In this chapter we walk beside Saul as he steps hesitantly into a destiny far greater than any lost donkeys or anxious errands could ever suggest. Samuel, whom we know as the faithful prophet and judge, takes a vial of oil, pours it on Saul’s head, then kisses him and says, “Hasn’t Yahweh anointed you to be prince over his inheritance?”. In that moment, a private ritual of anointing becomes public commissioning. We feel the weight of those words pressing on Saul’s shoulders—and on ours—reminding us that God’s choice often breaks into our ordinary routines with an invitation we cannot predict.
Samuel doesn’t leave Saul wondering whether this is meant to be private lore. He gives him tangible signs to confirm God’s hand at work. First, as Saul departs, Samuel tells him that he will meet two men near Rachel’s tomb in the territory of Benjamin, who will announce, “The donkeys which you went to look for have been found”. And that, even as ordinary as it sounds, becomes a sign: when those donkeys are returned, Saul will know the Lord is guiding him. We laugh at the simplicity of this first sign—yet often our own most profound confirmations come in the form of everyday kindness or providential timing.
Next, Samuel predicts that Saul and his servant will go to Gibeah of God, where they will encounter a band of prophets descending from the high place. When they arrive, “and the Spirit of Yahweh will come mightily on you, and you shall prophesy with them, and shall be turned into another man”. Samuel’s words capture a poignant truth: encountering God’s Spirit transforms identity. Saul, the towering figure yet inexperienced leader, will suddenly find himself speaking God’s word alongside veteran seers. We recognize in this how, when we step into God’s calling, He equips us in ways we could never engineer on our own—a reminder echoed when Jesus read from Isaiah, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me” (Isaiah 61:1).
Samuel adds, “Let it be, when these signs are come to you, that you do as occasion shall serve you; for God is with you”. His instruction to follow the unfolding events rather than a rigid checklist invites us to listen for God’s leading in the flow of life, much as Joshua was commissioned in Numbers 27:18 when Moses laid hands on him and gave him a clear but pliable mandate. God’s guidance often comes through open doors rather than neon signs, and our faith is proved in the courage to walk through them.
True to Samuel’s word, Saul’s journey unfolds with uncanny precision. He meets the two men, hears about the recovered donkeys, and presses on to Gibeah. There, the moment Samuel described arrives: a procession of prophets blowing lyres, tambourines, pipes, and harps, all prophesying under a holy impulse. As Saul joins them, a switch seems to flip—his common speech transforms into inspired utterance, and those who knew him gasp in astonishment. “When all who knew him before saw that, behold, he prophesied with the prophets, then the people said to one another, ‘What is this that has come to the son of Kish? Is Saul also among the prophets?’”. The question becomes a proverb—a testament to how God can surprise a community, turning a private soul-search into public wonder.
That prophetic moment, powerful as it is, also humbles Saul. He does not seize the spotlight; he slips away from the musicians and returns home, changed but discreet. It’s a portrait of grace in leadership: the one anointed does not lord it over others, but goes back to his place with a new measure of dignity and purpose, much like David after his anointing (1 Samuel 16:13).
Meanwhile, Samuel gathers all Israel at Mizpah to formalize the choice. He reminds the people of their history—that God brought them from Egypt, delivered them from every adversary, yet they insisted on a human king rather than under divine rule. Here we see both personal and national parallels: how easily we trade true reliance on God for the semblance of control under someone “like us.” Still, God instructs Samuel to grant their request, but not without a warning that a king will exact heavy costs in sons and daughters, fields and service—a sobering echo of the rights of kings outlined in Deuteronomy 17:14‑20.
When the time comes to reveal the one chosen, the lot first determines the tribe of Benjamin, then the clan of Matri, then the household of Kish. Yet instead of standing proudly, Saul hides among the baggage. We can imagine Samuel’s gentle laughter as he calls him out: “Stand and see the man the LORD has chosen”. Saul emerges, head and shoulders taller than anyone else, but in a posture of shyness that belies his new office. The people, emboldened by this divine clarity, shout, “Long live the king!” Their cheers reverberate with relief and hope, but also with the undertone of uncertainty—will this human leader live up to the heavenly mandate?
Samuel then directs them to present themselves to the LORD at Gilgal within seven days—and there the story will continue. For now, Israel leaves Mizpah with a new chapter begun: a nation stepping from the rule of judges into the reign of a king, under the watchful eye of God.
As we reflect on 1 Samuel 10, several truths rise to the surface for us. God’s call often interrupts our ordinary tasks with invitations to purposes we could never forecast. The same Spirit that came upon Saul to prophesy can rest upon us as we step into our own callings. Signs confirming God’s will—random reunions, prophetic words, community affirmations—remind us that our steps are ordered by One who goes before us. And finally, the transition from divine judgeship to human kingship cautions us that any authority we embrace must always bow to God’s sovereignty, lest we discover too late that we have, in effect, “rejected him from reigning over us” (1 Samuel 8:7). In our own lives, may we hear Samuel’s words and echo Saul’s humble response: “Speak, LORD; for your servant is listening.”