Could Hannah's distress, described in the first two chapters of First Samuel, be the answer to the prayers of the rest of the nation?
The priests stood between the sincere worshipper and God. Every sacrifice and ordinance required a priest's assistance. The sons of Eli were wicked and used their position as priests to satisfy their own carnal lusts, causing those dependant upon their services to view the sacred rituals as a vile and profane scam.
The text hints, and common sense begs to affirm, that many prayers rose from the lips of sincere worshippers, begging God to return respect and reverence to the house of God.
Enter the barren wife, Hannah. Troubled by her condition, she promised God that if He would answer her prayer that she would use the answer for His glory. The answer, her son Samuel, became the priest who brough revival and holiness back to the Temple.
Could it be that as you seek God's favor in your current distress that you might be the answer to the prayers that many are lifting to heaven? Could it be that your problems are not just about you?
Having problems? Take them to God. Not in a hasty, obligatory moment, but in earnest and fervent intercession. Yes, it will take time and it will be hard work and others may not understand. But you just might be the answer to the prayers of a whole nation.
©2006 Doug Ellingsworth
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Friday, May 19, 2006
Am I Going To Church With You?
You want to know if I am going to church with you on Sunday?
I don't think so.
You've invited me to your church lots of times, but the way you've talked about everybody there, it sounds as if they are a bunch of jerks. I'm not sure I could smile and pretend I like them. You seem to do that easily enough, but I can't.
Every Monday you have a headache because the choir blasted their newest worship chorus loud enough to drown out a NASCAR race. I get chills just hearing you describe how cold it is in the Sanctuary. I'm sorry, but spending my Sundays being miserable with you isn't the way I want to waste my precious weekends.
I'd like my kids to see all the puppet shows and classroom decorations you've told me about, but you have to confront the teachers for mistreating your children so often that I'd be afraid to let mine out of my sight.
Your pastor sounds like a nice guy, but the way he keeps pushing you to give more money really bothers me. Especially after all you told me about going to their house for that Christmas party. I'm sorry, but all the time he would be preaching I'd be thinking about how he drives that new SUV while you are driving that old car that you borrowed from your dad.
If you were still leading that ladies group I'd probably come to one of your meetings. But, hey, if they couldn't work with my schedule and if they didn't like the ideas I suggested, I'd have told them off and walked out just like you did.
We were getting dressed to go to your Christmas drama until you called. We didn't want to sit by ourselves so, when you said your family wasn't going, we decided to stay home. My daughter was looking forward to it, but when I explained that your little girl was upset because she had to be a sheep instead of an angel, she understood. At least she said she did. She had a funny look on her face, but she didn't say anything else, so I guess she understood.
I've thought about just biting the bullet and showing up one Wednesday for Bible study night. But as sure as I do, it will be one of those nights when the pastor ignores the clock and goes on and on and on. Like you say, he can sleep all day if he wants, but things get going pretty early around our house.
Wouldn't it be great if we could all be pastors?
Well, anyway, you wanted to know why I haven't visited your church yet. There's a lot more that I could say. After all, we've been working together for six months now, and church is all you talk about. But I think I've said enough to let you know where I'm coming from.
Even though I probably won't come to your church, I want you to know that you can still count on me to be your friend. When you need to vent again, I'll be here. After all, isn't that what you said friends are for?
©2006 Doug Ellingsworth
I don't think so.
You've invited me to your church lots of times, but the way you've talked about everybody there, it sounds as if they are a bunch of jerks. I'm not sure I could smile and pretend I like them. You seem to do that easily enough, but I can't.
Every Monday you have a headache because the choir blasted their newest worship chorus loud enough to drown out a NASCAR race. I get chills just hearing you describe how cold it is in the Sanctuary. I'm sorry, but spending my Sundays being miserable with you isn't the way I want to waste my precious weekends.
I'd like my kids to see all the puppet shows and classroom decorations you've told me about, but you have to confront the teachers for mistreating your children so often that I'd be afraid to let mine out of my sight.
Your pastor sounds like a nice guy, but the way he keeps pushing you to give more money really bothers me. Especially after all you told me about going to their house for that Christmas party. I'm sorry, but all the time he would be preaching I'd be thinking about how he drives that new SUV while you are driving that old car that you borrowed from your dad.
If you were still leading that ladies group I'd probably come to one of your meetings. But, hey, if they couldn't work with my schedule and if they didn't like the ideas I suggested, I'd have told them off and walked out just like you did.
