Step three: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to God as we understood him.

In seminary I was preparing to take the final exam for my course in Theology 101. In any survey course there is always far more to study than is possible to cover. I tried to study the entire field of theological thought. I reviewed all my class notes. I even resorted to prayer. But neither the study nor the prayer prepared me for the only question on that final exam. The question went something like this:

A man was having trouble in his life and wanted strength to face it. But he found it impossible to pray to a God whom he could not see, so he asked a friend what to do. The friend advised him that if he could not envision an all powerful though invisible God, he should picture in his mind the most powerful thing he could think of.

The man gave it a lot of thought, and the most powerful thing he could imagine was a Greyhound bus. So he knelt down and prayed to this Greyhound bus. And behold, he found insight and help for his trouble by praying to a Greyhound bus. We were then supposed to make comments on the theological propriety of this. I remember saying something to the effect that if it works it is a good start. And I remember passing the final.

Having trouble understanding the existence and nature of God is not unusual. Honestly examining the nature of God and exploring new possibilities as to what this God may truly be like is an eternal human challenge.

When I hear folks say they do not believe in God, I have to ask, "Which God? In which God do you not believe?" We can easily confuse our thoughts about God with the reality of God. We can easily confuse our anger, which seeks vengeance without mercy, with the anger of our God, who may seek vengeance but is always merciful. When we have been wronged, we want restitution. When God is wronged, he seeks reconciliation. Our God is a God of forgiveness who welcomes us back when we turn to him.

Like the man who prayed to the Greyhound bus, we have all asked questions of God and wondered why God does not answer. It occurs to me that maybe God does not want to answer the particular question we ask. We have a little neighbor boy who is always asking questions. He always wants to know where my boys are and why and what for, and are they being punished and what for, and when are they going to come out to play.

At first I tried to answer his questions. Then I told him that he did not need to know. Then I told him it was none of his business. Now when he asks questions, I just tell him I will tell him what he needs to know, but I will not answer any of his questions. Maybe we ask God questions that God does not choose to answer. Maybe we ask the wrong questions or seek the wrong things.

We seek evidence of things unseen. There is evidence: the birds are fed, the flowers are clothed, the rain falls on the just and the unjust, the sun rises and sets. But that does not meet the criteria we establish. Our thoughts are our thoughts. God's thoughts are God's. And there is a great chasm between them.

Yet we still seek that power that is so much greater than our own. How can we seek God? How can we know God? The psalmist said, "Be still and know that I am God." We cannot shout God down. God does not shout us down. There are verbal skills in speech. There are listening skills as others speak to us. Then there is the skill of listening to the silence. This is the basic skill needed in prayer.

If God's ways are higher than our ways and God's thoughts higher than our thoughts, how can we ever hope to hear what God says? We can, because, even though God is infinitely higher, God is not removed. We are created in God's image. The Bible always talks about God in terms and concepts related to humankind. We think. God thinks. We act. God acts. God is greater than us, but related.

God lets us experience the power, the forgiveness, the love of God in human experience. Earlier this year a group from the church gathered to discuss losses we have experienced. There were a variety of losses we shared with one another, losses by death, loss of health, loss of employment, losses that come through moving.

We found there were common threads in how those various losses were experienced and a common thread in how that loss was managed or was not managed. People's inability to face loss had to do with keeping the loss to themselves, and trying to cope using their own strength. People's ability to cope came with the willingness to share the loss, the pain and the struggle with others, to gain strength from outside themselves.

The willingness to rely on the strength of others and to let others rely on our strength lets us begin to understand and experience relying on God's strength. Our culture values self-sufficiency and celebrates the self-made person. These are the very values that can lead us to rely more on the power of a Greyhound bus than the power of God.

There is a story about a college woman who was having lunch with five other friends. When she silently bowed her head to say grace, the others laughed. Following her silent prayer, she asked the others, "What are you laughing at?" They said, "Well ... you know," and continued snickering.

"Aren't you grateful?" she asked. "For what? We paid for the food." "But where did you get the money?" she continued. "Family," they said. "Where did they get it?" "Worked for it" was the reply. "But where did they get the strength - where does it all begin?" That evening at supper two of her friends began saying grace. The next day all five of them said it with her.

This God may be high and lifted up, but it is the same God who stoops to offer mercy and abundant pardon for those who are willing to seek and call upon God. Those who live in the illusion of their own strength remove themselves from God.

There is a story told about a man named Sven who was an immigrant from Sweden. Sven had to find work in his new country and landed a job painting stripes down the center of the highways. This was before there were machines to do this job.

