Year
C, Lent 2
Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18
I
started the ordination process when I was 26.
I had just finished my 3rd year in seminary, so things were a
little backwards for me. Typically you
enter the ordination process before going to seminary. Therefore, when they
told me ordination was probably 2 years out (and that was only because the
Bishop was supporting an expedited process), that seemed like forever. It wasn’t-- but at age 26, it felt like forever. People
kept telling me to be patient and that, “God’s time is not your time.” That was really annoying…because what can you
possibly say to that when the vocation you are pursuing is one that expects that not only will you trust
God, but also talk to other people about the importance of trusting God? I was told by a mentor that I needed to be
careful that I never gave the impression (to anyone in authority) that I was in
a hurry and certainly that I should not complain to anyone about how long it
was taking. That turned out to be very good advice.
Thankfully
God doesn’t have the same rules about complaining. Because if God did, Abraham would never have
become the father of a nation and one of the fathers of our faith. Then again,
he had more to complain about than I did.
God had picked Abraham out of obscurity to be a leader. He had promised Abraham, that if he obeyed
him, he would be given land and children.
The piece about children was extra important to Abraham because by the
time God called him, his wife Sarah was already considered barren, which means
they were a bit on the older side. Despite
their inability to conceive, God had promised Abraham that his descendants
would be as numerous as the dust of the earth. Yet by the time we get to our
reading for today, decades have passed since that initial promise---Abraham had
done everything that God had asked of him--- and he and his wife were still childless.
Thus,
when God came to him and declared, “Do not be afraid…I am your shield; your
reward shall be very great”---Abraham’s response was a little exasperated. Now, obviously, I wasn’t there, but I imagine
Abraham reacting a bit like this:.
He essentially said, “You haven’t
even come through on the first promise you gave me. I want a child!” God’s response is
interesting. God didn’t say, “Look, your
time isn’t the same as my time. You need
to be patient.” He said, “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are
able to count them. So shall your descendants
be.” He didn’t defend his promise or the lack of progress on that promise. He expanded the promise. He said to Abraham, this is bigger than you
can possibly imagine. Forget the whole
dust of the earth analogy I used before, now I want you to imagine the stars of
the sky. That is how vast your progeny
will be.
And you know what, that
was all it took for Abraham. He
believed. He still had some complaining
to do---but he believed. Minutes later when
God again promised him acquisition of land, Abraham asked him to give him some
proof. It’s not that Abraham didn’t
believe God’s promise. He did. But he
needed something tangible.
That’s
when things get a little weird in our reading.
God asked Abraham for some animals that could be sacrificed. He asked Abraham to cut the animals in two and
then Abraham fell asleep. When it was
night, a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch passed between the two halves of
each animal. After the smoking pot and
flaming torch passed between the sacrificed animals, the Lord made his covenant
with Abraham. Really, he affirmed the
covenant that he had already made.
Let
me break down the imagery of the smoking fire pot and flaming torch. First of all the Hebrew word translated to
covenant means, “to cut.” Thus, cutting the animals in half symbolized
creating/cutting the covenant. In this
scene, the smoking pot and flaming torch symbolized the Lord and by passing
through the cut animals, the Lord was showing Abraham that he was the one
making the promise. By passing through
these dead animals, God was deepening the promise by making it about life and
death. One commentator (Rolf Jacobson) described this by
giving God these words: “I pledge my very life as surety of this promise. If I fail to keep this promise, let me be
slain just as the goat, the sheep and the ram were slain.”[1] It’s hard to get more tangible than that.
Here’s
the thing about God. God always keeps
his promises. Sometimes it takes a
little longer than we would hope. It
would be many more years before Sarah would conceive her first born. And it would be even more years before God
would make that ultimate sacrifice that he predicted that night with Abraham—sacrificing
himself.
We are in the season of
Lent. Every Sunday, Jesus comes a little
closer to his death. While God did keep his promise with Abraham, God’s people
did not hold up our end of the deal. We still could not commit to a
relationship with God. But God never
breaks promises and God never gives up on his children. His love is so deep and so wide, that God
will do anything to redeem that love, even if it means dying on the cross. So despite the fact that God did not break
his promise, God decided that the only way we could see his love was by
sacrificing himself.
It’s
ok to complain to God. Because if you
are complaining, that means you are still talking. If you are still talking, that means that you
still have hope. And as long you
maintain that sliver of hope, God will find a way to break through and show you
how deep and wide his love for you is. When
God told Abraham to look at the sky and try to count the stars, he wasn’t just
reminding him of the number of ancestors he would have. He was encouraging him to look outside of
himself. So often, we can get caught up
in our own worries (or the worries of those closest to us) that we forget to
open our eyes wide enough to see the evidence of God’s love that is all around
us.
During Lent we
emphasize the importance of inner reflection and examination. That is important. But sometimes when we are doing that internal
reflection, we are just talking to ourselves instead of talking to God, or more
importantly, listening to God. God’s
love is deep and wide. It lives within us and beyond us. If for some reason, you can’t feel God within
you, look outside. Maybe, do something
trite like watching the sun set over the water or gaze at the stars on a clear
night or listen to a particularly powerful piece of music or maybe just take a
deep breath and remember how lucky you are to be breathing when for so many,
breathing is agony. Then when you have
that experience, send me an e-mail or give me a call because I need reminders
of God’s majesty and love as much as each of you. Hopefully, that is what we are for one
another in the church, evidence of God’s love, a love that will never give up.
[1]
Rolf Jacobson from Working Preacher: http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=4001
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