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Come and See: Staying Near Jesus

John 1:35–39 gives us a quiet beginning.

Two disciples hear John the Baptist point to Jesus and say, “Behold, the Lamb of God.” They begin to follow. Jesus turns and asks them his first recorded words in John’s Gospel: “What are you looking for?”

That question reaches far beyond the moment.

It is not only a question for those first disciples. It is a question every believer continues to answer throughout life. What are you looking for? What do you seek when you come to prayer, when you open Scripture, when you order your days as you do? What are you hoping Jesus will be for you?

These are not small questions. They are not meant to be answered quickly.

This is one reason John 1:35–39 is so well suited to Lectio Divina. Lectio Divina is the slow, prayerful reading of Scripture, a way of listening rather than merely scanning. We read attentively, notice what draws our attention, respond in prayer, and remain quietly with the text. This passage invites exactly that kind of reading because it centers on desire, presence, and the beginning of relationship.

Jesus does not begin by offering a lecture. He begins with a question.

What Are You Looking For?

The question is simple, but it is not superficial.

Jesus does not ask, “What do you know?” He asks, “What are you looking for?” He speaks to desire before he speaks to certainty. He addresses the heart before the intellect. He invites honesty before explanation.

Many of us are used to speaking about faith in terms of belief, doctrine, or commitment. Those things matter deeply. But beneath them often lies a more hidden layer of longing. We come to Christ with ambitions, fears, griefs, hopes, needs, and expectations. Some of them are noble. Some are confused. Some are mixed together in ways we do not fully understand.

Jesus’ question makes room for that complexity.

It invites examination without shame. It asks us to tell the truth about what moves us. Not the polished answer. The real one.

Very often, our daily choices reveal what we are looking for more clearly than our stated beliefs do. The way we spend time, the thoughts we return to, the worries we rehearse, the comforts we reach for, the approval we chase—these can all uncover the deeper movements of the heart.

To hear Jesus ask, “What are you looking for?” is to be called into gentle self-examination.

Hearing About Jesus and Encountering Him

The two disciples had already heard about Jesus before they followed him.

John the Baptist had spoken truly. His testimony mattered. But hearing testimony is not the same thing as personal encounter. At some point, borrowed language must give way to lived relationship.

That is what begins here.

The disciples respond, “Rabbi, where are you staying?” On one level, it is a practical question. On another, it reveals something deeper. They want more than a passing exchange. They want proximity. They want to remain near him long enough to know him.

Jesus answers, “Come and you will see.”

This is one of the most beautiful invitations in the Gospels because it does not force certainty before relationship begins. Jesus does not say, “Understand everything first.” He does not say, “Prove your worthiness.” He does not even begin with a full explanation of what discipleship will cost. He says, in effect: come closer. Stay near. See for yourself.

Faith often begins there.

Not with having all the answers, but with willingness. Not with a dramatic moment alone, but with the decision to draw near and remain.

Curiosity Is Not the Enemy of Faith

Some believers have been taught to distrust curiosity, as though honest questions signal weakness. But in John 1, curiosity is part of the beginning.

The disciples do not yet know everything. They do not fully understand who Jesus is. But they are drawn. They follow. They ask where he is staying. Their questions are not obstacles to discipleship; they are part of its first steps.

There is a kind of premature certainty that can actually keep us at a distance from Christ. We may cling to tidy answers because they feel safe. We may prefer conclusions over communion. But Jesus invites something more personal and more costly: time with him.

Curiosity, when offered honestly, can be an opening to grace.

It allows us to ask without pretending. It makes space for wonder. It helps us resist the temptation to reduce faith to slogans. It teaches us to seek, not merely to repeat.

This kind of seeking is not opposed to trust. It is often one of the ways trust begins to grow.

John 1:35-39, ESV

The next day again John was standing with two of his disciples, and he looked at Jesus as he walked by and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. Jesus turned and saw them following and said to them, “What are you seeking?” And they said to him, “Rabbi” (which means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and you will see.” So they came and saw where he was staying, and they stayed with him that day, for it was about the tenth hour.

