Abraham Talked with God

    We’ve been working on describing people in my English conversation class – their hair, height, weight, overall appearance. It’s interesting to hear the different impressions one person can make. In one opinion the man is tall; the other describes him as average height. One says she’s young, another middle aged. Short hair to one is perceived as long in another’s mind. And on it goes.

     In reading through Genesis I’ve come to the story of Abraham. As children we learned songs about him as Father Abraham, the husband of Sarah, father of Isaac, the man who left Ur of the Chaldeans and followed God to a place of promise. We’ve memorized the story of his great faith test as he laid his own son, his only son, on the altar as a sacrifice.  And we’ve been told that it was through him that all the peoples on the earth were blessed, that he’s the father of many nations, a man who trusted God.

     Though he wasn’t always old, my impression of him remains as an elderly man with long white hair, matching beard and wrinkled, sun-dried skin from years of travel. Yet he was so much more --a living breathing person who felt things, had desires and dreams. Waiting almost thirty years for the birth of Isaac impacted his life, transforming him into the mature man we remember with the white beard and steady faith.  Not much is revealed about his emotions, leaving us to fill in the gaps with our own interpretations of how he handled life’s struggles.  Was he angry, frustrated, disappointed? Did he often grow restless or irritable? Or was he good natured, going through the motions of each day with little thought of the future? Did he and Sarah discuss their dreams with doubts or with certainty as they waited year after year? 
     Reading along this morning I came to a verse that caused me to actually think about him differently. He stopped being one dimensional and took on a whole new persona in my mind as I witnessed him not only talking with God but reasoning with him, challenging him to remember his promises. The verse reads, “Then Abraham pressed his request further.” Here I saw Abraham out in the mountains of what would later become Israel talking with the Lord about the impending destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.  After hearing the Lord’s warning that he’d destroy the city if it proved to be infiltrated with wickedness, Abraham’s heart was stirred with compassion. Not only was he concerned about his nephew Lot, but for all the other righteous people, if there were any, who would die along with the wicked.

     In so much of the Old Testament we mainly get glimpses of people falling down in the presence of God, worshipping him in fear. We see them trembling on their faces before the holy God. And while Abraham did the same, worshiping God and giving him a sacrifice, we also see him engaging in discussion with him, much like we witness the disciples doing in the New Testament. He’s having a talk with God about withholding his judgment and, in it, reminds God of his goodness. “Surely you wouldn’t do such a thing, destroying the righteous along with the wicked. Why, you would be treating the righteous and the wicked exactly the same! Surely you wouldn’t do that! Should not the Judge of all the earth do what is right?”

     Abraham was calling God to be faithful to his character and his word, something that at first glance comes across as arrogant, absurd. But God wasn’t offended in any way by his boldness, just as he wasn’t put off by the boldness of others who begged for mercy in the New Testament. In fact, God revealed, or unveiled, more and more of his compassion with each succeeding request.  His forbearance is contrary to my human nature which displays irritability and takes offense when pressed too much for mercy. "Enough is enough," I cry when someone dares to keep asking for more. But this wasn’t, isn’t, the case with God at all. Abraham pressed him six times for an extension of his mercy, beginning with fifty people and ending with only ten. “Finally, Abraham said, ‘Lord, please don’t be angry with me if I speak one more time. Suppose only ten are found there?’” And God responded, “Then I will not destroy it for the sake of the ten.”

     Are you getting the same message I am? That God never wanted to destroy the wicked in the first place, and that relenting was as much a relief to him as it was to Abraham. That Abraham had come to know God's heart through years of walking with him and was voicing God’s own desires without even realizing it. God says that he is a God of compassion who doesn’t delight in punishing the wicked. Abraham was discovering this through his conversation with God, just as Jonah did as he encountered God’s dealing with the Ninevites, just as Moses did as he interceded for the stubborn Israelites, just as you and I do as we go to God time and again with the same requests for mercy.

     My husband gave me an article by Tim Keller about the importance of boldness in persevering prayer. In it, he quotes Thomas Goodwin, a Puritan, who emphasizes that God wants us not only to take him at his word but to hold him to it. He writes, “Do not leave him alone. Pester him, as it were, with his own promise. Quote the Scripture to him. And, you know, God delights to hear us doing it, as a father likes to see this element in his own child who has obviously been listening to what his father has been saying.”

