Category: Faith

Connecting the dots between faith and current happenings, Msgr. Charles Pope shares the light of Christ’s teachings.

Posted on

On the Importance of Little Things

I have found that one of my favorite quotes from St. Augustine is not all that well known. Here it is in Latin, followed by my own translation:

Quod minimum, minimum est,
Sed in minimo fidelem esse,
magnum est.

What is a little thing, is (just) a little thing,
But to be faithful in a little thing,
is a great thing.

(De Doctrina Christiana, IV,35)

I first saw this quote on the frontispiece of a book by Adrian Fortescue. Fortescue applied it to the intricate details of celebrating the Old Latin Mass. That form of the Mass has an enormous amount of detail to learn: how exactly to hold the hands, when and how to bow, what tone of voice to use when, what fingers should be used to pick up the host, and so on. Some might see these details as picky and overwhelming, but Fortescue apparently wanted us to think about the fact that love is often shown through attention to the little things.

It’s so easy to become lazy, even about sacred things like saying Mass. I often have to remind myself about little things. Are my shoes in good condition? Are my vestments clean? Have the altar linens been properly cared for? Am I bowing and pausing during Mass when I should? Am I using the proper tone of voice? Am I walking reverently in the sanctuary? Am I pronouncing the sacred words of the liturgy with care and a prayerful spirit? Some may find such questions tedious or even too scrupulous, but when you love, little things are often important.

Married couples may also struggle to remember the little things that show love: a kind remark, a thank you, flowers brought home for no particular reason, a caring look, the gift of listening attentively, cleaning up after yourself in the kitchen, a reassurance like “I’m glad I married you” or “You’re such a great father to our children,” a quick phone call saying “I love you and was thinking about you.”

Yes, they’re just little things, but to be faithful in little things is a great thing. These passages come to mind:

Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness (Matt 25:21).

Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much (Luke 16:10).

Little things—who cares? God does. Little things are great things to those who love.

This song says, “You must be faithful over a few things to be ruler over many things. Be thou faithful unto death and God will give you a crown of life.” It ends with this rousing chorus: “Well done good and faithful servant, well done!”

And because I mentioned the details of the traditional Latin Mass, here is a video that illustrates that little things can mean a lot. Those who are unaccustomed to this form may find such details stuffy, but to those who appreciate them, these “little things” are small signs of love for God and are a way of suppressing a kind of careless informality. One should be natural, not robotic, but some of these small details can add a lot to reverence.

Posted on

The Lament of God: You Forgot

The following tale is from the Hasidic tradition:

Yechiel was playing hide and seek with another child. He hid himself for some time, but his playmate did not look for him. Little Yechiel ran to Rabbi Baruch and said amid tears, “He did not look for me!” The Rabbi said, “That is also God’s complaint, that we seek Him not.”

Indeed, one of the most frequent laments of God is that we forget Him. So often He said, שָׁכַח (shakach): You forgot! Here are just a few examples from Scripture.

  • You neglected the Rock who begot you, and forgot the God who gave you birth (Dt. 32:18).
  • Your fathers forgot the God who saved them, who had done great things in Egypt, miracles in the land of Ham and awesome deeds by the Red Sea (Ps 106:21-22).
  • Your heart will become proud and you will forget the LORD your God who brought you out from the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery (Dt 8:14).
  • Can a virgin forget her ornaments, or a bride her attire? Yet My people have forgotten Me, days without number (Jer 2:32).
  • You have forgotten Me and cast Me behind your back (Ez 23:35).
  • You have forgotten Me, declares the Lord GOD (Ez 22:12).
  • And being satisfied, their heart became proud. Therefore, they forgot Me (Hos 13:6).
  • Your sons have forsaken Me and sworn by those who are not gods. When I had fed them to the full, they committed adultery and trooped to the harlot’s house (Jer 5:7).

Note in particular the final two, which place the source of the problem in the very gifts that God bestows. Receiving such gifts without gratitude and awe we become satiated and forget the very God who gave them to us. St. Augustine lamented this as a long source of his problem:

Late have I loved you,
Beauty so ancient and so new,
late have I loved you!
Lo, you were within,
but I outside, seeking there for you,
and upon the shapely things you have made
I rushed headlong –I, misshapen.
You were with me, but I was not with you.
They held me back far from you,
those things which would have no being,
were they not in you.
(Confessions Book 10)

Yes, we are so easily forgetful and unreflective. Surrounded by God’s gifts, we grow dull of mind and claim as our own what really belongs to God.

