Sermon for Ash Wednesday

Preached at Emanuel Lutheran Church, Freysville, PA on March 6, 2019 (Ecumenical Lenten Service)
Preaching text: Genesis 12:1-8

We’ve all heard the saying “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” Nowhere is that more evident than at the very beginning of the Judeo-Christian story. Nowhere is that more evident than with Abraham, the patriarch, the one who started it all.

Who is Abraham? We know that wasn’t his original name. He was born as Abram, a man of the city of Ur, one of the oldest cities in the world (and was also even in his time.) We know that Ur was a city of Ancient Sumeria, one of the first human civilizations. We know that the Sumerians had their own religion, a pantheon of gods and goddesses that Abram probably began his life worshiping; in fact, according to Jewish tradition, Abram got his start as a carver in his father’s idol shop. But then Yahweh spoke to him and made what probably seemed a ridiculous promise.

“Pack up your family and go all the way across the known world to the land of Canaan and there I will make of you a great nation.”

Now, we don’t know what went through Abraham’s mind when this new god, one he did not know, said this to him. We do know however that Abraham listened to this voice. He packed up with his family and set out. He sojourned in the land of Haran for a time, but eventually made his way to Canaan. He did as God told him to do. He trusted that this strange god knew what he was talking about.

Perhaps it was because the idols he carved had always been mute, no matter how much he prayed, and yet now he was encountering a god who spoke and commanded and promised with authority. Who knows? I think it may be hard for us to understand just how radical Abraham’s behavior was. We’re so used to worshiping God/Yahweh with theologies, and doctrines, and rituals, and rites, and sacraments, and all the trappings of modern religion. Abraham had none of these to tell him who this voice was. In fact, the religion he was abandoning had all that, which probably would have made it a lot more real to him. But there was something about this voice. Something about its promises. Something that made him want to trust and believe.

And that, of course, is why we remember him. His great faith. And that faith is shown to be all the more potent when you remember the content of what God promised him. “I will make of you a great nation...and in you, all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” First off, there is no way Abraham will EVER see the end result of these promises. To be made into a nation will take generation upon generation of time, long past a normal human lifespan. Secondly, to be a blessing to all the world is also something he will never see. We Christians understand that blessing to be Christ, who was born of Abraham’s line many many generations into the future from when Abraham walked the earth.

He was never going to see any of what God had promised and he believed anyway.

And God did not disappoint him. Yes, Abraham did not see it with his mortal eyes, but God fulfilled his promise. From Abraham came Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph, and from them came the Hebrew slaves who ran Egypt. From them came Moses who led the people to freedom. After that came Joshua and the Judges. And then came kings and prophets who predicted the coming of Messiah. And from a descendant of Abraham, the Messiah was born, who lived, died, and rose again to be that blessing for all the families of the world. And also from descendants of Abraham came the apostles, who invited us Gentiles into this spiritual family. Hundreds of generations later, we here gathered are part of that promise fulfilled.

And it came to pass despite many things that could have thwarted it. Abraham’s age and Sarah’s barrenness were not barriers to that promise. Nor were all those forces throughout the Biblical times that sought to destroy God’s people. Nor were our own bigotries and petty jealousies that sadly pitted and still sometimes pit Christian against Jew when we are rightly brothers and sisters. God proved faithful time and time again.

I wonder what life would be like if we adopted Abraham’s faith and truly trusted in the promise of God. One of the curious things about Christianity is that every single generation of Christians, from the apostles on down to us, has been convinced that Jesus would return in their lifetime. How many of us here gathered are convinced that we will not see death, but we will instead be raptured or see him coming in the clouds or however we believe Jesus will return? In my experience, it’s a lot of us, if not most.

What I find, however, is that this desire for Christ’s return is driven more by our anxieties about the way of the world than it is for a true eagerness to see God’s plan reach fulfillment. We look around and see a world that seems chaotic and frightening and we throw up our hands and say, “Oh, God, take me away from all this.” God, get me out of here; things are the worst they’ve ever been. Surely, now is the time for your return, because it can’t get any worse.

Any objective view of history will tell you that things in the world are a long way from being the worst they’ve ever been. But this isn’t about objective truth. It’s about our fears and our anxieties; irrational as they may be, but still very real. Yet, in the midst of it all, God says the same thing to us that he said to Abraham. “Stop worrying about it. Here are my promises. Here is my love and grace. Trust in that. I will fulfill them. I will be faithful. Trust me.”

Can we do that?

Tonight is Ash Wednesday. Tonight is when we hear that unpleasant truth that we are “dust and to dust (we) shall return.” We are mortal. We are human beings destined to die. Our span of years on this earth will be what it will be, but it will not be unending and unlimited. But we come here because we worship a God who is unending and who promises a new world, a new creation, a blessing for all that we may not see with our mortal eyes. Can we be faithful to that God the way Abraham was? Knowing that we may not see the fulfillment of his promises in our mortal bodies, but instead through the immortality he grants us through his grace? What would that mean for the way we live our lives in the here and now? If we believe Christ’s return is not tomorrow, but a thousand years from now or maybe more?

It’s a question we don’t ask enough, and yet Abraham’s example compels it out of us. He was faithful. He believed the promises of God despite the fact that he knew he would never see them. Can we set aside our fears and believe as he did? Can we believe beyond our finite lifespans and see the world as God does? As Abraham did? Amen.