The Importance of Proximity

One of the central movements in this passage is simple: the disciples go with Jesus, “and they stayed with him that day.”

That small detail carries tremendous weight.

We cannot know Christ from a distance. We may know ideas about him, opinions about him, even correct theology about him. But discipleship is formed through nearness. Through abiding. Through repeated return.

In ordinary Christian life, that nearness is cultivated through habits that seem modest and unspectacular: prayer, Scripture, silence, worship, repentance, attentiveness. These are not ways of earning intimacy with Christ. They are ways of making room for it.

To remain near Jesus requires time.

It requires resisting the hurried habits that make all relationships shallow. It requires a willingness to be interrupted, corrected, and changed. It asks us to stay long enough that our stated desires and our actual desires can be brought into the same light.

Contemplative practice is especially helpful here. It teaches us not merely to learn about Jesus, but to remain with him. It slows us enough to notice what we are carrying into his presence. It helps us become attentive to the ways our desires are purified and redirected over time.

Desire and the Christian Life

Jesus’ question brings desire into the center of discipleship.

This matters because desire is not incidental to the spiritual life. It shapes it. What we seek, love, fear, and hunger for will quietly direct how we live. The Christian life is not only about managing behavior or affirming truths. It is also about the transformation of desire.

That transformation rarely happens all at once.

Often we begin by wanting many things at once. We want God, but we also want control. We want peace, but we also want the world arranged on our terms. We want holiness, but we also want comfort. We want to follow Jesus, but we hope he will not ask us to surrender the deeper attachments we protect.

John 1 does not condemn this complexity. It exposes it gently.

“What are you looking for?” is not asked to humiliate us. It is asked to lead us into truth. Christ meets us in our mixed motives, but he loves us too much to leave them unexamined. Over time, staying near him reveals what governs us and what must be surrendered.

Honest Questions Instead of Easy Answers

There is a spiritual discipline in asking honest questions and letting them remain open before God.

Not every question must be solved immediately. Some questions are meant to deepen us before they clarify us. Some are invitations to prayer more than problems to resolve.

John 1:35–39 shows us a way of beginning. The disciples do not arrive with polished spiritual language. They respond from where they are. They move toward Jesus with what light they have.

That is enough for a beginning.

Many people delay prayer because they think they need cleaner motives or firmer conviction first. But the passage suggests otherwise. Christ’s invitation meets us in motion. As we come, we see. As we stay, we learn. As we remain, we are changed.

Transformation often begins quietly, almost imperceptibly. Not always through dramatic conversion stories, but through the repeated choice to come and stay.

The Hour They First Stayed With Him

John includes an intriguing detail: “It was about the tenth hour.”

Why remember the time?

Because encounters with Christ leave marks. Something about that first staying was so significant that the memory remained vivid. It was not merely a transfer of information. It was an experience of presence.

Many believers can point to such moments. Not always spectacular ones. Sometimes they are quiet and deeply personal: a passage that opened unexpectedly, a prayer in which Christ felt near, a day when everything did not change outwardly but something shifted inwardly. These moments remain because relationship leaves an impression.

Yet John 1 also reminds us that the lasting memory came not from a brief glance, but from staying.

There is wisdom here for our own lives. We often want immediate clarity, but Christ frequently forms us through continued presence. The significant hour may begin with a simple willingness to remain.

A Writing Practice: “What I Am Looking For”

Today’s contemplative writing exercise can help bring Jesus’ question closer.

Take a few quiet minutes and write under the heading:

What I am looking for

Write honestly.

Include practical desires as well as spiritual ones. You may find yourself writing about rest, stability, recognition, healing, clarity, love, usefulness, freedom from anxiety, deeper prayer, or simply enough strength for today. Do not censor too quickly. Let the page reveal what the heart has been carrying.

