worldly indulgences. She learned to apply cosmetics to make herself beautiful; we study and pray so we can develop a heart for God. She readied her things every night in case that was the night her bridegroom would arrive. We too must live each day as if that is the day Jesus will return.

Packing for Jesus’ return

When we talk about preparing for Jesus’ return, our minds turn to full-time ministry, missions and evangelistic campaigns. We tend to think of great works we could perform. But preparing for Jesus’ return isn’t necessarily a physical work. “Then they asked him, ‘What must we do to do the works God requires?’ Jesus answered, ‘The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent’” (John 6:28-29). When we prepare our lamps, our preparations must be spiritual: faith, obedience and developing a heart for God.

And our preparations must be made daily. Let’s face it, we live in an uncertain world. Though none of us like to think about it, our lives hang on a thread. All it takes is a simple accident or sudden illness to cut a healthy life short. That’s why we must live in a state of readiness. So the question of the day is this: If you had to face your Maker right now, would you be ready?

Discussion questions

•    If you knew Jesus was returning in exactly one week, what would you do to prepare?

•    Why are faith and obedience so necessary as we prepare for Jesus’ return?

• 1 Samuel 7

Whom do we trust? When we start peeling back the layers of our beliefs and commitments, we might discover we place our trust in a lot of things, some of which are more worthy of that reliance than others.

For example, in order to get through the challenges of life, people might rely largely or solely on other people. Of course, trust always involves some element of risk, and we must be willing to be vulnerable before we can enter into meaningful relationships with others; but sooner or later, people disappoint us.

Others might rely heavily on their financial resources, but a bad economy has a way of turning a 401(k) into a 201(k). A rugged individualist might trust in his own abilities and strengths, but illness or injury might take those personal assets away. 

Ultimately, we find God alone is the one in whom we ought to place our utmost confidence. The events described in 1 Samuel 7 challenge us to ask, and honestly answer, the question: “Whom do you trust?”

The historical context for the events of chapter 7 begins three chapters earlier with an account of the Israelites’ ruinous defeat in battle by the Philistines. Thirty thousand Israelite soldiers were killed in a single day (4:10), and the high priest Eli’s two sons also perished.

The Philistines captured the sacred Ark of the Covenant, and when news of the loss of the ark was carried to the Eli, in shock he fell backward off his chair and broke his neck and died (4:12-18). God’s prophecies against the house of Eli (see 2:27-34, 3:11-14) had come to deadly fulfillment.

The Ark of the Covenant finally was returned to Israel, following a plague which God sent on the Philistines (chapters 5-6). The ark ultimately was taken by the Israelites to the town of Kireath Jearim. 

One might think all was well once again in Israel; the sacred ark—the symbol of God’s presence—was back where it belonged. But were things truly well? Obviously not, as a full 20 years went by during which Israel’s spiritual circumstances appear to remain unchanged (7:1-2). Do not pass by the opening verses of chapter 7 too quickly, because those few words communicate a great deal to us.

A few years ago, I heard a radio news item regarding pop music icon Michael Jackson, who at the time was about to go to trial on well-publicized charges that need not be repeated here. The newscaster stated that in preparation for his first appearance before the jury, Jackson was—and I am quoting precisely here—“having his hair and his make-up professionally done.” I thought at the time, “Here is a guy who just doesn’t get it.”

When we come to the events of 1 Samuel 7, God’s judgment had fallen on Israel: They had been devastated by the Philistine army, and the ark of God’s covenant had been taken from them. But now the ark was safely returned, signifying the possibility of a new spiritual start for the nation if only they would turn fully back to God … but 20 more years went by before they acknowledged what the real problem was, and dealt with that problem honestly.

They just didn’t get it.

But finally the nation awoke to the depth of their need, and “all the people mourned and sought after the Lord” (7:2). Samuel challenged the Israelites to demonstrate the sincerity of their sorrow by abandoning the sins which had brought them to this place: “If you are returning to the Lord with all your hearts, then rid yourselves of the foreign gods and the Ashtoreths (female false gods) and commit yourselves to the Lord and serve him only …” (7:3).

Israel’s deep problem had been an issue of misplaced trust: They had given themselves in worship, devotion and faith to the false gods of the Canaanites. They had not utterly abandoned their worship of the true God, but had combined their worship of Yahweh with the worship of idols. Like the Athenians of Acts 17, they believed spiritual safety could be found in allegiance to a plurality of deities.

There are a number of problems with the practice of idolatry. The first and most obvious issue is the clear command of God: “You shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:3). The Lord alone is God, and he is not willing to share his rightful place in our lives with anyone or anything else. But there also is a pragmatic problem inherent in the worship of multiple gods: What one deity requires of his worshippers might be at cross purposes with what is required by another of his “gods.”

