Towering over the grey-haired prophet, the younger man stared at the older one in shocked disbelief. The man had clearly gone round the bend. He was talking crazy. Him? King? Of these people? No thank you! The very idea was preposterous! He wasn’t interested. Not even a little bit. That wasn’t why he had sought an audience with the man of God. Not at all. He wasn’t here to place himself in the running. Didn’t even know there was a campaign. Certainly wasn’t interested in being appointed. Publicity wasn’t Saul’s thing. He wasn’t used to it. Had no experience with it. Didn’t want any of it. He was much more comfortable on the sidelines. Working behind the scenes. Avoiding the spotlight. Chasing lost donkeys.
It was the merry chase of those donkeys that had him standing here talking to a crazy man. The silly beasts had taken a field trip. To someone else’s field. No one could figure out how they escaped, but they were well and truly missing. Saul and his servant had been searching for days. Three, to be exact. Not one hoofprint had been found. Not one sighting had been recorded. Not one extra donkey had turned up at a stranger’s barn. Saul was over it. Done searching. Done wandering. Done with the donkeys. They had more. These weren’t that special. Saul was tired. He was hungry. Their provisions had long since run out. His father was probably concerned for his safety by now. All signs pointed to it being time to go home, with or without the runaway equines. And Saul was absolutely ready to go.
His servant had a different idea–or a deep affinity for those donkeys. He didn’t want to give up. Not yet. Instead, he wanted to take their problem to the man of God who lived in the area. He’d heard good things about him. Heard people trusted him. Heard his answers were always right, his predictions always fulfilled. It wasn’t even out of their way. They could just try it. See if he knew anything. It wouldn’t harm their search or lessen their chances of recovering the animals. It was definitely worth a shot. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that. Convinced there could be no harm in asking, Saul agreed.
Never had he been so wrong. Not in his entire life. Harm had, in fact, occurred. Was currently occurring. This man of God, Samuel, wasn’t interested in the lost donkeys. At all. The fact they had mysteriously returned home after exhausting the enchantments of the countryside was simply a footnote to the conversation. He had a much bigger agenda. One that shocked Saul to his very core. One he was loath to believe. One he hoped wouldn’t materialize. God had heard the moaning and groaning of the Israelites enviously wishing for a king like other nations. He had held out for a long time, knowing it wasn’t in their best interest. Finally, God was relenting. They were getting what they wanted. Sort of. They didn’t get to choose their leader. God did. God was selecting. God was appointing. God was placing the exact person he wanted in the position he wanted. No campaigning. No election. No selection by the people. God had it covered. God was choosing. And God had chosen Saul.
The very idea was ludicrous. Ridiculous. Bizarre. Had God even looked at the other men in Israel? There was no way Saul was the best choice. He could count a dozen men more qualified than him. Men from large, influential tribes and prominent families. Men skilled at battle, trained to lead. Saul had none of that pedigree, none of that training, none of that clout. The tribe of Benjamin, his tribe, was the tiniest one in all of Israel. They’d nearly been wiped out in a civil war among the tribes. They were not well-respected enough to have a king selected from their number. His family had some wealth, and his father had some influence, but none of that gave Saul the pedigree of a king! He literally had nothing going for him when it came to ruling a nation. And he didn’t want the position. Seriously. No, thank you! Nothing about being king appealed to him. He literally wanted nothing more than to just go home. Back to his life. His family. His farm. Back to the donkeys who got him in this mess in the first place! (Judges 20-21)
Samuel wasn’t having it. In spite of the relative truth to those arguments, he wasn’t done with Saul. He knew God wasn’t, either. See, Samuel believed God could make something from nothing. He believed that was God’s speciality. He believed that in Heaven’s measurements, less meant more. Where human strength and ability was lacking, God’s power would more than make up the difference. Where Saul had no military power, no political pull, no party supporting his election, no pride in his own ability, no constant craving to be famous, fawned over, or financially flush, God had space to move and work and build. When Saul looked at himself, he saw Saul. Son of Kish. Tribe of Benjamin. Seeker of lost donkeys. Minder of his own business. When God looked at Saul, He saw untapped potential and uncluttered space waiting to be filled with His presence and power. And that is what He did. (I Samuel 9:1-4; I Samuel 9:22-10:1)
God moved into Saul’s heart and life. Filled him. Saturated his being. Changed him in ways he could never have imagined. Like prophesying with the prophets in Gibeah. That wasn’t on his bucket list. It wasn’t something he had always wanted to do. It wasn’t something he had ever wanted to do. It wasn’t necessarily something he would purposely choose to do again. It was simply part of the new heart God was building in him. A heart tender toward the voice of God. A heart open and obedient to the spirit of God. A heart capable of leading the people in the ways of God. The prophesying was an outward sign of the inward work. God was busy filling the space in Saul’s heart so there would be less of him and more of God.
