Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

Holding his white-haired head in his hands, the elderly man heaved a deep sigh as a stray tear traced a path down his wrinkled face. His heart was shattered. His soul ached. Nothing had turned out the way he thought it would. The lessons he’d carefully taught his sons about reverence and honor for God had fallen on deaf ears. The high standards and strong morals he’d spent years instilling in them had been flung aside as they found the things of the world more enchanting, more exciting, much less binding. Their selfish, darkened hearts turned away to chase wealth through dishonest practices. They readily accepted bribes. Were happy to turn a blind eye to perverted justice. Had been known to engage in its perversion themselves. Their defection made his stomach churn, his heart sink, his soul weep. They weren’t the godly leaders Israel needed. God knew it. Samuel knew it. (I Samuel 8:1-3) 

The elders of Israel knew it too. Approaching the aging prophet, they confronted him with the facts. His sons weren’t going to cut it. They weren’t leadership material. Unlike Samuel, they weren’t hearing or listening when God spoke. So embedded in their own illicit actions, no one wanted them to be the next leaders of Israel. They wanted someone new. Someone strong and fearless. Someone courageous in battle. Someone who would proudly stride out to fight on their behalf. They’d been shopping around, peeking over the fences, chatting up the folks in the neighboring towns. They wanted what everyone else had. They wanted a king. 

Everyone did. From the highest elder to the lowest peasant, the people fell in line chanting a demand that violated God’s plan. They had looked around at the nations with kings ruling over them. They seemed idyllic. Security and contentment appeared to blanket their communities. Courage and strength flowed from their palaces. No visible fear or concern marred their existence. This king thing seemed like a sweet deal. He would be responsible for all the tedious running of things. He’d have to make the decisions. He could be blamed for anything they didn’t like. And it would be his duty to take care of them. Make sure there was food. Remedy social issues. Keep peace with neighboring nations. Go before them and fight their battles. They could rest at ease, live their lives, work the land, and raise their families while the king kept peace across the land. Life would be better, simpler, more pleasant, if they could just have a king! (I Samuel 8:4-5, 19)

Rightfully upset and even hurt by their obvious rejection of the ways he’d so carefully taught them, Samuel hit his knees in prayer. No part of this seemed like a plan God would condone. God was their King. The One who fought their battles. Provided. Protected. Mere men, no matter how wise, courageous, or strong, could not do for them what God had historically done. How had they been so hoodwinked as to believe such an outrageous notion? Could no one read the lies between the lines of the rhetoric? They didn’t need a human king pompously riding through town on his destrier, bedecked in robe and crown. They didn’t need to be like the nations around them. They needed to follow God alone. He would be their conquering king. If only they could see the truths before their very eyes. 

Samuel wasn’t blind to the truths before him. He wouldn’t live forever. His sons were not proper leadership material. He understood the people were uncomfortable with the idea of his passing, leaving no one to take his place. Yet still, this urgent demand for a king felt much like a slap in the face. It felt like all the years of his labor had been in vain. Every moment invested in leading the people to follow God’s heart was wasted. Every effort to keep their minds focused on Him misspent. Every hour of prayer, word of encouragement, message of exhortation, and moment of leadership soundly ignored. His devotion to God’s work and God’s people amounted to nothing. Today it felt like all his efforts had been useless. He felt dissed and dismissed. The people were demanding a king, and God’s answer was not what Samuel expected. 

He was giving them what they wanted! God was answering the people’s demands with capitulation. He was going to grant them a king. One of His own choosing. One who would start well, but whose path would turn highly suspect. One who didn’t even want the job. It wasn’t the choice Samuel would have made, but then, it wasn’t about Samuel. None of it was. It didn’t reflect on his character, his abilities, his sufficiencies. He hadn’t failed. He wasn’t worthless. His life’s work hadn’t been in vain. Not one part of this event had anything at all to do with Samuel. The people hadn’t rejected him from being their prophet and judge. They hadn’t rejected his leadership. No. They were rejecting God. Their true king. The One who led their ancestors out of Egypt. The One who had given them victory in battle against the Philistines. The One who answered miraculously when they cried out to Him. The people were tossing everything God had done for them aside and chasing after what all the other nations had. They wanted a king they could see and touch and blame. They didn’t want to live by faith, they wanted to live by sight. But before God gave them the desires of their straying hearts, Samuel was tasked with warning them just how having a king would look. (I Samuel 8:6-9)

