The Signal the New Ham Couldn't Decode

In ham radio, a mentor is called an Elmer. That's who fourteen-year-old Marcus found when he joined the amateur radio club in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. His Elmer was Walt, a retired engineer with a white beard and a garage station that looked like mission control.

Marcus had earned his license and built his first antenna. Late one evening, scanning the bands, he heard something — a faint, rhythmic pulse buried in the static. He assumed it was interference, maybe a loose connection. He heard it again the next night, and the night after that. Each time he adjusted his dial and moved on.

When he mentioned it to Walt, the old man leaned forward. "Play it for me." Marcus tuned to the frequency, and Walt's eyes lit up. "Son, that's a CW signal. Someone's transmitting in Morse code. They're sending a signal report request. They want to know if anyone can hear them."

Marcus had been hearing a voice for three nights and dismissing it as noise.

Young Samuel heard his name called three times in the darkness of the tabernacle and assumed it was Eli shuffling in the next room. He didn't yet know the voice of the Lord. It took Eli — his Elmer, you might say — to recognize what was happening and whisper, "If He calls again, say, 'Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.'"

Sometimes the call of the Almighty doesn't arrive as thunder. It comes as a quiet signal on a frequency we haven't learned to recognize. That's why we need an Eli — someone further along in faith who can say, "That's not static. That's God. Answer Him."