The people missed the truth of what was happening. Not because they weren’t looking. They were. Onlookers lined the road. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing. They were surprised. Skeptical. Judgmental. Was that Kish’s son? A kid from the tiniest tribe in the nation? That boy was prophesying? His Daddy wasn’t even that big of a deal. Certainly not enough for him to bust out into prophecy. Who did he think he was, anyway? Shaking their heads in disgust, they commented among themselves. Apparently, anyone could become a prophet now, no significant parentage or tribal affiliation necessary! (I Samuel 9:9-13)
Imagine how they must have felt when Samuel presented Saul as king. Over them. The same Saul. Kish’s kid. The one with no pedigree or formal training. He was going to be their king. They were shocked. Not everyone was excited. Not everyone wanted a king. At least not to have Saul as king. Some people complained. Doubted his ability. Questioned his skills. Countered that just because he was tall and handsome didn’t mean he could lead warriors into battle, judge disputes, or rule in the best interest of the people. Saul had nothing to recommend him for the job. But God wasn’t looking at resumes. He was looking at hearts. Like He always does. (I Samuel 10:27)
This wouldn’t be the last time God sent Samuel out to anoint a king, then surprised everyone by who He chose. Saul wasn’t even off the throne when God sent Samuel to Bethlehem, to the house of Jesse, whose son was meant to take Saul’s place. One son out of eight. The first looked good to Samuel. Tall, good-looking, strong. God disagreed. He wasn’t thrilled with the second one, either. Or the third. He wasn’t impressed with any of the boys Jesse lined up before him. Confused, Samuel asked Jesse for clarification. These were all the boys, right? No. There was one more. The youngest. The smallest. The least likely to be chosen. Best suited for tending sheep. Best skilled at playing the harp. He wasn’t as tall as Eliab. He wasn’t as strong as Abinadab. He didn’t have the leadership skills of Shimea. Surely David couldn’t be the one. But he was. Because God wasn’t looking for the one who seemed to have the most physical presence, the biggest muscles, or the sharpest intellect. God was looking at the hearts, searching for the one that would chase hard after Him. (Psalm 63:8; I Samuel 16)
You see, friends, God isn’t a talent scout. He isn’t looking only for people who are prominent, prosperous, polished, or pedantic. He’s not comparing resumes, past experiences, or education status. No. God chooses those who are eager to learn, willing to serve, and anxious to obey. Him. His Word. His commands. His regulations. He carefully picks those who will place their faith in His power when they can see only improbabilities rather than possibilities. He is searching for those who will make room in their hearts and lives for Him to inhabit. Places for Him to renovate and dwell. Spaces for Him to work out of. God is not looking for people full of themselves, their things, their ideas, their desires. God is looking for people who are willing to empty themselves and be filled with His Spirit. His wisdom. His will. His way. God is looking for those who are willing to decrease so His kingdom can increase. People like John the Baptist. (Ephesians 5:18; Psalm 81:10; 107:9; Mark 9:23; Zechariah 4:10)
John deserves enormous respect from us. He is an incredible example for us. Surrounded by his own megachurch of disciples who thought perhaps, just maybe, he was the Messiah, John never once led them astray. Didn’t present himself as something he wasn’t. Didn’t take advantage of their naivete. Never failed to be honest with them. Even when his follower count dropped. Even when church attendance slumped. Even when people started choosing to be baptized by Jesus instead of him. He could have taken umbrage. Could have been upset. Could have become confrontational. He didn’t. He understood the mission. Less of him meant more of Jesus. He was happy to simply be part of the process. (John 3:22-36)
Are you? Are you happy to be part of the process? A small part. A big part. Without recognition, accolades, or applause. You should be. That God chooses to involve you in reconciling the world to Himself is the greatest compliment you could ever receive. It means God noticed you. Personally. Not your education level. Not your eloquent speech. Not your talents or abilities. Not your ravishing good looks. Your heart. When no one else looked past your foibles and failures and faux pas, God looked at your heart. He noticed how you made time for Him in your day, left room for Him in your heart, made space for Him in your decisions. He saw your worth. And God chose you. When everyone else chased the prominent people, the megachurch pastors, the monied parishioners, the silver-tongued palaverers, the pretty, the poised, the perfect, God didn’t follow the crowd. He chose you. To be filled with Him. His love to saturate your heart. His presence to inhabit your life. His work to fill your days. No matter who you are or how your background reads, when there is less of you and more of Jesus, He offers you the opportunity to have a part in reconciling the world to Himself. There is no higher accomplishment, no better accolade, no greater achievement. But you can only reach that pinnacle when there is less of you and more of Jesus. (Jeremiah 17:10; Proverbs 21:2; Psalm 44:21; I Peter 3:3-4; 5:6; James 4:10; I Corinthians 3:5-7; Colossians 1:18; Galatians 6:4)