“The little brother.” That’s what I was known as growing up. My brother Scott was 13 months to the day older than me. We were about as close in age as you could be without being twins.
He’s always been older. Always been taller. Always been a year ahead of me in school and “firsts.” First to get out of diapers. (That’s my assumption.) First to lose a tooth. First to go to school. First to experience Jr. High. First to enter High School. First to get to drive. First to get a job. First to get married. First to have a child.
Being the little brother is not such a great thing. Older brothers seem to think the parents take it easier on the little brother so they can be hard on little brothers. And your parents don’t always cut you much slack. How many times did I hear mine say to my older brother: “Please go play with your little brother. That’s basically the reason we had him.” (OK. I don’t remember them saying that. But it’s a good joke.)
When we’d play in neighborhood pick-up games and would choose teams, being the smallest one there, I’d be one of the last chosen. Last one noticed. I was the “little brother.”
You know that feeling don’t you? You interviewed for a job and made it to the final three but they went with someone else. You were encouraged to try out for the chorus so you did but didn’t make the final cut. You knew a group was getting together on Friday night but they never called you.
You know the feeling. The feeling of being unwanted. We say we’re “left out of the loop” or “didn’t get the memo.” Here’s one you may not have used: “he’s tending the sheep.”
That’s where “the youngest” was when Samuel the prophet came to town. God sent him to Bethlehem to anoint a new king. He went to Jesse’s house and had him line up his sons. The oldest to the youngest. As he passed each one God passed on each one too.
Samuel is a bit perplexed because he is out of options. He asks Jesse, “Are these all the sons you have?” Jesse answers, “There is still the youngest but right now he’s tending the sheep.”
“… he’s tending the sheep, left out of the loop, didn’t get the memo.” That’s where he is because he’s “the youngest.” Not just the little brother. He’s the runt. The Hebrew word is haqqaton. It carries with it the suggestion of insignificance. His society did not esteem him. Even his own family sent him out to the pastures. Even his own father did not think of him when Samuel came calling. No one thought to bring “the youngest” to Bethlehem that day. No one thought much of him at all. Not his brothers. Not his father. Not even Samuel.
But God did. The “youngest” is the one that God tells Samuel to anoint. “Then the Lord said, ‘Anoint him, for he is the one.’ So Samuel took the horn of oil and anointed him …”
I’m wondering how that last line affected you. Are you wondering what it would have felt like to be this youngest son, left out in the fields, being brought in as the forgotten one, and having Samuel the prophet take his horn of oil and pour it over your head? Can you imagine what it would feel like to have the oil begin to run down your cheeks? Can your heart grasp what it would be like to be chosen?
You are, you know. Those we refuse God will choose. And he chose you: “As you come to him, a living stone — rejected by people but chosen and honored by God…”
What does he see in you that others don’t? Here’s what he told Samuel: “Humans do not see what the Lord sees, for humans see what is visible, but the Lord sees the heart.” Others may see only the haqqaton. God sees the heart. He sees your heart and mine. It doesn’t matter if no one else does. It matters that God does.
And because he does, you are not forgotten after all.
You are chosen.
Question: When have you felt like the haqqaton?