There was a certain
man from Ramathaim, a Zuphite from the hill country of Ephraim, whose name was
Elkanah son of Jeroham, the son of Elihu, the son of Tohu, the son of Zuph, an
Ephraimite. 1Samuel 1:1
I write this with a wry smile. It can only be me who fails
before I even begin. My wanting to blog a little each day through Lent about
the story of Hannah hit an obstacle on Wednesday and then again Thursday when
the time I had allotted to write in amongst busy days, was taken by phonecalls,
that lasted hours rather than minutes, that I wasn’t expecting and that I
couldn’t ignore.
On the 6th January as I took down all the
decorations of Christmas, I posted a photo on Instagram of the star that was
hanging in my kitchen window. Alongside the photograph I wrote the following
words of Ann Voskamp:
And once the light of
Christ shatters your dark, shadows forever flee your shadowlands. There is no
going back and living in the dark; you live in the impenetrable, safe Light of
light, and Christmas never ends you. A Christian never stops living Christmas…when
you really believe in Christmas, you believe there is really hope for everyone.
When you get Christmas, people get hope from you.
That momentary Instagram shot and its accompanying words
have taken on a deeper meaning to me over these first few weeks of a new year. My life (our life as a family) is– for the
moment – one that unexpectedly finds itself at the mercy of long, un-diary-ed
phone conversations; meetings that go on far longer than their allotted times
and days that hold situations and conversations that I wasn’t expecting to be
having when I began 2016. The words of Ann Voskamp and a small placard, placed
in our window represent a privilege and a challenge that we are trying to live
up to.
As our thoughts of Christmas, seem so quickly this year, to
turn to Easter, I have found the story of Hannah and her family pertinently
challenging. Hannah’s story opens up for the reader the books of Samuel. In the
Hebrew Bible the books of Samuel come after ‘Judges’ (in our English Bibles,
they come after ‘Ruth’.) We know of the book of Judges that it tells the
stories of Israel when there was no king and everyone did as they liked.
(Judges 21:25). Into this setting comes Hannah and her husband Elkanah.
Immediately the narrative makes it clear that they are righteous people.
Elkanah is a righteous man, whose heritage is strong. They are good people
living in difficult times. Uncompromisingly faithful to God. They stand in
contrast to the priest Eli, who initially in Hannah’s story does not recognise
a God depending and God seeking woman.
The opening words of 1 Samuel 1, are meant to encourage.
With the privilege of hindsight, we can recognise that we are being alerted to
the fact that something significant is about to take place with the appearance
of Elkanah and Hannah and eventually their son, Samuel. The writer tells us by
the way that he constructs his narrative that with the appearance of these godly
people, there is hope. Samuel will bring the leadership that the nation of
Israel is needing but he will born out of a family that has daily lived lives
of quiet devotion and steadfast faithfulness. Salt and light people – if you
like.
For me, living in the days that we as a nation find
ourselves, I am convinced by the Elkananh’s and Hannah’s, that we need godly
people, ‘Christians faithful to God’s word, living devout and godly lifestyles
over the long duration in order to reform church and nation.’ [1]
Social Change is always something on my heart, and I think that the Bible
illustrates that this sort of transformation takes place when individual
Christians live lives that – often quiet in their faithfulness – swell to
contribute a significant influence on our culture and society.
Last night in a church in Glasgow, my friend Tara Devlin and
I, along with the exceptionally beautiful music of our friends Yvonne and David
Lyon, had the privilege of sharing the story of Christians in Nepal who are
literally standing in the way of child traffickers who are emptying villages of
their girls. It will be the last time we tell their story as part of a tour
that Tearfund Scotland have been running called, ‘Where Children Sleep’, but
their story will live on. Every life they save, every family they keep together,
every child they instil with the weight of their worth, will be a story that
will last for eternity.
In the foothills of the Himalaya’s in Nepal, the
Kingdom of God is being built faithfully and quietly by godly people who are
addressing the needs of their community. This Lent, I am thinking of how in my
city, in my part of the world, I live a life that in some way does the same.
How will my city, as Yvonne Lyon sang last night, ‘feel the light.’?
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