     It’s astounding to know that regardless of the day God’s promises are unchanging. If he’s said he’s going to do it, he’s going to do it. Nothing will ever alter that. And God doesn't tire of hearing us pray and ask him for help, for healing, for grace to press on. Do you know anyone else like that in the entire universe? I don’t! Even my husband who's willing to endure mental torture listening to me rattle on and on about concerns and desires reaches a point of frustration and boredom. He’s heard it once, twice, a million times and he’s ready to move on.

     But God doesn’t become frustrated or lose interest. He’s there waiting, even longing for us to come into his presence, to stay there as long as we want, to say whatever is on our minds, to spend time with us. He’s not in a hurry and never will be. We can’t reach him at a bad time. His perfection doesn’t make him despise our many flaws, but rather moves him to greater mercy and compassion. And it's not the kind of mercy that causes him feel sorry for us but the kind that moves him to action to help us dig out of the pits in life. He wants to see us grow and bloom, to spread our wings and fly.

     He didn’t make us plastic creatures who come before him and recite some generic prayers. No, he created us with passion and desires that move us to heartfelt communion with him that sometimes, many times, pleads our case before him with the same passion we’ve seen in our children as they share their longings with us. He’s told us all about himself and his will in his word and he’s excited, I think, when we come to him standing firmly on these promises and reminding him that since he’s promised it, we’re expecting it and we’re holding him to it, in his time. He’s not our puppet and won’t be told what to do. But he’s way, way too big to be offended by our constant needs and requests.

     Abraham was a man who had great faith, who dared to take God at his Word. He wasn’t afraid to speak from his heart. He talked with God, just like we do, and God moved mountains in his life, just like he does, and wants to do in ours, if we’ll ask him.  

  

Finishing Well

    "It’s one thing to start something and another to finish it." I've heard that line throughout my life, but my fourth grade teacher said it the most often. Whenever we’d grow tired of completing our work or would do it half heartedly she’d break into her mantra, “Once a job is first begun, do it well until it’s done. Be it big or be it small, do it well or not at all!” For some reason, her philosophy made an impression on me, and hearing her repeat it only made me more determined to finish what I’d started.

     I’ve experienced my share of quitting, of doing sloppy work, of finishing, but not doing my best. And it wasn’t until becoming a Christian that I was able to somewhat grasp the importance of finishing well, realizing that God’s grace was the essential ingredient needed for perseverance. Before, I’d attempted things in my own strength. As long as my fleshly passion was strong I had the drive to get it done. But as soon as I lost interest in my pursuit, determination vanished.

     Both our girls run cross country, so I’ve had the chance to watch them run many races. One of the things I like best about them is the mass following of spectators from one place on the trail to the other. The crowd forms a wave of motion as we make our way from one location to the next, standing in one spot only long enough to cheer them on and then dashing off to the next visible place along the trail.

There's excitement at these curves and bends, but it pales in comparison to what it’s like to wait for them at the finish line. Anticipation is intense as we stand anxiously waiting, hoping that our runner will be next around the bend.
     The sight of them elicits both thrill and fear. With red faces, shoulders beginning to slump, they look like a wind could easily blow them off course undoing all they've accomplished. That is until their eyes catch a glimpse of the finish line. At the moment it comes into focus, an amazing transformation occurs in their expression, their demeanor. Now instead of focusing on how tired they are and wondering how much further they have to go, they get a glimpse of the victory awaiting them on the other side. Awareness increases, especially of those just in front and beside them. And the last vestige of energy is tapped as they oftentimes sprint with determination for the finish line. Pictures of our younger daughter, just as she’s caught sight of my face and realized she was almost done, are priceless reminders of this intense longing to finish well.

     Lots of people like to say that “life is a journey”. But, I think of it more like the apostle Paul did as a race…that we’re all runners competing for the prize. We’re running with a purpose to live our lives for God’s glory. We’re not just stumbling along, aimlessly going about life. We’re running with determination and drive to ensure that all we’ve been given is invested and used in the greatest way possible for God’s Kingdom. 

