New York Times Dateline: New Orleans, September 2:
They waited, and they waited, and then they waited some more in the 90-degree heat. As many as 5000 people huddled at a highway underpass on Interstate 10, waiting for buses that never arrived to take them away from a storm they could not escape. Babies cried. The sick huddled in the shade in wheelchairs or rested on cots. A few others, less patient, simply started walking west with nowhere to go. [1]
Thousands…going out, not knowing where they are to go, living in tents, looking for the city.
The name "Hebrew" literally means "One Who Wanders." This sermon series out of the book of Hebrews was meant to speak to our journey of faith, a metaphor for our spiritual life. But the faces of "those who wander" have been imprinted on our hearts and in our minds and we can never see it quite the same again. It does provide a graphic and powerful backdrop for the stories of the patriarchs, the Hebrews, "those who wandered," as do we...seeking a faith that will sustain us in this real world, in this day, a faith that makes sense in a world of wanderers.
A faith rooted in the God of covenant,
the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,
the God of Sarah, Rebecca and Ruth,
the God of Moses and Miriam and Mary,
the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.
The story begins with Abraham and Sarah, and it begins with the simple affirmation of faith:
1. They trusted God for a future.
By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called, and went out, not knowing where he was to go... By faith Sarah received power to conceive, even when she was past the age, since she considered him faithful who had promised. Therefore, from one man, and him as good as dead, were born descendants as many as the stars of the heaven and as innumerable as the sand of the seashore. (Hebrews 11:8, 11-12)
The story begins in the land of Ur (present-day Iraq) with Abraham minding his own business, when God called, "Abraham...go to a land that I will show you." I imagine he went home that day and said to Miss Sarah, "Guess what? We're going." And I imagine Miss Sarah said, "Now do you mind telling me where it is we are going?" "Well," says Abe, scratching his wrinkled and bald head, "I don't rightly know."
Now I can't speak for your spouse, but I can tell you about the seven times I have come home to mine and said, "We're goin'." Sarah, like Judy, might have just a few more questions to ask. But frankly, in the end, I think it's Sarah who exhibits the deeper faith in this story. Without the encounter with God, without the direct call from the clouds, without the confirmation of the soul, the writer says, "Sarah considered God faithful who had promised."
And they went out, not knowing where they were to go.
God's call is often like that. Not always sharply defined, not always clear, sometimes just a nudge that feels like a command, "GO!!" Or as they say in Tennessee, "GIT!! Go from your home and your kin to a place I will show you. Trust me for your future."
God often calls us:
- out of the comfortable and the convenient into the risky and the untried
- out of the security of the past into the uncertainty of the "not yet"
- out of the 12-year stability of a well-loved pastor to the unknown of a new guy, from of all places…Ann Arbor!
- out of the tried and true rituals of the known into the spontaneous dance of the spirit
And in simple faith, the Abrahams and Sarahs of every generation have trusted God, packed up and followed to a land that God would show them.
They trusted God for their future.
If you asked Abraham, "What is the content of your faith? What does it mean to trust God?", he wouldn't give you a theological discourse or philosophical thesis. He would look across the plains and say, "See these hills? One of these days, these hills will be full of my descendants."
"But Abe, you're a foreigner here, a wanderer, a sojourner. By law, you can't even buy property."
"Yes, but God has promised, and one of these days, these hills will be full of my descendants because God keeps his promises."
"Now Abe, I don't mean to get personal, but you and Miss Sarah, I mean you're 70 and she's 60, still childless."
"Yes, but God has called, and God has promised, and God will keep his promises."
If you come back ten years later and ask, "Abe, what do you believe now?"
"See these hills, one of these days, these hills will be full of my descendants."
"And how old are you now?"
"I'm 80 and Miss Sarah's 70."
"What's the word from the rabbit? Any sign of a pregnancy yet?"
"No, but you see we're trusting God, and God keeps his promises."
Come back 15 years later and ask Abe what he believes, and he would still say, "See these hills? One of these days, these hills will be full of my descendants."
"And how old are you now—95 and Miss Sarah is 85?"
"Yes, and we just got the report and guess what? Miss Sarah's going to have a son, because God always keeps his promises."
And therefore....from one man, and him as good as dead, were born descendants as many as the stars in the heaven and as innumerable as grains of sand on the seashore. (Hebrews 11:12)
Old Testament scholar Dennis Kinlaw once said that when God told Abraham and Sarah they were going to have a child, they went right out, bought themselves a baby buggy and set it up in the living room. For fifteen years, they used it as a coffee table in the old folks home. Dr. Kinlaw said it always made his wife nervous when she heard him say it, but he believes every house needs a baby buggy….a sign of the hope in God's promise, the hope for the future.
Abraham and Sarah went out when they were called, not knowing where they were to go, trusting God for a future. They went out…
2. Living in tents, looking for the city.
The Hebrew writer says:
By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, living in tents with Isaac and Jacob, heirs with him of the same promise. For he looked forward to a city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God.
What a wonderful image—"they lived in tents, because they looked for a city."
