Creekside Church Sermon of January 19, 1997 "The Dangerous Word " I Samuel 3:1-10	Rev. David Bibbee
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There is one piece of this sort I have seen lots of times. It sites the odds of encountering various calamities like...there is a one in so many chance you will be a) struck by lightening, b) involved in an automobile or airplane wreck, c) struck by a meteor, d) electrocuted by a popcorn popper, or e) abducted by aliens. Then the article sites the incredibly remote odds of something terrible happening to you while in church. The conclusion, therefore, is that you have nothing to worry about while you are in church. The church is the safest place you can be. I recall a similar newsletter piece which said that everyone who comes to church will receive protective headgear since you say you've been away from church so long you're afraid that if you walk into the sanctuary, the roof will fall on your head.

The message is, "Come to church--there's nothing to be afraid of. Here you will find a warm, nurturing environment that affirms you on your journey, with aerobics and quilting classes on Wednesday, and supervised baby-sitting for the little ones." The world is a dangerous place, but in the church everything is nailed down, safe and secure.

Yet when I read stories like the one from I Samuel, I'm not so sure the church is all that safe. Like lots of other great stories in the Bible, we tell this one as a children's story-- not so much because they need it, but because we are anxious about what such stories might do to disrupt our orderly, little existence.

The priest Eli and his adopted son Samuel put in a lot of time at the temple. It was a good arrangement. Samuel had a mentor, and Eli, who was old and nearly blind, had an errand boy. The key to understanding the passage is in verse one. "The word of the Lord was rare in those days. There were no frequent visions." It wasn't a self-imposed silence on God's part. The problem was on the receiving end. The people weren't expecting any messages from God, and therefore didn't hear them. They were preoccupied with other things. Eli meant well, but as the chief priest and keeper of the fire at the ark, he wasn't the best. His sons Hophni and Phinaes were holy terrors who stole the meat for the sacrifices and slept with every woman they could find. The text describes them in one short sentence. Hophni and Phinaes were worthless men. But Samuel was as different from them as night from day.

The word of the Lord wasn't rare because God stopped speaking. The people had stopped listening. Eli didn't have the only pair of dim eyes and dull ears. In spiritual matters, the people had dummied down. They had exchanged reality for ritual. The challenging word of God for words about God. They put in an occasional appearance at the temple. They made their sacrifices, read responsively from the bulletin, and appreciated the fact that Eli and his little side kick Samuel were minding the store, keeping everything settled, the altar flames flickering, and the system in tact. But this settled, safe scene was about to be upset. Samuel and Eli were headed in opposite directions. The young, faithful boy found favor with God and was on his way up, while Eli and his clan were on their way out.

One night while little Sam lay sleeping near the lamp of God, someone called his name. It says he didn't know the word of the Lord as yet, and therefore thought Eli probably needed something for his heartburn. "I didn't call you," Eli said. "Go back to sleep." But sleep is hard when someone keeps calling your name. And each time Samuel went to Eli, who didn't exactly appreciate being roused from a sound slumber. Finally it occurred to Eli, "Well what do you know...God is speaking again. Tell ya what boy. If you hear your name again, here's what you do. Say, þSpeak, Lord, for your servant hears.' " This time Samuel was ready, and God relayed a message.

Come morning, Eli quizzed Samuel. "Well, tell me...did the Lord speak again?" "Yes." "Did you do as I said?" "Yes." "Did you get a message?" "Well...you could say that." "Well, what did God say?" "Well sir, I don't know how to say this but...as for you and your house, your days are numbered."

In some respects, not having a word from the Lord isn't so bad. Things are more predictable. You can absorb yourself with other matters. When the word of the Lord is rare you don't need to worry missing something at church because no one expects much anyway. It's comfortable to know that God is available if you're in a pinch. And once you learn the steps of worship, you can move through it like following the steps in ballroom dancing without the worry of having your toes stepped on. The word becomes something we tailor to suit our needs. But watch out when the word of the Lord makes its presence known, and makes you wonder how you could have thought that hanging around the church is a harmless activity.

Listen to what Annie Dillard says about the lazy-daisy, nonchalant attitude of most Christians. "Does anyone have the foggiest idea of the power we so blindly invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are like children playing on the floor with chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies straw hats and velvet hats to church; we all should be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares, they should lash us to the pews. For the sleeping God may awake someday and take offense..."

