The Never-Ending Story

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August 11, 2013

Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16

¹Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. ²Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval. ³By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible.

⁸By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to set out for a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; and he set out, not knowing where he was going. ⁹By faith he stayed for a time in the land he had been promised, as in a foreign land, living in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. ¹⁰For he looked forward to the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God. ¹¹By faith he received power of procreation, even though he was too old-and Sarah herself was barren-because he considered him faithful who had promised. ¹²Therefore from one person, and this one as good as dead, descendants were born, "as many as the stars of heaven and as the innumerable grains of sand by the seashore."

¹³All of these died in faith without having received the promises, but from a distance they saw and greeted them. They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth, ¹⁴for people who speak in this way make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. ¹⁵If they had been thinking of the land that they had left behind, they would have had opportunity to return. ¹⁶But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; indeed, he has prepared a city for them.

Sermon: “The Never-Ending Story”

I find it laughable that I would be remembered for my faith.  Actually, I have found a lot of things laughable in my life.  Especially that day when, as an old woman, three strangers appeared under some oak trees in our front yard, with some startling news.  You see, God had made a promise to my husband Abraham and me, Sarah, many, many years ago: that we would have children as numerous as the stars, and that those children would bless the whole world.  But that promise was as old as I was, sore and tired, and never in my wildest dreams did I expect to come true.   But it turns out, God has even wilder dreams. 

“Sarah’s going to have a baby!” I heard those men say to my husband.  Y’all, I had to grip the tent pole to keep from falling over.  The first thoughts were panic and those one word questions: “What? HOW? What? Really?  But HOW?”  And then the ludicrousness of the moment took over.  I began to laugh.  Not a polite giggle either.  A loud, tears-streaming-down-your face, doubled-over gaffaw!  Me, Sarah, a mother when I’m old enough to be a great-grandmother??  Hilarious.   But you see, God has something of a sense of humor.  It was true.

Your book of Hebrews talks about my family as the example of faith.  It names all the wonderful parts, when my husband went on a grand adventure in the wilderness, it mentions my son Isaac and his son Jacob as great pillars of God’s promise, and, like that first promise made to us, it says our descendants were as many as the stars of heaven, as innumerable as grains of sand on the seashore.  And all of this, according to Hebrews, happened “by faith.”

Your book makes it sound like we are the “poster family” for faith.  Maybe we are.  But not because of all of those wonderful moments.  You see, faith is not tested or proved in those shining moments of joy.  Faith is made real in darkness.  Funny your book doesn’t mention those moments. 

It doesn’t tell you that, many years after God’s promise of children to my husband and me, I gave up.  In my time, a woman who couldn’t have children was pretty useless in society.  I felt invisible.  And so I gave up on that promise, assuming it was only meant for Abraham, and not me.  I told him to do what he had to do to have children: which involved my slave-girl Hagar. 

I thought I was being generous and unselfish.  It turns out, that act completely destroyed my trust in my husband, and made me even more bitter.  But by faith, I made it through that.

Your book doesn’t tell you about what happened after the day I laughed at that impossibly good news of having a baby.  I had my son, somehow enduring the ordeal of giving birth at such an age, and named him Isaac, meaning “Laughter” in my language.  (Of course.)  But that Laughter nearly died at the hands of my husband.

I found it curious one morning, when Abraham wanted to take Isaac up to the mountains of Moriah for a sacrifice to God, but did not take any sacrificial animal.  I felt a strange disquiet, but trusted him.  And I regretted that.  Isaac came back from that mountain totally changed.  He no longer seemed like a little boy.  Something deeply troubling had happened there, something so horrible he couldn’t even tell me, his mother.  Abraham looked shell shocked, too. 

“God told me to make the ultimate sacrifice.” he said.  “God told me to sacrifice Isaac, but at the very last minute, God changed his mind.”  There are no words to describe the fury I felt towards Abraham.  It never went away.  I told him he was a senile old man who was hearing things and that God would never ask us to kill the child that was promised so long ago.  I did not speak to him for a month, and couldn’t look him in the eye for longer than that.  I’m not sure I ever understood what happened on that mountain, and I don’t think Abraham or Isaac did, either.  By faith, we made it through that.

And then, eventually, my story on earth came to an end.  But we know that this life doesn’t end here, don’t we?  I received my promised land, and it is beautiful.  And I continued to watch after my boys, from here.  I saw when my son Isaac married Rebekah.  In the written story it says, “Isaac took Rebekah and she became his wife.  So Isaac was comforted after his mother’s death.”  I tell you that I was comforted, too, seeing him so happy.  By faith, that broken boy who came down the mountain was whole again.

And would you believe, in this laughable story of mine, that my husband Abraham, that old wiley man, got married again and had even more children?  Oh, that really made me laugh, looking down on that.  I am glad he found someone else.  I gave him a hard time about that (as only a wife can do) when he finally died and joined me here.  By faith, we were reunited.

Your book goes on to speak about Isaac’s son Jacob, the grandson I never knew, as an heir of the promises of God.  What it doesn’t tell you is that Jacob was a bit obsessed with being an heir.  So much so, that he tricked my son in his old age by dressing up like his older brother Esau to steal his inheritance, his blessing.  By fooling his old feeble daddy.  Oddly enough, Rebekah his mom told him to do that, because he was her favorite.  And you think your family is dysfunctional!  You have no idea, y’all.  But by faith, Jacob became a blessing to others instead of a thief, blessing even a Pharaoh before all was said and done. 

I tell you all of this because, as much as I appreciate your book making mention of me, I’d prefer you to know the whole story.  All of those dark and painful chapters where our faith as a family was actually proved.  When we really, really did not like one another but loved one another all the same.  When there was little trust and lots of hurt, and we still held on. 

Your book says that “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”  This is so true.  God wants us to have enough imagination, enough wild dreams, to believe that whatever frustration we are facing, whether that be from our family, our work, or our friends, is not the end of the story.  Faith is believing there will always be another chapter.

You have a saying that I wish I had known a long time ago, that captures this idea well: “Don’t put a period where God puts a comma.” 

So, if you like, remember me, Sarah, for my laughter and my faith.  But when you do, remember my whole story so that maybe, when your own story seems like a happy ending is not possible, you might find the faith to love even when it’s not deserved, to forgive even when you’re too furious to speak, and to trust that God’s wild dream for you will come true.  And who knows?  Maybe someday someone will write down your story, as an example to others, as a chapter of this never-ending story of faith we share.

Oh, and one more thing, y’all.  Whatever you experience, whatever you face, don’t forget to laugh, okay?  Sometimes, that’s the most faithful thing you can do.  Amen.