Help in Troubled Times: A Short Scriptural Meditation

How are you? That's a question we Americans ask each other so casually – a fact which drives folks from some other countries up a wall. Because when we ask it the way we ask it, they aren't really sure if we're looking for an honest answer, or if we're simply acting out of reflex. Sometimes, maybe we're not really sure either. How are you? Have the times been easy? Have they been hard? Have they been stressful, painful, uncertain? It's a question we might ask in earnest, not only of ourselves and each other, but of the world. World, how are you?

The world can be troubled. St. Paul warns that “in the last days, there will come times of difficulty” (2 Timothy 3:1). But already, he says, “the days are evil” (Ephesians 5:16). Maybe he's pulled that from his Bible, where he read that “all the days of the afflicted are evil” (Proverbs 15:15). The prophets certainly recognized “the time of trouble and the time of distress” (Jeremiah 15:11). The psalmists admitted “times of trouble when the iniquity of those who cheat me surrounds me” (Psalm 49:5). The sages sighed and said “there is a time and a way for everything, although man's trouble lies heavy on him” (Ecclesiastes 8:6).

How is the world? I wouldn't know how to even start to catalog the “war, famine, and pestilence against many countries and great kingdoms” (Jeremiah 28:8). As far as pestilence is concerned, although many of us are still processing the global pandemic of a few years ago, the spread of disease seems to have otherwise returned to normal. As far as famine, over a million people are living under famine conditions, while nearly a tenth of the human race goes hungry each day.¹ And as for war, a report last June suggested there were fifty-six ongoing military conflicts, the highest number since World War II.² Just yesterday, I heard about a drone strike against a hospital in Sudan – some say thirty died, some say seventy. That's one trouble plucked from a countless crowd.

Now, am I mentioning all these things to scare you or depress you? No, and I certainly hope you won't be. But our faith is deeply, radically honest about the world. The world is troubled. Jesus himself told his disciples that “in the world, you will have tribulation” (John 16:33). And the psalmist testifies to his experience: how “all day long, an attacker oppresses me; my enemies trample me all day long, for many attack me proudly,” and so “all day long they injure my cause; all their thoughts are against me for evil. They stir up strife, they lurk, they watch my steps, as they have waited for my life” (Psalm 56:1-2, 5-6). Christians have traditionally applied the enemy verses of the psalms to our spiritual enemies, the devil and his minions. Certainly it's true, and we dare never forget it, that demons are real and that they stir up strife, they lurk and watch us, and they devote their time and thoughts to our spiritual downfall. But before that deeper spiritual meaning, the psalmists were talking out of personal experience and being honest about the world. In troubled times, there are many attackers.

Where do we turn when we find the times to be troubled? What do we do when we have tribulation? And what will the next few years bring? Well, I don't know. We've certainly had an interesting couple of weeks for our nation. Maybe there are things you've heard in the news and thought, “Oh no!” Or maybe there are things you've heard in the news and thought, “Well, finally!” I happen to know that in our little church we have at least three different political parties represented. So people will fairly disagree, and can do so in love.

We're not going to get into the weeds on it. But we are going to remember the wisdom of the psalmist: “Put not your trust in princes, in a son of man, in whom there is no salvation” (Psalm 146:3). For one reason, “when his breath departs, he returns to the earth; on that very day, his plans perish” (Psalm 146:4). Whether we're looking to a preacher or a politician or a system or institution, there are expiration dates attached to every term and every plan. They don't guarantee long-term stability. Besides, as the sages say, “trusting in a treacherous man in time of trouble is like a bad tooth or a foot that slips” (Proverbs 25:19). Human intentions are variable. Individuals and institutions, however much we have to rely on them to a certain extent to function, can have different aims than we expect or hope. To add to that, the prophet heard that “cursed is the man who trusts in man and makes flesh his strength” (Jeremiah 17:5). So that's a third reason: flesh, human effort, even while it lasts and when it's well-intentioned, can fall short of being enough.

It's no wonder, then, that the psalmist advises us “it is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in man; it is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in princes” (Psalm 118:8-9). His isn't the weakness of frail flesh. His is the kingdom and the power and the glory. God never falls short of being enough. The psalmist confesses God as “my refuge, a strong tower against the enemy” (Psalm 61:3). “The LORD is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble” (Psalm 9:9). “The salvation of the righteous is from the LORD; he is their stronghold in the time of trouble” (Psalm 37:39). “A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing.” His breath doesn't depart; his plans don't perish. Oh, “many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the LORD that will stand” (Proverbs 19:21).