The point is this: Some people might look at Christianity as merely a nice addition to their already well-stocked supply of ideas, attitudes and opinions, and that their relationship with Jesus can peacefully co-exist with those pre-existing mental and emotional trappings. We all need to consider seriously whether some of our cherished beliefs and established attitudes are fundamentally incompatible with the life and teachings of Jesus. Jesus wants not merely to be a supplement to us, but to transform us.

In response to Samuel’s challenge, the Israelites repented and recommitted themselves to total trust in and obedience to God (7:4). Samuel then convened a solemn assembly at the town of Mizpah, where the Israelites publicly affirmed their repentance by drawing water and pouring it out before the Lord—a symbol of their godly sorrow, in that they were sacrificing the valuable (and possibly scarce) commodity of fresh water—and fasted and confessed their sins (7:6).

When their Philistine enemies learned the Israelites had gathered at Mizpah, they likely interpreted that meeting as preparation for war. In response, the Philistines gathered their army and marched on Mizpah. Recalling their utter defeat at the hands of this enemy two decades before, the Israelites panicked (7:8). They pled with Samuel to intercede with God for them, and the prophet offered a burnt offering and “cried out to the Lord on Israel’s behalf, and the Lord answered him” (7:9). God confounded the Philistine armies and threw them into such chaos that Israel easily was able to defeat them and drive them far from Mizpah.

The Philistines had believed the gathering at Mizpah was a council of war; and in a sense it was, but not of the sort the Philistines feared. The real battle was being fought in the spiritual sphere of Israel’s life.

Robert Bergen, in the New American Commentary, states it well: “The movement of Israel’s heart, not Yahweh’s ark, brought about true freedom from Israel’s oppressors.”

Samuel erected a stone monument to memorialize God’s powerful acts on Israel’s behalf, and to remind the people to remain focused on God as the legitimate object of their trust. He called that stone “Ebenezer” (“Stone of Help”), citing God’s gracious help which had brought them safely through this desperate and dangerous time (7:12).

The 18th-century hymnist Robert Robinson drew inspiration from that verse in his hymn “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing,” the second stanza of which says: 

“Here I raise mine Ebenezer; hither by Thy help I’ve come; And I hope, by Thy good pleasure, safely to arrive at home.”

We as well need to create reference points in our own lives which keep turning our minds back to God’s gracious care for us, and which help keep us focused on God as the only never-failing object of our trust.

There is an apocryphal story about that hymn, which says the composer in his later years backslid into rebellion against God. When confronted with the lyrics he had penned years before, he supposedly said, “I would give a thousand worlds, if I had them, to enjoy the feelings I had then."

If that story is indeed true, how ironic that Robinson would foreshadow his own drifting away from obedient fellowship with God with these words from the final stanza: “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it; prone to leave the God I love … .”

Such is the result when we place our ultimate trust in things other than the Lord God.

• Ephesians 2:1-10

The week during which I am writing this lesson has been one of mixed emotions. This is the first week of classes at Logsdon Seminary and Hardin-Simmons University. As a professor, this time of year is one of great excitement and anticipation. What a joy it is to study with our students the Bible and ministry! It is, indeed, one of the many times I am so grateful God called me to ministry more than 50 years ago. 

This week also has been filled with sadness. The church I am serving as interim pastor has lost two members to death. Two funerals. Two families with whom to walk “through the valley of the shadow of death.” This is not easy, but it is a time of ministry. And it, too, will be another time when I am so grateful God called me to minister.

OK, so what makes the difference for me? And what is it that makes the difference for families and individuals facing death? The best answer is the same one that makes it possible for any of us to also face difficulties and tragedies in life. The answer also gives meaning to, makes meaning out of and brings joy to life. The answer is not a what, but a who. Of course, that answer is Jesus.

In last week’s lesson we observed the very religious nature of Ephesus. There was the great temple to Artemis. There was Judaism and others. Then, there was the Christian church. One (especially of that day) may ask what difference does Jesus make? What was it that set the worship of Jesus apart from Judaism or the worship of Artemis? In Ephesians 2:1-10, Paul addresses that question.

In verses 1-5, Paul starts by drawing a vivid picture of our lives without Jesus. It has to do with our state of being, what we were like and how we acted. We were “dead in [our] transgressions and sins” (v. 1). We “followed the ways of this world (v. 2). We sought to gratify “the cravings of our sinful nature” (v. 3).

That is a pretty sad picture Paul draws of us. However, Paul goes on to write that God still loves us and “is rich in mercy” (v. 4) toward us.