Then read over what you have written and pause with the one answer that surprises you most.

Stay with it.

Ask why it surfaced. Ask what it reveals. Ask whether it is something Christ wants to purify, deepen, redirect, or gently receive. This practice can uncover the deeper movements of the heart that Jesus invites us to examine—not to shame us, but to draw us nearer in truth.

Sometimes we do not know what we are looking for until we see it in words.

Come and See Through Lectio Divina

This passage naturally lends itself to Lectio Divina because it is full of invitation.

Read it slowly once.

Then read it again and notice which phrase holds your attention. Perhaps it is “What are you looking for?” Perhaps it is “Where are you staying?” Perhaps it is “Come and you will see.” Or perhaps it is simply the quiet line that they “stayed with him that day.”

Let one phrase remain with you.

Do not hurry to explain it. Let it question you. Let it settle. Pray with it. Sit with Christ in the words. The goal is not to master the passage quickly, but to spend time with the One the passage reveals.

This is where contemplative practice becomes so valuable. It teaches us to remain with Christ long enough that desire can be examined, clarified, and healed.

Staying With Christ in Ordinary Life

Most discipleship is lived in ordinary hours.

Not on mountaintops, but in routines. In the choices we make with our mornings, our attention, our words, our devices, our fatigue, our small obediences. Proximity to Christ is formed there.

To come and see is not only an invitation for the beginning of faith. It remains an invitation throughout the Christian life. Come again. Stay again. Return again.

If you would like help cultivating that daily rhythm, The Morning Scriptorium: 365 Days of Lectio Divina and Contemplative Writing offers a full year of Scripture readings, guided reflections, writing prompts, prayers, and contemplative practices.

And the online course:
https://teachclub.com/@morning_scriptorium

Come and Stay

John 1:35–39 does not invite us merely to learn about Jesus.

It invites us to spend time with him.

That is where discipleship begins and where it continues: in attentive presence, in honest desire, in questions offered without pretense, in the quiet courage to come closer. We do not need to arrive with complete understanding. We need willingness to follow and remain.

So perhaps that is the invitation for today.

Not to solve everything.
Not to force spiritual certainty.
But to hear Jesus ask, “What are you looking for?” and to answer honestly. Then to receive his words as they are given: Come and you will see.

Spend time with Christ today, not merely learning about him but remaining near him.

Closing Prayer

Lord Jesus,
You know what I am looking for even when I struggle to name it.
Draw me near to you with honesty and trust.
Teach me to remain with you long enough for my desires to be purified and my heart made more true.
Give me grace to come, to stay, and to see.
Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. When Jesus asks, “What are you looking for?” what honest answer rises first in your heart?

2. Where in your life are you tempted to keep Jesus at a distance rather than remain near him?

3. What simple practice could help you spend time with Christ this week rather than merely thinking about him?

Return Tomorrow

Return tomorrow for the next day’s Lectio Divina reading, and continue this slow journey of prayerful attention in the presence of Christ.

If you’d like, share in the comments what question Jesus’ words, “What are you looking for?” stirred in your heart today.

July 17, 2026
Hagar and The God Who Sees Those We Miss
Genesis 16:7–14 gives us one of Scripture’s most arresting encounters with God. Hagar is alone in the wilderness, displaced, exhausted, and vulnerable. She has been used, mistreated, and pushed to the margins of a household built on promises that do not seem to include her. And there, far from safety and status, the angel of the Lord finds her by a spring on the way to Shur.

The turning point in the story is not that all of Hagar’s circumstances immediately improve. It is that she is seen.

This is what makes the passage so powerful for Lectio Divina. We come to Scripture looking for God, and sometimes we discover that the deeper truth is this: God has already found us. Before we have clarity, before we have strength, before we know how to pray well, God attends to us. Divine attention comes first.

Hagar’s story invites us to slow down long enough to receive that attention.

