“And So…”

Scripture Lesson: I Samuel 15: 34 – 16:13

Dr. Matthew S. Brown

Jun 25. 2006

And so… we were standing in the lobby of a movie theatre, popcorn in hand, soda straws in place, tickets precariously perched between the tips of our fingers, awaiting our turn to enter the darkened den of escapism and travel with Indiana Jones through the forbidden cave or with James Bond on the run from some motorcycle riding assassin.

I don’t remember the movie we were seeing that day, but I remember that my sister zigged when she should have zagged and the popcorn she held in her hand went flying in a hundred different directions across the carpeted lobby floor.

My father did not explode, but neither did he offer a gesture of empathy or compassion. No, with a look of parental disgust that my sons will claim has been passed from generation to generation, he snarled, “I’m not mad at you, I just feel sorry for you.”

Let’s just say that did not go over very well. And it was not a comment that was quickly forgotten. It wasn’t too many months later that our family was once again gathered in a movie theatre ready to laugh at Mel Brooks‘ treatment of the Frankenstein saga or uncover Watergate’s secrets with Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford. My family of origin has always loved going to the movies.

Anyway, the previews had run and the studio logo hushed the audience who anxiously sensed the opening scene was about to begin. Right at that quiet moment my father pulled from his pocket a king-sized box of Peanut M and M’s, a treat he might even contemplate sharing with the rest of the family, whose eyes were momentarily diverted from the big wide screen to that seductive little yellow box.

Only, the box did not manage to make the connection in the transfer from his right hand to his left and for the next forty three seconds the entire theatre audience was graced with the sound of one hundred and twenty seven peanut M & M’s slowly rolling down the incline of the concrete theatre floor. It sounded like the percussion section of a Cuban Conga Band.

You should have seen the look of horror on my father’s face. And without hesitation, my sister turned to him and managing a straight face said, “I’m not mad at you. I just feel sorry for you.”

It is a story that is rehearsed with great laughter almost every time my family gathers together along with such stories as the time my sister indefensibly dressed her poor little three year old brother in a tutu or the evening I asked a waitress if I could have a slice of pecan pie without the pecans.

Stories. Family stories. Friendship stories. Relationship stories. Marriage stories. Parenting stories. Work stories. Sports stories. Breaking up stories. College stories. Our lives are made up of stories and our humanity is revealed in stories. Whenever you hear the words, “And so”, you can wager that someone is in the middle of a story. “And so, I looked into the mirror and imagine my surprise…” “And so, she picked up the dog and ran out the door.” “And so…”

We reveal ourselves to others through stories. We grow to understand one another through stories. Remember those first dates? Once you got beyond the small talk about the weather and your favorite movies, you began the dance of compatibility through the sharing of stories.

We reconnect with one another through stories, finding comfort and meaning in our shared experiences. Have you noticed that? A group of friends gather together and without fail the same stories of shared memories come out. Many of you know that I meet periodically with a study group and the other participants in the group were classmates together a few years ahead of me in seminary, and every time we meet someone raises the subject of the intramural flag football championship, appropriately known as the Calvin Bowl. I’m sitting there rolling my eyes, thinking, „That must have been some game!“ But it was a point of connection, a meaningful shared experience for them.

In the same way you know that when you go to a family reunion or get together with a group of old friends, laughter will be heard and relationships will be celebrated through the telling of shared stories.

Eugene Peterson says, “Story is the primary way in which the revelation of God is given to us. The Holy Spirit’s literary genre of choice is story… From beginning to end, our Scriptures are primarily written in the form of story… Moses told stories; Jesus told stories; the four Gospel writers presented their good news in the form of stories. And the Holy Spirit weaves all this storytelling into the vast and holy literary architecture that reveals God to us as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in the way that he chooses to make himself known. Story.” (Peterson, Leap Over a Wall)

Peterson says, “Life isn’t an accumulation of abstractions such as love and truth, sin and salvation, atonement and holiness; life is the realization of details that all connect organically, personally, specifically: names and fingerprints, street numbers and local weather, lamb for supper and a flat tire in the rain. God reveals himself to us not in a metaphysical formulation or a cosmic fireworks display but in the kind of stories that we use to tell our children who they are and how to grow up as human beings, tell our friends who we are and what it’s like to be human.”

“Somewhere along the way,” Peterson suggests, “most of us pick up bad habits of extracting from the Bible what we pretentiously call ‘spiritual principles,’ or ‘moral guidelines,’ or ‘theological truths,’ and then corseting ourselves in them in order to force a godly shape on our lives.”