Therefore, by God’s grace, God “made us alive with Christ” (v. 5). As if that were not enough, God “raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus” (v. 6). Dead by our own hands then alive by God’s. Degraded by ourselves then exalted by God. That is a huge difference, isn’t it?

Well, there is even more. That change can be said to have been made in our “spiritual DNA” (that which makes us who we are and what we look like). Of course, that is what Jesus meant by our being “born again” (John 3). That change is not simply for our own good. That is, God changes us through Jesus for reasons beyond our own good and exaltation. Rather, verse 10 tells us “we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ for good works.”

Now, we can never emphasize enough that, as Paul reminds us in verses 8-9, we cannot earn our salvation. It is possible only through the lavishness of God’s mercy and grace. Just as our physical DNA forms the way the look physically, if Jesus has changed us at the “spiritual DNA”  level, our lives will grow to resemble that of  Jesus. In other words, rather than living after the way of the world, we live in the way of Jesus.

The difference God makes in us is both internal and external. The difference should be a deep down change of our personal fabric and make-up. The difference is not one of a superficial checklist. However, the result should be visible in our lives being patterned more closely after Jesus.

We also must remember this kind of change is beyond our human capability. We could make ourselves follow some of Jesus’ ways that we could check off on a list. However, we cannot change ourselves deep down and in our innermost being. Rather, we must trust Jesus to make that difference.

Then, we must trust Jesus to mold us into his image. Even Jesus’ first disciples once responded that what Jesus was teaching them was “hard” (John 6:60). Doing what Jesus did and commands us to do can be hard for us. It even can be frightening when we do not know what will be its end or what will happen to us. So, we still must rely on Jesus —in grace—to not only change us, but also to mold, enable and empower us for good works. Always, we can trust Jesus to keep his promise to us: “My grace is sufficient for you” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Questions to explore

•  What difference does trusting in Jesus make for you as you face the joys and sorrows of life?

•  What teaching of Jesus do you find the most difficult to follow? How can trusting Jesus enable you to obey him?

• Matthew 22:1-14

“You’ve been invited to the wedding feast of the Lamb! What an honor! Here, let me show you the way …”

So said the servants to each of the people on the king’s invitation list. But in spite of the joyous message, neither the servants nor their message were well received. The invitation was ignored and the servants were mistreated or killed.

Fact or fiction? It’s a parable delivered by Jesus. But it rings too true to be taken lightly. Like many of Jesus’ stories, the parable of the wedding banquet is simple and hard all at the same time. It is obviously a story about salvation. But it doesn’t pull any punches, and it forces us to take a second look at how we define salvation.

In this story, Jesus illustrates his point, namely, “many are invited, but few are chosen” (v. 14). Let’s take a closer look at those who don’t make the cut.

The unwilling

In Jesus’ story, the first invitation was extended to the Jews, God’s chosen people. But they weren’t willing to recognize the long-awaited Messiah when he arrived.

In the parable, this group of invitees did not appreciate the honor bestowed on them by the king’s invitation. This fact was not lost on Jesus’ audience. They understood what a great honor it was to be on the guest list of a king. They also knew refusal was tantamount to a declaration of war.

Jesus is telling us he knows the Jews are not going to recognize him as their long-awaited messiah. And he lets us know God’s feelings on the matter. When those whom God honors refuse to honor God, he is offended.

So what can we learn from this group? Understand the great honor of being invited to the wedding banquet. We must never devalue the gift of salvation.

The unworthy

In Jesus’ parable, the second round of invitations went to anyone the king’s servants met on the streets, both good and bad. Anyone who rejected the invitation was excluded, but everyone who accepted was allowed into the banquet hall. This group represents us, the Gentiles.

The amazing part of this section is who the king deems worthy. He doesn’t exclude those we would think of as morally or socially unacceptable. He wants to honor his son, so anyone he invites is worthy. Acceptance is the key here. The simple act of accepting the invitation makes us worthy of the invitation.

A second thing that stands out in this section is the reason we are invited. The king wants to honor his son; therefore, we must not come half-heartedly.

Salvation is an all-or-nothing proposition. Revelation 3:16 says, “So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” It is an offense to God to accept his invitation but not take it seriously. When we do that, we begin to look dangerously like the first group, who were destroyed for their unwillingness to celebrate with the king.

The unprepared

During Jesus’ day, guests prepared for a feast by cleansing themselves and dressing in their finest clothes. The host usually provided a wedding garment for each of his guests to ensure their preparations were adequate. In this story, particularly, the king would have needed to provide finery for his guests since they were brought in from the streets.