Hagar in the Wilderness

The wilderness in Scripture is often more than a location. It is a place of exposure, testing, and encounter. Israel will know the wilderness. Elijah will know it. John the Baptist will know it. Even our Lord will enter it.

Hagar knows it here as a place of weariness and uncertainty.

She is not standing in a temple. She is not participating in a formal act of worship. And she is not presented as spiritually triumphant. She is simply there, fleeing into the harshness beyond the household that has wounded her.

And that is where God meets her.

This matters because many Christians quietly assume that God speaks most clearly in moments of peace, order, and spiritual composure. But Genesis 16 reminds us that God is not limited to calm seasons. He speaks in disruption. He meets us in confusion. And He comes near in places we would not have chosen.

For those practicing Lectio Divina, this changes the tone of prayer. We do not need ideal conditions to begin. We do not need to wait until our inner life feels settled and articulate. And we may come to the text tired, distracted, carrying grief or uncertainty. The God who found Hagar in the wilderness has not lost his habit of meeting people there.

The Difference Between Visibility and Being Seen

Our age has many forms of visibility.

A person can be visible online, at work, in ministry, in a room, and still feel profoundly unseen. Recognition is not the same as being known. Public attention is not the same as love. Productivity is not the same as presence.

Hagar was certainly visible in Abraham’s household. Others saw her usefulness. Others reacted to her place in the family’s conflict. But visibility did not protect her from being treated as expendable.

Then God addresses her personally: “Hagar, servant of Sarai.”

The detail matters. God names her. He knows her story. He asks, “Where have you come from and where are you going?” This is not the question of someone gathering data they lack. It is the question of divine attention. God draws her into truthful speech. He gives dignity to her experience by receiving it.

This is one reason the passage lends itself so naturally to slow, prayerful reading. Lectio Divina is not a race to extract information. It is a way of sitting beneath God’s gaze through the words of Scripture. As we read, we learn again that God’s attention is neither hurried nor superficial. He sees persons, not just problems. He receives truth before he gives instruction.

Honest Prayer Begins with Honest Speech

Hagar’s answer is direct: “I am fleeing from my mistress Sarai.”

She does not decorate her pain. She does not offer polished language. And she tells the truth.

There is wisdom here for anyone who wants to pray but feels unsure how. We often imagine that faithful prayer must sound elevated or composed. Yet Hagar’s encounter shows that truthful prayer begins with naming reality. She tells God what is happening. She says where she is in the story.

This is one of the quiet gifts of Lectio Divina. As we linger with Scripture, we often become more honest. A phrase in the text exposes fear, grief, resentment, loneliness, or longing that we have kept partially hidden even from ourselves. Prayer then begins not in spiritual performance but in truthful presence.

To read slowly is to make room for this honesty.

A short passage like Genesis 16:7–14 can be read several times. On the first reading, you may notice the setting. On the second, you may find yourself resting on the fact that God asks questions. And on the third, you may recognize that you have been avoiding your own truthful answer about where you have come from and where you are going.

That, too, is grace.

The angel of the LORD found her by a spring of water in the wilderness, the spring on the way to Shur. And he said, “Hagar, servant of Sarai, where have you come from and where are you going?” She said, “I am fleeing from my mistress Sarai.” The angel of the LORD said to her, “Return to your mistress and submit to her.” The angel of the LORD also said to her, “I will surely multiply your offspring so that they cannot be numbered for multitude.” And the angel of the LORD said to her,

                “Behold, you are pregnant

                                and shall bear a son.

                You shall call his name Ishmael,

                                because the LORD has listened to your affliction.

                He shall be a wild donkey of a man,

                                his hand against everyone

                                and everyone’s hand against him,

                and he shall dwell over against all his kinsmen.”

                So she called the name of the LORD who spoke to her, “You are a God of seeing,” for she said, “Truly here I have seen him who looks after me.” Therefore the well was called Beer-lahai-roi; it lies between Kadesh and Bered. (ESV)

The First Woman to Name God

One of the most striking features of this passage is that Hagar names God. She calls him “You are a God of seeing,” or, as many render the sense, “the God who sees me.”

