No Guarantees

Genesis 12:1-7

July 3, 2016 • Mount Pleasant UMC

Video/Skit Intro

Sermon Study Guide

It starts when we are young. Almost as soon as we learn to talk, we start asking questions—especially those “why” questions that parents love so much. “Why is the sky blue?” “Why can’t I play in the street?” “Why can’t we have pizza for every meal?” It’s been a long time since we’ve had little ones at home, so I don’t remember every question, but I do remember that there were a lot of them! And yet, even as we grow, the questions continue, we may just not ask them out loud anymore. In fact, a lot of times, as we get older, the questions get bigger, and we might even be a bit afraid to ask them out loud. Some of our questions seem to big that we don’t dare to ask them out loud.

Last fall, on Facebook, I asked what sorts of topics you would be willing to invite someone to come and hear a sermon about, and out of that poll came a lot of questions. Some of them are big questions, like why do the innocent suffer, or why do my prayers go unanswered. How can I find God’s will for my life, and what difference does baptism make? Questions like that, often asked in quiet, or in the dark. So for the month of July, we’re going to take on those questions, but I need to give you this disclaimer up front. These are, for the most part, questions that theologians and people a lot smarter than me have thought about and written about for centuries, so let’s not think that we’re going to come up with complete, neat and tidy answers in the twenty to thirty minutes we have on Sunday morning. Rather, my goal over the next few weeks is to share how I’ve wrestled with these questions, ways I’ve come to live with the questions, and to help you begin to think through some of the issues that come out of these questions in our daily lives. Toward that end, and somewhat by “popular demand,” I’m bringing back the daily Scripture readings in the bulletin; you’ll find them this morning on the back side of the sermon outline. I’ll also be blogging on these Scriptures throughout the week, and perhaps that can be an avenue where we explore these questions on a deeper level in between Sundays. But, ultimately, my hope and prayer is that we’ll be able to draw closer to God in spite of the questions we might ask of him, and that’s actually where we’re going to begin, with one of the biggest questions that haunts people today: can I trust in a God I cannot see?

To begin to wrestle with that question, I want to take you back to the beginning. Well, not to the very beginning, but to the beginning of one man’s walk with God. The first eleven chapters of Genesis are what we might call “primeval history.” Those chapters give us a 30,000-foot view of history, grand sweeps of time periods. Every once in a while, the story zooms in on an individual, like Noah, but mostly in those chapters there are large parts of history compressed into just a few words or chapters. It’s when we get to Genesis 12 that the story zooms in on one person, one family, and it’s because it’s at that point in history that God himself zooms in on one family, one man. At the beginning of Genesis 12, God calls to a man named Abram and makes a ridiculous claim on his life. So with that claim and that call, the real story begins.

What’s perhaps most amazing about Abram is that he wasn’t especially special. There’s not a whole lot unique about this herdsman from the land of Sumer. The Bible doesn’t tell us he’s smarter or stronger or faster or better looking than anyone else of that day. The world Abram lived in wasn’t particularly unique, either. It was a place full of idol worship. Ur, where Abram had come from, was a primary center for the worship of the moon god, Nannar, but it was also a place, like our modern large cities, where a lot of cultures and religions intermingled. Abram was probably exposed to a lot of different religious thought, and even more so when he and his family moved to Haran (cf. Merrill, Kingdom of Priests, pgs. 25-28). Abram was probably an idol worshipper, as it was common practice to make an image of your god, in this case the moon god, and be able to keep your god safely at home. There, you could worship and pray to this little statue. Idols were big business in that part of the world. Abram, we’re given to believe, is not any different than those around him except in this one thing: when God spoke to him, Abram heard him.

It’s a crazy call that God gives to Abram. Listen to what he asks of this man who, up to this point, had no contact with God. “Go,” God said, “from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you” (12:1). Go. Let me translate that into today’s language: leave your family and all you have known forever. Leave behind everything makes you who you are: your identity, your country, your standing in the community, the people you love. Leave them behind and know you will never see them again. We don’t quite understand that kind of call, or that kind of travel. When we move from one place to another, whether that’s for work or school or to find a better climate or to accept a promotion, we know that we’ll still be able to keep in contact with the ones we leave behind. Moving even around the world doesn’t mean you’ll never see your family again. We have the technology like Skype and FaceTime to be able to stay in contact, and we have the wonders of Facebook and other social media sites to make sure everyone knows what we’re up to. But Abram had nothing like that. When God called him to leave Haran, it was for good. There was no going back. There was no coming home for the holidays. He would leave behind everything he knew and everything he valued to follow the call of a God whom he didn’t know and couldn’t see. All this God gave him was a command.