One of the men at the banquet must have thought his street clothes were good enough. He didn’t think he needed to put on the wedding garments provided by the king. But he was wrong. Because he wasn’t properly dressed, he was not allowed to join the celebration.

In the same way, God provides a spotless covering to ensure we are adequately dressed for his presence. This covering is the righteousness of Jesus, which we put on through faith the moment we accept Christ as our Savior and on a daily basis as we live out our faith. There’s nothing we can do to become pure enough for the banquet God is planning. Our finest efforts are nothing more than filthy rags in God’s sight. That’s why he must provide this righteousness as a gift. But knowing about God’s righteousness isn’t enough; we must put it on. Consider these verses: “Rather, clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ (Romans 13:14); and “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience” (Colossians 3:12).

Going to church and being a good person isn’t enough. The “wedding clothes” provided by God is the blood of Jesus. It covers our sins and changes our hearts, and until that change is made, we aren’t presentable to God. All are invited, but we must follow the rules laid out by the King. We must, through faith, accept Jesus’ sacrifice and put on his righteousness.

After you’re saved … preparing for the banquet

We Baptists often focus so heavily on the forgiveness of our sins, we forget how much God hates sin. Yes, he wants us to place our faith in Jesus, but he doesn’t want us to stop there. Paul says we must work out our salvation with fear and trembling. “For it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose” (Philippians 2:12-13). Salvation is spiritual birth. After the birth, we must grow.

When we are saved, we must begin a transformation that will make us less like the world around us and more like Jesus. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

This is the change in garments the King of our story is looking for. As we develop our relationship with Jesus, we begin to look more like him. Little by little, we develop the heart of God. And as we do, our filthy rags are slowly replaced by wedding finery until, hopefully, when we stand before God, he is pleased with our preparations for the celebration.

What should we remember from this story?

1.    Salvation is a precious gift we should thank God for every day.

2.    It’s God’s mercy that brings salvation, not our worthiness.

3.    It’s God’s invitation and God’s list, not ours. Our job is to help make the party a success by bringing more people in.

But most importantly, we need to remember how blessed we are to be invited. “Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding supper of the Lamb!” (Revelations 19:9). Our God is a God of mercy and love. We deserve nothing but judgment, yet he showers us with blessings. Let’s honor him by preparing well for the banquet. Let’s put on the righteousness of Jesus.

Discussion questions

•    Why do you think Jesus told this story?

•    What can we do as Christians to make sure we don’t devalue the gift of salvation?

• 1 Samuel 3

In order to make a point during a sermon or Bible study, I occasionally will ask the individuals in a group of Christians to raise a hand if they ever have heard God speaking to them. On almost every occasion I have performed this experiment, only a very few hands go up. Sometimes it’s just one or two. And sometimes, none at all.

This is surprising, especially when you consider that for a Christian person, the default answer to that question is “yes.” Indeed, the fact that a person is a Christian requires he or she has heard, in some form or fashion, God speaking to them. Jesus said: “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. … It is written in the Prophets: ‘They will all be taught by God.’ Everyone who listens to the Father and learns from him comes to me” (John 6:44-45). On another occasion, Jesus would say, “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27).

Perhaps what people mean when they say they never have heard God speaking to them is they have never heard an audible divine voice with their physical ears. We easily forget that God might speak to our hearts and minds in many possible ways. And speak, he does.

It is that communicative activity of God which drives the events of 1 Samuel 3. Verse 1 sets the stage for what is to follow by telling us these events took place during a period when messages from God were rare.

In one episode of a popular TV sitcom, one of the characters—a 12-or-so-year-old boy—went a couple of days without speaking a word. Finally at the supper table one evening, when asked a question by his mother, the boy just shrugged his shoulders and still said nothing. “What’s the matter,” the mom asked, “don’t you speak to your family anymore?” He blurted out, “I haven’t said anything in two days, and nobody’s noticed.”

What a sad picture: Their own son had withdrawn from them and fallen silent, but Mom and Dad were so wrapped up in their own lives they weren’t even aware of the fact. 

We can’t help but wonder if the same thing might be said about the lack of God’s communication to Israel during the waning years of the period of the judges. Did they notice? Did they miss hearing God speak?

But there is a glimmer of hope in this phrase of verse 2: “The lamp of God had not yet gone out …” Literally, this is referring to the olive oil-fueled luminary, the tending of which was one of young Samuel’s duties in the place of worship. Symbolically, many commentators see here an assurance that although revelations from God were rare during that time, they were not non-existent.

