February 21, 2016 – The Second Sunday in Lent
© 2016 Evan D. Garner
Getting elected is all
about making promises that you can’t keep, and staying elected is all about
convincing everyone that not keeping them is someone else’s fault. There are
websites out there that track the broken promises of elected officials, but who
cares? Shouldn’t we expect those grandiose claims made on the campaign trail to
fizzle into nothing? I don’t know who is more to blame: the politicians who
make those ridiculous promises or the voters who convince themselves that this
time their favorite candidate might actually keep them.
But, of all the
ridiculous promises that I’ve heard over the last few months, none is as crazy
or as far-fetched as the promise God made to Abram in today’s reading from
Genesis: “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able …[that’s how
numerous] your descendants [shall] be.” Even in the twenty-first century, with
all of our advancements in fertility treatments, to say to an 85-year-old man
whose 75-year-old wife had never been able to conceive, “You’re going to be a
father,” is patently ridiculous. But that’s exactly what God said. And what’s
even more preposterous is that Abram believed it.
This little story—this nighttime
encounter when God spoke to Abram—becomes the bedrock upon which Judaism,
Christianity, and Islam are all built. God had blessed this wandering herdsman
from Mesopotamia. His wealth was exceedingly great, but still something was
missing—something that kept him up at night. And, on one of those sleepless
nights, God came to Abram and said, “What’s wrong, Abram? Why are you worried?
I’ll take care of you. Your reward will be great.” But to Abram that sounded
like the promise of more wealth, and the thought of running out of money wasn’t
what kept him up. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful,” Abram replied, “but what
will you give me? For I am childless, and I have no one to carry my name into the
future. At this point, a slave born in my house will be my heir.” And God said
to that 85-year-old man, “No, Abram. This man will not be your heir. I will
give you a child—your very own son—and he will be your heir.”
“Look toward heaven and
count the stars, if you are able to count them…So shall your descendants be.”
And, despite the odds, despite the absolute impossibility of what the Lord had
said to him, Abram believed it, and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.
Abram’s faith changed who he was in God’s eyes. No longer was he a man without
a future. He had become the one through whom God’s promises would come true. And,
even though he hadn’t yet conceived a child, he was already the father of God’s
people. When God made a promise too huge to believe, Abram believed it anyway,
and that act of believing the unbelievable became the faith that binds the
people of God to the one who can make the impossible possible.
But Abram’s faithfulness
is only half of the story. There’s another part—the strange part at the end—the
part with the animal carcasses and the flaming torch and the smoking fire pot.
Sure, Abram’s willingness to believe God is remarkable, but even more
incredible is God’s willingness to put his reputation on the line, and, in that
dramatic and strange vision, God did exactly that.
“How will I know,” Abram
asked God, “that this land you have promised me will be mine?” Abram might have
believed God, but he wanted some verification, too. Unlike the promise of an
heir, the promise of the land would not be fulfilled for several generations
(as the verses our lesson omitted today make clear). So this request for a sign
wasn’t just for Abram and his wife but also for their descendants—a sign that throughout
the generations God would not forget his promise. So God told Abram to prepare
a heifer and a she-goat and a ram and a turtledove and two pigeons and lay the
carcasses out upon some rocks. And, after Abram had fallen into a deep sleep,
the Lord appeared to him in a vision and made a covenant with him. An ancient
custom for two parties wishing to seal an unbreakable promise between them
involved slaughtering some animals and laying them out upon some rocks and then
passing between them as a way of saying, “May the same fate happen to me if I
break my word.” In Abram’s vision, the flaming torch and the smoking fire pot were
God himself. God had passed between those rocks. In so doing, God had declared
to Abram, “If I break my promise, may I be as dead as these hunks of meat.”
Now, that’s a pretty
silly thing to think about—God ending up like a side of beef—but the risk to
God was real. In this covenant, God put his very identity on the line. God is,
by definition, the faithful one. If God makes and seals a promise but doesn’t
keep it, our very understanding of who God is unravels completely. If God were
to be unfaithful, God might as well be dead. So, when God made these ridiculous
promises to Abram, it wasn’t just Abram’s faithfulness that was being put to
the test. God’s faithfulness was on trial, too.
But why would God do
that? God didn’t need to. There are countless people in countless cultures with
countless so-called divinities who have told stories about human beings
believing something about a particular god. But when does one of those gods
ever stake its reputation—its very existence—on the fulfillment of a promise?
God wasn’t merely making a promise to Abram. He was enacting a covenant with
him—a two-way relationship that depended upon mutual faithfulness. This
covenant invited something more than awe and wonder. It inspired trust—the kind
of trust that exists between two lifelong friends. In this covenant, Abram
belonged to God, and God likewise belonged to Abram and his descendants forever.
Our God is faithful. Our God makes the impossible possible. And, even more amazing than that, our God chooses to have a real, meaningful relationship with God’s people—with us. In order for that to happen, God chooses to be vulnerable—to allow us the freedom of knowing that, if God ever broke his promises, we would be justified in deserting him. But God never does break his promises, and, thus, we are invited time after time to believe in him. In the story of Jesus Christ, God reveals yet again that his love has no limits—that his faithfulness never comes to an end. In the cross, God shows that he is willing to put himself on the line in order to convey to us that his love can never be broken. God is making a ridiculous promise to you. He is promising to love you no matter what. He is promising that there is nothing you can do to separate yourself from that love. That kind of love from God is unbelievable but true. Will you believe it? Will you believe that God loves you that much?
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