And a promise. Listen to this extravagant promise God makes to Abram: “I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you” (12:2-3). What strikes me about this promise is how incredible one-sided it is. Did you notice how many times God says “I will”? Most of this is God’s doing. God will make Abram into a great nation. God will bless Abram. God will make his name great and turn Abram into a blessing. God will bless those who bless Abram and curse those who curse Abram. Five times God says, “I will.” All Abram is asked to do is to go. Step out. Move forward. If he does that, God will do all the rest. Yes, these are great promises, but the question still remains: can Abram trust this God he cannot see and has never met before?

There are two “kickers” to this whole scenario, the first of which is embedded in verse 1. Abram has no idea where he is going. He is asked to just head out and God will show him where to go. How many of us would want to do that, to step out on a trip and not know where we are going? No GPS coordinates, no map, no directions, just “go.” I know several years ago, we had this idea that we’d take a very relaxing vacation, just start driving and see where we ended up. No plans except that we wanted to make at least one particular stop. I can tell you that ten days later, we returned home just exhausted. It seemed to be more work to not have plans than to have at least some idea of where we were headed. Making it up as we went was so tiring! Now, maybe some of you have that adventurous spirit, but most of us probably would rather have at least some idea what the destination was. Abram had none of that, just a promise that God would show him what land to settle in. It could be around the block, it could be around the world. Just trust me, Abram.

And then here’s the second kicker, found in verse 4: Abram was 75 years old when this call came to him. Seventy-five years old. Who here this morning is 75 or over? How anxious would you be to set out on what turned out to be a 500-mile journey across deserts and mountains? From Haran to Canaan is about 500 miles, and they would have travelled the whole thing on foot. There were no SUVs or interstate highways. The animals carried the luggage and the people walked. On a good day, they might make 10-20 miles a day, but that was pushing it. Five hundred miles at age 75. My parents are in that age range, and though they are very active and in good shape, I don’t think they would want to undertake such a journey! And, let’s also remember that Abram’s family hasn’t been in Haran all that long. They had already journeyed from Ur to Haran, a trip of around 600 miles. Seventy-five years old, and God calls him to go to a place he had never seen, never heard of, and God offered him no guarantees of what would happen to him when he got there. No guarantees that he would prosper if he followed this God. Do you have a sense of how strongly the question would have been burning in Abram’s soul: can I trust this God whom I cannot see?

We ask that question as well. Whether we’ve been part of the church since we were babies or we’re new to faith, it’s a question that confronts us from time to time. Can I trust this God I cannot see? And, often underlying that question is a call for proof. Is there evidence that God exists? This morning, I could share with you lots and lots of logical explanations for the existence of God, and we could debate the value or validity of each one. One philosopher, Peter Kreeft, has identified at least nineteen such arguments. But the Bible never does that. The Scriptures never ask whether or not God exists; neither does Abram. He doesn’t stand there at the entrance of his tent and ask God for proof of his existence. Instead, he hears from God and has to make up his mind whether he can trust this God more than the idols he has always worshipped. So what does Abram do? What causes him to decide that he can, in fact, trust God?

There are really two things, I believe, this passage shows us about Abram’s journey before the journey, two things that help us along in exploring the trust question. The first thing is that Abram “tuned in” to God. I think of it like a radio frequency; it’s always there, but to be able to hear it, you have to tune in. The same is true with God. God is speaking, present, but to be able to hear him, we have to “tune in.” We have to get on the same frequency that God is on. Not a literal frequency, of course, but we have to open our lives and hearts to what God is saying and wants to say to us. I don’t know (the text doesn’t tell us) if Abram heard God as a literal voice or if this call was something he sensed deep down in his soul. It really doesn’t matter either way; the point is that Abram was listening. He was tuned in. I don’t know how, exactly, that happened with him, though I have a suspicion it had to do with the stars. I imagine Abram outside, every evening, gazing at the stars and perhaps thinking there must be something, someone beyond the little statues they worshipped. I think that about Abram because a bit later, when Abram is having his doubts about the promises God has made, God uses the stars to reassure him. In Genesis 15, God takes Abram outside and shows him the stars, spread out above him. “Look up at the sky,” God says, “and count the stars…so shall your offspring be” (15:5). From that moment on, every time Abram saw the stars, he would remember the promise.