One of those rare words from God was communicated to the high priest Eli in chapter 2 through an unnamed man of God (2:27-36). His message was against the two sons of Eli, who had become utterly corrupt in their priestly office and duties. But ultimately, God’s message was against Eli himself, who had shown indulgence to his sons rather than spiritual leadership to the people of Israel. 1 Samuel 3:2 says Eli’s eyes had grown so weak he could barely see; perhaps this is a subtle gibe at the high priest, implying it was not just his physical eyes that were weak.

Now the scene shifts to young Samuel. Night had come, and the boy was lying down in his usual resting place when he was stirred by a voice calling his name. Thinking the aged high priest was calling him, Samuel got up and reported to Eli. Eli probably thought the boy had been dreaming and sent him back to bed, but twice more the same thing happened. Verse 7 interprets the event: “Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord; The word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him.” 

A point might be made here that hearing God’s voice and interpreting God’s will for our lives is a skill which must be developed. Like Samuel, we might hear God speaking to our hearts and minds, but not recognize it is in fact God. But as we grow in our relationship to God through Jesus Christ, the words of Jesus in John 14:26 will become increasingly meaningful to us: “But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things … .”

Of course, the converse also is true: It can be easy to confuse what we want for ourselves with what God wants for us. We might attempt to justify any course of action by claiming it is what we feel “led of God” to do.

When I was in college, one of my fellow-students (who wasn’t terribly studious) had fallen way behind in his assignments in a particular course, and so he went to the professor and said, “Doc, I’ve been praying about it, and I really feel led to drop your course.” The professor replied, “Son, don’t blame God if you are too lazy to study.”

The third time the divine voice spoke to Samuel, Eli finally recognized what was taking place. Eli was a weak leader who had significant problems, but to his credit, he gave the boy wise counsel. He told Samuel to go back and do what he had been doing when he heard God speak to him the previous three times; and if he were to hear God’s voice again, to respond: “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening” (3:8-9).

Samuel did as he was told, and when God called to him the fourth time, he answered as the high priest had instructed him.  Those words suggested by Eli, and spoken to God by Samuel, provide us with a tremendous example of the sort of attitudes we ought to have as we approach the subject of interpreting God’s will for our lives. First of all, we ought to stand ready to listen as God speaks through any channel he desires. Second, we need to stand ready to act at God’s behest. God wants to reveal his will to us, but not so that we might consider that will as one option among several; he speaks to us so we can go and act on what he says.

Samuel’s initial assignment was one he probably was tempted to pass on. God’s message to the boy was a confirmation of the judgment coming on Eli and his family  (3:11-14). No possibilities of changing the course were offered; Eli's family had reached the point of no return.

Samuel understandably was hesitant to tell Eli—a man for whom he doubtless had filial love and respect—what God had revealed to him. But again, to Eli’s credit, he received and humbly accepted the prophecy that God gave to Samuel (3:15-18).

Verse 19 states “the Lord was with Samuel as he grew up, and he let none of his words fall to the ground.” Unlike Eli, Samuel served faithfully as God’s spokesman to his generation.

Look carefully at the dramatic contrast between 3:1 and 3:21. What a difference. The life of Samuel marked the beginning of a period of renewed divine revelation; all God said to Samuel, Samuel said to Israel (3:21-4:1). And as we will see in the chapters to come, God indeed had a lot to say to Samuel.

• 1 Samuel 1-2

In his novel A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens describes the situation in Paris and London during the French Revolution by saying, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

The same might be said about conditions in Israel during the period of the judges in which the events recorded in the opening chapters of 1 Samuel occurred. For the infant nation of Israel, it was the worst of times because it was a period of tremendous tumult and instability. But those dark years were punctuated by bright lights in the form of the judges—men and women whom God raised up and empowered to defend and lead the loosely confederated Israelite tribes—as well as remarkable displays of love and devotion such as those described in the book of Ruth. 

The opening chapters of 1 Samuel describe the transition from that turbulent era of Israel’s history to the relative stability of the nation under the strong leadership of the judge and prophet Samuel, culminating in a national monarchy under King Saul. The hinge on which that transition pivots is a young woman named Hannah, who in chapter 1 is seen grieving over her barren condition.

That master of unintentional redundancy Yogi Berra once remarked that “you can observe a lot by watching.” Looking closely at the human elements of the study passage, we observe an interesting interplay of personalities:  A man named Elkanah, his two wives Hannah and Peninnah (although God in the Ten Commandments had condemned adultery, polygamy still was the unfortunate cultural norm), and the high priest Eli all appear and play their respective roles in the story.

