The Forgotten Calling

Many men and women of God.

But not enough children of God.

I am an observer.

I love observing people. I watch the small things, take note of words, notice patterns, body language, reactions. I am what you would call a “busybody”. Yes ooo, I will watch your every move and build a full psychological profile of you in my head. I don’t care.

And there’s one pattern I’ve noticed that has been disturbing me for a long time.

So many believers seem more confident in the power of God, but strangely unsure about the love of God.

Initially, that was only an observation. There was no clear ‘english’ I could use to describe it. No proof and nothing to back it up. Just a ‘critical’ observation.

Until God led me to Samson.

Most of us have heard of him. We knew him as the strongest man in the Bible. The man who was deceived by a woman and lost his power when his hair was cut. That’s the story we knew. It was told to us like a fairy tale with the moral of the story being “be careful of women”.

But this time, God introduced him to me differently.

Not as a strong person.

As a man starving for love.

When we first meet Samson in Judges 14, we are told something that frames his entire life. He was a Nazirite, separated to God from birth.

The word Nazirite means ‘one who is separated/consecrated’ and it involved three visible commitments:

1) To separate yourself from wine and similar drink (Numbers 6:3). In that culture, wine represented feasting, celebration and social joy. This was a way of declaring that God is their source of joy, not pleasure.

2) To not to cut your hair (Numbers 6:5). This was a public sign. A visible belonging to God.

3) To not to go near a dead body (Numbers 6:6). Death is the symbol of the fall of man. By avoiding it, the Nazirite aligned himself with life and purity.

The Nazirite vow was usually voluntary and temporary. It was not uncommon for someone to separate themselves to God for a season. What was uncommon was to be separated from birth, for life.

And this was Samson’s calling.

It was meant to be intimacy. It was meant to be devotion.

It was meant to be love.

But as we read Samson’s life we begin to notice a repeating pattern.

Samson keeps returning to the same emotional places, chasing comfort through relationships. We see it when he goes down to Timnah and fixes his desire on a woman (Judges 14:1). We see it again when he returns to her (Judges 14:7). And we see it most clearly later, when he gives his heart to Delilah (Judges 16:4).

His hunger shows up in his repetition. He keeps bringing women into the same ache, hoping one of them will finally soothe what is unsettled inside him.

And what makes this even more revealing is that, in the middle of all this emotional chasing, Scripture only records Samson praying to God twice.

Once, when he is desperate for relief after battle (Judges 15:18).

And once, when he is desperate for strength at the end of his life (Judges 16:28).

Samson runs to people for comfort, but he runs to God only for power. His relationships carry his longing, while his prayers carry his need.

God was his source of strength.

But God was not his emotional home.

Not his refuge.

Not his safety.

Not his delight.

And this is the saddest and most sobering part of the whole story.

Samson’s outward consecration lasted longer than his inward devotion.

Inwardly, the separation had already began. But outwardly everything still looked the same, You would have never known that he was far from God. Until his hair was cut (Judges 16:19-20). The last visible sign of a vow that already began to fade.

God truly used him. God empowered him. God worked through him. Yet we never hear of his intimate relationship with God. He knew how to proclaim God as powerful. He did not know how to relate to God as loving.

Many of us quietly live this way.

We don’t truly know that we are loved by God. As a result, we become desperate to be desired by people.

We trust what God can do through us.

But we struggle to believe what God feels toward us.

We trust demonstrations of power more than declarations of love.

If I am honest, I myself struggle with believing God loves me. It is much more comfortable to believe that I am called than to believe I am loved.

Calling lets me stay useful, love forces me to stay still.

You can hold many correct thoughts about God but if you are not grounded in the belief that he loves you, you are robbing yourself of the greatest treasure.

The Nazirite calling was meant to be an expression of love. But in Samson’s life, it became a structure for power.

Your call to holiness is not a call to be impressive. It is a call to be near.

Do not become more fluent in miracles, intervention and spiritual authority than you are in receiving and giving love. It is not merely to move in gifting. It is to dwell in the love of your Father.

Why do we believe in what God can do through us more than in what God feels toward us?

You are loved when you are silent.

You are loved when you do not have the right words.

You are loved when you do not perform well.

You are loved in your insecurity, your confusion and your weakness.

A child of God is not someone who performs for God. A child of God is someone who rests in God.

And when a Christian is trained to recognise God’s power but not trained to receive His love, they will eventually look for intimacy in places that feel more tangible than God.

Not out of rebellion but out of desperation.

And what begins as an inward collapse will eventually become visible.

So dear Christian, no matter which five fold badge you’re wearing, apostle, prophet, evangelist, teacher, pastor, spiritual superhero sent to “save the world”.

Remember you were called to be a child. So before you answer the call to influence, impact and visibility.

Answer the quieter one first

There are many people of God.

But God is still quietly searching for children who know where they belong.