Abram did, for instance. He might be a patriarch, we might applaud his faith, but, when it comes right down to it, we would judge him really to be rather rash and irresponsible. (Honestly, now, would you hold up Abram’s quick decision to pack up and go as an example for your son or daughter, or for yourself?) Our Presbyterian way would not just be to demand a brochure and a map. We would appoint a committee to study the matter and make a recommendation before changing the status quo in any way. And if money were concerned . . .
But the blessedness of Abram here lies not in his being cautious or organized or ambitious. The blessedness of Abram, and perhaps the blessedness of any human being, lies in acknowledging one’s right relationship with God, trusting the sufficiency of God’s provision for whatever life may bring us, and committing oneself to being a blessing for others. Faith is not about speculation, but about action. Saying that he believed in God but not doing what God said to do would not only have meant that Abram’s faith was false, but also that Abram would have remained childless, unresponsive to the future God had planned for him and for Sarai and for their family that would never be if they were to remain safe and secure though unfruitful in Haran. And the rest of the world would have remained unblessed. The past was a bleak story; if there was to be a different future, Abram had to risk embracing the promise that God was holding out to him. And so, in the blink of an eye, without any calculating or scheming, Abram reached out to God, let go of the past, and threw himself into the future that was unknown to anyone but God. Abram could not foresee the end of his adventure, but he had the courage to begin. And God faithfully took care of the rest. And what the world then, and the world now, would call “reckless” and “irresponsible,” God blessed as “faith.”
The Bible doesn’t tell us what God would have done if Abram had refused, had sat down and shaken his head and concluded that such an adventure was just too fraught with uncertainties. It seems to me that Abram was not the only one taking a risk here. God was taking a risk, too—the risk of being turned down, but also the risk that his offer would be accepted—and then that God would be bound in covenant to this man and his generations of progeny that weren’t even born yet. Would they be worthy? Would they uphold their end of the bargain?
But God took the risk, and the Bible testifies that, for his part, God remained faithful all along, despite all of the missteps of the Israelites, including a few missteps by Abram himself. And finally, it was one of Abraham’s own descendants, as Matthew shows Jesus to have been, that Paul testifies fulfilled God’s original intention in seeking out Abram and making the covenant after the disappointing start to creation that ended with the flood: the redemption of the creation God loves through the faithfulness of Jesus, God’s own Son but also reckoned a child of Abraham, and Jesus’ death on the cross and resurrection from the tomb. And for anyone to confess Jesus Christ as Lord, and that God raised him from the dead, means to share the faith of Abraham whose covenant with God is fulfilled in Christ—to reach out from the shadows of stagnation and despair and let go of the safe and the familiar. Genealogy is no longer important, adhering to the Torah is no longer necessary, for the distinction between Abraham’s biological family—the Jews—and Abraham’s family by faith—Gentiles who have responded to Christ in faith—that distinction is forever overcome and set aside. The same God who gave life where there was none—the birds and the fish and the cattle and every creeping thing and man and woman—is the God who again gave life where there was none—a child to barren and childless Abraham and Sarah in their old age—and is the God who once again gave life where there was none—to the dead and buried Jesus—and is the God who yet again gives life where there was none—the quickening faith that leads people out from caverns of hopelessness into the full daylight of God’s purpose of salvation. And this same God blesses and continues to bless all families of the earth through the faithful witness, by words and deeds, of people who are open to hearing God’s call and are willing to act on it immediately, without question, without calculation, without regret.
“As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, ‘Follow me.’ And he got up and followed him” (Matt 9:9, NRSV). That is a characteristic of disciples, according to Matthew—a willingness, without deliberation or debate, to trust Jesus—God’s Son—enough to reach out from the ordinary expectations of life, the ordinary securities of life, the ordinary disappointments of life—and let go the past so that we can be part of God’s future, to allow ourselves to be blessed by God and, by risking in faith, be a blessing to others. What if Abram had said “no,” or even said he’d have to think about it? What if Matthew or any of the others of the twelve had said “no,” or even said they’d have to think about it? Perhaps we begin to understand the consequences to God’s passionate purpose of redeeming the world if we should say “no,” or even “I’ll have to think about it.” The call of Christ may come at any moment to risk acting on faith so that we may be blessed and be a blessing. Faith in Jesus Christ means being ready, at every moment, to reach out and let go.
Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
Spanish Springs Presbyterian Church, Sparks, Nevada
June 13, 1999
Genesis 18:1–15; 21:1–7
Romans 5:1–8
Matthew 9:35—10:8
“Work in Progress”
“Therefore,” begins the fifth chapter of Paul’s letter to the Romans, “since we are justified by faith” (Rom 5:1a, NRSV). “Justified”? If you are new to the Christian faith, or if you are just beginning to explore what it is all about, you may sometimes feel that, when you open the Bible, you find yourself in a whole new world of ideas and terms. In fact, it can be so intimidating that you just close the book and think that you’ll try it again later. Oh, the stories in Genesis are pleasant enough, and intriguing. And the parables of Jesus ring with a truth that preachers’ sermons often only manage to get in the way of. But a lot of the Old Testament you find frankly redundant and rather boring—believe me, hardly anyone gets excited by Leviticus,—and much of the Old Testament may seem far removed from where you live and the questions that you ask, and it is not sacrilegious to admit that quite a few of the New Testament epistles are rather tedious and technical. Take, for instance, this business about being “justified.” That seems to be the very sort of religious jargon that would turn off people who are wondering whether or not Christianity is for them.
The word “justify” literally means to make right, to make correct, to make blameless, to make acceptable in the sight of another person. It is a term borrowed from the legal world, and of course, any word that is at home someplace as earthy as a courtroom is going to have its limitations in explaining something that has to do with the spirit. The apostle Paul, who wrote the letter to the Christians at Rome, most of whom were of pagan background, was trying to answer for his readers their question of whether, since the death and resurrection of Christ, God still had any interest in the Jews. The Jews had believed that “justification”—that is, being made right in the sight of God—had to do with keeping the law—all of the rules and regulations that God had given to Moses and Moses had passed on to his people long ago, including things like circumcision and the sorts of food a righteous person could and could not eat. Was God still interested in the Jews after so many of them had rejected his own Son? Were the law and the prophets still important after Jesus had died on the cross and been raised from the tomb? And, so, was it important to continue to follow all of the Jewish laws?
Paul’s answer, in a nutshell, is that the law is still important—it is, after all, a gift from God—but it is not the keeping of the law that makes us right with God. It is not the law that justifies us in God’s sight. It is not our obeying the law that saves us, whether it be avoiding particular foods or keeping the Ten Commandments. Rather, we are justified by faith. We are made right, we are made correct, we are made blameless, we are made acceptable in God’s sight, by the sheer grace of God when we have faith in Jesus Christ, God’s
