Original Meaning

Samuel Goes to Bethlehem to Anoint a New King (16:1–5)

THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER ended with a note that Samuel mourned over the loss of Saul as king. But Yahweh is a God of action, and he commands his prophet to move forward regardless of his sense of personal loss: “Fill your horn with oil and be on your way” (16:1). We learned earlier that Yahweh selected someone of his own choosing (“after his own heart,” 13:14), someone better than Saul (15:28), to replace him as king. Now we learn that the chosen someone is from the family of Jesse of the city of Bethlehem.

Jesse is the grandson of Ruth and Boaz (Ruth 4:17–22) and comes from the tribe of Judah (Ruth 4:12; cf. Gen. 38). From this time forward, the name of Jesse, the city of Bethlehem, and the tribe of Judah will always be linked to Israel’s Messiah.2 The reference to “Jesse of Bethlehem” in 16:1 appears again in 17:58 and serves as a literary envelope (a so-called inclusio) tying chapters 16 and 17 together.3

The last phrase of verse 1 contains a subtle but powerful statement about David, though the NIV’s rendering obscures its significance: “I have chosen one of his sons to be king.” The Hebrew stresses that David is Yahweh’s own choice. A better translation is: “I have provided for myself a king from among his sons.” This suggests a contrast with the circumstances surrounding Saul’s selection, when Yahweh made a concession for the sake of the people: “Listen to them [i.e., the people] and give them a king” (8:22).4

Samuel is evidently aware of Saul’s hostile intent toward him because he fears for his life if it were known that he has anointed David (16:2). But Yahweh assures Samuel that he will make known to the prophet what he should do. He consecrates Jesse and his sons and invites them (and presumably the elders of Bethlehem) to the sacrifice.

Samuel Anoints David (16:6–13)

Bridging Contexts

DAVID’S ANOINTING IS a turning point in the books of Samuel (see Bridging Contexts section of 16:14–23). So far, we have learned that God’s first and best plan was to rule Israel himself as her only king, just as he had done in her early history. But because of Israel’s military and political needs and her selfish demands, God chose to rule Israel by means of human anointed ones (Heb. “messiahs”). The first anointed one failed because he refused to accept Yahweh’s authority. The second anointed one will succeed and become an ideal figure for all future generations because he will enthusiastically and vigorously embrace Yahweh’s authority.

In this text, we encounter the unexpected way in which God seeks people, or more precisely, the kind of person God seeks and what happens when he finds individuals who fit the bill. When we look for bridges from Israel’s ancient context to our own, we are struck by a number of important features of this passage.

Yahweh’s eyesight. The text emphasizes that Yahweh has superior eyesight! He is not limited or restricted by physical eyes, which may actually become hindrances to seeing reality. For the most part, we all acknowledge this to be true. We even have expressions to summarize this concept: “Looks aren’t everything”; “looks can be deceiving”; “you can’t judge a book by its cover.” In a more profound way, our text applies this principle to Eliab’s and David’s personal commitments and spiritual qualities, which are not discernible to the human eye.

God announces to Samuel that he does not look at (or at least give much credence to) the things we humans behold (16:7). Rather than leaving Samuel in total confusion, God continues by establishing a contrast. While humans “look at” (or perhaps “are limited by”) outward appearances, God has the superior vantage point of seeing the heart. Since we are not God, we cannot know who will answer his call and who will be effective in his service. This means both that we should be cautious about judging other people and their potential effectiveness in the kingdom of God, and also that we should not question our own abilities and gifts for service. We may feel that we do not have much to offer God—but that would be a superficial evaluation, based on our own limited perspective. If God calls, he also empowers.

Looks, indeed, can be deceiving, and often are. Samuel needs help in learning to see God’s perspective regarding David. Likewise, we need a God-perspective in order to overcome our biases. We often fail to see the God-potential in others (or in ourselves) because we are easily impressed by the wrong indicators. David, who will become the ideal anointed figure, is an unassuming sort when we first meet him. He would not have naturally attracted attention as a potential savior of his people. He is too young, too inexperienced, and too insignificant in his family’s birth order (see below). But David is also a precursor to one greater than he, to the Messiah, who also bore no especially striking physical characteristics:

He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,

nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.