And trusting in him isn't like suffering a growing toothache or standing on unsure footing. His intentions aren't treacherous; “the LORD keeps faith forever” (Psalm 146:6). What is he out for? What is God's agenda? It's to “execute justice for the oppressed,” it's to “give food to the hungry,” it's to “set the prisoners free” and “open the eyes of the blind” and “lift up those who are bowed down” (Psalm 146:7-8). “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD: plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope” (Jeremiah 29:11). “The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O LORD, endures forever” (Psalm 138:8). And so “this is my comfort in my affliction: that your promise gives me life” (Psalm 119:50).

So should we fear? Well, let's ask the psalmists and their friends. They say: “Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil” (Psalm 37:8). “In God I trust; I shall not be afraid. What can man do to me?” (Psalm 56:11). “The LORD is on my side; I will not fear. What can man do to me? The LORD is on my side as my helper; I shall look in triumph on those who hate me” (Psalm 118:6-7). “The LORD is my light and my salvation – whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life – of whom shall I be afraid? When evildoers assail me to eat up my flesh..., it is they who stumble and fall. Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear” (Psalm 27:1-3). “The fear of man is a snare, but whoever trusts in the LORD is safe” (Proverbs 29:25).

For “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling” (Psalm 46:1-3). Jesus tells us that “in the world, you will have tribulation; but take heart, I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). So “let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid” (John 14:27). So “blessed is he... whose hope is in the LORD his God, who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them” (Psalm 146:5-6). Yes, “blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD … He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit” (Jeremiah 17:7-8). Drought, war, stress, injustice – the Spirit's water keeps you green and fruitful through it all.

So, as the prophet cries: “O LORD, be gracious to us; we wait for you. Be our arm every morning, our salvation in the time of trouble” (Isaiah 33:2). “Let me dwell in your tent forever; let me take refuge under the shelter of your wings” (Psalm 61:4). “Save us, O LORD our God..., that we may give thanks to your holy name and glory in your praise” (Psalm 106:47). “Praise the LORD, O my soul!” (Psalm 146:1). Amen.

Some Land!

When we left our friend Abram last week, he had finally, at last, said goodbye to Harran, goodbye to even Upper Mesopotamia, and set out on the great adventure with God. He'd brought his wife Sarai, his nephew Lot, their retinues of servants and associates, and their flocks and herds down through Syria and into the region we'd know as Canaan. He did all this because he'd heard the voice of the LORD urging him to leave behind his father's house and go to a land that the LORD would reveal in time, where the LORD would bless and magnify and multiply Abram and make him a channel of blessing to all the families of the whole earth somehow (Genesis 12:1-5).

After Abram had penetrated the northern borders of Canaan, he meandered quite a way until, at Shechem in the land's heart, “the LORD appeared to him” – whatever exactly that was – and assured Abram that “to your seed I will give this land” (Genesis 12:7). In response, Abram built a commemorative altar to the LORD's manifestation there, making the soil over the roots of Moreh holy ground. Then, though, Abram moved a couple dozen miles south, pitching his tent in the mile-long stretch between Bethel to the west and a ruin-heap to the east. There, in that liminal space, once more Abram built an altar, stacking stone onto stone 'til it stood. And before it, with all his household gathered 'round, Abram called on the name of the LORD (Genesis 12:8).

It was worship, to be sure, an act of devotion. But maybe also a question. See, so far the LORD hasn't told our friend Abram very much. God has given him promises galore that'll make your head spin, no doubt. He hinted he'd reveal to Abram a land, and it seems like God has, since he's said that at least the Shechem area would be given to Abram's seed. But God hasn't defined where exactly that leaves Abram here and now. Does Abram have a place to be? Where is Abram supposed to stop? Is this home, or a mere waystation? What now, God?¹

Abram is standing before the altar, calling upon the name of this God he's trying to get to know, and all Abram hears is the wind. “Abram is not shown the land; he must figure out how to discern it.”² And so we read next that “Abram journeyed on” (Genesis 12:9). Abram's quest was, so far as he could tell, still unfulfilled. He had yet to find a home. He hadn't discovered what could be his, or where he belonged; or, if he had, he nevertheless still had more to explore. And so a weary Abram trudged further south, still searching for something. Despite being in the earthly land of promise, Abram hadn't found his rest.