You see Abraham and Sarah learned the difference between:
- tents and cities
- the temporal and the eternal
- the passing and the permanent
- those things which are nothing more than temporary, and those things which are lasting and eternal
They knew the difference between temporary tents and those convictions and values which give life its lasting foundations, as if its builder and maker was God.
In our prayer service Wednesday night, I said that one of the things we have learned in this last week is the brevity of life, and the fragility of all we hold so dear. Our homes and gardens; our antiques and keepsakes; our treasured traditions and our earthly treasures…my grandfather's dining room table and Judy's dad's wooden wagon which has been our coffee table for thirty years; all the things which mean so much to us can be gone in a moment with the sound of a sudden wind and the flood wall of rushing water.
It's important to be able to tell the difference between the temporary tents where we live out most of our days and the eternal city whose builder and maker is God. Dennis Kinlaw once drew the contrast in a slightly different way: "Abraham pitched his tents and built his altars."
If you track Abraham's journey, you find no evidence of castles, forts or fortresses, no palace ruins or glorious remains. What do you find? Piles of rocks where he worshipped God, cairns of worship, reminders of God's permanence in an ever-changing world. He pitched his tents, and he built his altars. He knew the difference between the temporary and the eternal. They lived in tents because they looked for a city with foundations, whose builder and maker is God.
Back during the dot-com boom and bust, I heard a report on NPR about all the baby boomer billionaires with fabulous fortunes and the frantic spending on expensive cars, homes, and gigots and gadgets. Then, just as suddenly came the overnight drop in those overnight fortunes. The commentator used a phrase which has stuck with me. He said, "They didn't realize it was only on paper."
Only on paper.
And I recalled the story Jesus told of a baby billionaire. His farm business was booming. You can check it out on www.biggerbarns.com. So he said to himself: "What shall I do? I've got all this stuff, all this wealth. I know, I will build bigger barns." And he did. But God said:
Thou fool. This night thy soul shall be required of thee…then whose shall these things be? So is he who lays up treasure for himself, but is not rich toward God. (Luke 12:13-21)
Only on paper. We pay more attention to our paper fortunes than our eternal souls. We are more concerned about our relationship with our accountants than our relationship with God. We invest more in our tents than in our altars. And the confusion between the things which are temporary and the things which endure threatens to undo us.
Abraham and Sarah had it about right. They lived in the midst of the transient, living in temporary tents, with an eye toward something which would give their lives foundations, something lasting, eternal, a life whose builder and maker is God.
Living in tents, looking for the city...
3. So they went out, backing into the future.
In seminary, I studied Greek but not Hebrew, so at this point, I will once again turn to Dennis Kinlaw to interpret it for me. He says that in Hebrew, as in English, a word can have more than one meaning. We lived in England for a time and discovered we really are "two nations separated by a common language." In the USA, a boot is something you put on your foot. In England, a boot is the trunk of a car, but of course, the word trunk can also mean the proboscis of an elephant.
The same is true in Hebrew. The Hebrew word for right can also mean south, and the word for left can also mean north. The word for east can also mean past. The word for west can also mean future. Which means we are standing in such a way that we face east with our backs to the west. We can see the past, but the future is unknown and uncertain, so we cautiously back our way into it. "But," Dr. Kinlaw said, "God literally has eyes in the back of his head! God knows the future as well as the past, so the most sensible thing in the world is to place our hand in his and move out in faith. And it's the fool who keeps his hand out of the hand of God and tries to walk it by himself."
Our Lord Jesus Christ knows the end as well as the beginning. He is the alpha and the omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.
In these early days of our journey together, I am not certain what the future holds. I've been listening…in over 25 home gatherings, in committees and groups, with individuals. I've been asking about our hopes and dreams for the future. And I am trying to listen for the voice of the Spirit in it all. Frankly, it is not yet clear just where God might be leading us.
I do know this is a time of great transition in the life of this church:
- new opportunities for ministry through the CLC
- new experiences in fellowship and growth in group life
- new doors of service and mission in the community and around the world
- new avenues of spiritual formation and growth
At this point, I feel like we are backing into the future. But when God has been so good in the past, when his leading has been so reliable, when God has blessed this church in so many ways across the years, I am willing to place my hand in his, and trust him for the future. We can back our way into the future with confidence and hope.
There is an old hymn which no longer appears in the United Methodist hymnal. It could have been the song of Abraham and Sarah, and in days of uncertainty in our world and new opportunity in our church, it could be our song as well.
God of our life, through all the circling years,
we trust in thee.
In all the past, through all our hopes and fears,
thy hand we see
With each new day, when morning lifts the veil,
We own thy mercies, Lord, which never fail.
God of the past, our times are in thy hand,
with us abide.
Lead us by faith to hope's true promised land,
be thou our guide
With thee to bless, the darkness shines as light
And faith's fair vision changes into sight.
God of the coming years, through paths unknown,
we follow thee
When we are strong, Lord, leave us not alone,
our refuge be.
Be thou for us in life our daily bread,
Our heart's true home when all our years have fled. [2]
1. NY Times, page 19, Sept. 4, 2005.
2. 1964 UM Hymnal, page 47