He was despised and rejected by men,

a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.

Like one from whom men hide their faces

he was despised, and we esteemed him not. (Isa. 53:2b–3)

When David’s greatest Son finally did appear, the world did not recognize him because they saw him only with human eyes. But by the grace of God, some learn to perceive the deeper reality of his coming, to look beyond superficial appearances in order to discern the truth. To these the Messiah gives the privilege of becoming the children of God, not through physical birth but through spiritual rebirth (John 1:10–13).

The younger son. A second important feature of this text is the theme of the younger son displacing the firstborn. It apparently does not occur to anyone in Bethlehem that the little shepherd boy could possibly be God’s choice. He is so unlikely to be used of God in so powerful a way that his own father does not see any reason to interrupt David’s menial task of tending the sheep (16:11). But God often turns things upside down.

It is a common Old Testament theme that God often uses the least likely to accomplish his purposes.12 When twins were born to Rebekah, it was the older who would “serve the younger” (Gen. 25:23). Among the sons of Jacob, Reuben was older and Judah stronger. But it was Joseph who acquired the right of firstborn (1 Chron. 5:1–2). Thus, the firstborn son is often displaced by the late-born, as with Abel and Cain, Isaac and Ishmael, Jacob and Esau. Likewise, in the stories of Ephraim and Manasseh, Moses and Aaron, Solomon and Adonijah, it is regularly the younger who rises to prominence in God’s economy. In addition, it is not only the youngest but often the weakest whom God chooses to use. God’s salvation can come in the form of an infant (Isa. 7:14–16) or a suffering servant (52:13–53:12).

These first two features of our text are related to each other in that the son born late in time did not appear to have any significance. Those around David do not see his ability because they have limited eyesight. They cannot see beyond the external reality of his place in the birth order. In other words, human perception seldom sees beyond the limitations of one’s birth-gifts. If someone does not seem particularly “gifted,” others will fail to see potential that only God can see because his perception reaches the heart. But when God’s perception is made clear, we can then respond in a way that cooperates with his grace. When the apostle Paul learned that God’s power is made perfect in his weakness, he decided to accept his weaknesses so Christ’s power could rest on him: “For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor. 12:9–10). In this way, Paul also learned to become a man after “God’s own heart” (cf. 1 Sam. 13:14).

God’s Spirit. A third feature of the text is the association of anointing with the arrival of God’s Spirit. The anointed one, as the representative of Yahweh in ancient Israel, became the bearer of the Spirit of God, which was marked by the anointing of oil (16:13).13 Saul also received the Spirit of God soon after his anointing (see comments on 10:6, 9–10). In his case, the arrival of the Spirit effected a change of perception. He joined the band of prophets and began to share Yahweh’s perception of Israel and of himself as her new king. But the coming of the Spirit also accompanied an inner, spiritual transformation, turning Saul into “a different person” (10:6).

In David’s case, the text says simply, “the Spirit of the LORD came upon David in power” (16:13). The impact of Yahweh’s Spirit in David’s life will become apparent in the subsequent narratives (see esp. ch. 17). As is often the case in Old Testament narratives, the stories of the heroes of faith are “largely narrated as a history of the Spirit of God with them.”14

This passage also has implications for the role of God’s Spirit in the Old Testament. It is not uncommon for Christians to claim that the saints of the Old Testament period experienced God’s Spirit in a fundamentally different manner from that of New Testament believers or modern Christians. Many have relied on the specific idioms of the Old Testament to argue that the Holy Spirit only came upon people in the Old Testament but into people in the New Testament. Thus, the Holy Spirit was only bestowed temporarily, and then externally, to Old Testament believers as opposed to the permanent indwelling of the early church. Such preaching and teaching drives a wedge between the Testaments, placing too much emphasis on disunity rather than on mutual interdependence between Old and New.15

This is an inadequate and incomplete understanding of the role of the Spirit in the Old Testament. Though the Spirit of God sometimes comes upon individuals in the Old Testament to empower for specific (and temporary) tasks, there can be no doubt that his role and function is also more extensive. He has an indwelling and transforming presence in Old Testament believers as well and is described as the animating feature that effects spiritual renewal.16

