Waywords
Ichabod
1 Samuel 4:20
Color him black.
He was midnight’s child, born to lose. When Ichabod breathed his first, he breathed his last. His first cry was a plea for help which went unheard by a mother who cursed him on her birthing bed and quit on life (1 Samuel 4:20).
Color him black.
Ichabod had no chance. His father had just been killed in a losing battle against the Philistines. All the better! His dad had been a loser all his life anyway.
Color him black.
He was midnight’s child. When Ichabod was born, God lowered heaven’s flag to half mast and all the heavenly hosts mourned. The pitter, patter of little cherubim feet on the merry streets of gold was hushed. The flitter, flutter of angel wings on busy assignments were silenced. Halos hung heavily from the melancholy hands of heaven’s now solemn attendants.
Poor Ichabod. He had no grandfather. Poor man died the day of his grandson’s birth. Poor Ichabod. He had no father. He too died the day of his son’s birth. Poor Icabod. He had no mother. She died in labor when she heard the dreary news of family deaths. Poor Ichabod. He had no country. It died the day the Ark of the covenant was taken as booty by the Philistines–the same day of his birth.
Ichabod was an orphan’s orphan. No one sang him morning lullabies. No one baked him birthday cookies. No one bragged on Ichabod’s first tooth. No one taught him to say “Daddy.”
Color him black. He was midnight’s child. Ichabod wept in a world that ignored him.
What about you? Has misfortune struck you recently? If so, remember Ichabod. Are you on the verge of tears? Remember Ichabod. Is your smile forced as you labor in a stressful job? Remember Ichabod. Are your burdens heavy? Remember Ichabod.
And consider this: The Ichabod’s in life always catch God’s eye first. God looks first for the little lost lambs. God cradles the fallen sparrows most tenderly.
All is not lost for you. Just remember…
Ichabod.
David R. Denny Ph.D.
Drummondtown Baptist Church
Image credit: http://borgenproject.org/orphans-in-kuwait/