The little child’s lament, “He did not look for me!” is God’s as well. Yet it is not God who is wounded or hurt by this—it is we. Isaiah exhorts, Seek the LORD while he may be found; call on him while he is near (Is 55:6). In this alone is our salvation.

This song says, “Always remember Jesus. Always keep Him on your mind.”

Posted on

What’s So Sinful About a Census and Why Was Israel Punished for Something David Did?

Today I want to return to a reading from last week’s Mass. In that reading (from 2 Samuel 24) we hear the story of how King David ordered a census to be taken. Joab, David’s general, strongly cautioned the King against it, but David insisted. When the census had been completed, the Prophet Gad informed David of God’s anger and of His intention to punish David and all Israel. God offered David his choice of punishments: a three-year famine, three months of military fighting from Israel’s enemies, or three days of pestilence. David chose the pestilence, figuring that it was better to fall by God’s hand than an enemy’s. About 70,000 people died during those three days.

This raises two central questions:

  1. What’s wrong with a census?
  2. Why was Israel punished for something David did?

What’s wrong with a census? – The first explanation can be found by focusing David’s lack of trust. God had called David to trust in Him—not in man, not in numbers. We have a tendency to rely too much on numbers, thinking that something is good, or right, or successful based on how many people attended or how many supported our cause or view. Of this tendency we must be very careful. Is our power or rightness rooted in numbers, in popularity, in profit, or in God? In counting his people, David seems to be seeking confidence in numbers rather than God; this is a sin.

David may also be guilty of pride. It could well be that he considered with pride the fact that he had amassed such a large number of people in reuniting Israel and Judah, in conquering the Philistines, the Hittites, and others. Taking a census was perhaps a way of flattering himself, of making a name for himself. The numbers are quite impressive—so impressive in fact that we moderns doubt them: 800,000 men fit for military service in Israel and 500,000 in Judah. Including women, children, and those men too old or frail for service, would probably bring the number closer to 5 million people. Such a figure seems unlikely number and is a source of great debate among biblical scholars about biblical enumeration. That debate is too much to handle in this post, but may be a topic for future discussion. For now, let’s simply say that David ruled over a populous nation; his taking of a census likely indicates that he was proud of his accomplishment and wanted it acknowledged by his contemporaries and recorded in the annals of history: David, King of multitudes!

Others point out the sinfulness of counting God’s people. These are not David’s people to enumerate; they are God’s. Because counting hints at accomplishment and control, David sins in trying to know a number that is none of his business. This is a number that is for God alone to know, for He numbers His people and calls them by name (cf Gen 15:15).

A final area of sinfulness surrounds the manner in which a census can be and often is used as an oppressive tool of government. The census provides David with the number of men “fit for military service.” In the ancient world, a census was often a tool for military draft. It was also a basis for exacting taxes. Finally, kings used it to measure their power and to manipulate and coerce based on that power. Even in our own time, the taking of the official U.S. census every ten years is often surrounded by power struggles, gerrymandering, tax policy changes, spending priorities, and the pitting of certain ethnic and racial groups against one another. A lot of troubles can be tied back to the census; numbers are powerful things. Those that have “the numbers” get seats at the table while those who do not have to wait outside. In amassing numbers, David increases his power and his ability to manipulate the people in sinful and/or unjust ways.

The taking of a census is not necessarily morally neutral. While there may be legitimate reasons for a country to collect this information, it can be used in sinful or unjust ways and can lead to power struggles. With this in mind we can see why the military commander Joab may have advised David against taking a census.

Exactly where David’s sin lay—a lack of trust, pride, acting as if they were his people rather than God’s, amassing power, or in some combination of all these things—is not made clear in the text. God is clear though in letting David know that he has sinned and seriously so. This leads to a second and more difficult question.

Why was Israel punished for something David did? As an opening disclaimer we ought to admit that there are some mysterious aspects of this incident and we may not be able to know the answer fully. All we can do is to offer some speculation. Let’s look at a few thoughts as to why all of Israel was punished.

The most common explanation emphasizes that Israel was not sinless in the matter. The census story begins as follows: The Lord’s anger against Israel flared again and incited David … to number Israel and Judah.  Hence God was angry with the whole nation for some undisclosed reason, and therefore permitted David to fall into this sin. Perhaps the census was also a matter of national pride, with the people thinking, “Look how big, prosperous, and powerful we have become.” This is only speculation, but the point is that according to the text, Israel was not blameless.

