Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
In 1 Samuel 8, we find a moment of great transition in the life of Israel—a turning point that speaks not just to the nation then, but to our own hearts today. The elders of Israel come to Samuel and say, “Now appoint for us a king to judge us like all the nations.” On the surface, their request seems logical. Samuel is aging. His sons, unlike him, are corrupt. Israel is surrounded by hostile nations. They want structure. They want stability.
But beneath their request lies something deeper—and more troubling.
Samuel is displeased. And God tells him why: “It is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected me from being king over them.” You see, the issue isn’t political. It’s spiritual. The people are tired of trusting in an invisible God. They want something they can see, something they can control, something that fits the pattern of the world around them. In short—they want to be like everyone else.
Does that sound familiar?
How often do we, as Christians, wrestle with the same temptation? When life becomes uncertain or when God’s timing feels slow, we look for alternatives—visible, tangible solutions to fill the gap that only God is meant to occupy. We may not ask for a king, but we ask for what feels just as comforting: the next leader, the next job, the next plan, the next success. And like Israel, we risk putting our trust in something other than the Lord.
Notice how God responds. He tells Samuel to warn the people. A king, He says, will take. He will take your sons and daughters, your fields and flocks, your freedom. He will rule with authority, and one day, “you shall cry out because of your king, but the Lord will not answer you in that day.”
This is what happens when we replace God with human answers. The things we trust in instead of Him eventually enslave us. Our desire for control becomes anxiety. Our pursuit of approval becomes a burden. Our dependence on worldly leaders leaves us disappointed. In seeking to be “like the nations,” we lose our distinctiveness as the people of God.
But there is hope.
Centuries later, God would send a King—not one who takes, but one who gives. Not one who demands service, but who serves. Jesus Christ came not to rule with an iron scepter, but to wear a crown of thorns. He did not send others to die for Him—He died for us. This is the kind of King our hearts were made for. This is the King we need.
So today, the invitation is simple but challenging: Will we trust Him? Will we let God be King? Will we resist the pull to conform, the temptation to rely on what we can see, and instead surrender to the Lord who rules not only with power but with love?
Let us remember that God is not just a King in title—He is our Shepherd, our Savior, our Lord. And in Him, we lack nothing. Amen.
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