In his nighttime conversation with Nicodemus, Jesus assumed that a learned Jew of his stature should have understood better the transforming power of the Spirit of God (John 3:5–10). The new ministry of the Spirit on the Day of Pentecost was not an entirely new function of indwelling and transformation (Acts 2:1–4). Rather, at this point for the first time, the Spirit of God was welcomed and received by a significant number of people at the same time. With the inauguration of the church, the Spirit was now free to transform a whole body of God’s people, as in fact had been the desired result in the Old Testament period. So the Spirit’s role and ministry was not different, but rather the extent to which it became a reality was new.

Contemporary Significance

Contemporary Significance

THE KIND OF PERSON GOD SEEKS. The man after God’s own heart turned out to be an unassuming boy! Looks can be so deceiving that we actually miss the very thing we are looking for. God sends Samuel to find a new king. But he would have missed David entirely because David does not look the part. Just as David as a new messianic ruler is easy to overlook, so the Messiah was overlooked because he did not appear as people were expecting.

But this text is especially concerned with the kind of person God seeks. When you and I consider the qualities of the people around us, we are inevitably (and inescapably) influenced by what we see with our eyes. But God sees things we miss. Because he has superior vision, we may often be surprised by the people he chooses to accomplish his purposes. In ancient Israel, it was often the surprising choice of the youngest son instead of the expected oldest. At various times of church history, believers have been surprised (or disturbed!) when God has called a woman to serve him in a role normally filled by a man. Such times may challenge the church’s dogma and require revisiting our beliefs about such roles. God can also use an unassuming child to teach important lessons needed for a given time. He has used the uneducated, the poor, the disenfranchised. The fact is that you and I simply cannot see the human heart the way God does; thus, we may often be surprised by what God sees in others.

Early in my teaching ministry, I read and benefited from a little book by the nineteenth-century novelist George MacDonald entitled The Curate’s Awakening.17 The story illustrates in a graphic manner the lesson of this text: Appearances can be deceiving, especially regarding spiritual reality. Matters of the heart—the most important issues with which we deal—are often obscured because of physical impressions.

MacDonald describes a young Anglican curate settling into his first parish.18 Like so many ministers of our day, the young Thomas Wingfold had chosen the ministry merely as a profession. While he was still trying to find his way in his new assignment, he met a skeptic in the community who shook his confidence with one little question about the Christian gospel he had been teaching: “Tell me honestly, do you really believe one word of all that?” Realizing he had nothing to answer, Wingfold begins to face genuinely the fact that he does not know what he believes. Through much soul-searching and agony, he considers finishing out his year with the congregation and then leaving the ministry.

But before this happens, he experiences another crisis. Wingfold’s shallowness and spiritual malaise lead him to plagiarize his sermons. One day he receives a letter from a parishioner who has recognized one of his sermons as that of another clergyman, and the letter exposes him to potential shame. Wingfold writes back, acknowledging the truth and asking to meet the man in order to confess and ask for help. The astute parishioner turns out to be a certain Joseph Polwarth, a tragically deformed dwarf whose ghastly appearance draws mostly pity from the community and even disdain from a few. But as Wingfold gradually comes to know his unfortunate-looking new friend, he discovers that in reality he is a giant of faith. Polwarth has insight and wisdom that comes only from years of reading Scripture and loving God. His conversations with Polwarth astound the young curate and cause Wingfold to consider the bankruptcy of his own soul. Eventually he comes to envy Polwarth instead of pitying him.

Early in their relationship, the two men share their stories in complete honesty. Mr. Polwarth narrates his painful childhood, of his being sent away to boarding school because he was an embarrassment to his family, and of the ways he learned to cope with the derision and jokes of the other children. As an adult he learned to deal with his deformities and get on with his life. But he remained dissatisfied with himself. Through a series of painful experiences, Polwarth confesses that he discovered his heart was filled with envy, vindictiveness, and conceit. He concludes: “I began to be aware that, heavy affliction as it was to be made so different from others, my outward deformity was but a picture of my inward condition.”19 That summer, Polwarth committed himself to a thoughtful reading of the New Testament, through which he became acquainted with the man Jesus.