Another point must be to emphasize that the modern western notion of individualism is not a biblical one. We tend to think that what we do is our own business and what others do is theirs. We are thus outraged at the idea that many would suffer for the sins of one. In the biblical worldview, though, we are all interconnected:  There should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one member suffers, every member suffers; if one member is honored, every member rejoices. Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a member of it (1 Cor 12:25-27). Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. This is the biblical vision.

The decisions we make affect the people around us for better or worse. Even what we call “private” sins set evil loose, reduce goodness, and increase the likelihood of future and more public sins. We are our brother’s keeper and what we do or fail to do affects others.

To those who would say that God is not being “fair” in punishing Israel for what David did, there must be this strong advice: Be very careful before you ask God to be fair. If God were fair, we would all be in Hell right now. Rather, it is mercy we should seek. Fairness is a bad bet; it will land us in Hell.

This is a difficult passage, but God knows how to shepherd us rightly. There are times when tough measures are needed. We do not know the precise nature of Israel’s sin that angered God, but His anger is His passion to set things right. He’s getting us ready for the “Great Day.”

Posted on

Eyes that Are Humble – A Meditation on the Conversion of St. Paul

Today in daily Mass we read the well-known story of St. Paul’s conversion. There is a detail in the story that I have often pondered. Although I am speculating on the specifics, I think it ought not to be overlooked. Even my choice of the words “speculating” and “overlooked” (both of which refer to the eyes) indicate that we ought to “give an eye” to St. Paul’s eyes.

As you probably recall, St. Paul was not just struck down on the road to Damascus—he was blinded as well.

Saul got up from the ground,
but when he opened his eyes he could see nothing;
so they led him by the hand and brought him to Damascus.
For three days he was unable to see, and he neither ate nor drank (Acts 9:8-10).

Having persecuted the Lord, Paul was now confronted with the darkness of sin and unbelief. It is as though the Lord wanted nothing to distract Paul as he pondered his experience, neither the delights of food and drink nor the delights of the eye. It was a kind of dying and being with Christ for three days in the tomb before rising. Like the dead, Paul was unable to eat and was enveloped in complete darkness of blindness. He could do little during that time but think and pray.

And pray he did!

[The Lord said to Ananias,]“Get up and go to the street called Straight
and ask at the house of Judas for a man from Tarsus named Saul.
He is there praying,
and in a vision he has seen a man named Ananias
come in and lay his hands on him,
that he may regain his sight.”

… Ananias went and entered the house;
laying his hands on him, he said,
“Saul, my brother, the Lord has sent me,
Jesus who appeared to you on the way by which you came,
that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.”
Immediately things like scales fell from his eyes
and he regained his sight.
He got up and was baptized,
and when he had eaten, he recovered his strength.

Through Word and Sacrament, Paul’s eyes were healed—or were they? Surely they were, for in the years that would follow, Paul saw well enough to travel the world speaking of Christ.

I’m convinced that some vestige of blindness, some physical memory remained in Paul’s eyes for his entire life, something to remind him of his need for mercy and to keep him humbly mindful of how that mercy was extended.

As background, we do well to recall the story of Jacob, who wrestled with God one night. Jacob proved strong in that great contest, so strong that God gave him a new name, Israel, which means “he wrestles (or struggles) with God.” God also left Jacob with a permanent memory of that nighttime battle. Scripture says that God knocked out Jacob’s sciatic muscle (Genesis 32:32), such that he would walk with a limp for the rest of his life, leaning on a staff. It was a reminder to Jacob that he was always to lean on the Lord (Heb 11:21).

So, too, perhaps, for St. Paul. Although he persevered through three dark days with God and although his eyesight was restored, it would seem that some weakness remained in his eyes. Later, St. Paul would speak of an ailment, a mysterious thorn in his flesh (2 Cor 12:7). Three times he begged God to remove it but the Lord told him to endure it for the sake of humility.

What was it? What was this mysterious physical affliction? I’m convinced that it had something to do with his eyes. Paul told the Galatians,

As you know, it was because of an illness that I first preached the gospel to you, and even though my illness was a trial to you, you did not treat me with contempt or scorn. Instead, you welcomed me as if I were an angel of God, as if I were Christ Jesus himself. Where, then, is your blessing of me now? I can testify that, if you could have done so, you would have torn out your eyes and given them to me (Gal 4:13-15).

