"The World Was Not Worthy of Them."

Hebrews 11: 32-38.  And what more shall I say?  I don't have time to tell about . . .

. . . about every other Old Testament giant of faith, people who put the rest of us wimpy American cultural Christians to shame.

. . . who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, and gained what was promised . . . whose weakness was turned to strength, and who became powerful in battle and routed foreign armies . . .

Through their faith -- their assurance of things they hoped for, their certainty of things not yet seen -- these people were empowered to accomplish great things in the world.  To meet their responsibilities with unexplainable strength and success.  And we -- we struggle to find the strength to give up our donut and Angry Birds obsessions. 

. . . who shut the mouths of lions, quenched the fury of the flames, and escaped the edge of the sword . . . Women received back their dead, raised to life again . . .

But some not only were empowered to accomplish the everyday tasks of their lives in a great way (and that would be awesome enough for me), but were the recipients of miraculous intervention in their lives.  Miracles.  Beyond any natural explanation.  I suspect there are miracles happening around us all the time; we just don't have the eyes of faith to see them.  But I also suspect that most of us never have the opportunity to experience a miracle because we never step out to do bold things that can only succeed if God is behind them.

There were others who were tortured, refusing to be released so that they might gain an even better resurrection. Some faced jeers and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment.  They were put to death by stoning; they were sawed in two; they were killed by the sword. . . destitute, persecuted and mistreated . . .

And then there are those who submitted themselves to unjust persecution because they were sure of what they hoped for, certain of what they could not yet see.  There are still these giants of faith in our world right now.  Some days, it grieves me so much how we go to great extremes to avoid offending anyone of any other faith in our own or any country of the world -- and yet there are young people being killed by their parents, students being murdered on the road to school, fathers being imprisoned and tortured, only because they proclaim Jesus Christ as their Lord.  And where is the outcry? 

And where is my shame that I am silenced merely by the fear of a disparaging look from my neighbor who suspects I'm a Jesus freak?

The world was not worthy of them.

Indeed.  Not worthy to touch the hem of their garments. 

Rahab: Beauty for Ashes

By faith the prostitute Rahab, because she welcomed the spies, was not killed with those who were disobedient.  (Heb 11:31)

I've always felt kind of sorry for Rahab because she is forever saddled with the moniker, "the prostitute".  Talk about not being able to live down your past.  But she's actually a pretty inspiring person.

If you're not familiar with her story, you can find it in Joshua 2.  The Israelites sent spies into Jericho to check things out before attacking, and Rahab hid them and snuck them out of the city.  Her reason?

She tells the spies that everyone is in great fear of the Israelites because they've heard of the miracles God did for them to bring them out of Egypt and into Palestine.  And she, Rahab, is convinced that "the Lord has given you this land . . . for the Lord your God is God in heaven above and on earth below."  Interesting that everyone in Jericho was afraid of this God, but only she switched sides.  Only she had enough of an inkling of who the Lord their God really was to be willing to submit to that God's will.  Nothing but an inkling, perhaps, but it was enough, and she acted on it.

I was really struck by the fact that she referred to him as "the Lord your God."  He's your God.  He's clearly greater than my God, but he's not my God.  However, her name appears in the geneology of Christ as the mother of Boaz, so apparently she made her home with the Israelites after this and, presumably, did the Ruth thing: "Your people will be my people; your God my God."  Interesting enough, three of the four women mentioned in the Matthew 1 geneology (Tamar, Rahab, and Bathsheba) were known for their immorality -- specifically their sexual immorality.

Personally, I find it encouraging that God can take someone from a place of ugly sin and use them for his kingdom.  We don't even have any certain record in the Bible that these women really turned their lives around or anything, although I think most theologians presume that they did.  But maybe they didn't.  God still used them -- how much more can he use a broken me when I do allow him to turn my life around?  But in any case, God intentionally wanted the names of these overtly sinful women included in the human geneology of his Son.  He wanted us to see how he can create beauty from ashes.

That phrase is Biblical, too -- from Isaiah 61, the passage that Jesus read in the temple to announce his purpose for coming to earth:  to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.

Folks, we can never dig ourselves into a pit too deep for God to pull us out.