This is a remarkable honor in the biblical narrative.

Hagar is not the powerful figure in the story. She is an Egyptian servant, a woman without social protection, caught in the fallout of decisions made by others. And yet she becomes the one who speaks one of Scripture’s most memorable names for God.

That should shape the church’s imagination.

God’s self-disclosure is not restricted to those the world assumes are central. Again and again in Scripture, the Lord shows particular concern for the outsider, the afflicted, the overlooked. This does not romanticize suffering. It does reveal the freedom and mercy of God. He is not impressed by social rank. He is attentive to the cry of the vulnerable.

Hagar’s naming of God also shows that encounter can lead to language. Contemplation is not silence in opposition to speech; it is often silence that ripens into true speech. After being seen by God, Hagar is able to say something true about God.

That is what contemplative reading can do in us. It trains our attention until our language becomes more faithful, more careful, and more rooted in reality.

Divine Attention Changes Human Attention

If God’s first movement toward Hagar is attention, then our response should involve learning to attend as he does.

We become, in part, what we repeatedly contemplate. A distracted life produces distracted love. A hurried heart rarely notices who is suffering nearby. But when we let Scripture slow us down, when we receive the patient gaze of God, our own habits of attention can begin to change.

This is not only inward. It is ethical.

To be seen by God should make us more capable of seeing others. Not sizing them up, not fixing them quickly, not reducing them to their usefulness or their difficulty, but actually seeing them.

God does not begin by solving everything in Hagar’s life at once. He first addresses her. He acknowledges her. Presence precedes resolution.

That is an important lesson for many of us. We often rush to advice when witness is needed first. We hurry to repair before we have listened. But attention is an act of love. To give another person undivided presence, even briefly, is no small thing.

This is where today’s passage reaches beyond private devotion. If Lectio Divina trains us to receive God’s attention, it also trains us to offer a sanctified form of attention in the world.

Practicing Lectio Divina with Genesis 16:7–14

As you read this passage, do not rush toward a lesson. Stay with the scene.

Notice the wilderness. Notice the spring. And notice that Hagar is found. Notice that God asks questions. Notice the dignity of being addressed by name. And notice the words, “You are a God of seeing.”

Read the text slowly two or three times.

Then rest with a single phrase. Perhaps it is “the angel of the Lord found her.” Perhaps it is “Where have you come from?” Perhaps it is “You are a God of seeing.”

Let that phrase remain with you.

If you feel forgotten, do not force yourself into cheerful conclusions. Let the passage do its work gently. The point is not to manufacture a spiritual feeling. It is to stay present long enough to receive what God may be giving through the text.

For some readers, the most important realization today may simply be this: I do not need to find God before I may be known by God. He has already turned his attention toward me in mercy.

And from that place, a further invitation may come: offer one act of attention that requires nothing in return.

It may be listening carefully to someone without interrupting. It may be noticing a person everyone else passes by. Or it may be acknowledging your own hidden wound before God without judgment. It may be pausing long enough to recognize grace in an ordinary hour.

Readers who would like a complete year of daily Lectio Divina Scripture readings, guided reflections, writing prompts, prayers, and contemplative practices can continue their journey through The Morning Scriptorium: 365 Days of Lectio Divina and Contemplative Writing.

Or, the online course: https://teachclub.com/@morning_scriptorium

A Closing Prayer

God who sees,
find us again in the places where we feel overlooked, tired, or unsure.
Teach us to receive your attention without fear and to offer that same gentle presence to others.
Make us truthful in prayer, patient in listening, and faithful in love.
Amen.