While I am speculating, it seems to me that Paul had something to akin to conjunctivitis (pink eye), an affliction that make the eyes fill with a sticky yellowish discharge and become red. It can be extremely contagious and is often repulsive to others. Indeed, it was quite difficult to endure in the era before modern medicine.

Whatever his actual affliction, it seems (if the Galatians text is acknowledged as descriptive) to have involved Paul’s eyes, the same eyes that had been healed but perhaps with a reminder left in them of the need for humility and for remembrance of how God saved him.

What is your thorn? What is your limp? What is your conjunctivitis? All of us have things that keep us humble. They remind us of our need to lean on God and to look to Him, not with haughty eyes, but with eyes that are humble, respectful, and grateful.

This song says, “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen. Nobody knows but Jesus”

Posted on

If Demons Believe and Tremble, What about Us?

As we begin the ordinary time of the Church year, we follow the Lord’s public ministry. The curtain lifts and we are in the synagogue at Capernaum:

Jesus entered the synagogue and taught. The people were astonished at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority and not as the scribes.
In their synagogue was a man with an unclean spirit; he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are – the Holy One of God!”
Jesus rebuked him and said, “Quiet! Come out of him!”
The unclean spirit convulsed him and with a loud cry came out of him. (Mark 1:21-26)

Here are two brief thoughts:

First, note the astonishment of the people. The preaching of the Word of God is not meant to be a perfunctory part of the Mass. Even when the preacher is not gifted with eloquence or charisma, God’s Word has the power to astonish us.

The Greek word used in this passage is very strong: ἐξεπλήσσοντο (exeplessonto). It comes from combining exe or ek (wholly out) and plesso (to strike) Thus the most literal translation is that Jesus “knocked them out” with his proclamation. The word indicates the state of being utterly amazed, dumbfounded, or left at a complete loss after witnessing something incredible. One can picture someone gaping in sheer astonishment.

If we carefully attend to the Word of God rather than just listening half-heartedly, we should expect to be astonished. It may make us mad, sad, or glad; it may console or afflict us; but we cannot be unchanged if we open our heart and mind to its power.

Do you go to Church expecting to hear a Word that will change you? When you read Scripture, do you expect to be surprised, astonished, or even intrigued? If not, why not?

Second, notice that the demon recognizes Christ for who He is: The Holy One of God. James rather sadly observed that demons believe and even tremble (see James 2:19). If even demons recognize and are thunderstruck by the glory of God, how is it that so many of us are half asleep during the sacred liturgy?

Those who have attended exorcisms are quite surprised at the power that simple holy water, the touch of the priest’s hand, and the priest’s stole have over demons. This is also true of relics and sacramentals. The demons experience their power, yet so many of us are casual and unexpectant around such realities.

These observations are meant not so much to shame as to remind us that in the sacred liturgy we encounter the Lord of Glory. He is present in both word and sacrament. If a demon can know that and have servile fear, how about us? Can we know this and have a reverential fear and love?

Tomorrow I will post more on the power of Jesus’ preaching.

Posted on

Close Your Umbrellas! A Mediation on a Saying at Fatima.

On at least two different occasions, Sr. Lucia gave the following instruction to the crowd at Fatima: “Close your umbrellas. Our Lady is coming!” In the pictures of the throngs gathered on the 13th of each month in Fatima, one can often see umbrellas. They were sometimes used to shield people from the rain, but even more often to provide shade from the strong sunlight.

“Close your umbrellas” isn’t exactly one of the more famous aspects of the message of Fatima. However, the instruction has something important to say to us, especially in these days of ease when we seem so inconvenienced by the slightest hint of sacrifice or even minor discomfort.

An umbrella is used to ward off the heat of a hot day or the soaking of the rain. The call to close our umbrella is a call to accept the sacrifices that are often necessary to purify us so that we can receive greater blessings. How many of us who are concerned with the condition of our culture and our world are willing to make sacrifices for the conversion of souls? We want things to get better, but are we willing to do things such as fast or pray the rosary daily? For us who are called to be prophets in this unbelieving time, are we willing to close our umbrella and endure the heat of scorn from those who resist our witness? Are we willing to endure the discomfort of annoyance, ridicule, indignation, or scoffing indifference raining down on us? Closing our umbrella involves accepting the sacrifices necessary to preach the Gospel.