“Abram journeyed on, still going towards the Negeb” (Genesis 12:9). The Negev is a massive chunk of south Canaan, and its name comes from the Hebrew word for 'dry.'³ While the southern Negev is pure desert, the northern Negev these days gets an average of twelve inches of rain per year – almost as much as Los Angeles gets in a typical year, which year sadly isn't – but you won't see even a drop of rain during a Negev summer. But though there was a “forest of the Negeb” (Ezekiel 20:46) and there were some settlements in the east, most of the Negev was known for being rocky and desolate, and Isaiah calls it “a land of trouble and anguish, from where come the lioness and the lion, the adder and the flying fiery serpent” (Isaiah 30:6).

So Abram's come to the northern Negev, likely arriving in the winter months he'd expect to be rainy season and looking forward to when the north Negev gets “fertile and green in the spring.”⁴ But “now there was a famine in the land” (Genesis 12:10). Weak clouds blown in from the western sea hadn't let loose anything that winter. Seeds of grain and grasses stayed dormant in the rocky soil. The water table dropped below the reaches of the wells. As Abram's flocks and herds chewed dry grass devoid of nutrients, they cried out their complaints. He understood how they felt. His livestock dwindled away; he was forced to take them one by one for food. And before long, supplies were running low. Abram's family and their dependents weren't getting all their vitamins and nutrients themselves. Weakened, some were falling prey to disease.⁵

Abram was hanging on, confused but clinging to hope, trying to “be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him” (Psalm 37:7). But then, maybe, one of Abram's servants breathed his last, leaving behind barely skin and bones in Abram's hands. These people came with him on the journey, having no say in the matter, depending on Abram to feed them – and he'd let this one die of starvation, with others looking like they'd soon follow. And so “eventually the situation becomes impossible.”⁶ Can Abram afford to keep waiting patiently?

As Luther put it, “the Lord is putting his faith to the test by this very trial, which surely was not a small one.”⁷ “Abram is tested by famine..., by so great a famine,”⁸ because – as the Bible now underlines – “the famine was severe in the land” (Genesis 12:10). If this were a run-of-the-mill famine, that would surely be a trial, but there might be hope. But this was a heavy famine, more extreme than most; it maybe was building for years, each one compounding the destitution. And in this long hour of trial and tribulation, this enforced fast Abram hadn't chosen and worried to undergo, Abram sure wished he could turn these desert stones to bread (cf. Matthew 4:3).

At this desperate point, Abram surely looked around and said to himself, “I am really not living my 'best life now,' am I?” This situation had gotten dire. And maybe that had taken Abram by surprise. I mean, what had the LORD said so emphatically back in Harran? “I will bless you” (Genesis 12:2). This God had repeated the enticing word 'bless' over and over again, making it the linchpin of the whole message, the lure to break Abram away from safety and security up north. And so Abram undertook that pilgrimage of obedience, hundreds of miles, in the natural expectation that, when he reached the land meant for him, the blessing would go into effect.

And what could blessing possibly mean, if it doesn't include, at a bare minimum, the necessities to stay alive and keep alive those you love? Later on, when Moses sketches Israel's potential blessings in Canaan, he does so by saying that “blessed shall be the fruit of your ground and the fruit of your cattle..., blessed shall be your basket and your kneading bowl..., and the LORD will make you abound in prosperity” (Deuteronomy 28:4-5, 11). That, Abram would say, is the logical inference to draw from what God had told him. But it isn't what he's found. What Abram is experiencing – no rains, so no grains and grasses, frustrating his efforts to survive – is some of what Moses lists as God's curse (Deuteronomy 28:20-24); and for the prophets, famine in Canaan can be an act of judgment, that “when a land sins against me,” says God, “I break its supply of bread and send famine upon it” (Ezekiel 14:13). This is exactly what Abram doesn't deserve, exactly what doesn't make sense.