Hannah clearly was Elkanah’s favorite of the two wives, but the least-favored wife was able to give Elkanah something the more-favored one wasn’t—children. Hannah’s grief over her inability to conceive was compounded by the fact that Peninnah used her own fertility as an emotional weapon in her rivalry for their husband’s attention and affection: “And because the Lord had closed her womb, her rival kept provoking her in order to irritate her. This happened year after year. Whenever Hannah went up to the house of the Lord, her rival provoked her until she wept and would not eat” (1:6-7).

We might experience an instant dislike for Peninnah, but perhaps she gives us all a reason to take a good look in the mirror and see if we ourselves sometimes—even if unintentionally—are acting in the same kind of provocative manner toward others who might not be blessed in the same ways we are.

Boasting about how good our gas mileage is in our new SUV in front of someone who is struggling financially to fill the tank on his 20-year-old hooptie, or talking endlessly about how much fun we have on our annual Hawaiian vacation in front of a family who can only afford a weekend camping trip to the nearest state park isn’t just tacky, it might even be considered cruel.

Beginning in verse 9, the text describes one particular day that Hannah had gone to Shiloh along with Elkanah and Peninnah to worship. As the high priest Eli looked on, Hannah poured her heart out to God as she prayed for God to give her a child. The inspired writer describes Hannah’s condition with the phrase “bitterness of soul.” She was filled with years of pent-up anger, hurt and disappointment, and those emotions boiled out of her as she prayed to God.

Most of us have been able at one time or another in our lives to identify with Hannah’s emotion. Perhaps even right now you are looking that phrase “bitterness of soul” and are looking at Hannah and saying “I feel your pain.” The text touches us at a profound level: How do we respond when life doesn’t turn out like we planned, or when we are grappling with a  difficult situation that refuses to go away or get any better?

But just as we have all stood in Hannah’s shoes, we also all have stood in Eli’s as God places us in situations where we are called to give comfort and encouragement to others who are hurting.

Although Eli at first misunderstood what lay behind Hannah’s actions, when made aware of the facts he gave her encouragement by pointing her to the power of God to transform situations which appear beyond help (vv. 12-18). It is interesting and instructive that Hannah didn’t tell Eli specifically what she was grieving over, and Eli didn’t ask her.

When someone is hurting, we don’t have to know all the juicy details in order to pray for someone, or to stand alongside them and help them.

Hannah left her time of prayer encouraged (v. 18). Perhaps Eli’s words, few though they were, were just what she needed to hear at that moment; or maybe God gave Hannah some inner assurance he had heard her prayers and was at last going to give her a child. Scripture doesn’t say, and neither can we. Perhaps what we see here simply is an example of the “peace of God which transcends all understanding” (Philippians 4:7) which comes from surrendering one’s troubles to the Lord and resting in his promises of provision.

And God did indeed transform Hannah’s situation by enabling her to conceive and give birth to a son. She gave her boy the name Samuel, in testimony of God’s answering her prayer for this child (2:20). 

We ought to consider how easy it would have been at this point for Hannah to renege on the promise she had made to God, to find some reason or justification for keeping her son and raising him at home just as other families did. But Hannah shows herself to be not just a women of deep faith and devotion, but also a person of remarkable integrity. Hannah kept Samuel at home and cared for him until he was weaned, and then took him to the house of worship at Shiloh and presented him to the high priest Eli, giving her son to the service of God (1:21-28). 

I have remarked on a few occasions that God gets all of the blame, but none of the credit. Whenever things go wrong in our lives, we might ask “Why would God do this to me?” or say “If God really cared about me, he would fix this situation.” But then when God answers our prayers or brings tremendous blessing into our lives, we might never pause to acknowledge his love and power at work in our lives.

In chapter 2, we can listen in as Hannah prays and gives full credit for her new son to God. Hannah’s prayer is a psalm-like song of praise, testimony and instruction in which she glorifies God and invites others to consider his goodness.
 
With 1 Samuel 2, Hannah disappears from the scriptural record, as the scene shifts to that son for whom she had prayed, and who will occupy the central human role for the next chapters.

Earlier in this lesson, we noted how Hannah was a pivotal figure in the transition between the turbulent years of the judges and the renewed work of God through Samuel, leading up to the creation of an Israelite monarchy under Saul. It is important to keep in mind that Hannah was a key figure in this drama not just because she was Hannah, but because of her faith, integrity and prayerful trust in God. Those are the kind of people on whom positive transitions turn.
 

• Matthew 18:21-35

About 10 years ago, an old book was pulled off the bookshelves, dusted off and turned into a modern-day catch-phrase. The book, In His Steps, was written in 1896 by Charles Sheldon, and it became the WWJD, or “What Would Jesus Do,” movement.