Reflection Questions
1. Which word or phrase in Genesis 16:7–14 draws your attention most strongly today?
2. Where in your life do you most need to remember that being seen by God is different from merely being visible to others?
3. What is one act of attention you can offer today that requires nothing in return?
Return Tomorrow

Return tomorrow for the next day’s Lectio Divina reading, and continue the slow work of learning to live in the presence of the God who sees.
July 14, 2026
Speak, for Your Servant Hears
In 1 Samuel 3, the boy Samuel hears his name in the night and does not yet know who is calling. He mistakes the voice of God for the voice of Eli. He gets up, walks to the priest, and says, “Here I am.” This happens more than once before the truth becomes clear.

It is a simple scene, but it opens a deep path for prayer.

For those who practice Lectio Divina, this passage is especially fitting because it teaches that listening to God often precedes understanding God. Samuel is responsive before he is discerning. He is available before he is certain. He does not begin with clarity. He begins with readiness.

That is often where the spiritual life begins as well.

Reading Slowly with Samuel

Lectio Divina is not mainly a technique for mastering a text. It is a way of receiving Scripture prayerfully, slowly, and attentively. Traditionally, Christians have described it as a movement from reading, to meditation, to prayer, to contemplation. We come not merely to analyze but to attend. We read not only for information but for communion.

This passage from 1 Samuel invites that kind of reading.

Samuel lies down in the temple, near the ark of God. The lamp is still burning. The setting is quiet, watchful, almost suspended. Before anything is explained, the passage gives us an atmosphere of attentiveness. The scene itself teaches us to slow down.

When you read this text in Lectio Divina, do not rush to the lesson. Stay with the scene. Notice the darkness, the silence, the repeated calling of Samuel’s name. Notice the movement of the boy rising and going to Eli. Notice, too, what Scripture says about the moment: “Samuel did not yet know the Lord.”

That small phrase is full of mercy.

1 Samuel 3:1-10, ESV

3 Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord in the presence of Eli. And the word of the Lord was rare in those days; there was no frequent vision.

2 At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his own place. 3 The lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was.

4 Then the Lord called Samuel, and he said, “Here I am!” 5 and ran to Eli and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call; lie down again.” So he went and lay down.

6 And the Lord called again, “Samuel!” and Samuel arose and went to Eli and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, my son; lie down again.” 7 Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him.

8 And the Lord called Samuel again the third time. And he arose and went to Eli and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. 9 Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down, and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant hears.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place.

10 And the Lord came and stood, calling as at other times, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant hears.”

Listening Often Begins Before Understanding

Many Christians feel discouraged because they are unsure whether they are hearing God rightly. They expect discernment to arrive as a kind of immediate confidence. But 1 Samuel 3 offers a gentler account of spiritual growth.

Samuel hears truly before he understands truly.

That matters. It means confusion is not always failure. Inexperience is not unfaithfulness. A person may be nearer to obedience than he realizes, even while still learning what obedience sounds like.

In Scripture, God is not embarrassed by our immaturity. He teaches within it. He addresses Samuel not after Samuel has become spiritually polished, but while he is still young, still unformed, still dependent on guidance. The call comes in the middle of his limited understanding.

For many readers, this is good news. If you struggle to know whether God is speaking, that struggle itself need not lead to despair. Discernment usually develops over time. It matures through prayer, Scripture, worship, wise counsel, and repeated acts of attention. The Christian life is rarely built on dramatic certainty. More often, it is formed through steady listening.

God’s Patience Is Part of the Message

The Lord calls Samuel again and again.

The repetition is striking. God does not speak once and then withdraw in irritation when Samuel misunderstands. He calls patiently. He gives Samuel room to grow into recognition.

This tells us something important about the character of God. Divine speech is not merely an act of disclosure; it is also an act of formation. God is not only delivering information. He is shaping a servant.

Sometimes people fear that if they do not respond the first time perfectly, they will miss God entirely. This passage suggests otherwise. Certainly Scripture calls us to attentiveness and obedience. But it also reveals a God who is patient with learners.

That patience does not make our response unimportant. It makes our response possible.

