"God works wanders." I read again the Christmas letter from an old friend of the family, typed in this computer age on some ancient typewriter. Surely it was a typo. Looking back over his life, he meant to say, "God works wonders." And surely God does work wonders. But he works wanders too. I found myself reflecting, as our elderly friend had done, on the changes of the years.

God works wanders. Abram and Sarai must have believed that, too. Seventy-five years old, he is asked -- commanded -- to leave his country, his people, his home. He isn't told where he is going. There are no four-color brochures to lure them there. The wilderness stretches wide before them, as Abram and Sarai and their little company set out.

Did their friends and family walk with them to a rise in the road and then wav…