Sven went to work his first day and ended up painting two miles of an almost perfectly straight line down the center of the highway. Sven's boss was never so pleased, for no one had ever before painted two miles of center stripe in one day. The next day out, Sven painted one mile of center stripe, which was still quite good, and his boss was well satisfied.

But the next day Sven only painted half a mile of stripe, and the fourth day he painted just a quarter mile. Finally the boss decided he would have a talk with Sven because he was no longer satisfied with his work. The boss said to Sven, "Sven, you painted two miles on your first day and now you're down to a quarter mile. What's happened?" Sven answered, "Vell, you see each day my bucket get furder and furder away."

Those who seek the Lord often complain that God is getting further and further away. But is it God who has moved away from us, or are we moving away from God?

It takes faith to seek and to turn your life over to God. It is that faith which the writer of Hebrews addresses.

There are some understandings of faith that are inadequate. For some, faith gets conceived of in terms of what is rational versus what is irrational. If it is not rational, then it must be a matter of faith. If it is rational, it is not a matter of faith.

For others, faith means believing something to be true where the evidence is not sufficient to establish knowledge. I read a story about a pastor who called at a home to arrange the funeral of an elderly man who was not a church member nor a professing Christian, but was highly regarded in his community. The widow said, "He was a believer. He believed in God."

Later this pastor speculated, what if, in the early years of their marriage, the wife had asked, "Do you believe in me?" Suppose he answered, "Yes, dear, I believe you exist." The common thinking is that faith progresses to knowledge. It is just the other way. The progression should be from knowledge to faith. "I know you exist. Now I believe in you."

In this marvelous passage, the author of Hebrews describes faith. This is not a definition of faith but a testimony to how that faith works. And the author illustrates this faith in biblical history. As the New English Bible translates it, "Faith gives substance to our hope." This is the confidence of those who live in the certainty that God's redemptive work and its future fulfillment are more significant than a particular moment in time.

This spring I planted a garden. It was not long after it was planted that my wife asked me what was planted in each row. I was not sure, because when I planted the seeds, I had the assistance of my two little boys, who kept grabbing packets of seeds to help. Because I was so busy keeping them from helping and retrieving the seed packages, I did not write down what got planted where. In addition, I could not tell which seeds they had scattered in which rows.

There was only one way to know what was planted where. Wait until the plant begins to grow and bear fruit. After a time you can tell the difference between carrots and radishes, between leaf lettuce and romaine, between zucchini and cucumbers. You tell by the fruits the plants bear.

Assurance, hope, faith - these are not based on some naive trust. Time and again God's spirit has borne fruit when all we saw for some time was barren ground. We can not see into the future, let alone far into this day. How can we have faith in where God is leading us? We can look back and know what God has done, the fruit borne by the faithful, the faith of our parents, and from this evidence trust God with this day and tomorrow.

What do you need to make a decision to turn your will and life over to God? Call it faith, call it trust, call it willingness. No more, no less. There is a story of an American tourist who paid a visit to the renowned Polish rabbi Hofetz Chaim. The tourist was astonished to see that the rabbi's home was but a simple, single room. Beside many books, the only furnishings were a table and bench.

"Rabbi," asked the American, "where is all your furniture?" To which Chaim replied, "And where is yours?" "Mine?" asked the tourist with a puzzled tone. "I'm just a visitor here. I'm only passing through." "So am I," answered the rabbi, "So am I." Faith is all we need to pass through this life.

This is not the hope which looks forward with wistful longing. It is the hope which looks forward with utter certainty. It is not the hope which takes refuge in a perhaps. It is the hope which is founded on a conviction.

In seminary I took a course whose very title fascinated me: "The Christian Understanding of History." I will save you three years of seminary education and tell you in one sentence what this was all about.

Our God is made known in the events of history. The writer of Hebrews recounts where God has been made known. He begins with the evidence from creation. "By faith we understand that the world was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was made out of things which do not appear."

The passage we heard read through the chapter and into the next tells of characters in biblical lore from Abel in the book of Genesis on through Scripture. It talks about those who made a faith decision to turn their will and lives over to God.

God's ways are higher than ours. God's thoughts are higher than ours. Yet ours is a God who is present and accessible, even in our ignorance. Helen Keller, when communication had been made by touch of hand through long and patient love, when she could learn about God in Christ, replied in newly-learned language that she knew all this before, but did not know God's name. She had experienced the higher power before, but now knew what to call that power.

We know because we can look at what our God has done in the past and have the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things unseen. We do not have to call on the power of a Greyhound bus or any other human creation. We have heard proclaimed this power as the God made known to us in Jesus Christ.

It is as we hear in the verse from "Amazing Grace." "Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; 'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home."