Stupid Human Tricks

I can't write about Thanksgiving today because my heart is genuinely too full of the things I'm thankful for to write about them.  I can't write about Black Friday, because it will make me angry enough to drive away the heart of Thanksgiving which I'm not ready to give up yet.  So, despite the fact that the holidays gave me an excuse to take a break from my Hebrews 11 faith portrait series, I'm back again learning from Moses:

By faith, he [Moses] kept the Passover and the sprinkling of blood, so that the destroyer of the firstborn would not touch the firstborn of Israel. (v.28)   Thematically, I couple this with verse 30 a little later: By faith, the walls of Jericho fell, after the Israelites had marched around them for seven days.

These fall into the category of "Stupid Human Tricks God Asks Us to Do".  There are many times God asks us to do things that, in our human understanding, make just no sense.

A wife friend of mine realized that God wanted her to leave some major family decisions in her wishy-washy husband's hands, even though she was convinced he would crash and burn.  God consistently told a man I know to reveal something he'd hidden from his wife, even though he knew it would hurt her and ignorance had left her in apparent bliss.  Two more wife friends felt led by God to wear only skirts or dresses during certain situations with their husbands, as a physical reminder to themselves of the different roles between them.  Such stuff doesn't make sense. We have such arrogant dependence on our own perspective of a situation, refusing to rely on God's knowledge of the spiritual underpinnings we can't conceive of.

We don't have to look in the Bible for examples of God asking things of us that make no human sense -- life is full of examples.  The nice thing about the Bible's examples, though, is that most of the time, we are given the perspective to see the ultimate whys in the strange requests of God.  God brought down the walls of Jericho to convince the people of Israel from day one of their conquest of the Promised Land that He was the one doing the conquering -- their only role was to praise and obey, teaching them the nature of their covenant and relationship.  God gave the passover ceremony to Moses and the Istraelites to observe on a yearly basis to be an annual picture in their faces of what he'd later be doing with his Son, so they'd recognize him when he came.  (A Jewish believing friend in a Bible study pointed out once the significance of the specific hours mentioned during Jesus' crucifixion -- that the hour he died was exactly the hour that the Passover lamb which the priests sacrifice in the temple to atone for the sins of the whole nation was being killed).

At a BSU Bible study in college, the leader made a statement that at the time was revolutionary for me: "Sometimes God's will flies in the face of human common sense."  Which, if He is truly God, only stands to reason.  But as I said, it was revolutionary for me at the time to consider that I had been limiting God by forcing him to fit into my own puny human reasoning.  Yes, our brain power is from God, and we are insructed to "always be prepared to give a reason", but we need to also accept that truth can be beyond our reasoning and still be absolutely true.

So how do we know what's true?  The same way the Israelites knew what was true.  They obeyed.  They were sure of what they hoped for and hadn't seen -- they were sure that God was God -- and acted on that, marching around a walled cities for seven days.  In a sense, they didn't really know until the walls fall down without their touching them.  But in another sense, they knew from the first step they took to march.

Praying in this holiday season that all of us will have the faith to continue to march and blow our trumpets -- and to give only God the glory when the falls wall down.

Seeing the Invisible

By faith he [Moses] left Egypt, not fearing the king’s anger; he persevered because he saw him who is invisible. (Heb 11:27)

Moses saw him who is invisible -- that is, God, of course.  How did he see him?  The burning bush, I assume.  He didn't see a physical being that was God (only first century folks living in Palestine had that privilege), but he saw a physical, material phenomenon that had no explanation and heard God speaking to him to authenticate the vision.

Kind of like how nobody can see the wind, but we do see the tree branches sway.

I wish God would make himself evident in this physical, material way more often.  It has happened to me on a couple of rare occasions.  Nothing as dramatic as a burning bush that is not consumed, certainly.  But a couple of honest-to-goodness material happenings here on earth that had no other explanation than that God reached down and acted in our measly human affairs.  Moments when I was sure of what I hoped for -- certain of what I could not see.

Here's the difference between me and Moses:  he saw him who is invisible, and it caused him to persevere.  I saw him who is invisible, walked in a spiritual high for a while, then gradually grew less and less certain of what I had experienced.  Moses is an example of faith.  I am an example of . . . something else.

I wish those experiences happened more often; but if they did, frankly, my spiritual walk wouldn't require much faith.  More physical manifestations of God would not strengthen me, I suspect.  They would make me reliant on the physical manifestations, not on faith.  (Remember: without faith, it is impossible to please God....)