Doesn't one psalmist claim that “the LORD is gracious and merciful; he provides food for those who fear him” (Psalm 111:4-5)? And doesn't another psalmist announce that even when the Negev's wildlife “suffer want and hunger,” yet “those who seek the LORD lack no good thing” (Psalm 34:10)? Abram feared the LORD, Abram sought the LORD – so where's his daily bread, where are his good things? How, Abram must wonder, is he being blessed when he's going to bed hungry, and when he's losing all he's got, and when the people who trusted in him are dropping like flies? What kind of blessing is this even supposed to be, then? The promises God had given are crashing head-first into what one commentator calls “the contrasting reality of the present.”⁹ There's a problem here, and it's that “famine is incompatible with the promise that Abram would be blessed in the land.”¹⁰

God called him to this far country – so Abram had believed, and Abram had acted on that faith. And when God then promised this land to at least Abram's descendants (whatever was in store for Abram personally), Abram had rejoiced and given thanks, as is right and just. But now that he's started to test-drive this land, it's handling like a real lemon. Abram is certainly not “walking in sunlight all of his journey.”¹¹ What does it mean when “the promised land proves even more unpromising”?¹² What do you do after you've closed the deal and moved in and you realize it's a fixer-upper at best, and might be a hopeless dump? “Some land!” Abram might be tempted to scoff.

I mean, doesn't another psalmist promise the LORD's people that “in the days of famine they have abundance” (Psalm 37:19)? These were days of famine, all right, but Abram sure has no abundance. That same psalmist adds that in all the days of his life, “I have not seen the righteous forsaken or his children begging for bread” (Psalm 37:25). Abram puzzles in practice to see how he's not forsaken, and he'd be begging for bread if anyone around him had any left. So if those verses don't quite fit Abram, maybe – he has to wonder – maybe the same goes for the psalm's advice to “trust in the LORD and do good, dwell in the land and feed on faithfulness” (Psalm 37:3). Can he trust in the LORD? Can he feed on faithfulness? Should he even dwell in this land at all?

This “famine was severe in the land,” weighing heavily on Abram and Sarai and Lot and all their people and the animals (Genesis 12:10). Abram couldn't know the parable yet, but, like the Prodigal Son, Abram's gone on “a journey into a far country, and... a severe famine arose in that country..., and no one gave him anything” (Luke 15:13-16). And in the story, the Prodigal Son “came to himself” and realized that he had to leave that far country, had to go somewhere there was “more than enough bread” (Luke 15:17). Abram faced a choice like that, only home to dad wasn't an option. Abram could either stay put in the Promised Land, could be still and know that the Lord is God, could trust passively on the Lord to provide (Psalm 37:5-7); or Abram could take action for himself and his dependents, even if that course of action might be hard to reconcile with Abram's calling – even if it might be a leave-taking without a homecoming.

Some readers, then and now, feel that Abram really didn't have much choice in the matter – that Genesis repeats the mention of the famine and draws attention to its heaviness as if to justify Abram. As St. Augustine read it, Abram “was compelled by the stress of famine” to take his leave,¹³ and some modern scholars agree that the severity of the famine “effectively clears Abram of any blame in his decision to leave the promised land.”¹⁴ Others reason that “Abram sees the famine as a sign from God that he is in the wrong place and needs to move on.”¹⁵ But to where? There's one obvious direction, which Abram's watched others already take.

And that direction is down through the desert to Egypt. See, Egypt was a river civilization based on the Nile, and the Nile brought north fresh rich topsoil and flowing water from the blessed rains down in Africa. It was mighty rare that a famine in Canaan, often caused by local issues in the Mediterranean weather, coincided with a famine in Egypt based on issues in central African weather.¹⁶ That's why it wasn't an uncommon thing, when famines got bad enough, for residents of Canaan to flee across the border – with or without permission – in a desperate bid for refuge and sustenance in Egypt.¹⁷ Abram no doubt watched many go; now he followed.

And so “Abram went down to Egypt,” marching his way through a series of deserts through the Sinai peninsula towards Egypt's border fortresses (Genesis 12:10). Had he done the right thing? Was this passing the test, or not? Was he acting in faith? For what it's worth, God later had sharp words for his “stubborn children... who set out to go down to Egypt without asking for my direction, to take refuge in the protection of Pharaoh and to seek shelter in the shadow of Egypt” (Isaiah 30:1-2). It raises questions about whether Abram had made “a move in the wrong direction – a spiritual decline.”¹⁸ We know where his body is – where's his heart, his soul?