We were getting dressed to go to your Christmas drama until you called. We didn't want to sit by ourselves so, when you said your family wasn't going, we decided to stay home. My daughter was looking forward to it, but when I explained that your little girl was upset because she had to be a sheep instead of an angel, she understood. At least she said she did. She had a funny look on her face, but she didn't say anything else, so I guess she understood.
I've thought about just biting the bullet and showing up one Wednesday for Bible study night. But as sure as I do, it will be one of those nights when the pastor ignores the clock and goes on and on and on. Like you say, he can sleep all day if he wants, but things get going pretty early around our house.
Wouldn't it be great if we could all be pastors?
Well, anyway, you wanted to know why I haven't visited your church yet. There's a lot more that I could say. After all, we've been working together for six months now, and church is all you talk about. But I think I've said enough to let you know where I'm coming from.
Even though I probably won't come to your church, I want you to know that you can still count on me to be your friend. When you need to vent again, I'll be here. After all, isn't that what you said friends are for?
©2006 Doug Ellingsworth
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Radical Motherhood
Have you ever noticed how many extraordinary men were produced by radical mothers?
Moses's mom risked her own life on the outside chance that she might save his. Crafting a waterproof basket, she tried something that had never been done before. Her plan was a success and, although deprived of her son's companionship, she trained him in the ways of her God right under the nose of the Pharoah. The very ruler who demanded Moses's death became his protector and provider. Jochebed did not have Moses long, but she poured her life into him.
Samuel's mom poured out her soul to God in the Temple. Instead of fighting with the woman who ridiculed her, Hannah brought her anguish to the house of the Lord. In her sorrow, she promised to dedicate her son to God's service. In the joy that followed his birth, she remembered the vow she had made and brought her little boy to the priest. Like Jochebed, she too was deprived of her son's companionship, yet she remained faithful to the God who had heard her prayer. She saw Samuel just once a year, but between visits she made him new clothes so that her growing boy would always be warmly dressed. He was out of her sight, but never off of her mind.
And what about Mary? This young woman gleefully embraced God's call to be the mother of His Son. The angel did not announce her commission to the whole community, so most of them refused to buy Mary's story of the immaculate conception. The hardship and want of a poor family was hers to endure while she carried and cared for the One who made and owned everything, but instead of wallowing in self-pity, she considered her lot to be the envy of every woman. You find her faithful...at Bethleham...in the Temple...traveling to Eygpt...in Cana...at Calvary...in the Upper Room.
These radical moms produced visionary sons who lived radical lives, possessed radical faith, embraced radical ideals, preached radical sermons, demanded radical commitment, and made a radical impact on their world.
O God, send America a revival of Radical Motherhood!
©2006 Doug Ellingsworth
Moses's mom risked her own life on the outside chance that she might save his. Crafting a waterproof basket, she tried something that had never been done before. Her plan was a success and, although deprived of her son's companionship, she trained him in the ways of her God right under the nose of the Pharoah. The very ruler who demanded Moses's death became his protector and provider. Jochebed did not have Moses long, but she poured her life into him.
Samuel's mom poured out her soul to God in the Temple. Instead of fighting with the woman who ridiculed her, Hannah brought her anguish to the house of the Lord. In her sorrow, she promised to dedicate her son to God's service. In the joy that followed his birth, she remembered the vow she had made and brought her little boy to the priest. Like Jochebed, she too was deprived of her son's companionship, yet she remained faithful to the God who had heard her prayer. She saw Samuel just once a year, but between visits she made him new clothes so that her growing boy would always be warmly dressed. He was out of her sight, but never off of her mind.
And what about Mary? This young woman gleefully embraced God's call to be the mother of His Son. The angel did not announce her commission to the whole community, so most of them refused to buy Mary's story of the immaculate conception. The hardship and want of a poor family was hers to endure while she carried and cared for the One who made and owned everything, but instead of wallowing in self-pity, she considered her lot to be the envy of every woman. You find her faithful...at Bethleham...in the Temple...traveling to Eygpt...in Cana...at Calvary...in the Upper Room.
These radical moms produced visionary sons who lived radical lives, possessed radical faith, embraced radical ideals, preached radical sermons, demanded radical commitment, and made a radical impact on their world.
O God, send America a revival of Radical Motherhood!
©2006 Doug Ellingsworth
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
If The Altar Could Talk
If the altar could talk, what stories it could tell!
Like the time the old sinner, full of hate and resentment, poured his heart out to God as he felt His tender touch for the very first time.
How would the altar describe the tears that spilled from the eyes of a little boy who had just heard a missionary tell about the millions of people, living without all the toys and the home like he was blessed to have, who had never heard of Jesus?
What would it say about the drug-addicted hippie who in his 1960's flower child slang apologized to God for a life of careless rebellion?