Jesus came to earth and did miracles as initial evidence to those first century Christians of who he was -- but then he left, and they were expected to persevere.  Impossible in our human frailness . . . which is why he sent the Spirit.  Really, the church just doesn't teach enough about living in the Spirit . . .

In any case, I am thankful this morning (during this thankful month) that God, in his omniscience, knows when we need to see him who is invisible and meets us -- literally -- at our point of need.  You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. (Jer 29:13)

Moses and the Hard Path

By faith Moses, when he had grown up, refused to be known as the son of Pharaoh’s daughter. He chose to be mistreated along with the people of God rather than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin. He regarded disgrace for the sake of Christ as of greater value than the treasures of Egypt, because he was looking ahead to his reward.  (Heb 11:24-26)

So here is an example of an extreme kind of faith:  faith that leads you to choose suffering when you don’t have to.  To choose the hard path rather than the easy path.

Not to toot my own horn (because it really doesn’t deserve much tooting in this arena), but I have experienced an occasion of this.  The month before we started our first year of homeschooling, my eldest and I were at each other’s throats.  She was extremely trying and I was maddeningly impatient, and I was genuinely afraid I would kill her by February.  Every day, I pondered how easy it would be to send her off to school again that Tuesday after Labor Day.  Why was I doing this to myself?  But ultimately, I had faith that God really had called me to do this, that he really was going to teach us how to get along, that this really would be the best thing for our whole family in the long run.  By the next September, I watched the school bus drive by on the first day of school and was so grateful that my daughter was not on it.

But this can hardly touch what other people choose to endure for the sake of Christ.  There are converts in other countries who are killed because they refuse to deny their Lord.  But even if we look closer to home and less to the extreme – there are people who choose to give up easy, luxurious lifestyles to live in impoverished areas to minister to the people there.  I recently heard a friend tell about a medical mission trip she went on where a couple of the volunteer medical personnel were accidentally exposed to HIV-positive blood.  They knew going in that they were taking that risk – but they chose to go anyway.

And here I’m proud of myself for choosing to spend all day in my comfortable house with my own difficult daughter.  Psshhht.

Going back to the beginning of this chapter, to the definition of faith:  faith is being sure of what is hoped for, certain of what is not seen.  The passage above says Moses willingly endured what he did “because he was looking ahead to his reward.”  What he hoped for, what was not seen, was the reward waiting for him at the end of his trials.  And there’s where I have trouble having faith, I think.  Believing that there will be a reward at the end of my suffering (wimpy suffering, though it is), and that the reward will be better than what I’m giving up.

Many years ago, there was a book out (the title of which escapes me) about a "Christ-centered approach to weight loss".  At the end of one of the chapters, the author described a moment of weakness she experienced where she so desperately wanted to stuff her face with something sweet and fattening, and she cried out to God, “Lord!  Show me You can satisfy better than these!”

That’s my cry.  “Show me You can satisfy better than these!”  Again, what I’m constantly reminded as I’m writing this series of posts is that I don’t really have faith that God can satisfy unless I choose to give up other candidates for my satisfaction.  Faith is not faith unless it is acted on.

And now it occurs to me that choosing the hard path isn’t maybe as extreme a kind of faith as I thought.  Maybe it’s the essence of faith after all.

 

God's Agenda and My Agenda

By faith Isaac blessed Jacob and Esau in regard to their future.

By faith Jacob, when he was dying, blessed each of Joseph’s sons, and worshiped as he leaned on the top of his staff.

By faith Joseph, when his end was near, spoke about the exodus of the Israelites from Egypt and gave instructions concerning the burial of his bones. (Heb 11:20-22)

I'm a bit stymied by this section of the famous faith chapter.  This refers to three of the fathers of Israel and how they spoke, in faith, about things to come in the future.  The fatherly blessings here were not of the popish "bless you, my child" nature.  They were specific words concerning their child's nature and future -- they were almost predictions.  And, of course, Joseph telling everyone that they would return to the land of Abraham was certainly a bit of prophecy.

I've always assumed that these were just special men whom God gifted for the moment in that regard.  And I am not so gifted.  But Hebrews says they spoke these words not from a special anointing from the Spirit, but from their faith -- and holds them up as an example to us all.  So, there must be something to glean from this.