    I don’t know about you, but I want to finish well. Not only because I want to please Christ, but also because I’ve already invested so much into following him. I want to follow hard, close and fast. And more than anything, I don’t want to give up and quit before I’ve reached it there. I don’t want to get to heaven and realize that if I would have just persevered a little longer I could have seen fruit in my life or impacted others to make the kind of difference God intended. That's all I'm taking with me -- no possessions, no worldly treasures -- just spiritual fruit and blessings that come from abiding in him. This race called life does have a finish line. Though I can't see it yet, I know it's there -- just around the bend. And I'm certain  he'll be there, just as he is every day, cheering me on as I cross it and claim my prize.

     

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to a get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I don not fight like a boxer beating the air." 1 Cor. 9:24-27

Holding Fast to Our Faith

     God commanded Joshua several times, “Be strong and very courageous" (Joshua 1:7-9). Taking the promised land was no lottery ticket prize but required strength of spirit and resolve to live by faith and not by sight. The battles the Israelites would face across the Jordan were not trivial, but threatened to undo them unless their eyes were fixed on God and his good promise that they would possess the land.

     Living by faith today in a hostile, post-Christian era is no less demanding. We don’t face the literal spear and javelin of the opposing army, but we encounter the same enemy who “prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour" (1 Peter 5:8). He places obstacles across our paths, sends mockers and scoffers to discourage and assault us with weapons of despair and fear as we, often with trembling legs, make our way to the promised land.

      As the pressure of the opposition increases, we are often tempted like the Israelites were to doubt God’s Word and His ability to intervene on our behalf. Once fear has gripped us, our hearts are assailed by other doubts until we become convinced that God’s power was relegated to history and that what we’ve been declaring as faith is really presumption in disguise. We wonder if we’ve been fools to believe that this invisible God will part our Red Sea when the last one He parted was thousands of years ago. And as we stumble through this valley of doubt, the world, the flesh and the devil in unison make their proclamation regarding our faith, calling it archaic history and blind hope.

     Before we know it, the faith we once cherished comes unraveled like a loosely woven garment, and we find ourselves naked and exposed. We begin doubting  previous deliverances and answers to prayers – writing them off as mere coincidence or taking credit for them ourselves. Realizing our vulnerability and need for some sort of cover we grab garments of self-will as we muster up all that’s within to continue along this journey. Though we may not even realize it at this point, a major paradigm shift has occurred as we’ve taken our eyes off of God and put our hope in reason, logic, hard work or intuition. Like the Israelites, we've trusted in the strong arm of the flesh or looked to others who are stronger to help in our time of need (Jeremiah 17:5-6).

     As we daily make our way through each ensuing battle we no longer rely on courage to trust God – He’s become a trinket we carry along with us as a last resort or good luck charm (Isaiah 30:15-17). We convince ourselves that in order to survive in this world we have to rely on internal and worldly wisdom and strength. We commend ourselves for our successes, making certain that others see and recognize them as well. Before long, we forget about God completely as we mindlessly toss him aside for the spoils that we’ve picked up along the way.

     But the day usually comes when we encounter people who look a lot like we used to with their eyes fixed on Jesus – His kingdom and His promises. Inwardly we laugh as we recall walking the same naïve path of faith and hope. We feel pity for their lack of true wisdom and understanding until we see the light and life in their eyes -- the hope that upholds them and the faith which enables them to face the unknown, not with a sense of dread, but with joy.  And then we remember, as if waking from a dream, what it was like when we lived the same way – trusting Christ for everything and allowing him to lead us, provide for us and give us wisdom.

      We rub our eyes and try to forget, because remembering means we’ve been wrong and we have to change. It’s not easy going it alone, but it’s at least predictable we tell ourselves. Quickly we begin reminding ourselves of recent victories, trying to assure our restless heart that we’ve indeed chosen the only path of true success. And though outwardly we appear godly and victorious to others on the journey, deep within a knot swells and a longing tugs mercilessly at our hearts. As much as we try, we can’t forget the days when we walked humbly with God in dependence and trust -- when faith was all we had and God was our only hope. But, like the rich young ruler we keep going the other way – sad, but determined. Because living in our own strength for our own glory has become our god.

 “Take care brothers that there not be in any of you an evil, unbelieving heart that falls away from the living God. But encourage one another day after day, as long as it is called ‘Today’, so that none of you will be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin. For we have become partakers of Christ, if we hold fast to the beginning of our assurance firm until the end.” Hebrews 3:12-14