This
Sunday, I shall be speaking about Abraham, who is also known as the father of
faith. We meet him in Genesis, the first book of the Bible, the origin-stories.
By
way of context, we first meet his father, Terah. Terah lived in what today we
would call southern Iraq, and had three sons, Abram, Nahor and Haran. Haran
pre-deceases his father, and after this loss, Terah determines to set out for
Canaan. He is searching for something, and though it is not made explicit, the
implications is that he is searching for the God who will be known by his son
Abram. His eldest son and his orphaned grandson go with him, while his other
surviving son chooses to remain in the place he knows. They travel north along
the Fertile Crescent between the rivers Tigris and Euphrates, until they reach
the foothills of the mountains of what we know as Turkey, coming to a place
called Haran. It is a different language, different root and meaning, but the
name sounds like the name of his dead son. Whether that is painful, or
comforting, or both, Terah finds himself unable to go any further, settling and
eventually dying there.
It
is possible that Terah’s story is your story. I meet quite a few people who
have an innate sense that God exists, and even a strong hunch that he might be
encountered in a church, in the local church I serve; who make a plan to turn
up at public worship, but who — for a variety of reasons — just can’t get over
the threshold. It is too daunting. I know others who come every week, perhaps
out of force of habit or sense of duty, but who carry some sense of loss that
prevents them from knowing God as fully as they had hoped, or once did. Terah’s
story is not unusual; but more is possible.
After
Terah dies, the Lord God speaks to Abram. And that is noteworthy in itself. The
story takes it for granted that God speaks, to humans. And not just to
vanishingly rare Important People. If God speaks to the father of faith, anyone
who traces their heritage back to Abraham — Jews, Christians, Muslims — should
expect to hear this God speak to them, too. To hear God’s voice. To learn to
recognise the voice of God, the things that God would say to us.
And
what God says is, Get out, get away — there is a sense of urgency here — from
your country and your kindred and your father’s house. Not because these things
don’t matter, but because God does not want us to find our security in them.
Because, ultimately, these things aren’t secure. Who settles, and who rules
over, geography changes continuously over time, not only over long stretches of
time but in a continually ebb and flow. Culture changes, from generation to
generation, so that you are quickly left behind by the concerns, the
vocabulary, of the generation below you. Family can be a source of strength,
but also of wounding, of enmity, of division. The word for ‘house’ can also be
translated ‘palace’ or ‘dungeon’: families can exercise a hold over us; even
where we love and are loved by our families, they can prevent us from going
beyond where we now are.
Jesus
will call these things — sources of privilege such as ethnicity, nationality,
socio-economic background, gender, sexuality, education — the flesh, saying
flesh gives birth to flesh but the Spirit of God gives birth to the spirit. It
is also noteworthy that Jesus called the Temple in Jerusalem ‘my Father’s
house,’ and for some, our cherished church practices can become a dungeon that
imprisons us. If that is your story, the Spirit of God wants to set you free.
Instead
of in these things, God wants Abram to find security in God. In knowing himself
to be a child of God. In knowing God to be a loving Father. As my wife would
put it, knowing WHO you are, and knowing WHOSE you are.
(Abram
means Great, or Exalted, Father. But Abram is childless. He has no heir. His
name is as unwelcome as a Best Dad In The World mug to a man with low sperm
count. But God wants to bring healing to Abram, first by showing Abram that he,
God, is a Loving Father, and in time by giving Abram a new name, Abraham, the
Father of a Multitude, the father of all who follow in his footsteps walking
with God.)
God
calls Abram — and his descendants — out of every familiar source of hoped-for
security, to become foreigners wherever they find themselves. To identify with
the immigrants, those on the outside of national identity, cultural identity,
self-interest. To be a significant sub-group within the host people but not of
the host people. To be, as immigrant communities usually are, a community who
seek to bless the host people. To serve their neighbours. To add value.
God
tells Abram that if he sets out on this adventure, he will meet two kinds of
people. He will meet those who bless him, who affirm him, encourage him, those
who ask how they can support him. And he will meet those who curse him, who
speak ill of him, on account of his faith, who oppose him. God tells Abram to
expect both responses, and that God will multiply blessing wherever the
intention to bless is found; and frustrate all intention to curse Abram,
working to constrain evil, to transform it effectively against itself by
bringing good out of actions intended for harm.
If
you have set out on the journey of faith in the footsteps of Abram, you can
expect to encounter the same reactions. We should not be surprised by this. We
can give thanks for openness and hostility, for invitations and challenges, for
favour and frustration, all as signs of still being on the path to a
destination we don’t yet fully know, in the company of a trustworthy guide.
Maybe
you recognise yourself in the story of Abram. Of faith, stalled by
circumstances. Of the search for security — identity, meaning — in structures
that are, inherently, unstable. Or perhaps of feeling like an outsider, and
feeling alone, not part of a mighty people-group. Maybe you want to be a
blessing, but struggle to see yourself in such terms, as something — someone —
who is a gift to the world. Or perhaps you are struggling with the hostile
reaction of others towards the things that matter to you.
Abraham’s
story is the story of his descendants in faith. If that story resonates with
you — if anything above intrigues you — I’d love to talk to you about that, to
hear your story. To bless you. And to pray for you, that you would see and hear
and know God more clearly.
If
you are geographically local to me, you’d be most welcome to join us on Sunday
morning, at 10.30 a.m. at St Nicholas Church, Sunderland
Genesis
12.1-4
‘Now
the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your
father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great
nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a
blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will
curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” So Abram
went, as the Lord had told him; and Lot went with him. Abram was seventy-five
years old when he departed from Haran.’