In my nightly reading, I've started a book about the life of George Mueller.  This is a 15th century man who opened an orphan house (and eventually four more) to care for orphans, yes, but even more specifically, he says, to serve as a testimony to the community of how God always provides for his children (that's us) when we trust in him.  Mueller's places relied entirely on donations, and other than an annual report to make known how the money was being spent (for transparency purposes), he never solicited funds.  He simply trusted that God would make available what was needed when it was needed.

One story I've heard (but haven't read yet in this book) is how one time, there was no food left for the evening meal and no money left to buy any food.  Mueller got the children and the workers all seated at the empty table and began to say grace . . . because he assumed, in faith, that God would not allow these children to go hungry.  As they were praying, they heard a knock on the door -- someone coming with food donations, exactly what they needed for dinner.  And this kind of thing happened pretty consistently in his ministry.

So, these stories about Mueller and Isaac and Jacob and Joseph make me wonder: how can you become this confident that you know the will of God?  How did Isaac know that Esau would serve his brother and then throw that yoke from his neck?  How did Joseph know that Abraham's family would return to Palestine?  How did George Mueller know that God didn't intend for his orphans to fast that particular evening?  I always think I could pray and act with more confidence if I knew for sure what God's will is in a particular situation.

But I keep coming back to this: I already do know so much of God's will that I don't act on.  Why don't I start there?

I'm also hanging on some words of George Mueller's today, in our never-ending job hunt.  He said he always started his prayers with a complete surrendering of his own will and agenda.  He never came to the throne asking for direction from God until he knew that in his own heart, he was absolutely, completely, perfectly willing to do ANYTHING that God might be about to ask of him.

I suppose when your own agenda is out of the way, it's probably easier to see God's agenda clearly.  Duh.

Abraham and Aslan and Wrestling

By faith Abraham, when tested  by God, offered his son Isaac as a sacrifice.  He who had embraced the promises was about to sacrifice his one and only son, even though God had said to him, "It is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned."  Abraham reasoned that God could raise him from the dead, and figuratively speaking, he did receive Isaac back from the dead.  (Heb 11:17-19)

I've been kind of dreading discussing this section of the chapter, because I have nonbelieving friends for whom I know this story is a stumbling block.  It's not my intention today to give an apologetic for the episode in Biblical history -- I simply want to address what it teaches me about faith.

My daughter is in a community theater production of "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" this weekend. Pondering this passage last night brought to mind a scene from the old BBC film version of that book.  Aslan has just come to life again after being killed on the stone table in the place of Edmund, the traitor.  He is explaining to the girls who witnessed his sacrifice about the deeper magic that the White Witch didn't know which caused the laws of death to be reversed when an innocent voluntarily died for a traitor.

The BBC then inserts a couple lines that are not C.S. Lewis'.  Lucy says something to the effect of, "So, you knew!  You knew you'd be alive again -- and you just let us suffer in our sorrow."

Aslan replies, "Well, I knew about the old, deep magic . . . but it had never been tested."

Two important things I get from this, related to the Hebrews passage.  One, as I keep coming back to in these faith portraits, faith requires action.  Faith that is "sure of what we hope for and certain of what we don't see" is only activated and legitimized when it is acted on.

Second, Jesus needed faith.  Now, I'm sure I have some Christian friends who will squirm at this idea and have plenty of arguments to make against it.  And that's fine -- they may be right.  It's not clear scriptural dogma.  But I don't think it's inconsistent with scriptural teaching, either.

Earlier in Hebrews, it tells us that Jesus was tempted in every way we were but never sinned.  If that's so, then the most significant temptation I face in life is not money, or power, or food, or sex . . . it is unbelief.  I'm tempted to look at what God says in his word and say, "Yeah, that's sounds nice, but it just can't be.  It's a pretty story, but it's not reality."  And if I'm tempted to walk away from the most difficult words of God, and if Jesus was tempted in every way I am . . . well, it makes sense that this atoning sacrifice business would be where that would kick in.

Yes, Jesus was God, but he was also fully human.  And being human means doubting.  Doubting is not sin.  Doubting is a temptation to disbelief, a temptation that Jesus received in its greatest power and overcame.  He wrestled over it to the point of sweating blood, but he believed God.  I'm sure Abraham also wrestled with this command from God, but he ultimately believed, too.  Believed that God is God.

The name Israel means "God wrestler", and it was an honor for Jacob when God gave him that name.  God invites wrestling from us.  He'd rather engage and wrestle with us than have us stand to the side just looking at him -- whether that's with a look of blatant contempt ("You can't possibly be a loving, just God if you expect this . . . ") or a look of angelic disingenuity ("Me, doubt?  Oh, no, Lord!  I'm MUCH too good to ever doubt you.").  Wrestling with God is how you find out who God is, and how you learn that you can have faith in him.