By contrast, Wingfold confesses his miserable condition to his new friend:

I was brought up for the church. I passed all my examinations with decency, distinguishing myself in nothing. I went before the bishop and became a deacon, after a year was ordained, and after another year or two of false preaching and parish work, suddenly found myself curate in charge of this grand old abbey church.20

The young clergyman confides that Christianity seems useless to him and he is utterly without direction, though he finds himself now pastoring this good little flock. In complete despair, he commits himself to meeting with Mr. Polwarth regularly for the purpose of reading and studying together. As the novel unfolds, the handsome young minister comes to respect and appreciate Joseph Polwarth more than anyone he has ever known. With his help, Wingfold moves from faith in an idea of God to faith in the living God.21

This fascinating novel illustrates the fundamental principle of our text: The truth about a person is a matter of the heart and not the eyes. The community in which Wingfold and Polwarth live accept the new minister as a spiritual leader with considerable commitment to Christian truth. But they continue to pity the misshapen dwarf as someone who should live alone quietly because he has so little to offer the world. How little they knew!

Original Meaning

Samuel Anoints David (16:6–13)

WHEN SAMUEL MEETS JESSE’S SONS, he is impressed with the oldest, Eliab. He assumes that this firstborn son, so striking in appearance, is Yahweh’s choice as king (16:6). This is not the first time Samuel has considered impressive physical appearance a criterion for ruling Israel as king (cf. 10:23–24). But looks are deceiving. Yahweh immediately tells Samuel that this young man is not to become king and that Samuel should not be unduly influenced by external features, such as Eliab’s handsome appearance.

This is followed in 16:7 by a particularly memorable saying contrasting human abilities with God’s ability. People and God do not perceive reality in the same way. Men and women are not God! Humans and Yahweh are not normally on the same page, looking at the same things. Humans are limited to the externals, the “outward appearance,” but Yahweh “looks at the heart.”5 This assertion becomes an important theological concept in Scripture: What really counts in a person has more to do with the heart than with the eyes.6 Despite the benefits of God-given favors, such as natural good looks, there is no substitute for a God-pleasing heart. In order to anoint the right son of Jesse, Samuel will have to overcome his human reliance on his own ability to see. He will soon meet the young man who has captured the heart of God (cf. 13:14).

The other sons of Jesse parade before the great prophet, but none is the “chosen” one (16:8–10). The number seven is a number of fullness and completeness, indicating Samuel appears to have reached the total of sons available for service to Samuel.7 No one feels it necessary to include the youngest son of Jesse. He is apparently so unlikely a candidate it hardly seems necessary to summon him from his work following the sheep (16:11). Once he is summoned, however, Yahweh quickly confirms his choice: “Rise and anoint him; he is the one” (16:12). Samuel immediately obeys and anoints David in this private setting. He will not be publicly anointed king until much later (2 Sam. 2:4; 5:3).

This is the second time Samuel has anointed a king for Israel. In 1 Samuel 10:1 he anointed Saul. As we noted there, the use of oil is symbolic of the Spirit of Yahweh and represents supernatural empowerment. Prior to Samuel’s anointing of Saul and David, the act of sacramental anointing had been restricted to the tabernacle and its priests. It marks the inauguration of someone for a specific office consecrated by Yahweh.

Israel was one of the few nations of the ancient world that anointed kings.8 It has been argued that the use of oil in business contracts, family law, and international diplomacy demonstrates a contractual or covenantal significance for its use in the anointing of kings. When the elders of the people anoint David in 2 Samuel, they are likely pledging themselves to him and accepting an obligation to him (2 Sam. 2:4; 5:3). He in turn grants them a royal promise (5:3). In this text, Yahweh is obligating himself to David and establishing a relationship with him that will eventually find expression in the Davidic covenant (2 Sam. 7).9

