Like so many others, I love Advent. There’s something about the blue of the season, the attitude of expectant waiting, the silent night of shepherds yet unaware of approaching angels. I forget that Lent is also a time for listening. Too often the challenges of today’s world prompt me to want either to jump up and charge unthinkingly into the fray or dive under the covers and hide. Neither response is what God has in mind or what Jesus modeled.

My favorite Scripture passage describes the calling of Samuel, a young boy living in the Temple who hears a persistent, mysterious voice in the middle of the night. Startled, he runs to his master Eli, who eventually tells him the voice is the Lord’s.

Like Samuel, I don’t automatically know what God asks of me in any given period of my life. If I don’t pay attention, I can mistake someone else’s voice for God’s. I can discount God’s call as coming from another, or miss the message altogether.

I need to listen quietly, to discern the invitation God is extending to me in this moment. I need to let go, to be willing to see specifically how I might step into this Lent, here and now, 2023—to perhaps see an uncomfortable growth edge I would rather leave undisturbed.

Other wise people can help me understand, as Eli guided Samuel, but in the end it comes down to me and God.

And my willingness to hear.

“Here I am Lord. Send me.”

1 Samuel 3