The Long Obedience of a Quiet Hill Text: 1 Samuel 7:1-2
Introduction: The Ache of Absence
We are a people who have forgotten the weight of glory. Our modern worship is often thin, our piety is frequently sentimental, and our sense of God's presence is more of a vague feeling than a consuming fire. We have domesticated the Almighty. We treat Him like a cosmic butler, available to be summoned but not to be feared. But the story of the Ark of the Covenant in the opening chapters of 1 Samuel is a bracing slap in the face to all such triviality.
The Ark was not a good luck charm. Israel had tried that, to their great sorrow, at the battle of Aphek. They thought they could manipulate God, marching out His throne as a talisman of victory while their hearts were still chasing after the Baals and Ashtaroth. God quickly disabused them of this notion. He allowed His glory-throne to be captured by uncircumcised Philistines. Why? To teach Israel a foundational lesson: God will not be mocked, and He will not be used. His presence is not a tool to be wielded for our convenience; it is a consuming fire that demands reverence, holiness, and total allegiance.
After wreaking havoc in the cities of the Philistines, who learned the hard way that the God of Israel is not like their impotent idols, the Ark was sent packing. It arrived at Beth-shemesh, where the men of that town treated it with a profane curiosity, and God struck seventy of them dead. The terror of the Lord fell on them, and they cried out, "Who is able to stand before Yahweh, this holy God?" This is the question that our flippant generation needs to learn to ask again. The Ark, the very symbol of God's covenant presence, had become a hot potato. Nobody wanted it. It was too glorious, too dangerous, too holy.
And so it comes to a quiet town, to the house of an obscure man, where it will sit for two decades. This is not a glorious chapter in Israel's history. It is a time of silence, of distance, of a long and painful ache. But it is in this quiet waiting, this extended lament, that God prepares the ground for a true revival. Before God brings the thunder of victory at Mizpah, He first brings the quiet grief of Kiriath-jearim.
The Text
And the men of Kiriath-jearim came and brought the ark of Yahweh up and brought it into the house of Abinadab on the hill and set apart Eleazar his son as holy in order to keep the ark of Yahweh.
Now it happened from the day when the ark remained at Kiriath-jearim, that the time was long; it was twenty years. And all the house of Israel lamented after Yahweh.
(1 Samuel 7:1-2 LSB)
A Quiet Consecration (v. 1)
We begin with the simple obedience of ordinary men.
"And the men of Kiriath-jearim came and brought the ark of Yahweh up and brought it into the house of Abinadab on the hill and set apart Eleazar his son as holy in order to keep the ark of Yahweh." (1 Samuel 7:1)
While the men of Beth-shemesh were recoiling in terror, the men of Kiriath-jearim stepped forward. This was not a glamorous task. There was no parade, no national celebration. This was a duty born of necessity. The tangible presence of God had been rejected, and someone had to take responsibility for it. They came, they took, and they brought. This is the simple grammar of faithfulness.
They bring the Ark into the house of Abinadab "on the hill." The high places are significant. This is not just a geographical detail. It signifies a place of honor, a place set apart. While the official tabernacle at Shiloh lay in ruins, destroyed by the Philistines, this humble home on a hill becomes the de facto sanctuary for the throne of God on earth. God's presence is not tied to real estate. He will dwell where He is honored.
Notice what they do next. They "set apart Eleazar his son as holy." The word is consecrate. We don't know if Abinadab and Eleazar were Levites, though it is likely they were. But what is clear is that they understood the holiness required. You don't just shove the Ark in the spare room. You don't treat the holy things of God with casual indifference. A man must be set apart for the task. This consecration was an act of faith and reverence in a faithless and irreverent time. While the rest of Israel was chasing foreign gods, this family undertook the solemn, weighty, and dangerous task of guarding the glory of Yahweh. This is the nature of true piety. It does not wait for a national revival to begin. It starts in a single house, on a single hill, with a father and a son willing to be consecrated to a quiet, inglorious, and long obedience.
The Long Ache of Repentance (v. 2)
Verse 2 gives us the time frame and the spiritual temperature of the nation.
"Now it happened from the day when the ark remained at Kiriath-jearim, that the time was long; it was twenty years. And all the house of Israel lamented after Yahweh." (1 Samuel 7:2)
The Ark sat in that house for twenty years. This is a quiet indictment. For two decades, the central symbol of their worship, the very meeting place of God and man, was not in its proper place. It was in storage. This represents a period of divine distance. God was with them, but not in the center of their national life. The glory had not departed entirely, but it had receded to a quiet hill. This was a consequence of their sin. They had treated God like a mascot, and now they were experiencing the ache of His formal absence.
The text says "the time was long." This is the subjective experience of chastisement. God's discipline is never pleasant. It feels long. It is meant to. It is a patient, grinding work designed to bring a people to the end of themselves. And it worked. "And all the house of Israel lamented after Yahweh."
This is a crucial phrase. They didn't just lament their circumstances. They weren't just sad about the Philistine occupation. They lamented "after Yahweh." Their grief had a direction. It was a homing instinct for God Himself. This is the difference between worldly sorrow and godly sorrow. Worldly sorrow, as Paul tells us, produces death. It's the sorrow of getting caught. It's regret over consequences. But godly sorrow produces repentance leading to salvation (2 Cor. 7:10). It is a grief that recognizes that the central problem is not the Philistines, but the fact that we are alienated from our God. The problem is not the symptom; it is the disease of sin.
This lament was the fruit of Samuel's faithful, unseen ministry during these twenty years. While the Ark sat on the hill, Samuel was circuit-riding, preaching, and calling the people back to the covenant. This national lament was not a spontaneous outburst; it was a cultivated crop. True revival is never instantaneous. It is preceded by a long, slow, and often painful work of plowing the hard soil of human hearts. The people had to learn to miss God. They had to feel the emptiness of their idolatry. They had to come to a place where they wanted Yahweh more than they wanted comfort, more than they wanted political freedom, and more than they wanted the idols of their neighbors. This twenty-year ache was a severe mercy, a divine discipline that created a hunger for the only One who could satisfy.
Conclusion: From Lament to Liberty
This short passage sets the stage for the great victory that is to come. It teaches us a permanent principle about how God works in the world. God does not rush to deliver a people who are not ready for it. First must come the conviction of sin. First must come the recognition of His holiness. First must come the long, slow ache of lament that turns into a genuine hunger for God Himself.
We live in a time when the Ark, in a manner of speaking, is in Kiriath-jearim. The manifest presence of God seems distant from the center of our culture. The church is often more concerned with being relevant than with being holy. We have forgotten the terror of the Lord that makes men cry, "Who is able to stand?" And because of this, our culture is under the thumb of spiritual Philistines who mock our God and oppress His people.
What is the way back? It is the way of Abinadab and Eleazar, a quiet consecration to guard the holy things of God in our own homes, on our own hills, even when the nation is faithless. It is the way of the twenty-year lament. We must learn to lament "after Yahweh." We must be grieved not just by the decay of our nation, but by the distance of our own hearts from God. We must cultivate a holy desperation for His presence.
The true Ark of the Covenant, the Lord Jesus Christ, is not sitting on a hill in Israel. He is seated on the throne of Heaven. But the principle holds. His manifest presence in our lives, our churches, and our nation is directly related to our consecration and our repentance. If we want to see the victory of Mizpah, we must first endure the quiet grief of Kiriath-jearim. We must lament our sins, consecrate our homes, and begin to hunger and thirst for God Himself. When we do, we will find that He was never as far away as we thought. He was simply waiting for us to want Him.