As in the case of Saul, anointing for kingship is accompanied by the arrival of the Spirit of Yahweh, empowering the king-designate for service (cf. 10:10). The passages describing the coming of God’s Spirit on Saul and David use the same idiomatic expression for the onrushing of the divine breath or spirit. The idiom (verb ṣlḥ plus prepositions ʿal or ʾel) only occurs seven times and is stereotypical of godly inspiration, either in a sudden burst of heroic strength (Samson, Judg. 14:6) or in prophetic ecstasy (Saul, 1 Sam. 10:10).10 The “Spirit of the LORD” is the vital force of God, which bestows the recipient with his invigorating power. Here, however, it also seems to denote the royal charisma that comes to mark Israelite kings and in fact distinguishes Israelite kingship from other monarchies of the ancient Near East.11

Bridging Contexts

Bridging Contexts

DAVID’S ANOINTING IS a turning point in the books of Samuel (see Bridging Contexts section of 16:14–23). So far, we have learned that God’s first and best plan was to rule Israel himself as her only king, just as he had done in her early history. But because of Israel’s military and political needs and her selfish demands, God chose to rule Israel by means of human anointed ones (Heb. “messiahs”). The first anointed one failed because he refused to accept Yahweh’s authority. The second anointed one will succeed and become an ideal figure for all future generations because he will enthusiastically and vigorously embrace Yahweh’s authority.

In this text, we encounter the unexpected way in which God seeks people, or more precisely, the kind of person God seeks and what happens when he finds individuals who fit the bill. When we look for bridges from Israel’s ancient context to our own, we are struck by a number of important features of this passage.

Yahweh’s eyesight. The text emphasizes that Yahweh has superior eyesight! He is not limited or restricted by physical eyes, which may actually become hindrances to seeing reality. For the most part, we all acknowledge this to be true. We even have expressions to summarize this concept: “Looks aren’t everything”; “looks can be deceiving”; “you can’t judge a book by its cover.” In a more profound way, our text applies this principle to Eliab’s and David’s personal commitments and spiritual qualities, which are not discernible to the human eye.

God announces to Samuel that he does not look at (or at least give much credence to) the things we humans behold (16:7). Rather than leaving Samuel in total confusion, God continues by establishing a contrast. While humans “look at” (or perhaps “are limited by”) outward appearances, God has the superior vantage point of seeing the heart. Since we are not God, we cannot know who will answer his call and who will be effective in his service. This means both that we should be cautious about judging other people and their potential effectiveness in the kingdom of God, and also that we should not question our own abilities and gifts for service. We may feel that we do not have much to offer God—but that would be a superficial evaluation, based on our own limited perspective. If God calls, he also empowers.

Looks, indeed, can be deceiving, and often are. Samuel needs help in learning to see God’s perspective regarding David. Likewise, we need a God-perspective in order to overcome our biases. We often fail to see the God-potential in others (or in ourselves) because we are easily impressed by the wrong indicators. David, who will become the ideal anointed figure, is an unassuming sort when we first meet him. He would not have naturally attracted attention as a potential savior of his people. He is too young, too inexperienced, and too insignificant in his family’s birth order (see below). But David is also a precursor to one greater than he, to the Messiah, who also bore no especially striking physical characteristics:

He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,

nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.

He was despised and rejected by men,

a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.

Like one from whom men hide their faces

he was despised, and we esteemed him not. (Isa. 53:2b–3)

When David’s greatest Son finally did appear, the world did not recognize him because they saw him only with human eyes. But by the grace of God, some learn to perceive the deeper reality of his coming, to look beyond superficial appearances in order to discern the truth. To these the Messiah gives the privilege of becoming the children of God, not through physical birth but through spiritual rebirth (John 1:10–13).

The younger son. A second important feature of this text is the theme of the younger son displacing the firstborn. It apparently does not occur to anyone in Bethlehem that the little shepherd boy could possibly be God’s choice. He is so unlikely to be used of God in so powerful a way that his own father does not see any reason to interrupt David’s menial task of tending the sheep (16:11). But God often turns things upside down.