What's more, we're told that “Abram went down to Egypt to sojourn there” (Genesis 12:10). Sojourning isn't the action of a tourist. A sojourner is a resident alien – he may not be able to quite integrate into the land of his sojourn, but he's an immigrant who might stay years or decades or even a lifetime. Now, it's totally possible, from what the text says, that Abram expects to be in Egypt just “one or two years” and then return, trusting the “emergency... would not last forever.”¹⁹ Maybe. On the other hand, many Canaanites who went to Egypt to flee famine “stayed on and assimilated into Egyptian culture” over time, a temptation Abram might be courting.²⁰ Abram's “prepared to settle there indefinitely,”²¹ “staying in Egypt for an extended period of time.”²² Maybe he still hopes his seed will inherit some day, but for the foreseeable future, Abram bids the promised land goodbye.

Now, in fairness, many early Christians of great wisdom and holiness wanted to defend Abram here. Some saw the famine as a judgment on the Canaanites, and said that innocent Abram was, like Daniel later on, carried with them to “help the victims of famine..., to cure the sufferers” of their sin; or they viewed Abram as effectively a missionary sent to the Egyptians, “not falling but rescuing them” by sharing his wisdom with them,²³ so as to “make the light of his own virtue conspicuous to everyone.”²⁴ Some suggested this is why God allowed that famine, so he could “show the Egyptians Abraham's devotion and to encourage them to imitate the patriarch's virtue.”²⁵ Accordingly, these readers insisted that Abram passed the test of the famine, that he wasn't “alarmed or disturbed” by the gap between promise and provision, “but rather keeping his resolve undeterred in his belief that without doubt what was once promised him by God was in fact firm and secure.”²⁶

I'd love it, for Abram's sake, if that's true. But when I look Abram in the eye, I see a man who's thrown in the towel and taken his growling stomach on the run. Readers of Genesis ancient and modern have felt that in this episode Abram “fell away from the firmness of his faith,”²⁷ that he “fails the test,”²⁸ that he “displays... a lack of trust in God,”²⁹ that he's perhaps “disillusioned with God” and “lost interest in the promises.”³⁰

It seems as though what's motivated Abram's move is fear, and that fearful heart is something he carries with him. By the time he's nearing the border and “about to enter Egypt” (Genesis 12:11), Abram is gripped by “alarm and dread,” with “fear and trembling for his very life,”³¹ filled with “fear of violent death at the hands of his hosts.”³² Abram is convinced, he tells his wife Sarai, that given her attractiveness, the Egyptians wouldn't have any qualms over killing him to get their hands on her: “they will kill me, but they will keep you alive” (Genesis 12:12). Some ancient Jews guessed Abram had a prophetic dream that proved this to him,³³ and others imagined that the Egyptians had a known reputation in that department³⁴ – that's how they defended Abram's fear as rational and well-founded. But Genesis itself “hardly supports Abraham's fear.”³⁵ What we see on display here is that when Abram's faith is shaken by his circumstances, fear and insecurity creep in; and, when they're allowed to fester, they give birth to mistrust, paranoia, and xenophobia. Abram sees the Egyptians as a feared 'other,' and so he leaps to the worst assumptions about them, because he's already feeling despair. So some modern scholars charge that Abram's “fear demonstrates a lack of trust in God's recent promises,”³⁶ and that Abram is “lacking confidence in God's ability to take care of him and protect him.”³⁷ From there, he comes up with a solution of his own, “thinking of the potential for gaining wealth” in the situation even if it takes what some readers dub a “selfish and unprincipled action”³⁸ – even as Abram's ancient defenders say that he simply “took care of what he could, as much as he could, and he gave over to God what he could not take care of.”³⁹

But that's not what I see. I see Abram hitting a low point, and getting himself into a compromising situation, as a result of his paranoia and prejudice against the Egyptians, which results from his fear, which results from his despair, which results from his shaken faith in the promises of God, which results from the shock of the severe famine against the background of his expectation of blessing. At no point after the famine begins do we read that Abram called on the name of the LORD or that he prayed; in fact, his doomsday predictions to his wife are the first recorded words Abram utters in the Bible. This isn't the kind of uplifting picture of Abram we're used to – but Abram is still a newer believer, in a way, and the hard truth is that “even the most eminent men have fallen” from time to time.⁴⁰ Abram isn't a superhero, a man made of different stuff than you or I. Abram is a work in progress. Abram doesn't get an A+ in God's class – not without some extra credit late in the semester. But Abram's stumbles have as much to teach us as his wins.