To lower our umbrella is also a sign of humility, for in lowering it we lower ourselves; we experience our frailty, unprotected from the elements. Humility is the key to unlocking greater blessings, for if we do not lower the umbrella of our pride and close the umbrella of illusory self-sufficiency we will miss the miracle and glory of greater blessings.

Consider a mere physical fact: October 13, 1917 was a dreary, rainy day. Photos of the nearly 70,000 who gathered in Cova da Iria at Fatima show an abundance of umbrellas, testifying to the poor weather. At the critical moment, just before the miracle of the sun, when the rosary beads were finished, Lucia said, “Close your umbrellas. Our Lady is coming!” The miracle of the Sun was about to happen, but in order to see it, the people had to come out from under their umbrellas. They had to submit themselves to the rain and take up the momentary sacrifice, in order to dispose themselves to see the miracle.

Now humbly uncovered and having made the sacrifice they could see what the Lord would show. Here is an account of that day:

As if like a bolt from the blue, the clouds were wrenched apart, and the sun at its zenith appeared in all its splendor. It began to revolve like the most magnificent fire wheel that could be imagined, taking on all the colors of the rainbow and sending forth multicolored flashes of light, producing the most astounding effect. This was repeated three distinct times, lasted for about ten minutes. The immense multitude, overcome by the evidence of such a tremendous prodigy, threw themselves on their knees. … The sun, whirling, seemed to loosen itself from the firmament and advance threateningly upon the earth as if to crush us with its huge fiery weight. The sensation during those moments was terrible. … Then the light turned a beautiful blue, as if it had come through the stained-glass windows of a cathedral, and spread itself over the people who knelt with outstretched hands … people wept and prayed with uncovered heads, in the presence of a miracle they had awaited.

Thus we see that the people had to close their umbrella in order to see the miracle of the sun. This is a kind of paradigm for the whole spiritual life. If we are to see glory and experience graces it is often necessary to accept sacrifices and hardships and to humble ourselves by setting aside our self-designed protections. As long as we insist on hunkering down within our own enclosed world, we are turned inward and downward. Self-reliance too easily replaces faith and trust. We cling to our comforts rather than to the cross, which is our true ladder to glory and the key to Heaven’s gate.

What does it mean for you to close your umbrella? You will have to discern, with God, and see what it means. Perhaps it means discovering what things you are unreasonably relying on. Perhaps it means accepting some discomfort for the salvation of souls. Perhaps it means taking up a sacrificial practice such as voluntary abstinence, fasting, or additional prayers. Perhaps it is accepting a cross you already endure, but with less grumbling and complaining. Perhaps it means being willing to endure heat of other’s anger beating down upon you or the scorn of others raining down upon you as you speak up for what is true.

As an additional hint to help you discern, recall that Our Lady asked for the daily rosary. On May 13, 1917, Our Lady asked the three children, “Are you willing to offer yourselves to God and bear all the sufferings He wills to send you as an act of reparation for the conversion of sinners?”

In the end, we close our umbrella not only for our own sake, but also for the conversion of sinners. Find out what it means to close your umbrella.

Posted on

Just a Common And Often Used Word With a Star-Struck Meaning!

Every now and then a word suddenly catches your ear, and suddenly you notice it several times in one day. You’re tempted to say, “There it is again!”

Recently, such was the case with the word “consider.” It’s just an ordinary, every-day word. Or is it? Why did it suddenly strike me so?

With my knowledge of Latin, it occurred to me that the word “consider” might have something to do with the stars, because the Latin word sidera means “stars” or “heavenly bodies.” How interesting! I’ve used the word for years and yet that thought had never crossed my mind before. As often happens, I forgot about it and didn’t investigate further.

But then in this morning’s reading from the Office, there it was again, in St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans: You must consider yourselves dead to sin but alive for God in Christ Jesus (Rom 6:11).

Okay, Lord, I got the message. You want me to consider the word “consider.” There’s something mystical and spiritual about it, isn’t there?

After prayer, I spent some time checking out my hypothesis. Sure enough, the word “consider” comes from the Latin words cum (with) and sidera (stars), yielding a meaning of “with the stars.”

Then I consulted a few dictionaries and collected the following definitions: to think about carefully, to think of especially with regard to taking some action, to take into account, to regard or treat in an attentive or kindly way, to gaze on steadily or reflectively, to come to regard.

