Visible, Obvious, and Counter-Cultural

Three days ago, I finished up the book of Romans, and two days ago, I completed one year of daily blogs. While that brought a sense of accomplishment, it also came with a little feeling of loss. Like: What now, Lord?

I can keep going with Scripture study (and I intend to), but I also want to make sure I hear His voice and listen to Him. Did you know hearing and listening are two completely different things?

I tell my kids: "Hey, go clean your rooms." "K," they say, as they sit with their book or their video game controller or their Legos, and do absolutely nothing toward accomplishing what I tell them to do. That's hearing.

"Hey, go clean your rooms, or you lose screen time this afternoon." "K," they say, unfolding themselves from the couch and grabbing the vacuum cleaner out of the closet before dragging it back to their bedrooms. They take inventory of the clutter in their rooms and they begin to put those things away, making room on the floor to be able to run the vacuum. That's listening.

So what is the Lord asking me to do? "Clean your house, Tamara." Take inventory of the clutter in your life, in your quiet time. Put things back where they belong. Pull the dirt out of the carpet and empty your trash cans.

This morning, I opened the Word and looked at this massive tome that has played such a huge part of my life. Sixty-six books of essential information. Sixty-six books not just to be heard, but to be listened to.

Here's my game plan. We'll see if the Lord agrees. :) I've been jumping from book to book to book as I've completed this past year of Bible study. This time, I want to head straight through both of the Samuels and both of the Kings. That way, I get to really dig into the lives of Samuel and Saul and David and Elijah and Elisha and so many other people who have played an important role in my spiritual development. 

So this morning, I flipped back to 1 Samuel and I dove in. In 1 Samuel 1:1-11, we meet Elkanah and his two wives, Hannah and Penninah. Penninah gets all the kids -- which, in those days -- if a woman was given many children, it was supposed that she was blessed by God. 

Hannah, on the other hand, was barren. She was unable to have babies, and her heart was broken. In an echo of the Jacob/Leah/Rachel triangle, Elkanah was in love with Hannah, while he had babies with Penninah. 

Three times a year, this complicated family packed up and headed to Shiloh, where the Tabernacle of God was at the time (this was before David had the Ark of the Covenant transported to the city of Jerusalem, and before Solomon built the Temple there). And each time this happened, Penninah rubbed it in just a little more to Hannah that she had kids and Hannah didn't. Each time, when Elkanah offered his sacrificial meat at the Tabernacle (portions of which were used for a feast for his family), he gave a portion to Penninah and her kids... and he gave a double portion to Hannah... "because he loved her and the Lord had closed her womb." 

Small potatoes, though. Hannah does love her husband, as we see in 1 Samuel 1:8, where Elkanah asks Hannah: "Hannah, why are you weeping? Why don't you eat? Why are you downhearted? Don't I mean more to you than ten sons?"

Sure, honey. But Hannah just can't get over her lack of children. She gets up from the feast where she has to watch Penninah laughing and talking with her kids, and she gets to feel like a failure yet another year. She gets to feel incomplete, she gets to feel un-blessed, she gets to feel lesser one more time.

She rises from the table, choking back tears, holds it together enough to get away until she can stumble over to the doorpost of the Tabernacle, where she releases her self-control and dissolves into sobs.

As she cries, she prays: "Oh Lord Almighty, if you will only look upon your servant's misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the Lord for all the days of his life, and no razor will ever be used on his head." 

I'll pick up with the rest of Hannah's story here next time, but for right now, I want to focus on this aspect of it: Hannah makes a Nazirite Vow for a son who may or may not come.