It is a common Old Testament theme that God often uses the least likely to accomplish his purposes.12 When twins were born to Rebekah, it was the older who would “serve the younger” (Gen. 25:23). Among the sons of Jacob, Reuben was older and Judah stronger. But it was Joseph who acquired the right of firstborn (1 Chron. 5:1–2). Thus, the firstborn son is often displaced by the late-born, as with Abel and Cain, Isaac and Ishmael, Jacob and Esau. Likewise, in the stories of Ephraim and Manasseh, Moses and Aaron, Solomon and Adonijah, it is regularly the younger who rises to prominence in God’s economy. In addition, it is not only the youngest but often the weakest whom God chooses to use. God’s salvation can come in the form of an infant (Isa. 7:14–16) or a suffering servant (52:13–53:12).

These first two features of our text are related to each other in that the son born late in time did not appear to have any significance. Those around David do not see his ability because they have limited eyesight. They cannot see beyond the external reality of his place in the birth order. In other words, human perception seldom sees beyond the limitations of one’s birth-gifts. If someone does not seem particularly “gifted,” others will fail to see potential that only God can see because his perception reaches the heart. But when God’s perception is made clear, we can then respond in a way that cooperates with his grace. When the apostle Paul learned that God’s power is made perfect in his weakness, he decided to accept his weaknesses so Christ’s power could rest on him: “For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor. 12:9–10). In this way, Paul also learned to become a man after “God’s own heart” (cf. 1 Sam. 13:14).

God’s Spirit. A third feature of the text is the association of anointing with the arrival of God’s Spirit. The anointed one, as the representative of Yahweh in ancient Israel, became the bearer of the Spirit of God, which was marked by the anointing of oil (16:13).13 Saul also received the Spirit of God soon after his anointing (see comments on 10:6, 9–10). In his case, the arrival of the Spirit effected a change of perception. He joined the band of prophets and began to share Yahweh’s perception of Israel and of himself as her new king. But the coming of the Spirit also accompanied an inner, spiritual transformation, turning Saul into “a different person” (10:6).

In David’s case, the text says simply, “the Spirit of the LORD came upon David in power” (16:13). The impact of Yahweh’s Spirit in David’s life will become apparent in the subsequent narratives (see esp. ch. 17). As is often the case in Old Testament narratives, the stories of the heroes of faith are “largely narrated as a history of the Spirit of God with them.”14

This passage also has implications for the role of God’s Spirit in the Old Testament. It is not uncommon for Christians to claim that the saints of the Old Testament period experienced God’s Spirit in a fundamentally different manner from that of New Testament believers or modern Christians. Many have relied on the specific idioms of the Old Testament to argue that the Holy Spirit only came upon people in the Old Testament but into people in the New Testament. Thus, the Holy Spirit was only bestowed temporarily, and then externally, to Old Testament believers as opposed to the permanent indwelling of the early church. Such preaching and teaching drives a wedge between the Testaments, placing too much emphasis on disunity rather than on mutual interdependence between Old and New.15

This is an inadequate and incomplete understanding of the role of the Spirit in the Old Testament. Though the Spirit of God sometimes comes upon individuals in the Old Testament to empower for specific (and temporary) tasks, there can be no doubt that his role and function is also more extensive. He has an indwelling and transforming presence in Old Testament believers as well and is described as the animating feature that effects spiritual renewal.16

In his nighttime conversation with Nicodemus, Jesus assumed that a learned Jew of his stature should have understood better the transforming power of the Spirit of God (John 3:5–10). The new ministry of the Spirit on the Day of Pentecost was not an entirely new function of indwelling and transformation (Acts 2:1–4). Rather, at this point for the first time, the Spirit of God was welcomed and received by a significant number of people at the same time. With the inauguration of the church, the Spirit was now free to transform a whole body of God’s people, as in fact had been the desired result in the Old Testament period. So the Spirit’s role and ministry was not different, but rather the extent to which it became a reality was new.

Contemporary Significance

Contemporary Significance

THE KIND OF PERSON GOD SEEKS. The man after God’s own heart turned out to be an unassuming boy! Looks can be so deceiving that we actually miss the very thing we are looking for. God sends Samuel to find a new king. But he would have missed David entirely because David does not look the part. Just as David as a new messianic ruler is easy to overlook, so the Messiah was overlooked because he did not appear as people were expecting.