The literal translation “with the stars” brings the word so much more alive, doesn’t it? If I were to create one, I would include this notion in my definition: to reflect on as if pondering the stars, to gaze as if with wonder and awe, to think carefully and reflectively as when one looks up and out at the night sky.

Yes, to look up and out, billions of miles out into the vastness of space, filled with innumerable stars.

To consider is to root our thoughts in the perspective of the stars. Doing so fills us with wonder and awe, reminds of the extravagance of God’s love, humbles us by the sheer vastness of all that God has done. To consider is to see by the light of God’s glory and His expansive love. To consider is to think in a way that sees the present moment as caught up in something far more than the here and now; it is to experience this moment, this place and time, as part of something far greater than we can imagine.

Thus, in Romans 6:11 St. Paul is inviting us to grasp that God’s mercy and love are bigger than any sin we may have committed. We are being summoned to look beyond the present moment and behold with wonder and awe the perfection that God has already accomplished for us.

As we behold and understand that reality, we start to live out of it now. As we cast our thoughts out among the stars, as we consider, we look outward and upward from the present reality to the glory awaiting us in Heaven. Making this consideration helps that reality begin to break into the present moment and become ever more real to us and for us.

As it breaks in, sins begin to be put to death and virtues come alive. Our life begins to change as we see beyond the present moment, where there may be weakness and pain, to the victory that is ours and is so much bigger than this mere moment. Thus we become alive to God in Christ Jesus.

All of this from one little word: consider. To reflect as if pondering the stars, to gaze as if with wonder and awe, to think carefully and reflectively as when one looks up and out at the night sky.

Yes, words are wonderful and many of them are mystical. Think about it; the stars encourage you to look up and out, to gaze beyond with wonder and awe, to consider.

It’s not a bad thing to do when seeking perspective or pondering paths, when searching for answers or meaning, when searching for God.

Give it some consideration.

Posted on

The Journey of Abraham – Hope for the Rest of Us!

In the reading at daily Mass for Friday of the Twenty-eighth Week in Ordinary Time, St. Paul speaks of Abraham’s faith. Abraham did come to strong faith, but it took time!

One of the beautiful things about the Bible is that it does not present epic figures who never fell. Rather, it presents us with authentic human beings who struggled and eventually “got there.” As an example, I was talking the other day with someone who remarked, “Too bad we can’t all be strong in faith like Abraham.” Ah, Abraham, the paragon of faith! Well that was true eventually, but Abraham had some very bad moments in his journey that we ought not to overlook. Surely he became strong in faith, but only after some pretty bad falls along the way. Consider some of Abraham’s struggles.