When practiced faithfully, Lectio Divina trains us to trust that patient rhythm. We return to the text. We notice what we missed. We hear a phrase differently the second or third time. What seemed obscure at first begins to open. Not because we have forced the text to yield its meaning, but because we have stayed present long enough to receive it.

The Gift of Spiritual Mentors

Samuel does not discern the voice of God alone. Eli finally perceives what is happening and instructs him how to respond: “Speak, Lord, for your servant hears.”

There is humility in this scene on both sides.

Samuel is humble enough to keep getting up, to keep responding, to keep asking. Eli is humble enough to recognize that God is at work in someone younger than himself. Even near the end of his own ministry, Eli still serves as a guide.

Christian discernment is rarely an isolated achievement. It is nurtured in community. Wise mentors, pastors, friends, and teachers often help us recognize what God is doing before we can name it ourselves. They do not replace the voice of God. They help us become more attentive to it.

In a culture that prizes independence, this can be hard to accept. We may want a spirituality of direct access without dependence on others. Yet the biblical pattern is often otherwise. God uses the church, spiritual friendship, and the wisdom of the saints to train our hearing.

If you are uncertain about what God may be saying, it may help to ask not only “What am I hearing?” but also “Who helps me listen well?”

“Here I Am” as a Posture of the Heart

One of the most beautiful details in this passage is Samuel’s repeated response: “Here I am.”

At first, he says it to Eli. Eventually, under Eli’s instruction, he says it to the Lord. In either case, the posture is the same. He presents himself.

This is essential for Lectio Divina. The goal is not spiritual performance. The goal is presence. We do not come to Scripture to prove attentiveness, but to offer it. We place ourselves before God and say, in effect, “Here I am.” Not accomplished. Not impressive. Simply available.

That posture may be harder than it sounds. Many of us approach prayer with anxiety, measuring whether we are doing it well enough. But Samuel’s story shifts the focus. Availability matters more than achievement. Receptivity matters more than display.

To say “Here I am” is to loosen our grip on self-importance. It is to stop curating an impressive spiritual life and to begin offering an honest one.

Practicing This Passage in Lectio Divina

As you sit with 1 Samuel 3:1–10, read slowly enough to notice which word or phrase seems to rest on your attention. It may be Samuel’s name. It may be “Here I am.” It may be “did not yet know the Lord.” It may be Eli’s instruction, “Speak, for your servant hears.”

Stay there.

Repeat the phrase gently. Let it become prayer. If confusion rises, do not treat that as interruption. Bring that confusion into the presence of God. You do not need dramatic impressions. You do not need to manufacture a message. The point is not to force an experience but to become available.

If you are unsure whether you are hearing God’s voice, begin with what God has already made clear in Scripture: he is holy, patient, truthful, and faithful. He does not contradict his character. The more deeply our minds and affections are formed by Scripture, the more steadily our discernment grows. Over time, faithful listening becomes less about chasing unusual experiences and more about learning the Shepherd’s tone through long familiarity.

This is one reason practices of daily prayerful reading matter. Small acts of attention accumulate. They school the heart.

Readers who would like a complete year of daily Scripture readings, guided reflections, writing prompts, prayers, and contemplative practices can continue their journey through The Morning Scriptorium: 365 Days of Lectio Divina and Contemplative Writing.

And the online course: https://teachclub.com/@morning_scriptorium

A Prayer for Listening

Lord, teach us to hear you with humble and steady hearts. Quiet our hurry, soften our pride, and make us willing to say, “Here I am.” Give us patience when understanding comes slowly, and form in us the life of attentive obedience. Amen.

Reflection Questions
1. What word or phrase in 1 Samuel 3:1–10 most draws your attention today?
2. Where in your life might God be inviting availability before certainty?
3. Who has helped you recognize God’s voice with greater clarity and humility?
Come Back Tomorrow

Return tomorrow for the next day’s Lectio Divina reading, and continue the slow work of listening in the presence of God.
July 13, 2026