Questions, Questions, Questions

Genesis 15:1-15, 17-18

 

        The first book of the Bible is Genesis. All of you know that. I suspect most of you are aware that the meaning of the word Genesis is “origin”. What you might not be aware of is that the oldest stories included in the Book of Genesis were not about the origins of the earth but rather the origins of the Hebrew people. At least seven hundred years before the Genesis story of creation was created, folks were sitting around campfires telling the stories of a man born Abram and later named Abraham.

        Many of you first heard the stories of Abraham as children. Abram and Sarai, a barren couple living in the land of Ur, were told in a dream if they would travel west, they would not only receive a vast amount of land, but also become the heirs of a great nation. It wasn’t the land that intrigued the man and wife. It was an escape from barrenness that inspired them to follow the setting sun.

        The text read this morning is probably the oldest memory of the Hebrew people. We actually have two stories of the soon to be fulfilled promise of a son. The other is the better known and was developed much later in the biblical tradition. In the second version travelers come to Abraham and ask for refreshments. During the conversation the travelers tell Abraham that Sarah will have a son. Abraham is astounded that someone Sarah’s age could become pregnant. Sarah laughs at the notion.

The original story stands apart from the narrative of Sarah’s laughter. Genesis 15 offers a unique yet timeless understanding of God.  The story teller wants us to realize any conversation with God should grapple with the complicated concepts of covenant, faith and grace.

        The story begins with a disturbed man. Abram believes he has done everything God has asked. He pulled up stakes and left home. He established a new place of residence in a foreign land and created borders that stretched further than the eyes could see. He even had a son by a slave, thinking that perhaps his legacy might be continued through his blood and not that of his wife.  But deep down Abram knew that creating a nation of slaves was never the intention of the promise. Abram and Sarai were called to live their lives in opposition to barrenness. This sets the stage for a conversation between Abram and God.

        God has the first word. “Fear not”. This is more than a casual greeting. Abram was consumed by fear. The promises of God were not happening. Abram’s barrenness shaped his every thought and preempted any vision he might have of the future. Abram’s response to God’s greeting is one of protest. “How can I not live in fear? We came here because you promised a child. Is Sarai spending her days washing diapers and dreaming of the future? No, we are enslaved by this absurd guarantee that something will spring forth. Well nothing has happened!”

        This is an amazing conversation that sets the theological tone for every religious expression that finds its roots in the faith of Abraham. God promises and Abram questions the promise. Let me be a little more accurate.  Abram protests and rants against the promise. In response, God said, “Your eyesight is too limited. You believe in only what you can see. You must believe in what I say.”

        Nothing in the Hebrew faith carries more weight than “The Word.” God spoke, and creation was formed out of chaos. God spoke, and the Red Sea was parted making a way where no way was possible. God spoke and a child defeated a giant. God spoke and exiles headed for the desert in search for a new heaven and a new earth.

        Initially we are awestruck by the poetic license of God. But then, like Abram, we struggle with the emergence of a certainty that is not based on human reason but rather on a primal awareness that God is God. There is no proof, no facts, and certainly no logic.  Abram was asked to look at the stars and then believe that God will make good on God’s holy spoken word.

        Talk about faith. Abram was asked to abandon common sense which is measured by what can be seen. Walter Brueggemann writes, “Abram is asked to make a response based on a promise made by a known promise-keeper. Abram is asked to believe that God can be the breaking point between an exhausted present and a buoyant past. Abram is asked to believe in a true Genesis.”

        Perhaps the New Testament equivalent to this story would be when Jesus asked the disciples who they thought he was. Some answered John the Baptist, others said Elijah or Jeremiah. Then Jesus turned to Peter and said, “But who do you say that I am?” Without thinking Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” Then Jesus said the most extraordinary thing, “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.”

        This is the faith of Abraham. He did not go from questions and protest to confession through a rational observation of the way his world was working. He was transformed by a revelation, a vision, beyond his own limited knowledge. Story after story in the Old Testament tells of the flowering of that which was barren. Story after story in the New Testament tells of a faith that evolves from a vision that had mired down in the rationalization of what once had been a Holy Word. From the Old Testament to the New, faith has always been a reliance on God’s promise of overcoming the now in favor of tomorrow. Is it any wonder those who are barren become the real practitioner’s of faith? When one can no longer rely on their own our reality, then God’s Word, God’s hope, offers a new vision.

        This is a difficult concept for rationale thought because it calls on a trust relationship not only with God but also with those who claim God to be holy.  We like to look at a situation, make a logical assessment and then proceed. The amazing thing about religious thought is that it does not always make sense. Peter, not long after his proclamation of faith, tries to walk on water. And amazingly he succeeds, until the sound of the wind and waves capture his heart. Then Peter begins to sink. Our rational minds immediately conclude, “Of course he sank. No one can walk on water.” But Jesus responds, “Peter, your faith is so small.”

        Abram looked at the stars and he thought, “Can God be trusted to take me from this barren place?”  Are we so different from Abraham? I realize skeptics abound who would suggest that a belief in anything other than yourself is rather primitive. On the one hand I must agree. There is no denying that Abraham appears somewhat naive. Yet for those who believe in the revelations of God, no story could be more relevant. Haven’t we all struggled with the nightmare of being barren, or inadequate, or simply not up to the task. Haven’t we all questioned the mind of God?

        Abram looked to the stars. The Psalmist looked to the hills. I chose to look to the past. The barren Sarai gave birth to a son. The enslaved Hebrews were led to a promised land. The clueless Israelites were given King David. The decimated Jerusalem was restored. Humankind, which was lost, was given a Savior. Our history with God has always been a road from barrenness to Genesis, from death to a new origin. And that gives me hope.

        Many of you may not know the name Monty Williams. He played college and professional basketball and currently is an assistant coach with the Oklahoma City Thunder. He is the father of five children. Last week-end his wife was involved in a car accident. The driver of the other car was completely responsible for the accident. Both women were killed instantly. Thursday Monty Williams, a man in the midst of barrenness, addressed the stunned folks attending his wife’s funeral. He spoke of the love he and his children had for his wife. He spoke of the pain he felt for the family of the other driver. He spoke of forgiveness and he spoke of hope. Every word he spoke resounded from a man who knew his journey from barrenness to genesis began by trusting God.

The cynic might cry out, “Where was your God the moment that car was hurdling toward your wife?”

A non-believer might suggest, “You speak of forgiveness today, but what about tomorrow when you try to explain this to your motherless children.”

I don’t pretend God heals all pain. I would never suggest faith eliminates worry, and doubt and fear or even death. But this I know. The God of Abraham, the God of Moses, the God of Isaiah, the God of Peter and the God of our Lord has never left us without hope.

Bill Coffin wrote, “Hope criticizes what is, hopelessness rationalizes it. Hope resists, hopelessness adapts.”

We were not put on this earth to be without questions. Faith has never been a substitute for thinking. God expects us to push back and struggle with the difficulties of living. Faith is not blind. We come into this world with our eyes wide open. What faith does is takes us beyond the familiar. Faith challenges us to examine life and death through the lense of the soul. It is there we find forgiveness; it is there we find hope; it is there we are restored by the inexhaustible love and imagination of God.                                     Amen.