Back to School

Em and Grace went back to school this morning. Sarah is singing in the tub, and every once in a while she randomly calls out Drew's name, as if he might answer.  It's a little weird, but endearing. (She's going to see him again today, they were apart all summer.)
And I am, well...home.
And back to school.
I've been all tied up in knots over Samuel ever since I started teaching it to Em.  Does this happen to you?  I mean, I expect myself to get that way over Grey's Anatomy, which carries almost as much drama as Samuel.  But why be so emotionally entwined in the Scriptures?  I feel Penninah's meanness and Hannah's grief and Elkanah's tenderness.  I sense the deep reverence that draws Samuel to rest near the Ark and the horrible lack of it in the desecration of Eli's sons.  So I've started to study it more in depth. Which means I've started to write about it.  I'm not going to structure it all--I don't like structure--but I do like rhythms. I can live with rhythms far better than rigidness.
So I decided there are a few ways I want to study Samuel.  I'm going to work my way through a commentary on it.  You know--traditional exegesis.  I find that there is much to be learned from knowing the facts.  But what I'm really excited about is working my way through a literary analysis of it.  There is so much richness in the way the text of Samuel was written.  So much in it's literary composition.  I toyed with the idea of trying to teach myself Hebrew, but decided that wasn't the right path.  I'd much rather read the translation of someone who really gets the language. It's about hearing in the Hebrew text all the author wanted to speak.  The texts were originally written to be heard, out loud.  I think they were supposed to be felt.   
For example, we "hear" so much more when we "listen" to some of the storytelling techniques the author uses.   I'm working on getting a good literary translation, but even from reading the English version you get an idea.  I Sam. 3 starts by saying, "The word of the Lord was rare in those days,"  "visions were not widespread", and then in the next verse the author points to Eli, "whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see,"  but "the lamp of God had not yet gone out where Samuel was lying down in the temple." And then in the middle of the night God SPEAKS to Samuel. Do you see the light going out on the house of Eli and the voice awakening Samuel?   Do you see the picture the author is painting for us through contrast and comparison? The author of Samuel uses word repetition and other clues to help us understand the meaning of his stories. 
So you see I want to feel the text, understand the circumstances (the facts) as best as I can, and listen and look at the word pictures the author is painting and see how the Lord will speak to me and through me as I write.
 And I will see what God teaches me through the text and how I see my own story through hearing the story of Saul and David and Samuel.
That's what I'm thinking today...but who knows what tomorrow may bring?
I just know I need to work through the story.  The truth of it, the emotions it draws to the surface, the beauty and the difficulty, the tragedy and the triumphs.  I would love to work through it together with you, in bits and pieces.  Please join me in the journey.

I'm lying here on the floor, curled up with the dog, in golden sanctuary. 
I don't want the peace I woke with to leave me.
To fall asleep with a cry on my heart and wake with peace is not answer, but presence.
But whose presence?
And is it OK?
Does this come as an answer to prayer? 
Whose prayer?
Did it change my course?
Am I weak, and emotional, and unsteady?
Or is love stronger somehow, than my death?

I don't want my eyes to grow dim like Eli's. 
I don't want to desecrate this sanctuary like his sons.
I don't want the enmity of Elkanah's polygamous choice.
I don't want a rivalry.
I don't want to spurn love.
I don't want to cave to my circumstances.
I don't want to take my grief to any but the Lord.
I don't want the priest to think I'm a crazy drunk.
I don't want to forget my covenant with the Lord.
I don't want to give up on my son.
I don't want to bring down the priests you've appointed.
I don't want to be unresponsive to your midnight call.
I don't want to have a narrow vision.
I don't want any of my words to fall to the ground.

Can you hear all the cries?

Sometimes I don't know what I am supposed to want. 
I just know what I do want.
And I know that I want to want what You want me to want, My God and Savior.
And I'm scared of choice.
Really scared of choice.

Sarah and Drew this afternoon.