Bittersweet

This morning I had the privilege of reading I Samuel 1-3. It is one of my favorite pieces of scripture, first, because, it reminds me so much of my own son and second because it is the very definition of how parenting can be bittersweet.

Hannah is the childless woman who makes the ultimate trade with God. If God will give her a son, she promises to dedicate him for the rest of his life to the service of the priesthood.

Eli, the old priest, has raised his sons within the priesthood their entire lives. Yet, the passage refers to them as "worthless men," who were shameless enough to sleep with the women that served at the doorway of the (meeting) tent.

Using these two people, God makes a strange trade. Hannah does get pregnant and dedicates her little Samuel into God's service. But, the love and purity of her gift, triggers the death of Eli's sons, who, pathetically enough, are easily replaced by a little boy.

When our son was born, we used I Samuel 1:27 -28 on the invitations we created for his dedication ceremony: "For this boy I prayed and the Lord has given me my petition which I asked of Him. So I have also dedicated him to the Lord, as long as he lives he is dedicated to the Lord.

I handwrote this verse on each invitation, and still I remember internalizing it as a prayer and a promise: the knowledge that he was going to be the Lord's and not ours. The verse held extra special significance for us because I had such a difficult pregnancy and there we so many times we thought our boy wasn't going to make it to full-term. Of course, those of you who know him well, know that his life has not been an easy one. He has had to overcome so many obstacles in life--both real and imagined. But, everytime he has, our hearts have grown bigger as we've realized what an incredible man of God he is becoming. God has somehow used every last bit of it to reflect Himself in our boy.

But, back to Hannah and Eli.

One of the things that amazes me about these verses is the way it goes from the sweetness of Hannah following through on her promise, (we get a glimpse of the mother who tries to put off the inevitable by taking time to wean her baby, the woman who faithfully sews him his "little robe" and brings it to him every year,) to the excruciating way that God carries out justice in the death of Eli's sons.

No matter how many times I read it, the part where Samuel hears God calling him and recognizes his actual voice for the first time just thrills me to the core. (And can you tell me what was going on when God "came AND STOOD?" calling him in 3:10?? If that doesn't set your hair on end, nothing will!)But then, that horrible boom is lowered in verse 13, when God brings Eli up short: "For I have told him (Eli) that I am about to judge his house forever for the iniquity which he knew, because his sons brought a curse on themselves and he did not rebuke them."

Oh,God.

And I could not use that phrase more literally.

God, you are convicting my heart.

Why did Eli's sons go bad? Most of us would dismiss the issue by leaning towards one side or the other: blaming the bad parenting of Eli or the stubborn insistence of his sons to go their own way no matter how hard he tried. But life is not that tidy and I believe the real truth lies somewhere in between.

Those of you who know me well know I am no advocate of excessive discipline. When our children grew up, we got our share of comments from folks who thought we were making a serious mistake by not disciplining our kids physically. Yet, God's statement about Eli's parenting is chilling: "I am about to judge his house forever for the iniquity which he knew, because his sons brought a curse on themselves and he did not rebuke them."

God, what is our part here? What is MY part here?

And that is the point of my sermonette, (as my dear friend would say.) What is my part? God made it painfully clear that Eli was responsible for this. To his credit, Eli took it pretty well, when he responded: "It is the Lord; let Him do what seems good to Him." But that was kind of just shutting the barn door after the horse ran out. Eli blew it. It doesn't matter if he was 100% responsible or 25% responsible. He was responsible.

Do I blow it? Do you blow it? Once? Twice? Every day?

The answer to that still remains to be seen. I think it will be a long, long time before my dear husband and I know the state of "our house." But, without a shadow of a doubt, I'm convinced of two things:
1. That day is going to come
2. I have a part.

My part is different each day. It was different when they were two and four, now that they are almost 19 and 21, and when they turn 35and 37 —should I happen to live that long. I will always have a part---because I was the one that got the blessing of having them all these years.

God, please. Help me so that every morning I will hear Your voice unfolding what my part is today. And please, give me the grace and power to follow though with it--no matter how difficult it may become.

Your thoughts?