What words would the altar use to portray the faces of the radiant bride and proud groom as they pledged to each other their undying love?
What would it say about the mother pleading with God to keep watch over her wayward child?
How many solemn promises has it heard from too many generations of mothers who offered their own lives in exchange for those of their soldier-sons fighting in some far away country?
Would the altar’s lips quiver as it recalled a brand-new mom and dad laying their sleeping infant on its smooth plank and dedicating it to the Lord?
Would the altar boast of the times it has borne the coffin of a faithful child of God?
If the altar could hear, what stories it must have collected! If it could talk, what scenes it could describe!
If the altar could keep up with the news and the changing times, it would be interesting to hear it tell us about the people it had watched come and go.
Maybe that hateful old man is now the loving grandfather that all the children in the church rush to hug before every service.
Perhaps that little Sunday school boy who cried when he heard the missionary’s stories is the man who preached last Sunday.
The bride and groom who stood here years ago may now be introducing other families to the God they still meet with at the altar.
But what about the momma whose boy came back safely from the army, but she forgot all about the promises she made at the altar?
Where is the teenager that God kept from getting killed in an auto accident, who, in the excitement of life, forgot all he had told God at the altar?
What happened to the father who the altar heard say that he wanted his son to grow up to serve God, but found himself too busy to bother with church?
What would it say about the marriages that didn’t last and the commitments that were broken?
If the altar could talk, what would it say about how well you have lived up to the bargains you’ve made with God around that special place?
If the altar could talk, what would it say about me?
©2006 Doug Ellingsworth
Like the time the old sinner, full of hate and resentment, poured his heart out to God as he felt His tender touch for the very first time.
How would the altar describe the tears that spilled from the eyes of a little boy who had just heard a missionary tell about the millions of people, living without all the toys and the home like he was blessed to have, who had never heard of Jesus?
What would it say about the drug-addicted hippie who in his 1960's flower child slang apologized to God for a life of careless rebellion?
What words would the altar use to portray the faces of the radiant bride and proud groom as they pledged to each other their undying love?
What would it say about the mother pleading with God to keep watch over her wayward child?
How many solemn promises has it heard from too many generations of mothers who offered their own lives in exchange for those of their soldier-sons fighting in some far away country?
Would the altar’s lips quiver as it recalled a brand-new mom and dad laying their sleeping infant on its smooth plank and dedicating it to the Lord?
Would the altar boast of the times it has borne the coffin of a faithful child of God?
If the altar could hear, what stories it must have collected! If it could talk, what scenes it could describe!
If the altar could keep up with the news and the changing times, it would be interesting to hear it tell us about the people it had watched come and go.
Maybe that hateful old man is now the loving grandfather that all the children in the church rush to hug before every service.
Perhaps that little Sunday school boy who cried when he heard the missionary’s stories is the man who preached last Sunday.
The bride and groom who stood here years ago may now be introducing other families to the God they still meet with at the altar.
But what about the momma whose boy came back safely from the army, but she forgot all about the promises she made at the altar?
Where is the teenager that God kept from getting killed in an auto accident, who, in the excitement of life, forgot all he had told God at the altar?
What happened to the father who the altar heard say that he wanted his son to grow up to serve God, but found himself too busy to bother with church?
What would it say about the marriages that didn’t last and the commitments that were broken?
If the altar could talk, what would it say about how well you have lived up to the bargains you’ve made with God around that special place?
If the altar could talk, what would it say about me?
©2006 Doug Ellingsworth
Thursday, May 04, 2006
The Truth About Abortion
I was surprised by the news, but then, I wasn’t surprised. I was traveling somewhere when I got the call that she had died. I’ve never been able to decide what a good age for dying is, but she was close to my age and I know that is too young.
I couldn’t say that we were friends or that I knew her very well. Why she chose me I’ve never figured out, but every once in a while she would call. I still don’t know why she felt she could trust me. Maybe it was because I didn’t know her very well and that we seldom saw each other. She could call me when she wanted, but didn’t have to mess with me, or what I knew, unless it was her idea.
The calls always came from out of the blue, but they were all alike. She had had an abortion 30 years ago, and regardless of how the conversation began it eventually moved to “will God ever forgive me?” I assured her each time that when Jesus died on Calvary He paid the price for every sin – including all of hers. For some reason, she was never able to translate that intangible fact into a personal experience. How do you convince a woman who has carried a burden for 30 years that it is okay to lay it down? What do you say to a mother who has grieved for 30 years for a child she never held? After every call I would be numb for hours.