According to Sheldon, to be true disciples of Jesus, we should act like he does. So rather than following our instincts, before doing anything, we should ask ourselves what Jesus would do in that situation.

It’s a great idea. But it isn’t an easy one. Today’s lesson illustrates why.
 
Our debts have all been forgiven

Jesus tells the story of a man who owes a huge debt to his master. One day, the master decides to collect that debt and threatens to sell the man, his family and all his possessions if he cannot pay. The man begs for mercy, and the entire debt is forgiven. He walks away a free man.

This man is Everyman. We all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23). And the wages of sin is death—eternal death (Romans 6:23). That’s a debt none of us can pay. But God, in his infinite mercy, doesn’t want us to pay that debt, so he found a way to pay it himself. He sent his son Jesus to live a sinless life so he could take up our debt and pay the penalty for us. In short, our debt is forgiven completely.

There’s only one catch. You see, God is in the business of forgiving. It’s what he does, and he expects us to do it as well. Yes, we are granted forgiveness of sins, but according to Jesus, that’s not the end of the story.

Unforgiveness is not an option

The man in Jesus’ story heaves a great sigh of relief at his narrow escape. But rather than celebrating with his friends, he sets out to collect all the debts owed him. Perhaps he thinks his master will change his mind. Perhaps he doesn’t really believe his debt was forgiven. Regardless of the reason, this man finds someone who owes him a piddly debt and throws him in debtor’s prison.

None of us is perfect. There’s a 100 percent chance we’ll offend someone in the course of our lives, and an equal chance we’ll be offended. But God wants us to forgive as we have been forgiven. “For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins (Matthew 6:14-15).”

Jesus is telling us there are two sides to this coin we call salvation. On the one side, we are forgiven. On the other, we do the forgiving. If we understand the extent of God’s gift, we will forgive as generously as we have been forgiven. If not, if we forget our narrow escape and deny forgiveness to those who wrong us, we’ll be forgiven in exactly the way we forgive.

It’s as if God is asking each of us, “What does forgiveness look like?” And whatever we tell him is what he’ll grant us. But God isn’t listening to our words. He’s looking into our hearts as he watches our actions.

How do you define forgiveness?

You’ve heard “forgive and forget.” You’ve probably been told if you just say you forgive someone, your heart will eventually catch up with your words. But neither idea is very realistic. First, we can’t will ourselves to forget. Nor is it always wise to forget, since our memory of the past helps guide our future. Second, our heart doesn’t necessarily follow our words. By speaking things that aren’t already true, we keep ourselves from dealing with something that needs attention.

Forgiveness is not easy, nor does it just happen. It is an act of mercy extended to someone who can never repay their debt or undo the damage they have done. Forgiveness, therefore, is a conscious act. It requires courage. And it must be done wisely.

Forgiving consciously

Forgiveness isn’t the same thing as letting things slide. It isn’t closing your eyes and pretending the offense didn’t occur. And it doesn’t require relationship to be restored. Forgiveness is nothing more than release. To forgive, you make a conscious decision to release your right to reparations and the offender’s obligation to pay. And when this happens, you cut the ties that bind you to that offense. You become free to move on with your life.

Forgiving courageously

Forgiveness is hard because it goes against the grain. If you release a debt, you fear you will be stuck holding the bill. You may be perceived as being weak. And the guilty party may get off scot-free. Forgiveness doesn’t seem fair. But forgiveness is an act of godliness that doesn’t have to be fair.

To forgive, you must partner with God. You see, you won’t be stuck holding the bill because, when you forgive, God pays the bill. As he says in Deuteronomy 32:35, “It is mine to avenge; I will repay.” When we forgive, we must trust God to pay the bill however he wishes. We must trust his wisdom and be willing to accept his ways. It’s an act of courage, but it defines forgiveness.

Forgiving wisely

Forgiveness is an act of obedience. Relationship is not. God does not expect us to maintain relationship with someone who doesn’t treat us with respect and love.

I know a man who, as a boy, was kidnapped, shot in the head, and left for dead. Years later, upon meeting the man who tried to murder him, my friend forgave him. He did not offer to become friends with his would-be murderer. That would be foolish.

Sometimes relationships are dangerous. Although we are commanded to forgive the damage done to us in those relationships, we must be discerning about whether we should continue those relationships. It isn’t unforgiving to remove ourselves from situations that could be dangerous on a spiritual, emotional or physical level.

But most cases of forgiveness aren’t that big. The relationship isn’t dangerous. Instead we have taken offense because our pride was damaged or our feelings were hurt. In these situations, the wise thing is to go immediately to God. Instead of nursing our wounds, we need to humble ourselves and ask God to show us the truth of what happened. We need to give him the bill we want the other party to pay and ask forgiveness for our part in the disagreement.

