And even for Samuel, the word of the Lord came not as a roaring earthquake or as a burning bush, but as a voice, a voice that sounded strikingly similar to the voice of his teacher, the prophet Eli. So similar that when the voice called to Samuel, he three times went to Eli, thinking he was being summoned, before he and Eli realized that the voice who was calling was God.
Not a surprising mistake, why would Samuel assume that the strange, disembodied voice waking him from sleep was anyone other than Eli. After all, not only was the word of the Lord rare in those days, but Samuel would not be anyone’s first choice of a prophet of the Lord. He was, as the scriptures tell us, only a boy. Maybe later in life, when he’d had more training, more experience, more wisdom to draw from, he might be a prophet, might be one to speak God’s voice to the people. But now he was just a kid, no more than an errand boy sleeping in the temple to make sure all the lights stayed lit.
Before we go any further, it may be worth breaking in here and talking a little bit about what we mean by the word “prophet.” Just in the last couple hundred years, the word prophet has gotten combined with the word “prophesy.” So when we think of a prophet, we tend to think of someone who can predict the future. But a prophet is not a fortune-teller; a prophet is a truth-teller. The role of a prophet was and is to say things as they are, even when those things are hard to say. To be honest about how people have sinned and what the consequence of those sins are. If we read on past this morning’s Old Testament reading, Samuel’s very first “prophesy” if you will, was to tell the truth of the corruption of Eli’s sons, and how that corruption was destroying Eli’s house and would if left unchecked cause its ruin. It was a hard message, and Samuel was afraid to tell his teacher the truth about the evil Eli knew his sons were up to, but Eli was a wise teacher and knew Samuel had been called by God to speak truth, and so encouraged Samuel to speak.
This weekend our nation celebrates the life of one of our great modern-day prophets. Martin Luther King, Jr. was a prophet in every sense of the word, in that he was called to proclaim truth about the evil of racial discrimination and hatred in society, and how that evil was destroying our nation and our world. He, like Samuel, was called to speak hard words to people who did not want to hear them, to shine a light on the evil in our midst and how that evil was drawing us away from the heart of God. Being a prophet, speaking truth, is scary and dangerous, and like Samuel, King was afraid at times of the message God called him to tell.
On a morning when we heard the story of Samuel’s midnight call story, it seems only right to remember that King had a similar midnight conversation. On January 27, 1957, King awoke to the phone ringing and a threatening voice on the other end of the line. Such threats were not uncommon, but for whatever reason, this one shook King. Leaving his wife and baby daughter asleep upstairs, King went down to the kitchen and, as any good Protestant preacher would do, made himself a cup of coffee. He sat at the kitchen table, hands cupped around the steaming mug, and he prayed, “Lord, I’m down here trying to do what’s right… But… I must confess… I’m losing my courage.” King later described what happened next as “an inner voice saying, ‘Martin Luther, stand up for truth. Stand up for justice. Stand up for righteousness.”* The threats against King did not cease; in fact the threat that woke King up that night was fulfilled just a few days later when a bomb exploded on the front steps of the house. But what did cease was fear. King himself described that kitchen table moment as a conversion experience in his life, the turning point where he knew the work he was being called to was God’s work.
The stories of prophets like Samuel and King are great stories, inspiring stories of God at work in amazing people. But both can seem almost too big to be believable in our time and place, when “the word of the Lord [is] rare” and “visions [are] not widespread.” Which is why I love that for our readings this morning John’s Gospel gives us another call story; the call of one of Jesus’ first disciples.
“The next day,” the reading opened, “Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip… and Philip found Nathanael.” Already this reading takes on a cadence of some kind of goofy parade. Nathanael got the message of Jesus’ summons second hand, not in a booming voice from heaven, but from his buddy Philip, who was basically like, “hey, you’ll never believe who I just met!” Nathanael, understandably, was doubtful of this news and asked, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” The question may seem short-sighted now, but remember what Nathanael’s experience of Nazareth would have been. Ten miles from the Sea of Galilee, it wouldn’t have even been a fishing village, just a rough collection of huts. That anything at all, no less anything good, could possibly come from such a nowhere place is a fair question.
Philip’s response to his friend’s query is possibly the best line of evangelism ever, “Come and see.” Philip didn’t try to press his point, argue with Nathanael’s short-sightedness, judge his opinion. He simply invited Nathanael to see for himself the thing, the person, which had so changed Philip’s own life. Come, and see for yourself. And Nathanael came, and he saw, and he was amazed at the One who stood before him, the One who knew him before he could see, the one who was the Son of God.
Epiphany is the season of revelation, the season of God’s presence made known in our midst. And for all three of these men, Samuel, King, and Nathanael, God’s presence was made known to them in ways that changed the course of their lives. But what is also true for all three of these men is none of them went out seeking epiphany, none of them went out seeking to find God. Nathanael questioned his friend, King questioned his courage, Samuel was actually asleep. But in the midst of all of these things, God found them. God revealed Godself to them. And in this revelation, they discovered they were more than they ever thought they could be.
The revelation of Godself changes us. We cannot look on the face of God and not become different, become greater, become more than we thought we were capable of. In this season of Epiphany we experience the revelation of God and we will be changed by this experience. Like Samuel, we may not be looking for it. Like King, we may think we lack courage. Like Nathanael we may actively doubt that anything good can come from this place, can come from us. But this Epiphany God invites us not just to come and see God, but to come and see ourselves. To come and see the things which God is about in our own lives. To come and see how God’s presence is made real through us. So come and see. See Jesus, see God, come and see also yourself. See the good work which God is about in you. Amen.
* Lisa Singh, “Martin Luther King’s defining moment: A kitchen, in Montgomery, Alabama, past midnight,” American Detours 18 Jan 2010
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