There is something comforting in knowing that God doesn't require any more of me than he did of his son, his own human self.  Just faith.  Simple faith.  Simple . . . but not easy.

Sarah: Standing on the Promises

And by faith, even Sarah, who was past childbearing age, was enabled to bear children because she considered him faithful who had given the promise.  (Hebrews 11)

An impossible thing, to bear a child when you are past childbearing age.  Laughable, even.  But Sarah was given that promise and (after laughing for a moment), she considered the one who gave that promise faithful.

After reading this, I wondered, what’s something that would be a similarly impossible promise given to me?  How about . . . I’m going to become a published author and before 2020, I’ll sell more books than J.K. Rowling.  Yeah, that’s pretty darn far-fetched.  But what if I were promised that – and what if I considered him faithful who had given the promise?  What would I do differently if I considered him faithful than I would do if I considered him flaky?

Well, I suppose I might be tempted to try to make the promise happen myself (Sarah did that, too resulting in Ishmael, ancestor of the Arab people – thank you, Sarah, for the conflict in the Middle East).  But the one significant thing I would do is keep writing.  I wouldn’t feel as discouraged on days when the well runs dry, or when people don’t like what I’ve written, or when no one seems to be reading at all.

Now, granted, Sarah had the advantage of having an outright spoken promise from the Almighty; not many of us are so privileged.  But that doesn’t let us off the hook, because we have been given MANY promises already that we don’t bank on.  Let’s start with a practical one:

Give, and it will be given to you.  A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap.  Luke 6:38

How many of us give of our money and possessions as if we considered him faithful who gave this promise?  Or this related one:

And the same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from his glorious riches, which have been given to us in Jesus Christ.  Philippians 4:19

If believers really considered the one who gave this promise faithful, wouldn’t worrying become extinct among us? God tells us “Do not fear” over 300 times in His word – why do we continue to fear?  And folks, these barely scratch the surface of the big, fat, hairy, bold promises God has given us.

I’ve come to realize that I have a choice.  I can continue to live as an American cultural Christian with a wimpy faith that makes me comfortable and just kinda suffices . . . usually.  Or I can get bold and genuinely consider Him faithful who has given the promises.  I may crash and burn . . . or I may end up like Sarah with descendants as numerous as stars in the sky and as countless as the sands on the seashore.

Abraham and Tent Living

By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he didn't know where he was going.  (Hebrews 11:8)

This is a very personal verse for me this week.  The job situation with hubby has come to a point where we've been figuratively on our faces before God asking for clear direction as to where He wants us to go.  Examining our own hearts, trying to empty ourselves of our own agendas so we can be completely submissive to his direction.  Wherever, Lord . . . just point us the way.  Shut every other door tightly.

When you read the Abraham story, it seems that God essentially told Abraham to start walking and He would tell him when to stop.  Wow.  Oh, to have faith like that!  Excuse me a moment while I get a mental and emotional picture of what that means and try to apply it to my heart today.  Just start walking, hon . . .

The rest of this Abraham section (the first of three about Abraham in Hebrews 11) has been speaking to me for a few weeks now: By faith, he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country.  He lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise . . .

They lived in tents -- no permanent dwelling.  Ready to get up and move at a moment's notice.  Yes, he made his home there, but as a stranger in a foreign land.  We've been preparing our hearts for a move from Sioux City for over ten months now.  I can relate to this feeling.  Our home is here, for now, but it's not a permanent dwelling.  We are attached and yet unattached.  It's kind of an odd feeling.

But it's how Abraham, Isaac and Jacob all lived.  And why?  For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.  The city with foundations -- that would be heaven.  The writer of Hebrews expounds on this more a few verses later, making some general comments about all of the faith heroes he's describing:

. . . and they admitted they were foreigners and strangers on earth.  People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own.  If they were talking about the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return.  Instead, they were longing for a better country -- a heavenly one.  Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

My past several months of "living in tents" as a "stranger and foreigner" in my own land of Sioux City has given me insight to how believers should be living all the time here on earth.  This is a temporary dwelling.  A place we should enjoy and bless while we're here, but always with an eye toward the "city with foundations" that God is preparing for us.  The better country.

