Recently I was invited to sing for college chapel. Perhaps the asker was hesitant, wondering if I would consider it a bother at a busy time. On the contrary it was my joy. The song needed was one I wrote many years ago about the boy Samuel, who lived in the temple. Three times in the night the Lord called his name, and for the first few wakings Samuel believed it was the priest calling him. But finally he understood whose voice it was. 

 

A week later I was sitting with ten preschoolers in the cool air, singing as many songs. The teacher said she had told the story of Samuel that morning, and could we sing it now? With pleasure. 

 

That weekend our son mentioned that he had led worship in the high school dorm, and picked the same text. He told the students about what it means to be called by name. 

 

I wondered at the serendipity of it. Three times, across a span of ages, came the message of hearing the Lord's invitation to action. The notion that God will not easily give up is comforting. I love that the child is called by name, as if he is chosen. 

 

Next summer I will be stepping back from marriage work. Fifteen years feels like a good run, and while I am not sure what comes next this story reassures me. If I listen, God will let me know.