Gn 12:1-9

8 June 2008 (preached on 15 June)

“To Boldly Go…Well, at Least to Go”

            Can Christians really care about people?  That’s the provocative question posed by a young man who recently graduated from a Christian university.  It seems that prior to his final year of school, he “made public that [he] had turned away from the Christian faith.”[1]  I realize that many would immediately reply that he must not have been a Christian to begin with.  Others would say that he still is a Christian, just a very confused one!

            For right now (at least partly because I don’t know him), I’m willing to take him at his word—that is, that he “de-converted” from Christianity.  I’m more interested in the way he describes the reactions of the Christians at his school.  He says some were “disappointed” in him, while others were “simply curious.”

There was another reaction he reported that I found more interesting.  They’re the ones he says “started saying ‘hi’ to me when we would pass, but I had no recollection of ever meeting them before.  But,” he asks, “how many of the people who I was already friends with all [of a] sudden reduced my personhood to ‘atheist’ and nothing more?”[2]  These are people who were his friends!

Having been a Christian himself, he understands the concern to share the faith with others.  So he isn’t really bitter about the reactions he received.  He just wonders if Christians can really love someone for who they are, without applying labels to them, which in his case would be “atheist.”  Again, these are his questions.  My perspective would be somewhat different.

            The reason I mention this young man’s situation is because I think it illustrates an aspect of Abraham’s call—his call to leave his past life behind and to go where God is leading.  At this point, I won’t say exactly what aspect that is, but believe me, I will get to it!

            The story of God’s call to Abraham is one of the best-known in the entire Bible.  (Actually, the call comes before the name changes of Abram and Sarai to Abraham and Sarah.)  The apostle Paul devotes all of chapter 4 of his letter to the Romans discussing Abraham’s call and its ramifications.

            The words at the beginning of Genesis 12 have been heard many times.  “Now the Lord said to Abram, ‘Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you’” (v. 1).  People have talked about Abraham’s pivotal role in history.  Lately, there’s been plenty of interest as Abraham being the person who Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all have in common.

            In her recent sermons, Banu has spoken about transformative discipleship.  That’s the angle I also want us to take as we look at the call of Abraham.

            In what he calls his “weekly webzine for the global church,” journeywithjesus.net, Dan Clendenin observes that “Abraham’s departure from Haran is a story about more than a change of geography.”[3]  It is, as I indicated a moment ago, a departure from his past life—from what is familiar, from what he knows.  It is a radical reliance on the promise of God.

            Understand, God isn’t simply promising that he and Sarah will muddle through and somehow stay alive.  Listen to verses 2 and 3:  “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.  I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”  Folks, that’s some powerful stuff!

            Our friend Dan says, “God’s call upon Abraham’s life is a call that’s repeated to each one of us today.  It’s a call that subverts conventional wisdom, and so it can feel counter-intuitive.”  It can feel like it makes no sense at all.  Why is that?

Well, for one thing, because “it’s a call to move beyond three very human, powerful, and deep-seated fears—fear of the unknown that we can’t control (ignorance), fear of others who are different from us (inclusion), and fear of powerlessness in the face of impossibilities (impotence).”[4]

Fear of the unknown (lack of knowledge)…fear of the different (lack of familiarity)…fear of powerlessness (lack of strength).  In answering God’s call to go, Abraham has to face these three universal fears.  And we really don’t know for sure how Abraham deals with them.  That is, we don’t know if he decides “to boldly go,” as two captains of the starship Enterprise have intoned, but we can certainly say that “at least” he decides “to go.”  That itself is saying a lot.

Think of Abraham’s situation.  God has promised that he and Sarah will produce a great nation.  And as the apostle Paul says, “He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was already as good as dead” (Ro 4:19).  You know, I think Paul would make a lousy spokesperson for AARP!

Still, beyond whatever physical problems he would have, as I’ve suggested, there are mental and spiritual difficulties to tackle.  He is following God’s call to go into a strange place, among strange people, people who don’t know him.  It would be very easy to just stay put, where he is comfortable—where everybody knows his name.

