The First Step

The kings were broken. All of them. But when it began, there were no kings. There was a judge who settled the matters of the people, a man named Samuel.

The elders stood in front of his house in a half circle. They pressed their lips together in that way that said they were serious but also trying to cover up their fear. The old man had seen that expression plenty of times before.

“What do you want?” he asked from his front door.

They shifted on their feet and looked back and forth at each other. Finally one stepped forward. “Samuel, you’re old.”

Samuel laughed. He wheezed. Old? Of course he was old! His knees ached. His back creaked at the thought of his next journey, just a few days away. He still made the circuit around the nation, serving as judge, but it was harder to get around these days. They thought he was old? Well, not a surprise. They had eyes, didn’t they?

The men all backed up a step, glancing back and forth. It wasn’t exactly the response they’d expected.

Samuel sighed. It was good to laugh again. He didn’t do that too often these days. Not since he’d seen what his sons were doing.

Joel and Abijah. The sons that had been borne to him years ago. He’d brought them up to know the LORD, of course. He’d trained them to judge when he was gathered to his fathers.

But Joel. He loved money too much. He accepted bribes instead of judging fairly. And Abijah? That fool always idolized his older brother. And he loved mischief just as much. Injustice? Who cared about injustice if he got a laugh out of it?

And oh, Samuel had thought he was training them up so well. He thought he’d learned from the old man who’d trained him.

Perhaps Abijah wasn’t the only fool, eh?

But now the men in the circle around his door had rallied. The same one stepped forward again.

“Samuel, you’re old. And your sons – they don’t walk in your ways.” He swallowed. “Give us a king to lead us.”

And the laughter vanished from the old man’s face like water on the desert floor. A thundercloud appeared in his eyes instead. “A king?” he whispered. “You want a king?” His lip curled, exposing his teeth. “I’m not good enough for you anymore? Too old, am I? Too connected to the LORD? Not enough like everyone else?”

The men all backed up another step. The one who’d been speaking closed his eyes and swallowed. He clenched his fists, waiting for whatever punishment was coming.

But Samuel, he turned away from them. “I must speak with the LORD.”

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He stumbled into his home and took hold of his staff. He returned to the door and shoved his way past that half-circle of men. His knees might creak, but he wasn’t that old, was he? He still judged well. He still had years of judging in him. Plenty of time to beat some sense into Joel and Abijah. Plenty of time. How dare they? How dare they reject him?

Out past the outer homes of Ramah, his home town. Out, past the well. Out, up the rise to the altar he’d built years ago.

And he prayed. He prayed with angry words. He prayed, waiting for his God to answer.

And then the LORD spoke. “Samuel. It’s not you they’re rejecting.”

His voice came as it always did, a whisper with more power than a thousand men shouting. “Listen to them, Samuel. It’s not you they’re rejecting. They reject me, as they always have. As they have since I led them out of Egypt all those many years ago. So give them what they want, but warn them what it means to have a human king.”

Samuel turned from the altar. He returned to town.

The men waited outside his home, mumbling dark words to one another. One spotted the old man storming to them. He pointed. They all stood to face him.

And Samuel growled, “This is what the king who will reign over you will do: He will take your children. Your sons will serve in his army. They will die for him. Or your sons might be given less glorious tasks. They will work his land instead of yours. He’ll take your daughters, too. They’ll be his cooks. And your land? He’ll take the best of your land. The best of your grain. The best of your wine. The best of your cattle. And you? He’ll take you, too. You’ll be his slaves. And in the end, you’ll cry out to the LORD for relief from this thing you’re asking, and the LORD won’t answer you on that day.”

But the men shook their heads. “No. We want a king. The other nations have kings that lead them in battle. We want that.”

Samuel lifted his eyes to heaven. “They still want a king.”

And the LORD answered, “Then give them a king.”

Samuel looked at the men around him. “You shall have a king. Go home. I will call you when the LORD has chosen a king for you.”

And so the path of broken kings began.

This story is based on I Samuel 8.