Hebrews
11:1-3, 8-16
Preached by Sr.
Miriam Elizabeth+, n/OSH
They
weren’t spring chickens; Sarah and Abraham. They weren’t even summer or fall
chickens! They were well into the winter
of their lives when God came and spoke.
And let’s be clear, this was a God who had not spoken to them before; a
God to whom they had not addressed a single prayer; in the way of these stories,
a God who had not spoken since the flood. And yet, the word came, “Go from your
country. Leave the home of your
ancestors and go to a land far away. Settle
among people you do not know and to whom you will be a stranger.”
That
sounds inviting, just the kind of change we all want to make in our lives! Leave all that we know, all that is familiar,
all that we have grown to love in the everyday of our lives – the people, the
rhythms, the landscapes, the traditions – walk away from it all for some place
yet to be named among a people unknown.
Well,
there’s a problem with that; more than one actually. You see I know the manager of the produce
section at Kroger. How long will it take
for the next person in the next place to learn that I love baby bok choy and
will buy up an entire carton at one go if they’ll save it for me? And where will the family gather for
Christmas next year if we’re not here; if the family dining table isn’t
extended with four leaves and set with grandmother’s china? And where will we dip the grandchildren’s
toes into water for the first time, if not in the Savannah River? Where will we sit in church if not in my favorite
back pew at St. Augustine’s? Who will
play our favorite hymns and on what kind of instrument? Will we sing Silent Night at Christmas and
what about the lilies at Easter? Who
will polish the silver? Can we take even
take the silver? You see the
problems? And those are just the ones on
the surface!
There
are other, deeper issues at stake here. We don’t have a map. How will we know where we’re going? How will we know when we get there? What if we get half-way there and decide we
want to turn back? Will that be
possible? What will happen when we
cannot move one more step? Will we even survive
the journey? What about those who won’t? Why should we take the first step, much less
the second or third or thousandth?
Do
you see why the writers of Hebrews linger over the story of Sarah and Abraham?
They knew what it was to forget the promises made – promises of land and
descendants, the promise of a kingdom “whose architect and builder is
God.” These writers knew what it was to
be on the journey and to be discouraged, to lose your way, to cry out for
things lost and left behind and to wonder if you will survive the next step. They knew what it was to feel like you’re not
getting anywhere only to discover it’s because you really haven’t left where
you were in the first place. They know
the need for encouragement, for cheering and cajoling, and for the sharing of
burdens along the way.
And
so they write of those who have gone before, those who stepped out in faith
into a journey of unknown time and place; those who let go of all they held
dear and then, held fast to promises they held even deeper and dearer. We are reminded of those who knew they would
not see the fulfillment of those promises in their lifetime, and still they continued
to step into the journey, letting go of once-thought treasures and holding fast
to the treasures of a promised land, a heavenly city.
Those
writers remind us of the life of faith; a life of letting go, of leaving, of
surrendering all that weighs us into the quicksand of what is known, familiar,
and comfortable. And they remind us of
the life of faith that is holding fast to the Word of Promise even as we
journey into unknown lands among an unknown people.
Some
of us have more trouble letting go. We’re
quite fond of bricks and mortar and less fond of tents. We have never traveled without a GPS system
and we load our camels down with every conceivable item of comfort, convenience
and memory. The stories of faith remind
us of the depth of surrender and trust we need as we move into the first, the
third and the thousandth step along the way.
Others
of us have more trouble holding fast. We
would just as soon go our own way simply with the clothes on our backs,
trusting our future to our own selves, only to lose our way and our selves down
some rabbit trail while we avoid the rapids and the high rocks. We need to know the stories of trust, endurance
and perseverance in a journey that risks our bodies and our souls.
I
wonder where you are today. Are your
camels so heavily loaded that you have yet to move or are you lost after
chasing a rabbit? Do you need to hear
Sarah and Abraham as saints of surrender who let go and left behind what they
knew as home; or do you need models of encouragement and perseverance that hold
fast to the promise in the face of impossible odds? Do you need to let go of your own kingdom or
hold fast to the kingdom of God? In
either case, as the writers of Hebrews witness, “God is not ashamed to be
called your God; indeed, God has prepared a city for you.” So load your camels, or unload them as the
case may be, and step forward with courage, faith, hope and perseverance, for
it is God’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.
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