Maybe creation is something that speaks to you, that reminds you of God’s promises. I’m like that; every time I see a huge majestic mountain, I’m reminded of the power and the steadfastness of God. For Cathy, it’s the lake. When she sees a body of water, especially with a sunset over it, she’s reminded of the love and beauty of God. Paul told the Romans that God’s “eternal power and divine nature” are revealed in creation (Romans 1:20), and Psalm 19 says, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands” (19:1). We don’t worship the creation, but we allow the creation to point us to the creator, to help us “tune in” to his quiet whisper. For others, perhaps it’s in worship where you most are helped to “tune in.” That could be in this place on Sunday mornings or in other places. Our youth have spent the last week at a Christian music festival in Pennsylvania, surrounded by other Christian young people, hearing speakers and worshipping together. They’re on their way home today, and I can’t wait to hear the ways in which they were able to more fully “tune in” to God’s spirit while there. For others, you might find that devotional Bible reading or quiet prayer is where you can best “tune in.” We provide a monthly prayer gathering in this place where you can enjoy some quiet, contemplative space, and of course, you can find that time every day on your own. What helps you most to “tune in,” to begin to listen for the voice of God whispering to your spirit?

The second thing Abram does is to actually step out. He goes. He acts on what he knows God has called him to do. Genesis says it matter-of-factly: “So Abram went, as the Lord had told him” (12:4). He left everything behind and he headed out to a land he did not know. We act on what we know to be true, and we find God to be faithful to what he has promised. Now, I could stand up here and share several stories about the ways I have experienced that, or the ways my family has experienced God’s faithfulness. And, in fact, the first time I prepared this sermon, I spent a lot of time thinking about what a perfect story might be to share. Then I “tuned in,” I believe, to what God actually wanted to do this morning, and so I’m going to ask you to do something scary, something risky, and that is to turn to one or two other people who are sitting near you and share about a time in your life when you found God to be faithful to his promises. Now, if you’re new here or if you don’t feel comfortable sharing, that’s okay. I invite you, then, to just listen to the stories around you of God’s faithfulness. I think I know this congregation well enough by now to know that there won’t be silence. You’ve found God to be faithful, so share stories with each other. Now…go!

SHARING

The issue really does come down to trust, because try as we might, we cannot prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that God exists. One of the world’s greatest philosophers, Blaise Pascal, said that for every “good proof” for God, there are equally good arguments against God. So Pascal proposed a wager. Now, I recognize that, as good United Methodists, we know our church takes a stand against gambling, but this is a wager you can participate in, trust me. Pascal’s wager boils down to this: the best “bet” you can make it to “bet” on God’s existence. He put it this way: if you bet against God, if you claim that God doesn’t exist, and you’re right, you’ve lost nothing. But if you’re wrong, you lose everything: eternity, salvation, life, hope and on and on. If you bet that God exists and you’re wrong, you’ve lost nothing. But if you bet that God exists and you’re right, you gain everything. The best bet, then, Pascal argued—in fact, the only logical gamble to make—is to side with God, and that’s why the real question isn’t, “Does God exist,” but rather, “Can this God be trusted?” Abram gambled on God, and found that this good, good God can, in fact, be trusted.

There were twelve men gathered around a table in an Upper Room one late night for a Passover meal who were wrestling with that same question. They didn’t know it yet, but soon after that night, eleven of them would be sent around the world to share the message of Jesus, the Son of God, the savior of the world. They were about to go through some of the most difficult times of their lives, as that night Jesus, their master, would be arrested, convicted and crucified before the next evening. And so, on that night, Jesus gave them some symbols, tangible items, to remind them that he, like his Father God, was and is trustworthy. Bread and wine. Plate and cup. Just like Abram remembering God’s faithfulness every time he saw the stars, these disciples would also remember God’s faithfulness and salvation every time they saw these two tokens. Bread and wine would forever help them to “tune in” to God’s voice and call on their lives. And so it should be with us as well. As we come to the table this morning, let’s not come just because we always do. Let’s never let this moment be an empty ritual we just go through because the pastor says to do it. Let’s allow this table to be a place and a time where we can “tune in” to what God is saying and the ways God is calling us to go. May you find in this bread and this cup a sign of God’s faithfulness and evidence of his presence. Let’s prepare our hearts as we come to the table.