But if you take the time to really read it, you find that’s not the core of scripture. No, the Bible’s way is story. The story of a created people trying, failing, succeeding, and then failing again to understand their relationships with their Creator and with one another. It is the story of a God who doggedly refuses to give up on us. It is the story of a God who enters into the lives of real, flesh and blood and flawed people like you and me and will not let them go. And it is in their stories that we gain an understanding of our stories. It is in their stories that we bump up against the amazing and miraculous work of God’s grace.

One of the most significant and revealing story cycles in scripture is the tale of David. As we read the David stories we are not just learning about God’s interaction with an ancient king. No, we are learning fundamental truths about the nature of life and our relationship with the giver, sustainer, and redeemer of life.

David enters the scene not at the beginning of the story but in the midst of many chapters/snapshots of the story. It is yet another “And so” moment in the Bible.

The people of Israel, paying more attention the to the ways of their neighbors than their God, had begged, pleaded, cajoled, demanded, and whined until God gave them a king. It was not what God wanted for the people. He warned them of all that could go wrong. But like a child who doesn’t possess the latest, greatest game system, the people looked around and saw that all the neighbors had kings and so they just had to have one, too. So God relented and sent his servant Samuel to anoint Saul to be Israel’s first king. Well, things didn’t go so well and God regretted that he had chosen Saul as king.

And so, Samuel was dispatched once again to anoint a new king for the people of Israel. Only, anointing a new king is a rather tricky venture when there’s already a king sitting on the throne. Thus, we see in our scripture this morning a little bit of deception, a trace of secrecy, and a whole lot of confusion.

Everybody in Israel knows that Samuel is a kingmaker. “So what is he doing at Jesse’s house? I mean Jesse’s a nice enough guy, even though, you know, he’s part Moabite, but what does someone as influential as Samuel want with Jesse? And what does Saul know about this visit?”

Imagine, you’re just sitting at home one day flipping back and forth between Jeopardy and ESPN when who should show up at your front door but the guy who makes and breaks presidents, and he says he was just in the area and wanted to share in a little worship service with you, and oh, uh, would it be possible to take a look at all the children? Just march them here through the living room, if you would.

A curious encounter indeed! And once again God is found to be at work where you would not expect it. Once again, God places his promise on the person most folks are in the habit of ignoring. Once again God brings the sacred into the ordinary stuff of life.

One moment David’s out there thinking about how bored he is; moping about how there’s nothing for a kid to do in a backwater town like Bethlehem, angry that Jesse had stuck him out here with the sheep while all his brothers got to use the fancy farm equipment, and the next moment he’s being measured for a crown and his head is dripping with the ointment of royalty.

What’s going on here? It is a powerful rebuke to you anytime you think that your life is limited by your circumstances. It is a powerful rebuke to you when you begin to assume that your life is not worthy of God’s notice. It is a powerful rebuke to you when you sense that your life is of no use to God.

William Sloane Coffin writes, “God’s love doesn’t seek value; it creates it. It’s not because we have value that we are loved, but because we are loved that we have value.”

(Coffin, Letters to a Young Doubter)

That is the message God is communicating each time we find God making himself known in the places and people we would least expect it whether it be a forgotten shepherd’s boy or a young woman planning for a wedding in Nazareth or a cantankerous fisherman out on the sea of Galilee.

These stories challenge us to look through our own stories once again, even those popcorn spilling, M & M tumbling days. For it is in the flesh and blood everydayness of our lives that God has been and continues to be at work choosing, changing, and charging us to represent his presence in this world.

In high school, I was a distance runner on the track team and at that time they were just beginning to talk about how eating certain foods could enhance your performance, your energy. And somewhere I read this long list of what Olympic Champion Frank Shorter ate on the morning before his marathon, and somewhere on the list was a candy bar. And so, I got it in my head that I just had to have a couple of candy bars on the day of my races and I asked my dad if we could stop by the corner market on our way to school to pick up this much needed prescription of glucose. This was science!

Now, my dad has never been known as a nutritionist but he had to know this was a crock, nothing but lame-brained idea. He had to be thinking that the only sensation this would give me during the race was a stomachache. He had to be thinking, “I’m not mad at you. I just feel sorry for you.” But you know what? He took me. He handed me a couple of bucks outside the corner market. He waited patiently in the car for me. He refrained from mocking me as I chewed my way through a Payday and a Hershey Bar on my way to a… stomachache. A father’s patience and love is revealed in many ways.

I recall that story and I am reminded of a patient God who claims us, embraces us, and abides with us in spite of all the stupid things he watches us do.

Look to the story. See how your story is read in the Story. Understand that the same God who plucked David from his sheep-keeping obscurity, has chosen you and abides with you, not because of what you have done, but because of who He is. Amen.

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