Some say that abortion is a quick and easy fix. I know better. I wonder how many women are living in a private hell, suffering just like this lady did, stepping out of the darkness only with the help of a chemical fix, hoping to find help in the counsel of some stranger, afraid that those she loves would hate her if they knew the truth?
It is time that the truth is told.
Want to know the truth?
The last I checked, both male and female participation was required to produce a child.
If men waited until they were married and remained faithful to their wives and honored their marriage vows, the demand for abortion would be severely lessened.
If men would stop being cowards and would take responsibility for their decisions and back their promises with real action, the demand for abortion would be reduced.
If men would consider the emotional needs of a woman rather than seeking gratification of their own physical desires, fewer women would be emotional basket cases because of the choices they are left to deal with alone.
And if both men and women would realize that the time to consider whether or not they want a child, can afford a child, or are fit to raise a child is before they become intimate NOT after, the need for abortion would disappear.
The truth is that men can lower the abortion rate by really being MEN!
©2006 Doug Ellingsworth
I couldn’t say that we were friends or that I knew her very well. Why she chose me I’ve never figured out, but every once in a while she would call. I still don’t know why she felt she could trust me. Maybe it was because I didn’t know her very well and that we seldom saw each other. She could call me when she wanted, but didn’t have to mess with me, or what I knew, unless it was her idea.
The calls always came from out of the blue, but they were all alike. She had had an abortion 30 years ago, and regardless of how the conversation began it eventually moved to “will God ever forgive me?” I assured her each time that when Jesus died on Calvary He paid the price for every sin – including all of hers. For some reason, she was never able to translate that intangible fact into a personal experience. How do you convince a woman who has carried a burden for 30 years that it is okay to lay it down? What do you say to a mother who has grieved for 30 years for a child she never held? After every call I would be numb for hours.
Some say that abortion is a quick and easy fix. I know better. I wonder how many women are living in a private hell, suffering just like this lady did, stepping out of the darkness only with the help of a chemical fix, hoping to find help in the counsel of some stranger, afraid that those she loves would hate her if they knew the truth?
It is time that the truth is told.
Want to know the truth?
The last I checked, both male and female participation was required to produce a child.
If men waited until they were married and remained faithful to their wives and honored their marriage vows, the demand for abortion would be severely lessened.
If men would stop being cowards and would take responsibility for their decisions and back their promises with real action, the demand for abortion would be reduced.
If men would consider the emotional needs of a woman rather than seeking gratification of their own physical desires, fewer women would be emotional basket cases because of the choices they are left to deal with alone.
And if both men and women would realize that the time to consider whether or not they want a child, can afford a child, or are fit to raise a child is before they become intimate NOT after, the need for abortion would disappear.
The truth is that men can lower the abortion rate by really being MEN!
©2006 Doug Ellingsworth
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Leaving With A Dream
It seems that it took me 100 years to reach the magical age of 21 – then three months later I turned 45. Why couldn’t I have had all this work to do when I was wishing the years would hurry up and pass? The harder and faster I work, the more I see that ought to be done. For every task that I check off, seven new ones appear at the bottom of the list.
When I hold my list of things to do beside the number of years I have left to work, it gets downright depressing. But then I read about David. Remember how he wanted to build a house for God? God refused his offer, but told David that his son could build Him one. So in the waning years of his life, David established the plans and gathered the materials for a magnificent temple. He died before it was completed, but David left with a dream. No bitterness, no whining, no criticism of the younger generation. Just an incomplete To Do List.
Moses died still believing that God was going to lead Israel to the promise land.
Caleb was eager to fight for his mountain even though he had already celebrated 85 birthdays.
Simeon kept looking for the promised Christ as he served in the temple in his old age.
Anna refused to wallow in a widow’s self-pity, giving her energy instead to ministering in the temple well past her 80th year.
The Apostle Paul was active well into his 60's, preaching and writing right up to the time they chopped off his head.
These died in the faith, but with an unfinished task list. They were working steadily, dreaming about what God might do tomorrow. Their relationship with God was not a musty memory of victories past, but a vibrant hope of things yet to come that kept them looking forward to the future. They left with a dream.
How is your planning coming along? Are you hoping to find some spot where you can sit back and relax and let the young bucks take over while you spend the rest of your days watching and reminiscing? That sounds tempting, but no thanks. I don’t want to become an old timer whose life is tethered to the past. When my time comes, I want to leave here with a To Do List loaded with unfinished tasks.
I want to leave with the fire of a dream still burning in my soul.
©2006 Doug Ellingsworth
When I hold my list of things to do beside the number of years I have left to work, it gets downright depressing. But then I read about David. Remember how he wanted to build a house for God? God refused his offer, but told David that his son could build Him one. So in the waning years of his life, David established the plans and gathered the materials for a magnificent temple. He died before it was completed, but David left with a dream. No bitterness, no whining, no criticism of the younger generation. Just an incomplete To Do List.
