It’s a widely recognized truth of human nature that, when given a choice, most of us will pursue success by following the path of least resistance. I don’t mean this as a criticism; it’s an entirely rational way to operate in the world. We maximize our chance of success (and minimize the cost of failure) when we make things as easy as possible for ourselves. So it makes sense for us to always be on the lookout for the simplest ways to get a leg up.
In his satirical 1952 book, “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying,” Shepherd Mead pokes fun at this aspect of human nature by providing readers with instructions on how to fake your way from the mailroom all the way to the top of the company ladder. Although his advice varies depending on which rung of the ladder you currently occupy, certain themes are consistent throughout the book: namely, that the way you appear to others is always of the utmost importance. All of his recommendations are ultimately made for comedic effect, but many a truth is spoken in jest. Human beings almost instinctively seek out *visual* markers of success above all else. It’s one of the quickest ways to figure out whose coattails are likely to offer the smoothest ride to the top.
Of course, this human tendency didn’t originate in the 1950s business world; it’s been true since at least Samuel’s time. The Israelites demanded a strong, militaristic king for themselves because they’d looked around and observed that all the successful nations had one. They assumed that having an impressive king would provide a shortcut to their own success as a nation. God warned them that success based on human values always comes with a price, but the people were undeterred, and ultimately, God gives them what they want.
King Saul quickly proves that appearances aren’t everything and loses God’s favor within two short years of taking the throne. So in today’s reading, God sends Samuel into Bethlehem to anoint a new king for Israel. But when Samuel arrives, he falls prey to the exact same kind of thinking that had gotten the Israelites into trouble in the first place. He sees Jesse’s burly older sons in the prime of their lives and immediately assumes that one of *them* must be Israel’s best chance for success. And why wouldn’t he make that assumption? They’re all tall, strong soldiers-types, projecting exactly the sort of image that we often associate with an effective king. Choosing one of Jesse’s older sons to lead the nation certainly seems like the obvious way to fast track Israel’s success.
But God looks beyond what’s visible to the human eye and instructs Samuel to anoint David instead - not a powerful warrior at all, but an adolescent shepherd boy. Scripture doesn’t tell us about the reactions of the people watching these events unfold, but I have to imagine that they consisted largely of incredulity and shock. How could this scrawny teenager possibly be Israel’s best chance at success? Yet God (of course) turned out to be right: appearance notwithstanding, David had a great deal to offer the nation, and he eventually became known as the greatest king in Israel’s history.
Today, more than 3000 years after Samuel’s surprise anointing, we still regularly lean on visual markers as shortcuts to success. We notice it all the time in politics, on both the national and global scale - leaders chosen for their presentation or appearance instead of their actual credentials - but it can be harder for us to see in more immediate contexts. In fact, we Christians fall victim to this way of thinking without even realizing it when it comes to our own local communities. Consider what verses 6-7 in today’s reading might have sounded like if Samuel hadn’t been anointing a king, but was choosing something else instead:
“When Samuel arrived at the first church, he looked at its massive building, theatrical worship experience, and auditorium-like sanctuary, and thought, ‘This must be the best one, the one I should attend.’ But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Have no regard for appearance or size, because God doesn’t look at things like humans do. Humans see only what is visible to the eyes, but the Lord sees into the heart.’”
Does this sound familiar? At one time or another, every single one of us has probably made the same assumption as this version of Samuel did: that churches which project visible measures of success - the ones with large staffs and crowded parking lots and multi-million dollar budgets - are the ones that we should attend and emulate. Being a part of something like that would allow us to succeed at church without really trying: the more members and the more money at a church’s disposal, the less we’d individually have to do. And, we rationalize, the better Christians we’d be, because with so many people drawn in by our impressive appearance, it’d be much easier for us to get the gospel message out. We wouldn’t have to work so hard just to make sure the church survives - and what a relief that would be!
But while *we* might be drawn in by the appearance and popularity of bigger churches, these aren’t the things that *God* notices. God looks beyond appearance into the *heart* of each church community. That’s where *God* looks for success. And at the end of the day, who is it that we’re ultimately trying to please, anyway?
Our retelling of this story might continue something like this: “After showing Samuel all of the larger churches in town, Jesse finally brought him to the smallest one. It had few members and could only sustain a handful of ministries, but it was passionate about them, and the members poured their whole hearts into their work. The Lord said, ‘That’s the one. Go anoint that community.’”
To anoint something or someone means to set it aside for a particular purpose. And small churches are anointed by God ALL. THE. TIME. There are certain things that larger churches aren’t able to do as well in their contexts, so God entrusts this crucial work to the smaller communities, the ones that are uniquely equipped for it: fostering personal connection among members, creating a safe and unintimidating space for visitors, getting people actively engaged in the Church and plugged into leadership roles, encouraging individuals’ passions and senses of call, and making sure that each and every person feels seen, just to name a few.
Sometimes, the smallest communities can be the most effective at demonstrating love, offering hope, and changing hearts, one at a time. While the world may not see these things as “success”, God certainly does. And isn’t *that* the kind of success that we ought to be prioritizing?
Now, while this is certainly reassuring, there’s a catch. When we’re anointed by God for a particular purpose, we have to give up our dreams of succeeding at church without really trying. It’s just not possible. For one thing, we have to be committed to ongoing discernment of what, exactly, God has anointed us for. This is different for every community. Is there a particular group of people, a cause, or a purpose that we feel drawn to - not just because we “should” be, but because we’re passionate about it? Which ministry projects or ideas are giving us life, and which ones do we need to let go of? How has our community’s calling changed since we last discerned it? Then, once we figure all that out, we have to follow through with our discernment - to actually do the thing that God has anointed us for. Meaningful ministry never “just happens”. It’s always the result of intentional, continuous effort grounded in active love - and that’s true for churches of every size.
Unlike appearing successful by the world’s standards, living out our faith will always require hard work. When Jesus says, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light” [Matthew 11:30], he’s not telling us that following him will make our lives effortless. It’s still a yoke, after all - its whole purpose is to facilitate physical labor. What he means that is that when we do the thing that God has specifically set us apart to do, it doesn’t *feel* like as much of a burden as other work would. We’ll never be able to truly “succeed at church without really trying”, but the good news is that when we DO try, we find something far better than the appearance of success - we find energy, and purpose, and transformation, and JOY. I think that’s a pretty fair trade-off, don’t you?
God doesn’t see as mortals see - never has and never will - so we shouldn’t preoccupy ourselves with the image that we project to the world. It’s what’s in the heart that counts. So what is it that’s on *our* collective heart? What task are we anointed for, in this particular time and place? How is Boone Memorial Presbyterian Church called to serve in our corner of the world? When we stop trying to look like a “successful church” and lean into our God-given calling, we’ll realize that we DO, in fact, have something important to offer - and in all likelihood, it’s something that the neighborhood megachurch could never do as well as we can. So let’s put in the hard work together and pursue our own version of success - no longer on humanity’s terms, but on God’s. Amen.
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