But this text is especially concerned with the kind of person God seeks. When you and I consider the qualities of the people around us, we are inevitably (and inescapably) influenced by what we see with our eyes. But God sees things we miss. Because he has superior vision, we may often be surprised by the people he chooses to accomplish his purposes. In ancient Israel, it was often the surprising choice of the youngest son instead of the expected oldest. At various times of church history, believers have been surprised (or disturbed!) when God has called a woman to serve him in a role normally filled by a man. Such times may challenge the church’s dogma and require revisiting our beliefs about such roles. God can also use an unassuming child to teach important lessons needed for a given time. He has used the uneducated, the poor, the disenfranchised. The fact is that you and I simply cannot see the human heart the way God does; thus, we may often be surprised by what God sees in others.

Early in my teaching ministry, I read and benefited from a little book by the nineteenth-century novelist George MacDonald entitled The Curate’s Awakening.17 The story illustrates in a graphic manner the lesson of this text: Appearances can be deceiving, especially regarding spiritual reality. Matters of the heart—the most important issues with which we deal—are often obscured because of physical impressions.

MacDonald describes a young Anglican curate settling into his first parish.18 Like so many ministers of our day, the young Thomas Wingfold had chosen the ministry merely as a profession. While he was still trying to find his way in his new assignment, he met a skeptic in the community who shook his confidence with one little question about the Christian gospel he had been teaching: “Tell me honestly, do you really believe one word of all that?” Realizing he had nothing to answer, Wingfold begins to face genuinely the fact that he does not know what he believes. Through much soul-searching and agony, he considers finishing out his year with the congregation and then leaving the ministry.

But before this happens, he experiences another crisis. Wingfold’s shallowness and spiritual malaise lead him to plagiarize his sermons. One day he receives a letter from a parishioner who has recognized one of his sermons as that of another clergyman, and the letter exposes him to potential shame. Wingfold writes back, acknowledging the truth and asking to meet the man in order to confess and ask for help. The astute parishioner turns out to be a certain Joseph Polwarth, a tragically deformed dwarf whose ghastly appearance draws mostly pity from the community and even disdain from a few. But as Wingfold gradually comes to know his unfortunate-looking new friend, he discovers that in reality he is a giant of faith. Polwarth has insight and wisdom that comes only from years of reading Scripture and loving God. His conversations with Polwarth astound the young curate and cause Wingfold to consider the bankruptcy of his own soul. Eventually he comes to envy Polwarth instead of pitying him.

Early in their relationship, the two men share their stories in complete honesty. Mr. Polwarth narrates his painful childhood, of his being sent away to boarding school because he was an embarrassment to his family, and of the ways he learned to cope with the derision and jokes of the other children. As an adult he learned to deal with his deformities and get on with his life. But he remained dissatisfied with himself. Through a series of painful experiences, Polwarth confesses that he discovered his heart was filled with envy, vindictiveness, and conceit. He concludes: “I began to be aware that, heavy affliction as it was to be made so different from others, my outward deformity was but a picture of my inward condition.”19 That summer, Polwarth committed himself to a thoughtful reading of the New Testament, through which he became acquainted with the man Jesus.

By contrast, Wingfold confesses his miserable condition to his new friend:

I was brought up for the church. I passed all my examinations with decency, distinguishing myself in nothing. I went before the bishop and became a deacon, after a year was ordained, and after another year or two of false preaching and parish work, suddenly found myself curate in charge of this grand old abbey church.20

The young clergyman confides that Christianity seems useless to him and he is utterly without direction, though he finds himself now pastoring this good little flock. In complete despair, he commits himself to meeting with Mr. Polwarth regularly for the purpose of reading and studying together. As the novel unfolds, the handsome young minister comes to respect and appreciate Joseph Polwarth more than anyone he has ever known. With his help, Wingfold moves from faith in an idea of God to faith in the living God.21

This fascinating novel illustrates the fundamental principle of our text: The truth about a person is a matter of the heart and not the eyes. The community in which Wingfold and Polwarth live accept the new minister as a spiritual leader with considerable commitment to Christian truth. But they continue to pity the misshapen dwarf as someone who should live alone quietly because he has so little to offer the world. How little they knew!