Because we can relate to Abram's struggle. Sometimes our expectations turn out to be short-sighted. We expect that, when we're faithful to God, then things should go more smoothly. There oughtn't be so many setbacks. If we go where he tells us, we'll know because we start to thrive and flourish there – or so we're tempted to think. But Abram learns a different lesson. Faith isn't smooth sailing; it's not “happy all the day.”⁴¹ Our promised lands in life aren't always clear, and they aren't always healthy. Sometimes we're uprooted. Sometimes the famines last long; sometimes the fires rage and take everything. Sometimes it's a backhanded blessing buried in the pain, and sometimes the blessing tarries long at the warehouse and the delivery estimates leap to and fro.

Of course, if we skip ahead to the close of Abram's days and look back, we realize that not a word has failed – he was indeed blessed richly; it's just that his expectations started out too simple, as so often do ours. In the end of it all, Abram “died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar” (Hebrews 11:13). As one medieval monk wisely put it, in the promised “land of Canaan,” Abram and his crew “never ceased from laboring and struggling against their enemies,” including the force of famine, “in order that they might understand... that they should seek by preference another country after this one, by which they might truly enjoy heavenly blessing and eternal rest.”⁴² If the famine strikes, if fulfillment here doesn't fulfill, it teaches us, not that the promise wasn't true, but to not settle short of what's in store.

Contrary to what Abram might have at first thought and what plenty of flashy modern ministries will assure you, St. Paul says that God “has blessed us in Christ,” not with every material blessing in the earthly places, but “with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 1:3). In fact, as the children of Abraham through our union with Christ, St. Paul tells us we're “heirs of God and fellow-heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him” (Romans 8:17). Read all together, the Bible makes very clear that this life isn't likely to make sense to us – not without keeping the eyes of faith open.

We may, like Abram, be compelled to the clutches of contradiction, or so it seems, where God's gifts feel broken and the promises look like frauds and hunger roars loud. But “who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine...? No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us” (Romans 8:35-37). And as we conquer, we discover what David prayed: “And now, O Lord GOD, you are God, and your words are true, and you have promised this good thing to your servant; now therefore may it please you to bless the house of your servant, so that it may continue forever before you” (2 Samuel 7:28-29). Until then, “though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food..., yet I will rejoice in the LORD” (Habakkuk 3:17-18). Amen.

Finishing the Journey

Last year (can you believe it?), we heard the story of how Terah, father of Abram, had taken their family on a long journey away from Ur in south Sumer, traveling hundreds of miles north to what was probably their ancestral stomping grounds. And then, entrapped by the familiar culture, the prospects for profit, and the ease of ending their journey, there Terah paused at Harran. Never would he go a step farther toward where God had rally been leading him (Genesis 11:31-32). It was into that settled state of half-measures that God renewed his call on Abram's life, effectively demanding that Abram “abdicate core elements of his identity,”¹ and moreover insisting that Abram leave Harran and pursue the path onwards, with no details about a destination (Genesis 12:1-3). As one early Christian put it, God “put to the test the patriarch's godfearing spirit with the vagueness of his command.”² Would Abram trust God's promises enough to gamble his whole life on it and go?

How does Abram react? Not with questions or objections. Instead, in silent acquiescence like his forefather Noah, Abram “immediately obliges.”³ “Abram went, as the LORD had told him” (Genesis 12:4); or, as the New Testament puts it, “by faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place” beyond where he'd been (Hebrews 11:8). That prompt “obedience to the divine command,” when the command was so imposing, was “a great testimony to the patriarch,” early Christians thought.⁴

But Abram didn't go alone. “Abram took Sarai his wife, and Lot his [late] brother's son,” whom he at this point effectively adopted.⁵ They were Abram's household, not Terah's, now, even though Lot was now a growing man starting his own family. Abram also took “all their possessions that they had gathered,” all their movable property – he didn't go forth as a “poor, wayfaring stranger,”⁶ even though he “left secure economic conditions in response to a divine calling.”⁷ He left Harran as a man with resources,⁸ which he'd need to sustain his crew on the journey, “taking them to meet his needs” and theirs.⁹ Speaking of his crew, Abram brought “the souls that they had acquired in Harran” (Genesis 12:5). While some Jewish readers glossed this as “the persons whom they had subjected to their law,”¹⁰ and others took it as “the souls they had converted,”¹¹ likely it's talking about servants in their employ. Not two decades later, we'll hear that just the adult men “born in his house” number over three hundred, so this seems no measly troop even now (Genesis 14:14). I wonder if, as Luther thought, they all “believed this preaching of Abraham” and so “followed the holy head of the household with the utmost joy,”¹² or if instead they were – so far – simply along for the ride. Abram commits them to what, in human terms, seemed “an uncertain future.”¹³