Now, let’s look at this from the flip side.  What kind of welcome should this immigrant expect?  Should he and his family be received warmly?  Or should the message be that he and his kind need to go right back where they came from?

The young man I mentioned at the beginning is a kind of immigrant.  In his case, however, his journey has been an inner one.  We may feel differently about the path he’s chosen, but he too finds himself in a strange place.  What kind of welcome should this immigrant expect?

In the parable of the sheep and the goats, Jesus presents himself in a similar way.  In Matthew 25, we read, “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me” (vv. 35-36).

I must admit, it’s been easier for me to see Jesus in those first five examples.  (Not that I’ve excelled at it, by any means.)  But visiting Jesus in prison is the one I’ve had the most trouble with.  Still, with God’s grace, I am working on it!

I said earlier that I want us to look at the call of Abraham through the lens of transformative discipleship.  To those who believe that they don’t need to be transformed—or who don’t yearn to be transformed—here’s what I would ask.  Have you conquered the fears of ignorance, inclusion, and impotence?  And if so, how does your life demonstrate it?

Eugene Peterson, who many of us know through his Bible paraphrase, the Message, addresses our struggle with these fears.  In his book, Jesus Plays in Ten Thousand Places, he speaks of how we tend to “exclude all who don’t suit our preferences.”[5]

In words that I find rather blistering, Peterson says, “We become a sect.  Sects are composed of men and women who reinforce their basic selfism by banding together with others who are pursuing similar brands of selfism, liking the same foods, believing in the same idols, playing the same games, despising the same outsiders…

“A sect is accomplished by community reduction, getting rid of what does not please us, getting rid of what offends us, whether of ideas or of people.  We construct religious clubs instead of entering resurrection communities.”

A club, by definition, must have easily-recognized boundaries.  Otherwise, it would be impossible to say who belongs to the club and who does not.  That doesn’t make it bad.  What is bad is confusing a club with resurrection, which defines the people of God.  Resurrection, by definition, is new life.  It is life from the dead.

Can Christians really care about people?  That’s the thought-provoking (and soul-searching) question I began with.  Some may say it’s an unnecessary question.  How is it with us?  We, too, are on a journey.  I would like to think that we’re becoming more and more a resurrection community.

But how much of the “religious club” mentality still grips us?  How many of us feel that there is a minimum standard to achieve—a due to be paid—and then we’re fine?  It’s something that we must constantly guard against.  It’s the idea that, “Okay.  I’ve done x, y, and z.  What more do I need?”

Two weeks ago, Banu told a story from Mark’s gospel that Matthew also tells, with almost the exact phrasing I just used.  It’s the story of the rich young man who comes to Jesus and wants to know what he needs for eternal life.  After Jesus gives him a rendition of some commandments, “the young man [says] to him, ‘I have kept all these; what do I still lack?’” (Mt 19:20).  Jesus points to the thing that his heart is invested in.  (In this case, it’s wealth.)  It’s not about keeping score; it’s about giving yourself.

Return to the image of the call of Abraham.  “To boldly go…well, at least to go.”  That’s not about emotion; it’s about faithfulness.  Answering the call means faithfulness to God and faithfulness to each other.  One expression of that (just one!) is helping each other in quite visible ways, such as cleaning up after each other:  in the kitchen, in the nursery, clearing off the tables, sweeping the floor.  That way, the same people don’t have to do it week after week!  And if someone offers to help, by all means, let them.

The inner journey that Abraham makes is longer and harder than is the outer journey.  The same is true with us.  How are we at dealing with the three fears Abraham must have faced:  fear of the unknown, fear of the different, fear of powerlessness?  Does one in particular stand out to you?  Where are you on your spiritual journey?

God has called us to this place and blessed us.  Like Abraham we have our fears, our worries, our problems, our sins—but Abraham was willing to go.  He put God first.  Roughly half of the people within a 10 mile radius have no faith affiliation.  Are we a resurrection community that reaches out to them?  Are we Christians who really care, without labeling?  Are we ready to answer the call to boldly go?

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