  1. Imperfect Initiation – Abram (God called Abraham later on) was told, “Leave your country, your people, and your father’s household and go to the land I will show you” (Gen 12:1). And he does. On one level this is remarkable because God didn’t give him any directions; He just said, go, and Abram went, trusting that God would direct him. Notice a little detail, though, that I would argue amounts to a lack of total obedience: So Abram left, as the LORD had told him; and Lot went with him (Gen 12:4). How did his nephew Lot get included? Some may argue that this is no big deal, but for the record, God did not mention Lot in His instructions to Abram. Sure enough, Lot’s presence causes trouble later on. There is always trouble lurking when we do not obey God completely.
  2. Wayward Wanderer – Abram gets to the Holy Land and God shows him its beauty. He reconnoiters the land and eventually pitches his tent near Bethel, a name that means “house of God.” So there he is right where he ought to be: in the House of God, on the Land God showed him (cf Gen 12:5-9). There is only one problem: there is a famine in the land. Will Abram trust God, who called him to this land? No! He goes off to Egypt (Gen 12:10), trusting Pharaoh—not God—to feed him. God never said, “Go to Egypt.” It is quite ironic that Abram leaves a place called Bethel (house of God) to go to the house of Pharaoh.
  3. Fearful Foolishness – In Egypt, Abram does something awful. His wife Sarai (only called Sarah later in the narrative) is very beautiful; Abram is worried that men will want her and thus kill him, her husband, so that they can have her. Abram lies and claims that Sarai is his sister; he convinces her to say the same (Gen 12:11-13). Abram even goes so far as to allow her to be placed in Pharaoh’s harem (Gen 12:14-16). This is all to protect his own hide and to gain influence. Let’s just make it plain: he “pimps out” his own wife! Pharaoh eventually discovers the lie and, suffering its consequences (severe plagues), denounces Abram (Gen 12:17-19). In effect, Pharaoh fears God more than he does Abram. It takes Pharaoh to get Abram to go back to where he belongs. Abram returns to the Holy Land, to Bethel, not because of his faith but because of Pharaoh’s threats (Gen 12:19-20).
  4. Confusing Consequences – At least Abram is back where he needs to be, in Bethel, right? Well, now the Lot mistake manifests itself. Abram and Lot actually did quite well in Egypt; they with flocks so large that the land cannot sustain them both together (Gen 13:1-8). Notice that Holy Land could sustain Abram, but not Abram and Lot together. This hearkens back to the original disobedience of Abram in bringing Lot in the first place. Lot and Abram agree to part company and Lot picks the choicer part of the land (where the Dead Sea is now) (Gen 13:8-12). Problem solved, right? Not exactly. The text says that Lot pitched his tent toward Sodom (Gen 13:12). You know where all that is going to lead! In the end, it will be another distraction for Abram, who brought Lot along when he shouldn’t have. Lot shows bad judgement; he shouldn’t be associating with the wicked in Sodom and Gomorrah. All of this draws Lot into a big mess in which his family is corrupted. Lot’s wife cannot turn her back on Sodom and is killed; his daughters later trick him into impregnating them (Gen 19:30ff). All of this is a distraction for Abram, who should never have brought Lot along in the first place.
  5. Faltering Faith – God promises Abram and Sarai many descendants, but both of them falter in faith several times with regards this. Abraham’s first struggle comes when, after many years of promises from God, no child has yet been born. Abram says “… what good will your gifts be, if I keep on being childless and have as my heir the steward of my house, Eliezer? … [Y]ou have given me no offspring, and so one of my servants will be my heir.” God responds, “No, that one shall not be your heir; your own issue shall be your heir” (Gen 15:1-4). Later, Sarah, also despairing that God can ever deliver on His promise, suggests adultery to Abraham, and proposes that he sexually exploit Hagar, her slave girl, and have a child by her. And he does! (Gen 16:1-4) Hagar gives birth to Ishmael, setting off ugliness between Hagar and Sarah (imagine that!) (Gen 16:4-6). God once again has to rebuke Abraham and remind him of His promises. Later, Sarah, paranoid over Hagar’s exalted position as the mother of Abraham’s first born child demands that Abraham commit an act of great injustice and to drive Hagar and Ishmael into the desert (Gen 21:9-14). And he does!
  6. Derisive Doubt – God renews His promises to Abram and Sarai and changes their names (to Abraham and Sarah) by entering into a covenant with them (Gen 17:1-15). As God renews His promises for many descendants, Abraham prostrates himself and laughs (Gen 17:17). Later, Sarah laughs at the promise as well (Gen 18:12). Finally, Sarah gives birth to Isaac (a name that means “He laughs”), which commemorates the struggle of Abraham and Sarah to believe what God told them.

Do you see? Abraham’s journey was marred by some pretty ugly setbacks, but ultimately Abraham did come to believe God. He receives the fruit of faith in his son Isaac. God prepares one final test to strengthen Abraham’s faith (Gen 22). He tells him to offer his son as a sacrifice. This time, Abraham does not hesitate. He sets out for Moriah, determined to obey God. Isaac asks, Where is the lamb for sacrifice? (Gen 22:7) Abraham has finally made it to faith; he simply responds, God himself will provide the lamb for the sacrifice (Gen 22:8). Abraham has arrived. He has come to trust God and knows that obeying Him will not be without its reward. And God did provide the lamb, as you well know.

Abraham didn’t simply “have faith.” He had to get there through years of struggle, setbacks, and hard lessons. He had to learn that to obey God brings blessings, but to disobey God brings trouble. Abraham learned that God means exactly what He says and that he should trust Him in all things. If Abraham, the great hero of faith, had to go through all of this to arrive at faith, maybe there is hope for us! We, too, are summoned to learn of faith and grow in it. We are called to obey more and more perfectly and to stop trying to improve on God’s plan. Abraham’s example isn’t just a relief for us who struggle; it is also a road map, telling us what we must do. Faith has to grow and we have to let it.

Here’s an old gospel song that says, “A saint is just a sinner who fell down and got up.” Maybe there is hope for us, too—provided we get back up.