Let's look at the significance of this. A Nazirite Vow, according to Numbers 6:1-21, is a vow that sets apart a person, removes a person from normal, everyday cycles of life, and puts them squarely in the service of the Lord. Three significant characters in the Bible are known to have been under a lifelong Nazirite Vow: Samson (Judges 13:5), Samuel (1 Samuel 1:11), and John the Baptist (Matthew 1:15). According to Numbers 6:2, the Nazirite Vow can be a voluntary setting apart (a person can choose to subject themselves to this Vow), but there are times when the Vow is placed on a person involuntarily, usually by a parent or parents (although both Samson and John the Baptist were placed under the Vow by an angel of the Lord). Any person who takes up the Nazirite Vow must adhere to a specific set of circumstances. So the Vow includes:

1.) No alcoholic beverages, grapes, or raisins. Nothing from a grapevine. Interesting. I think I could do a whole study just on that point.
2.) No haircuts. 
3.) No getting near anything or anyone dead. This would include family: Mom, Dad, brother, sister. So no funerals.
4.) If somebody nearby keels over dead unexpectedly, a haircut is then required, then sacrificial cleansing at the Tabernacle with birds and lambs is expected, and the Vow requirements regarding no haircuts has to begin all over again.

When the Vow is over (if it's not a lifelong vow) -- that is, when the consecration period is over -- the person gets to go to the priest with a sacrificial lamb, and he/she gets a haircut. The hair itself gets burned. There's a wave offering that happens, and then the Nazirite gets to drink wine or grape juice again, or eat grapes or raisins.

What's the point of it all? 

This is what I thought of: The point is an absolute setting apart, a consecration of a person to the Lord's service. It wouldn't have been easy, because it's such a different way of life from the culture surrounding the person, but the Nazirite Vow visibly marks a person as set apart for the Lord.

I grew up with the Picture Bible, which is kind of a cartoon-ish version of events and characters throughout the Scriptures. It's very well done, and mostly authentic, and still helps me vividly picture the characters I find in the pages of the Bible. But Samuel, in that version (as well as Samson and John the Baptist, come to think of it), had shorter hair according to those illustrations. There would have been no way for Samson to weave his hair into a loom (Judges 16:13). 

At any rate, hair is the distinguishing physical characteristic of the Nazirite Vow. It's what says: This one is in the Lord's service. Teetotalism is the distinguishing action of the Nazirite Vow. It's what says: This one is in the Lord's service.

Today, maybe people don't look at long hair and think: Wow, look at what a great servant of the Lord they are, and quite a few Christians don't keep their wine cellars empty. Most of us eat raisins and grapes at some point in our lives, and almost all of us have had grape juice. 

But here's what I'm getting at (probably in way too many words): When we are set apart for the Lord, when we dedicate our lives to Him -- there is a difference. It is visible, it's obvious, and it's counter-cultural.

It's odd. It stands out. 

So for shy flowers like me, it's hard. And that's why it is essential to bathe daily in the presence of the Lord. 

Y'all, what's the difference between a shower and a bath? Think about it. One gets you all wet, but for all intents and purposes, you are only getting a little drizzle. A bath covers you. You can submerge yourself in it.

In other words, you are characterized by your choice to dedicate yourself to the Lord's service.

Here's a challenge for you: Glance back over your activities for the last month, your social media feeds, your calendar, your social whirl or your lack thereof. 

What characterizes you? When people look at you, what would be the first thought in their head? 

I remember the time someone I had never met in person, someone who lived in another country, someone who knew me only nominally, called me (not to my face, but it came to me anyway) a religious zealot. The term zealot had a whole lot of interesting connotations in Biblical times -- also a study for another day -- but what this person meant when they named me that, was that I stood out as a person who was characterized by what I believed. This person did not mean it to be complimentary, but that didn't matter. I was excited that my relationship with the Lord was so intense, that it showed up at a glance halfway across the world.

I remember the first time I truly let go of the pressure of social conventions. I was nineteen, participating in a worship service, and the Holy Spirit descended into that room, and I started to dance. Y'all, I'm not a dancer. I'm not graceful. I'm sure, if I were watching myself from outside of myself, I would have grinned a little at the incoordination of the effort. 

But the joy overflowed in my heart, and suddenly, the only thing that mattered was me and my Savior. There was nothing outside the two of us in that moment.

That's how I see this Nazirite Vow: Samuel... and the Lord. The Lord... and Samuel. And that's it. 

Looking at it that way, it makes sense that Samuel can stand up and rebuke the king of Israel. If he had been any less bathed in the presence of the Lord, he could not have carried that confidence to be able to speak as he did to Saul (1 Samuel 13-15). But Samuel was characterized by being set apart.

So, how am I characterized? Who do people see when they look at me? Who do people see when they look at you?