Just forgive

The story of the unmerciful servant is Jesus’ answer to a question asked by Peter. It’s a question most of us have asked at one time or another: How often does a repeat offender deserve to be forgiven? (That’s not how he asked it, but it is what he wanted to know.) As always, Jesus gives an answer that creates more questions. But the point is this: When it comes to forgiveness, there is no magic number. How often should we forgive? As often as we want God to forgive us.

Discussion questions

•    In Jesus’ story, he likens an offense to monetary debt. Why is this a good comparison?
•    If Christians could master the art of forgiveness, how would it change the church? The world?
•    Do you think forgiveness could become easier over time, or is it something we must always wrestle with?
 

• Ephesians 1:1-14

Most of us have had some experience planning a “big event.” Some of these—such as weddings —take a lot of planning. We reserve the facilities, make the decorations, decide whom to invite, address and send out invitations, and do all we can to make the occasion something special and memorable for all who attend.

In this opening passage in Ephesians, Paul describes a “big event”—a celebration—God was and is planning.

Ephesus was a great Greek city. It had a theater that was the envy of many in the ancient Mediterranean world. It was the site of games, athletic competition similar to the recent Olympics in Beijing. A magnificent temple to the Roman goddess Artemis—listed as one of the seven wonders of the ancient world—was in Ephesus. Celebrations of many and various sorts were a consistent part of life in Ephesus.

Given Paul’s circumstances, it would seem he had little to celebrate. Three times in Ephesians, Paul implies he was writing from a jail to the church at Ephesus. In 3:1, he calls himself “the prisoner of Christ Jesus,” in 4:1, “the prisoner for the Lord” and in 6:20, “an ambassador in chains.” This is why we refer to Ephesians as one of Paul’s “Prison Epistles” (Philippians, Colossians and Philemon are the others). The book of Acts ends with Paul under something like house arrest. During this time news and various concerns came before Paul that led to his writing these letters.

In writing Ephesians, Paul was dealing with reports of two problems at Ephesus. Apparently, he had heard some were so relishing their freedom from the law that their moral standards had become lax. Also, there had risen more tension between the Gentile and Jewish Christians.

Paul opened his letter in his usual way. However, notice that, after identifying himself, Paul addresses in an inclusive manner. This letter is for “the saints in Ephesus, the faithful in Christ Jesus.” He is starting with that which all of them—Jew and Gentile alike—have in common.

Despite his imprisonment, Paul knew he was not alone in living out faith in Jesus. He also recognized those Ephesian Christians were doing the same despite all their problems and struggles. How strange, Paul must have felt, that in the midst of so many celebrations in Ephesus, the church there was, instead, finding so much to drive them apart.

In our passage, Paul points to reasons Christians should live lives of celebration. First, despite our sinful nature, from the beginning God has planned to make us righteous and holy (vv. 3-4). Second, despite our sin, from the beginning God has planned to adopt us (v. 5). Third, it was God’s own sacrifice—not our own—that made all this possible (v. 7). Fourth, God’s plan is to “lavish” grace on us (vv. 7-8). Grace is not shared grudgingly nor with hesitation. Rather, like the loving father of the “prodigal son” (Luke 15:11-32), when we turn to God, we are showered with love, mercy and grace. And as was true when the son returned, the celebration began (Luke 15:24).

If God’s word is true (and, of course, it is), God’s does not want for “anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). Also, try reading through Romans and counting the number of times the word “all” appears. Here are just a few. “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). God is the “father of all who believe” (Romans 4:11).  “There is no difference between Jew and Gentile—the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on him” (Romans 10:12).

There was so much that already joined the Jews and the Gentiles in the church in Ephesus, but they lacked unity. What is “God’s plan”? Paul writes that the plan “to be put into effect when the times will have reached their fulfillment [is] to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ” (v. 10).

This is first a call to unity. Despite their many differences, the Ephesian Christians were called to celebrate what they had in common in and through Jesus Christ. After all, they did share God’s grace and adoption. Then, they were to be holy and blameless. They were to be and act like God’s children. All this, Paul writes, is not only possible only by and through God—it is all done for God’s glory (v. 14).

God has planned the same celebration for us. Through Jesus and the Holy Spirit, everything has been done and made ready. God has invited us to participate in this lavish plan. The question is that of our response. How will we live in unity with other Christians? How will we live holy lives as God’s children? How will our living bring glory to God?

Questions to explore

•  How has God’s work for us in Jesus made possible our unity as Christians?

•  How can/will our living holy lives and in unity with other Christians bring glory to God?