Nothing was going to turn out the way they thought it would. They wouldn’t get the carefree, abundant life they were imagining by trading the leadership of God for the leadership of man. Samuel tried to tell them. Attempted to warn them. This was going to go badly. The appointed king would take their children for his servants. They would plow his fields and reap his harvest. Their sons would fight his wars. Their daughters would be his servants. This long-desired king would take the best of what they had. Fields. Vineyards. Olive groves. He would take his tenth off the top of all their harvests. He would require the best of everything they had. Servants. Cattle. Donkeys. The people who cried out so desperately wanting a king would regret it. Abused and unhappy under the iron rule of their desired king, the miserable people would cry out to God for relief from their poor choices. Unfortunately, God would not be quick to answer. (I Samuel 8:10-18)

The warnings fell on deaf ears. All of them. The people refused to believe them. Wouldn’t contemplate the possibilities. Declined weighing the options. Unconcerned with their rejection of God, they steadfastly set their focus on the faulty desires of their sidetracked hearts. They badly wanted to be like the rest of the world. They desperately wanted the peace, protection, and prosperity they imagined came with that choice. Convinced it was the choice that would grant them the things they always wanted, they stalwartly demanded a king. They unequivocally weren’t taking “no” for an answer. Not today. Not any day. They were done hearing and listening to God. They wanted their own way. They were choosing a king, and it had nothing to do with Samuel. (I Samuel 8:19-20)

It’s an incredibly difficult lesson to learn. Not everything is about you. When the people we have prayed for, preached to, discipled, and loved decide Jesus isn’t enough for them, it hurts. When the family we’ve raised to walk after God chooses to take a different track, our hearts break. When the church we’ve poured ourselves into, physically and financially, opts for an alternate interpretation of God’s Word, we feel devastated. When, no matter how hard we pray, how loud we speak, how firmly we stand, the people around us choose a lesser path, our communities follow lesser gods, our country races wilfully toward certain destruction, it makes our souls recoil in nearly physical pain. Our heads hang. Our tears flow. It feels personal. It isn’t. It’s not about us at all. It’s about God. 

Friend, every single human has to make a very personal choice about what they will do with Jesus. His words. His ways. His will. It’s their choice. You can pray all the prayers. Say all the words. Teach all the lessons. Preach all the warnings. When it’s all said and done, the choice to accept or reject Jesus is theirs. It’s not about you at all. It’s not your glory if they accept Him. It’s not your fault if they reject Him. Not one part of that decision is about you. Even if it feels like it. Even if the evil one camps out on your shoulder saying it is. Even if the blame game he’s playing sounds plausible. Even when he says you should have prayed harder, lived better, spoken more clearly. When he says you’ve failed. Your work is useless. Your best is worthless. Your efforts have been completely in vain. Tell him to shut up. It’s not about you. It’s about God. (Deuteronomy 30:19; Joshua 24:15; Romans 14:5-12; John 3:3; Matthew 22:14)

Not everyone is going to heed your warnings. Not everyone is going to be interested in changing their ways. Not every soul to whom you witness, for whom you pray, with whom you share the Word of God is going to choose Him. Some will scoff. Some will scatter. Some will select an earthly king over an eternal One. That is their choice. They aren’t rejecting you. They are rejecting God. It’s not your failure. It’s not your fault. It’s not about you. So don’t stop. Don’t stop praying. Don’t stop preaching. Don’t stop teaching, caring, sharing, believing. Don’t give up. That’s what the evil one wants you to do. That’s why he whispers discouraging words of guilt and shame and regret in your ear. Don’t listen to him. Rather, know this, nothing you do for the sake of the Gospel is in vain. God’s words never return to Him void. Neither the work nor the outcome is about you at all. It’s all about God. (Matthew 5:16; Proverbs 14:25; Jude 1:23; Matthew 10:1-22; II Timothy 4:2-5; I Corinthians 15:58; Isaiah 55:11)