Wednesday, February 8, 2012

"Speak, Lord..."

I loved growing up as the daughter of a pastor. My parents did an outstanding job involving Amy and I in ministry. We did it as a family. It wasn't just my dad's job. It wasn't just a place to be on Sunday and Wednesday - it was our ministry and way of life.

But growing up as a pastor's kid meant that we probably did things a little differently. Most little girls love to play house or store. And although I loved to set up the living room like a grocery store, I vividly remember acting out a different scene from time to time. One of my early memories is "playing church." I wish I had a picture to show you what I can remember so vividly. My poor parents would play the congregation, sitting patiently on the couch as I told my Bible story. I played the preacher Sunday School teacher. And each time, I would tell the same Bible story.

I had all the props. I would put on my skirt and heels, as all Sunday School teachers in my day did. Sometimes I would sit in a chair with my legs crossed, slightly kicking my leg and flopping my shoe, as my teacher did. But most of the time, I was behind "my pulpit."

The "Tater Bin" (much like the one pictured above) worked perfectly. Ours had a slanted lid and a small rectangular handle. The handle would hold my Bible in place. I would turn the bin around backwards, and tell my Bible story.

Tonight, as I caught up on my Bible reading, I read this familiar story. In I Samuel 1-3, I read the story of Hannah and her son Samuel. I read of how Hannah prayed for a son and how the Lord answered her prayers. I read of how Hannah gave Samuel back to the Lord, letting him live at the Temple to help Eli the priest.

When I was a child, I would always tell the story of Samuel when he heard the voice of the Lord. I would act out all the parts myself. Samuel would lay down to sleep (I would lay down on a black bean bag). I would stand up and say in a deep voice "Samuel..." As Samuel, I would raise my head, run to where Eli was "sleeping" and say, "Did you call?" Eli would always reply, "No, I didn't...Go back to bed."  I would repeat this scene a few times. Finally Eli would say, "If you hear this again say, 'Speak, Lord, your servant heareth."

Early on, I knew that if God called, I wanted to listen. Even as a child, when I would wake in the night, I would think, "Did God wake me up?" Reading this story tonight made me want to have that child-like faith again. Sometimes, I do think God wakes me up in the night, prompting me to pray for someone or for something specific. But whether God speaks to me during the day while I'm washing dishes or at night when I'm supposed to be sleeping, I want to reply like Samuel did. "Speak, Lord, your servant is listening."

It's easy to let other things drown him out. A TV show, my to-do list, sleep, a movie, some other book, laundry, housework...although some of these things are not necessarily bad, if they are drowning out the voice of the Lord, I need to be careful.

Lord, I want to have ears to hear. I want to be sensitive to Your voice.
 I want to hear You above the noise of my day.
I want to listen. Speak to me! Your servant is listening.  
   Amen.

8 comments:

  1. Good word, Cindy. Thanks for sharing.

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  2. Forget the picture, I want to see the video of this :)

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    1. If only we'd had a video camera. I know I told the story over and over cause I can see the scene in my mind so clearly.

      My first skit...ha. Prep for Encounter.

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  3. Oh my goodness! You had me smiling. :) I can see it all now! Great thoughts as well on Samuel's story.

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    1. Mom and Dad were so patient to sit on the couch, night after night, hearing the same story. I probably told it 50 times.

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  4. Adorable. I used to play church, too. I would sit quietly on the stairs equipped with my hymn book, baby, and diaper bag filled with a little container of Cheerios to feed my baby. That shows how different we saw church. :) Love the post, the potato bin for pulpit cracks me up.

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    1. Hillarious - 2 different views of the very same place.

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  5. Your "playing church" brought lots of memories to mind...I used to "preach" using the back of Daddy's recliner as my pulpit. Mama would stand in the kitchen washing dishes while watching and listening to me. She never laughed out loud but I'm sure she wanted to. We had some rather energetic evangelists hold revivals...so sometimes I slapped the back of that recliner and shook my hair down over my eyes! Too bad we didn't have a potato bin....that would have been great.

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