Those times in my life when I feel a persistent dissatisfaction, a gaping hole, a never-ending longing for I don't know exactly what . . . I try to remember that this feeling shouldn't surprise me. I'm a stranger in this country.  This is not my real home.  My citizenship is elsewhere. 

And thank God, there will be no political campaigns in the heavenly city with foundations.  Hallelujah.

Noah, the People-Pleaser?

By faith, Noah, when warned of things not yet seen, in holy fear built an ark to save his family.  By his faith, he condemned the world and became heir to the righteousness that is in keeping with faith.  (Heb. 11:7)

I bet the movie “Evan Almighty” gave many people a new perspective on the Noah story.  That epic from Genesis 6-8 has become such a sanitized little tale – consider the people who decorate their baby nurseries with cartoonish drawings of tiny little “arks” overstuffed with pairs of smiling, cutesy animals.  But there was nothing tiny or cutesy or safe and sanitized about the ark and the flood. 

An analysis of the timing of things in the account in Genesis shows that it took several decades for Noah and his sons to build that monstrous shelter.  Several decades when he had to explain to neighbors and gawkers what he was doing and why.  Imagine the isolation.  Imagine the humiliation.  Imagine the doubts that would have to creep into your head.

I’m not sure I could have done that.  And not just because I’m completely clueless in the woodworking arts.  I don’t think I could have persevered in an activity that held me up to such derision.  I’m far too much of a people-pleaser, too addicted to admiration.  It’s one of my favorite idols, one I fight on a daily – maybe hourly – basis (at least on the good days when I truly make an effort).  For Noah to do what he did, he could NOT have been a people-pleaser.

On the other hand . . . maybe he was.  Maybe this humiliating long-term shop project with his boys was God’s curriculum for his life.  Maybe every morning, he woke up saying, “Please, God – no.  I don’t want to face them again.  A day off today.  Please.  This is just too hard.”  Maybe he spent those decades learning that God’s pleasure was enough for his soul.  Maybe he didn’t start out as the fabulous saint we all imagine the Old Testament saints to be; maybe he got that way through a painful, daily struggle in his soul to believe – to have faith -- that God was enough.

Believing that Noah was just always greater than I am – that’s a lot easier, I suppose.  But believing that God made Noah great through his submission in faith – that gives me hope.

Enoch: Walking With God

By faith, Enoch was taken from this life so that he did not experience death:  “He could not be found because God had taken him away.”  For before he was taken, he was commended as one who pleased God.  And without faith it is impossible to please God, for anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him. (Heb 11:5-6)

So, here is that key passage about needing faith to please God.  And it even gives us more on the nature of that faith: believing that God exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him. It’s not enough to acknowledge that, “Yeah, there must be a God”.  As Paul reminds us, even the demons know there is a God.  We must seek him, desire to know him, with the expectation that this knowledge will be rewarding.  It pleases God that we recognize him as generous – as one who returns blessing to us for our efforts to know him. 

And the example we’re given of this is Enoch, that enigmatic character from the begats in Genesis 5. Enoch was the sixth generation after Adam, but because of the length of life spans in the beginning, his relatively brief life was all while Adam was still alive.  Presumably, he was able to talk to Adam himself, hear the first man’s story about God and the garden and the fall.  Interesting that the words distinguishing Enoch from the other patriarchs are the same words describing the nature of Adam and Eve’s relationship with God in the garden:  they walked with God.

Genesis tells us that Enoch does not die but is simply taken away by God.  Enoch, who “walked with God”.  He was taken away because of his faith, Hebrews tells us – because he believed and hoped in something he had not yet seen.  Perhaps heard of, through Adam, but not yet seen.

I have the advantage over Enoch.  I have seen people who, I believe, were walking with God.  I have observed the difference in their lives; it was what brought me back to the faith when I wandered.  Enoch had nothing but a recounting of Adam’s memory of the experience – yet it was enough to give him faith that such an experience could exist.  And not just to believe it, but to seek it out for himself.  It apparently pleased God that Enoch recognized him as worthy of seeking out.  And Enoch was rewarded for his earnest seeking – with an intimate relationship with God that did not end in death.

Lord, help me believe that You can satisfy more than the petty, worthless things I seek here on earth.