But, in the words of one old preacher, Abram “believed the words coming from God, with no hesitation or uncertainty, but rather, with mind and purpose firmly decided, he set out.”¹⁴ What happened next? How'd they know which way to go? Maybe Abram had a general idea already that Canaan was the plan, or at least a good idea, since he was hardly the first to travel that way 'round the Fertile Crescent. But then again, the Bible adds that Abram “went out, not knowing where he was going” (Hebrews 11:8). So maybe he got a mental picture and walked until he saw it, or maybe he had a fresh prompting of direction day by day.¹⁵ God led him.

So Abram, obeying the call, trusted in the LORD to steer his steps. But the Bible includes precisely zero details about the journey they made. Probably setting out in the spring, they would have walked south from Harran down through the Balikh River valley until they reached the east-west road. Filing in among the other merchant caravans to where the road split, they might've taken the branch that led to Aleppo, then the trade center at Qatna, before the Kings Highway took them down to Damascus, another major stop for trade caravans; pushing on to the southwest could've led them to Hazor, a strategic site at the very north tip of Canaan.¹⁶ By that point, Abram had gone nearly five hundred miles from Harran, and these were rougher miles than the ones to Harran from Ur;¹⁷ at a rate of at most six miles in a day's time, given their herds and flocks, getting to Canaan would've probably taken around three months or so.¹⁸ And then, at last, there they were, with Canaan open before them.

Reading Abram's journey spiritually, we know that, just like Abram had to surrender his old life, at baptism Christians were traditionally called to renounce the devil and all his pomps and pleasures – or, as Paul put it, to “renounce ungodliness and worldly passions” (Titus 2:12).¹⁹ In that moment, we, like Abram's troop, admit to being “strangers and exiles on the earth” (Hebrews 11:13). And from there, we – again, like Abram – set out on a journey to somewhere we haven't yet seen: “a better country, that is, a heavenly one” (Hebrews 11:16). Each day of that journey, we – again, like Abram – “walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7). One day, we know, we'll finish. We don't know how long it'll take. We don't know exactly which twists and turns God will lead us through. But we trust the country God has in store is better than the turf we're passing by.

As for Abram's troop, “they came to the land of Canaan” (Genesis 12:5). Whether Abram knows it or not yet, this is their destination, the land God said he'd show him. And, in retrospect, Abram has completed the journey his father Terah was meant to but never did.²⁰ “And Abram passed through the land,” heading south into Canaan (Genesis 12:6). Likely the first part of Canaan he saw was Galilee. Imagine Abram walking the lake's western shore – and do you think Abram maybe paused over the empty plot where Nazareth would one day be?

But if he did, he didn't linger long. He continued on, we read, “to the place at Shechem,” a city in the heart of Canaan about a 42-mile hike south of Nazareth, “to the oak of Moreh” in the surrounding countryside, which, since 'Moreh' evidently means 'teacher,' may have been “a pagan site for oracles”²¹; and “at that time, the Canaanite was in the land” (Genesis 12:6). The land was in the midst of rebounding from a great population crash a few centuries before; by this point, it might've had about forty thousand inhabitants.²² And so “by faith he went to live in the land... as in a foreign land” (Hebrews 11:9), “in the manner of a nomad and refugee, like some despicable outcast; yet he made no difficulty of this situation,” but “trusted in God's promises.”²³

Early Christians often held that, because of Abram's active faith in taking this journey, he “immediately became worthy of the greater favor of God.”²⁴ And so, at the oak of Moreh, “the LORD appeared to Abram” (Genesis 12:7). Before, he'd heard God's call, but now, out of that greater favor, God somehow manifests himself to Abram.²⁵ The destination becomes the scene of divine vision! As one ancient teacher taught, “as far as our created nature and its limitations go, it is an impossible achievement; but as far as God's loving-kindness goes, it is possible, since through his goodness he allows himself to be understood.”²⁶ John tells us that “no one has ever seen God,” but that “the unique God, who is in the bosom of the Father, he has made him known” (John 1:18). Could it be that, when “the LORD appeared to Abram” (Genesis 12:7), Abram beheld Christ? Jesus, after all, later declared that “Abraham rejoiced to see my day; he saw it and was glad” (John 8:56).