Is the church really a safe place? Are you sure you want to hear the word of the Lord? If you want life settled and the routine undisturbed, let me suggest some safer activities like bungee jumping or diving with great white sharks.

There is a small white church on Reed Avenue in Marion, Ohio where I spent too much time. Growing up I had lots of positive experiences in that church. I learned some good lessons from some of its saints. And just when I decided what I was going to do with my life, I got baptized, and that's when the name calling started. "Yes, I'll play guitar for the choir." But when I laid back down to sleep with my plans, I heard my name again. "Yes, I'll serve on the board." Every time I got settled, more voices. The people I respected kept telling me what it all meant. They told me to answer. "Go to Manchester College." I did. "We think you should be a pastor." "I don't." "Sleep on it." I did, and here I am. At the time, it didn't seem all that dangerous a place, nor did the message seem particularly threatening, but it wound up costing me my life.

Do you remember Andrew Young? Associate of Martin Luther King. United States Ambassador to the United Nations. Mayor of Atlanta, ordained minister? His youngest daughter was the unpredictable type. While her siblings achieved, she just got by. While they had solid career goals, she was the artistic type who wanted to be a dancer or actor. While they obeyed father's voice, she resisted. That's why when she became active in the church, Andrew was pleased, and with each deeper level of involvement, he grew more pleased and proud. Then one day she came home and said, "Daddy, I'm going to Uganda to work with Habitat for Humanity."

"Do you realize Idi Amin wrecked Uganda?" "Yes." "Do you know there is no real government there?" "Yes." "Do you know that anyone can do anything they want to you there and no one can do anything about it?" "Yes." "And you still want to go?" "I AM GOING!" Andrew writes, "I tried to talk her out of it. I wanted her to go to church and marry a good Christian man, develop a relationship with God and settle down." Speaking to a gathering just three days after she left for Uganda, he said, half joking and half serious..."I wanted her to be a respectable Christian. Not a real one."

Sorry Andy, but you should have thought about that before you started insisting that she go to church and be exposed to the dangerous word of the Lord. Be careful parents. Your kids are being exposed to something more than interesting stories. One day they may hear a voice calling their name, and then what?

Will you join me in making a new year's resolution? It's not too late--it's still January. Every Sunday, between your car and the church door, I want you to remember people whose names were called. Moses tending Jethro's flocks. Young Samuel sleeping. Isaiah before the holy of holies. Peter after an unsuccessful fishing trip. Zacchaeus up a tree. Saul on the Damascus road. Joe Blow at the eleven o'clock service. Before you open the door, think what could happen to you. A church can keep the candles burning, keep content, keep repeating what's been done before without asking why only so long until the word wakes up and names are called. Will you resolve to remember when you walk through the door, that the church is a caring, compassionate place, but not a contented place. So be very careful what you say when you invite people to come to church.

Awhile back, I clipped a Doonesbury cartoon which showed the pastor of the church of Walden talking with a couple of perspective members. He asks, "So what would you like to know about the little church of Walden, folks? Don't hold back--I know it can be difficult to choose a church." The husband begins, "Well, what's the basic approach here, Reverend? Is it traditional gospel?"

The minister replies, "In a way I like to describe it as Twelve Step Christianity. Basically, I believe that we're all recovering sinners. My ministry is about overcoming denial, it's about recommitment , about redemption. It's all in the brochure right here." The wife interrupts, "Wait a minute--sinners? Redemption? Doesn't that all imply...guilt?" The minister answers, "Well, yes, I do rely on occasional disincentive to keep the flock from going astray. Guilt is a part of that!"

"I dunno," says the husband. "there is so much negativity in the world as it is." His wife adds, "That's right. We're looking for a church that's supportive, a place where we can feel good about ourselves. I'm not sure this guilt thing works for us." Looking down at the brochure, the man reflects, "On the other hand, you do offer racquetball."

His wife then turns to him and says, "So do the Unitarians, honey. Let's shop around some more."

Church is not a safe place. We might try to make it safe, but when the word is spoken, you'd better brace yourselves. The old routines and excuses will crumble. As the word of blessing and judgment came to a twelve year old Samuel in the temple, and a twelve year old Jesus at the temple, so you may hear your name called. You will be told that you're not as little and limited as you think.

When it happens, you must decide whether to be safe, run for cover, and try to sleep through the name calling, or answer, "Speak, Lord, for your servant hears."

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