Moses died still believing that God was going to lead Israel to the promise land.
Caleb was eager to fight for his mountain even though he had already celebrated 85 birthdays.
Simeon kept looking for the promised Christ as he served in the temple in his old age.
Anna refused to wallow in a widow’s self-pity, giving her energy instead to ministering in the temple well past her 80th year.
The Apostle Paul was active well into his 60's, preaching and writing right up to the time they chopped off his head.
These died in the faith, but with an unfinished task list. They were working steadily, dreaming about what God might do tomorrow. Their relationship with God was not a musty memory of victories past, but a vibrant hope of things yet to come that kept them looking forward to the future. They left with a dream.
How is your planning coming along? Are you hoping to find some spot where you can sit back and relax and let the young bucks take over while you spend the rest of your days watching and reminiscing? That sounds tempting, but no thanks. I don’t want to become an old timer whose life is tethered to the past. When my time comes, I want to leave here with a To Do List loaded with unfinished tasks.
I want to leave with the fire of a dream still burning in my soul.
©2006 Doug Ellingsworth
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Heroes
The story appeared in the Houston Chronicle one weekend. The headline said “Memo To A Stranger."
“Mrs. Roy Alvarez didn’t have a chance to thank you," the article began. “Of course, being a father of seven (she did recall hearing you mention that) you understand. You know the paralyzing terror that can grip a parent when they see one of their children dying. And Mrs. Alvarez saw her son, Roy Jr., age 10, being swept to his death by a vicious riptide at Rollover Pass near Gilchrist Thursday.
The boy had walked out into the surf and was doomed. He could not swim. A teenaged boy ran out and grabbed Roy, trying to hold his head above water, but the young man himself was in danger of drowning. Then you sped into the surf, fully clothed. You took Roy from the other fellow who, exhausted, made his way back to shore. You held on to Roy while the riptide rolled you both under and into jagged rocks under the water. Then you brought him back to his hysterical mother on shore - who brought him back home to Houston.
Mrs. Alvarez was calmer on Friday. She called the Chronicle and told them the story. She said that you were hurt, but that she didn’t even get your name.
"Will you please," she asked, "tell him how grateful we are? Will you thank him for us? The last we saw of him, he was limping along the beach, trailing blood.”
I couldn't read this story without seeing a picture of another man limping along trailing blood. But this man was not walking along a beach in sunny south Texas. He was struggling up a dusty road outside Jerusalem carrying a rough and heavy cross. The blood he shed did not save just one young boy from drowning in water, but it dragged all of mankind out of the riptide of sin. All of us who were hopelessly being tugged into hell were freed by the selfless sacrifice of Jesus Christ who shed his blood for us.
We know His name. Let us be especially careful to express our gratitude to Him for all that His sacrifice has given us.
©2006 Doug Ellingsworth
“Mrs. Roy Alvarez didn’t have a chance to thank you," the article began. “Of course, being a father of seven (she did recall hearing you mention that) you understand. You know the paralyzing terror that can grip a parent when they see one of their children dying. And Mrs. Alvarez saw her son, Roy Jr., age 10, being swept to his death by a vicious riptide at Rollover Pass near Gilchrist Thursday.
The boy had walked out into the surf and was doomed. He could not swim. A teenaged boy ran out and grabbed Roy, trying to hold his head above water, but the young man himself was in danger of drowning. Then you sped into the surf, fully clothed. You took Roy from the other fellow who, exhausted, made his way back to shore. You held on to Roy while the riptide rolled you both under and into jagged rocks under the water. Then you brought him back to his hysterical mother on shore - who brought him back home to Houston.
Mrs. Alvarez was calmer on Friday. She called the Chronicle and told them the story. She said that you were hurt, but that she didn’t even get your name.
"Will you please," she asked, "tell him how grateful we are? Will you thank him for us? The last we saw of him, he was limping along the beach, trailing blood.”
I couldn't read this story without seeing a picture of another man limping along trailing blood. But this man was not walking along a beach in sunny south Texas. He was struggling up a dusty road outside Jerusalem carrying a rough and heavy cross. The blood he shed did not save just one young boy from drowning in water, but it dragged all of mankind out of the riptide of sin. All of us who were hopelessly being tugged into hell were freed by the selfless sacrifice of Jesus Christ who shed his blood for us.
We know His name. Let us be especially careful to express our gratitude to Him for all that His sacrifice has given us.
©2006 Doug Ellingsworth
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