So “the LORD appeared to Abram and said, 'To your seed I will give this land'” (Genesis 12:7). Childless Abram's own offspring will inherit the very territory he's now seeing around him in all directions; this land, even though now inhabited, will one day be turned over to them by the authority of the LORD God Almighty. From this moment on, it becomes “the land of promise” (Hebrews 11:9) – the start of a core theme of the entire Old Testament.²⁷ If Abram's to become a great nation like God said (Genesis 12:2), he'll need all this land!²⁸

It's an awesome pledge, one we'll unpack more later on. And Abram believes it. How does he respond to the gift of God? He “built an altar to the LORD who had appeared to him” (Genesis 12:7), and in this way Abram “gave thanks for the promises made to him.”²⁹ The Bible says nothing about Abram making an offering on that altar,³⁰ but ancient Jews and Christians usually figured that “he offered up upon it a burnt offering to the LORD who appeared to him.”³¹ Whether he does or not, Abram's response is evident gratitude and celebration.

But Abram's not done. “From there, he moved to the hill country on the east of Bethel and pitched his tent with Bethel on the west and Ai on the east” (Genesis 12:8). The route south from Shechem, past the walled city of Shiloh, keeps Abram in the lightly populated hill country, good grazing land that's still close enough to towns where he can buy and sell.³² The spot where he stops now, a little over twenty miles down the meandering road south from Shechem, puts Abram just over ten miles north of Calvary. He pitches his tent in the mile-long stretch between Bethel and Ai. 'Bethel' means 'house of God,' while 'Ai' means 'ruins' – and doesn't that capture something of where we live, suspended between the prospect of ruin and the inviting house of God?³³

There, in this place of tension between the heavenly house of God and the ruination of hell, facing Calvary over the horizon, “there he built an altar to the LORD” – again (Genesis 12:8)! Notice, Abram doesn't build a city or house – he lives out of a tent he pitches here and there – but he does build altars, “monuments in honor of God.”³⁴ Abram won't let his life make a permanent impact on the land, but he will imprint the land with a lasting testimony to a God of grace!³⁵ Abram “leaves behind markers of God's presence throughout the land,”³⁶ and thereby, in plain view of the Canaanite shrines in both Shechem and Bethel, unveils an alternative his new neighbors might consider.³⁷ Though Abram has a heavenly hope which the promised land symbolizes (Hebrews 11:13-16), Abram stakes claims for God on the earthly land, aiming to reshape this world for God's glory.³⁸

It was to that end that Abram “built an altar to the LORD and called upon the name of the LORD” (Genesis 12:8). Some later Jews suggested it was on New Year's Day, “on the first of the first month, that he built an altar upon that mountain, and he called on the name of the LORD: 'You are my God, the eternal God!'”³⁹ There “he erected an altar in thanksgiving” again and “performed the sacrifice of praise and righteousness,” at least a “spiritual sacrifice,”⁴⁰ when he “invoked the name of God.”⁴¹ Maybe he was seeking guidance for where and when to actually put down firm roots.⁴² But certainly he was leading his troop, for the first time in Canaan, in “formal public worship” of the one true God – there at this altar he'd built on the land.⁴³

As for us, likewise camped out in our little mile between the ruins and the house of God, “we have an altar” far greater than those Abram built, for ours is made fit for the offering that brings holiness to earth (Hebrews 13:10) – ours is an altar of Jesus Christ. Jesus is the Lord who calls us on our journey, however long or however short it may prove. Jesus is the Lord who inspires the faith by which we walk each day we travel through this land. Jesus is the Lord who waits for us in the heavenly country, and “we know that when he appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). Jesus is the one for whom we, not for our own dwelling but to his glory, imprint the land, raising altars of praise where we can call on his name. Jesus is the one who, just over ten miles from where Abram worshipped, “suffered outside the gate in order to sanctify the people through his own blood” (Hebrews 13:12), the body and blood he lifts at these altars he builds with and through and ultimately in us. “Through him, then, let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God” (Hebrews 13:15), 'til our journey's done. Amen.