faith

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thankfulness and a vanilla slice

On a picture postcard morning, we sat by the bay at Kotor, Montenegro (I know, as you do). It was our last morning in this beautiful country, and I found myself trying to soak up every last bit of the view. Every last stone church dating back centuries, every last glimpse of the old town walls built by the Venetians 500 years or more ago, every boat full of tourists (like us) cruising past, and every last sight of the stunning mountains plunging almost straight into the sea.

And as I sat, enjoying a Krempita (a Montenegrin vanilla slice), I found myself profoundly thankful. Thankful for this astonishing world we live in, with all its beauty and wonder and variety. Thankful that in our own life we have the means occassionally to travel to such marvellous places. Thankful for all the stories that intersect in a place like this – where people come from near and far to enjoy its beauty. And thankful for the reasons we are here – marking 30 years of marriage and family with an adventure together, and sharing part of the trip with good friends. No life is perfect, but ours has been pretty good so far, and I was, in that moment, truly thankful.

Perhaps, I also thought, I’m not always thankful enough. Perhaps, I wonder, I could express that sense of thankfulness more often, more overtly – to Sheri, to our kids, to our wider network of family and friends.

Thankfulness (or gratitude) it occurred to me, is both something that can catch you by surprise, as it did for me this morning – or something you can practice, and cultivate. I’m sure there’s some research somewhere about that.

Anyway, as I enjoyed my breakfast by the sea, I was, and remain thankful, for many things.

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when God comes calling…

Every now and then I preach at my local church, Toowong Uniting, in Brisbane. This story comes from one recent example. Before you read the message, checking out the bible reading I’m reflecting on will help. It’s 1 Samuel 3.

Good morning! I feel like it’s been so long since I shared with you on a Sunday morning that I should re-introduce myself! I’m Scott, and with my family – some of whom are in the worship team this morning – we’ve been part of the community here for about 11 years. For a long time, I’ve worked with the Uniting Church across Queensland and earlier in Tasmania, helping congregations and leadership teams reflect on mission, discipleship and strategy. It’s lovely to share with you this morning.

It’s quite the story, this one of Samuel and Eli. It is, in a very real sense, the story of Samuel’s call. But it’s also Eli’s story. And of course, it’s God’s story – God comes calling, so to speak. Before we dig into what we’ve just heard from Warwick, let’s set a little bit of the scene – spell out some context so to speak.
Eli is the priest, he’s one of the main characters in the story. They only barely get a mention here, but he has two sons who serve in the tabernacle at Shiloh along with him – and we’ll get to them in a minute.

The book of Samuel actually opens with the story of Hannah. She’s married to a bloke called Elkanah, and as was the way in those days, there’s another wife Peninnah. Penninah, we hear, has born children, but Hannah hasn’t. There is jealousy and rivalry at play in the household – even though Elkanah clearly loves Hannah. She feels the sting of not having children – for her, that’s important – and is constantly praying that God would bless her with a child. So powerful is this urge, so determined is she that he promises that if she’s blessed with a child she will dedicate that child to the Lord’s service.

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