St. Christopher’s Episcopal Church
Fairborn, Ohio
March 15, 2026
The story of Samuel occupies a central place in the history of God’s people. Two books in the Hebrew Scriptures carry his name. Samuel was a prophet, a spokesperson for God. Too often we think of the prophet as a prognosticator, a foreteller of the future. But the primary call of the prophet was to listen to and watch closely for the will of God.
Samuel is best remembered for his anointing of the first two kings of Israel. The first was Saul, whom he anointed quite reluctantly. The people were asking for a king so that they could be like the other nations. Samuel told them that God was king of Israel, and that Saul would bring them to ruin. Indeed, when that came to pass, God told Samuel to go up to Bethlehem where God would point out which of the sons of Jesse, Samuel was to anoint as Saul’s successor. But there was a problem, because Saul was still alive and would certainly charge Samuel with treason if he was caught trying to “overthrow” the king. So Samuel let it be known that he was going to Bethlehem to offer a sacrifice, and then he arranged for Jesse to be there with his sons. It’s a familiar story. Samuel sees the oldest son who is tall and handsome and thinks that surely this is the one . . . but he was wrong each time as he worked his way through the family. Finally, they had to send for the youngest who was out shepherding the sheep – David, whom God selected. Samuel and God saw differently. This was all a matter of sight. Samuel seeing age and exterior appearance while God was looking elsewhere. As the text says:
The Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.’ 1 It’s all about seeing/vision/sight. Samuel sees one way; God sees differently . . . ‘for the Lord does not see as mortals see . . . .’ But a prophet – a person of faith – takes the time to learn to see from God’s perspective. This is the point of spiritual practices like Bible study, fasting, meditating, worship, spiritual reading – those very things that we Christians so closely associate with Lent. The purpose is to walk in God’s shoes – to see with Divine vision.
1 1 Samuel 16:7
2 Our vision is certainly being sorely tested this Lent.
We look around at natural disasters, human miscalculations, and monstrous evil – we see so few signs of hope. It’s tempting to give in to despair. But as people of faith we still engage in spiritual practices. I’m continually reminded that there’s a sightedness beyond the obvious and outward appearance. And like the prayer,
“Where there is despair, (there is still) hope.”
- Samuel, with the eyes of God, sees a future king in the sunburned face of the shepherd boy.
- The Psalmist sees peace, stillness, and comfort even in the darkest valley where the shadow of death is ubiquitous.
- The author of Ephesians invites us to live as children of the light – throwing light into and glowing in the places of darkness, that we ourselves then become centers of light.
- The blind man in John’s gospel testifies that after experiencing the messy (some may say revolting) dirt and saliva that Jesus rubbed into his eyes: “I once was blind, but now I see.”
- And the ultimate different-vision when Good Friday is wrung through God’s hands and can be seen with Divine eyes on Easter Day.
What is it about this different sightedness?
Fifteen years ago, Maine’s then new governor, Paul LePage, ordered a 36-foot-wide, 11-panel mural, removed from the lobby of the state’s Department of Labor building in Augusta. The mural depicted scenes from Maine’s labor history. LePage, who had been in office for about two months, claimed he removed the mural because of complaints from “some business owners” that it was too pro-union. A spokesperson for the governor said it was “not in keeping with the department’s pro-business goals.” 2 Politics, labor issues, business interests aside – the troubling thing about the governor in my former state of Maine was his idea that art was “not in keeping” with the current vision.
Just this morning I became aware of another example. The 10-cent coin, the dime, is being re-issued for the 250 th Anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. On the back is an image of the Great Seal of the United States that was designed in 1793. It pictures an eagle with a bunch of arrows in one talon (representing the need for a strong defense in a dangerous world) and in the second talon is an olive branch (representing the need for diplomacy, negotiations, and seeking the common good).
2 New York Times, April 2, 2011.
3 The commemorative dime being issued for this year has the eagle holding the arrows, but the second talon is empty. This and other examples like the recent curtailments of the National Endowment for the Arts, the Smithsonian, the Kennedy Center – which were not in keeping with the views of the current regime, have been re-imaged. It is a great reminder that the function of art is to challenge . . . not to confirm . . . the way we see things. Music, drama, museum presentations, literature, film, graphic arts, architecture, – all forms of art are meant – like religion, to open our senses and perceptions – to see in new and other ways.
The poetry of the 23 rd Psalm does just that. Looking at the misery, the fear, the despair of the world . . . it invites us to “fear no evil.” The stories of faith: of Saul/Samuel/and David; of the early persecuted Christians in Ephesus; of the blind man forced to negotiate the world in darkness – bathing in the stories, the poetry, the parables, the “art” of faith – can lead us to have a different sightedness—Divine vision—to be “woke” in the very positive and best senses of the word.
It’s not that I now know how all our sad, difficult, and evil situations will be resolved. It’s not a trite affirmation that God can bring good out of evil. It’s certainly not “Don’t worry, be happy.” Nor does it mean that I don’t despair. But there’s enough to convince me that even when I do not see hope clearly – I do have confidence that “the Lord does not see as mortals see.” Even though I see through a glass dimly, I’m confident that there is another clear, divine sightedness with which to behold the same situations.
That’s enough to allow me to go out into the world, into those dark and dangerous places despite the risks. I can walk through the valleys of darkness. I can get into the messiness of life. And even when facing crosses, I remember that we follow one who has been here himself, who travels with us yet, and whose Spirit gives life. It is called faith: trust. Sometimes it’s all we have. And always it is enough. In the name of God: Creator, Redeemer, Sanctifier. Amen.