When God Breaks the Rules
Owning the Messiness of Scripture
There is a kind of online discourse that fixates on defending the Bible from perceived contradictions. It often sounds like an apologetics exercise in smooth storytelling: harmonize the accounts, massage away the differences, preserve the image of an internally consistent book. But there's a deeper issue here, not just that contradictions do exist—and they do—but that this attempt misunderstands how the Bible was formed in the first place.
The Bible is not a monolith. It was compiled over centuries, filled with different perspectives, voices, and agendas, each bringing something unique to the conversation about God and God's people. And one of the clearest examples of this can be found in the story of Samuel, and how his story is retold in 1 & 2 Chronicles.
Ephraimite or Levite?
1 Samuel 1:1 tells us that Samuel's father Elkanah is an Ephraimite. It traces his lineage back several generations and lands him squarely in the tribe of Ephraim. Which is curious, because Levites—the priestly tribe—were the only ones permitted to serve in the priesthood. So how does Samuel end up mentored by Eli and serving in the temple?
Some have tried to reconcile this by suggesting that Elkanah was a Levite living in Ephraim. There's a reference in Joshua to Levites settling there, and it’s true that Levites often lived among the other tribes. But the verse in 1 Samuel is explicit: Elkanah is an Ephraimite. The story doesn’t seem to be concerned about this disqualification.
Now, jump ahead to 1 Chronicles 6. Suddenly Elkanah and Samuel are descendants of Kohath, a son of Levi, and thus directly tied to Aaron. Psalm 99 even hints at Samuel being among the priests. These retellings come much later and seem to aim for consistency.
What Are We Doing With These Stories?
If we want to interact with Hebrew scripture on its own terms, we need to do so honestly. These stories are not static pronouncements; they are part of an ongoing, evolving conversation between a people and their God. Samuel emerges out of the chaos of the Judges era—a time when "everyone did what was right in their own eyes."
And here comes Samuel: born miraculously to a mother with no priestly lineage, handed off to an old priest in a broken system, and somehow growing into a figure who ushers in Israel's prophetic imagination. He isn't qualified by the old rules, and yet he's the one God uses.
When God Makes Exceptions
This isn't a one-off. Throughout the Hebrew Bible, God appears remarkably flexible. There are laws, rituals, expectations—but then there are moments when love, justice, or necessity bends the rules. Think of Abraham bargaining with God over Sodom and Gomorrah, talking God down from fifty righteous people to ten. And God goes with it.
Scripture doesn't portray a deity obsessed with strict enforcement. Instead, we find a God who is open to dialogue, who listens, who is moved. As theologian Walter Brueggemann puts it, the God of ancient Israel is not distant and immovable, but deeply involved and affected by relationships.
The Need to Make Sense
So why does 1 Chronicles reframe the story? Because by the time those books were written, Israel had returned from exile and was reestablishing identity. There was a desire to clean things up, to bring order. That instinct is understandable. It's also deeply human.
And yet, the prophetic voice of scripture often resists neatness. It refuses to tie everything up. It leaves us with questions, contradictions, tensions—because that's what real life is like. Sometimes, theology tries to make everything fit. But the prophets? They imagine God as bigger than our categories.
The Invitation of the Mess
In our lives, there will come moments when we wish God would stick to the rules. When certainty would be comforting. But often, the divine whisper says the story demands something new.
So we choose. Will we cling to the rules as we've understood them, or will we trust the God who meets us in the mess, in the unexpected, in the deeply human?
Because that same God is still leading us forward, still inviting us toward Jesus, and still willing to bend our rules when love requires it.