Faith Portrait: Abel

So, Hebrews 11 begins by telling us that “faith is being sure of what we hope for, being certain of what is not seen,” and that “this is what the ancients were commended for”.  How were people justified before God before Jesus was born?  By their faith – by their being sure of the truths they were told that were not yet seen but that they hoped for.  ALL the heroes of faith mentioned in Hebrews 11 were from the Old Testament, the scripture of the New Testament writers.  Faith was the requirement for righteousness long before Jesus came around.

And the first person held up to us as a great example of faith was Abel, of the Cain-and-Abel-debacle in Genesis 4. 

By faith, Abel offered a better sacrifice than Cain.  By faith, he was commended as a righteous man, when God spoke well of his offering.  And by faith, he still speaks today, even though he is dead.

I’ve heard many theories on why Abel’s offering of a lamb was accepted and Cain’s offering of produce from his farm was not.  One is that Genesis specifically states that Abel offered the best of his flock; by contrast, Cain’s produce was apparently not the best he had to offer.  Another take is that Abel was offering a blood sacrifice, blood being the means to cover sin, as God instructed Adam’s family; Cain’s vegetables didn’t do the trick.

Whatever the reason for it, Genesis makes it clear that God knew that Cain knew better than to sacrifice what or as he did.  And Cain’s actions after the rejection of his sacrifice make it clear that the condition of his heart was the source of the problem.

Abel’s sacrifice, on the other hand, was given out of faith.  He sacrificed that lamb because he was certain of something he had not yet seen but was hoping for.  Certain of God honoring the sacrifice and covering his sin?  Certain of the ultimate sacrifice coming later that this symbolized?  Certain that God would meet his needs if he gave Him his best?  I’m not sure.  But the heart behind the sacrifice is what made it pleasing to God, and that is how Abel speaks to me today, even though he is dead.

We traditional evangelical folks – especially we women of the breed – have a tendency to lean toward martyrdom.  Oh, the things we suffer for our Lord!  Oh, the trials we bear!  Oh, what I have sacrificed to serve my Savior!  And yes, Christ has called us to take up our cross and follow him, but those sacrifices are only commendable when the heart behind them is right.  Not a heart that says, Look how much I’ve given up for you, God!  Surely you must be impressed and want to bless me now.  But a heart that says, You’ve told me, Father, that you are all I need, and I have faith – I have certainty – that this is true.  These things I sacrifice are nothing compared to what I have in you.

He is El Shaddai:  The All-Sufficient One.  And I only discover that to be true when I believe it and act on it in faith.

I Dare You to Read

This blog has become something of a public journal for me, a place to articulate my thoughts about a matter so that I know for sure what I think about them.  I’m always amazed that anyone cares what I’m thinking about, but since people apparently do, I’ll let you know that I’ve been meditating a lot on Hebrews 11 lately.  For the non-Biblically literate, that’s a chapter of the Bible that gives a roll call of the “heroes of faith”.  It essentially gives us a working definition of faith and is therefore a key passage in the Bible -- because as verse 6 says, “Without faith, it is impossible to please God.”  So, obviously, it is critical to know exactly what faith is.

So, I need to ponder and then articulate these ponderings for myself.  And I intend to do that here, in a series of posts.  Maybe every Friday.  Maybe more often, maybe less often.  We’ll see.

But here’s the thing.  I’ve noticed that I get more response and more readers when the topics I’m writing about are more controversial or confrontational.  Sometimes I need to work those thoughts out here.  But sometimes, I need to meditate on a truth God is dealing with in my heart.  I don’t seem to get much readership on those.  Oh, well.  It’s my blog.

Faith isn’t a very glamorous topic to write about.  It’s a bland word.  It’s something that the believer usually feels they’ve got a good handle on – that’s why they’re believers.  It’s something that the non-believer doesn’t care to hear about – that’s why they’re non-believers.

But I’m going to challenge you . . . no, dare you to read these posts anyway.  Not because I’m some fabulous writer who is going to inspire and illuminate the socks off of you (chances are, I won’t), but because of the same reason I’m choosing to write them: faith is critical.  Faith is not a subject to ignore.  Without faith it is impossible to please God.  If you’re interested in pleasing God, you need to know that you know what faith is and that you have it.  Even if you’re not interested in pleasing God, you need to at least understand what this faith thing is all about before you walk away from it.

So, there you go.  I dare you.  Read and ponder and articulate with me . . . and see if God doesn't work a change in your heart.  I'm expecting one in mine.  Coming soon . . .