And, finally, when human hands nailed his holy hands to the cross, it wasn’t
the soldiers who held those hands steady. It was God who held them steady.
For those wounded hands were the same invisible hands that had carried the
smoking firepot and the blazing torch some 2000 years earlier. They were
the same hands that had brought light into the thick and dreadful darkness of
Abram’s doubt. They had come to do it again.
And they are still doing it today. Through the Sacraments of Holy Baptism
and Holy Communion, God not only lets us hear the message of his mercy in
Christ, he also gives us something to see. By connecting the water of
Baptism and the bread and wine of Communion to his Word, he makes his
promises all the more sure for us. By these visible signs he seals his
covenant and binds himself to what he has said.
So, my friends, the next time that noisy neighbor, that unwanted visitor, that
obnoxious guest called Doubt comes lurking into your life, show him out.
Out to the hill. Out to the cross where, with holy and precious blood, the
same hand that carried the flame also gave the promise: GOD WOULD
GIVE UP HIS ONLY SON BEFORE HE’D GIVE UP ON YOU. All thanks
and praise to God! The King of glory keeps his every promise. Amen.
Christmas 2
January 4, 2004
Genesis 15:17,18
Pastor David M. Kuehl
St. Paul’s, Muskego, WI
34, 49, 68:3, 54, 64
He’s a noisy neighbor, an unwanted visitor, an obnoxious guest. Just when
you figure that you’re all set for the weekend, just when you’ve wiggled out
of your work clothes and climbed into your comfy clothes, just when you’ve
cranked back the recliner and gotten intimate with your favorite book and a
cup of steaming hot coffee, his voice rudely interrupts your thoughts.
I’m talking about Doubt. “Hey, David,” he says, “got a few minutes? I’ve
got a few questions. I don’t mean to be obnoxious, David, but do you really
believe that God gives a hoot about you? Aren’t you being a bit
presumptuous in assuming that he wants you up there with him in heaven?
You may think that you’re on pretty good terms with him, but haven’t you
forgotten something? That affair at the office? That playing around with
pornography? That adjustment to the expense account? You really think
God won’t call your cards on any of those?”
My friends, don’t you have a neighbor like that? He’s good—really good—
at what he does. He’ll pester you, irritate you, and criticize your judgment.
He’ll kick the stool out from under you and refuse to help you up. He’ll tell
you not to believe the invisible, yet he offers no answer for the inadequacy of
the visible. His aim is not to convince you of anything, but to confuse you
about everything. He offers no solutions, just raises questions.
Have you had any visits from Doubt lately? If you find yourself coming to
church because you believe that by doing so you can make God happy with
you, then you’ve been listening to him. If you find yourself doubting that
God could forgive you again for that, then you’ve been sold some snake oil.
If you are more cynical about Christians than sincere about Christ, then guess
who’s come to dinner? I suggest that you pay close attention to our text,
where you will learn of an exciting encounter between a fitful doubter and
his faithful God. I invite you to spend:
A Night Under the Stars with Abram
1. Hear a promise made in the face of doubt.
2. See a promise sealed with a spectacular covenant.
1. Though Doubt may speak the language of today, he is no Johnny-comelately to the scene. His first seeds of doubt were sown some 6000 years ago
in the Garden of Eden. Of Eve he asked, “Did God really say, ‘You must not
eat from any tree in the garden’?” (Gn 3:1) Did you notice something?
There were no blatant lies—not yet anyway, no picket signs, no “God is
dead” demonstrations. Just questions and innuendo intended to cast doubt.
Jump ahead some 2000 years. Abram was finding God’s promises about as
easy to swallow as a chicken bone. And the promise that was causing him
the most difficulty? That his descendants would be as numerous as the stars
in the sky. The problem? No son. Abram was 75 years old, his wife was 65
years old, and they were childless. In describing these senior citizens, the
Book of Hebrews says that Abram “was past age” and Sarai “was barren”
(11:11). The Apostle Paul adds that Abram’s body “was as good as dead”
and that Sarai’s womb “was also dead” (Ro 4:19). These two were
physically unable to have children. God’s response? “No problem, Abram.”
“A son coming from your own body will be your heir” (Gn 15:4).
Abram must have looked over at his wife, Sarai, as she shuffled across the
tent floor in her housecoat and slippers. The chicken bone probably stuck a
few moments more but eventually did slide down his throat. Then he heard
promise number two: “Abram.” “Yes, Lord?” “I am the Lord, who brought
you out of Ur of the Chaldeans to give you this land to take possession of it”
(Gn 15:7). In other words, “All this land will be yours, Abram.” Imagine
God telling you that your children will someday own Fifth Avenue, and you
will understand Abram’s hesitation. “O Sovereign Lord,” he said, “how can
I know that I will take possession of it?” (Gn 15:8) In other words, “On that
one, Father, I need some help.” And to him some help was given.
It’s a curious scene, described by Moses this way: “As the sun was setting,
Abram fell into a deep sleep, and a thick and dreadful darkness came over
him” (Gn 15:12). Abram falls asleep and his sleep is fitful. It’s almost as if
God is allowing his doubt to run its course. In his dreams Abram is forced to
face the absurdity of it all. The voice of Doubt speaks convincingly:
“Abram, how do you know that God is with you? What if all this is a hoax?
How do you know that it is God who is speaking to you?” Oh, how the thick
and dreadful darkness of Doubt must have hung over Abram!.
It’s the same darkness you feel when you sit at the funeral of a loved one and
realize how much you will miss the one that you loved more than life itself.
It’s the same darkness that overshadows you when you hear the dreaded
words, “It’s cancer. We’ll start treatments immediately” It’s the same
darkness that falls upon you when you realize that you’ve lost your
temper…again. It’s the same darkness you feel when it hits you that the
divorce you never wanted in the fist place is final. It’s the same darkness
into which and from which Jesus screamed, “My God, my God, why have
you forsaken me?” (Mt 27:46)
Appropriate words, are they not? And not just for Jesus, but also for us. For
when we doubt, God seems so very far away. Which is exactly why he chose
to draw so near.
2. God had told Abram to kill three animals and two birds, cut them in half,
and arrange them facing each other. While this command sounds strange to
us, it didn’t to Abram. He had seen and been part of this Babylonian blood
covenant many times before. He had sealed many of them by walking
between the divided carcasses and saying, “May what has happened to these
animals happen to me also if I fail to keep my word. May I be cut to pieces
if I, in any way, violate the terms of this covenant.”
That is why Abram’s heart must have skipped a beat when, in the darkness,
he saw a smoking firepot and a blazing torch pass all alone between the
carcasses. And then, to hear God’s voice telling him, “To your descendants I
give this land,” must have caused him to wonder in amazement.
Throughout the Old Testament, God often appeared to his people in fire or in
smoke or in a cloud to reassure them of his burning determination to carry
out his plan to save them. Think of how he appeared to Moses in the burning
bush at Midian or to the Israelites in a pillar of cloud by day and of fire by
night as they made their way through the wilderness. This special revelation
of God, often called “the glory of the Lord,” usually appeared at a time of
crisis, when it seemed that God had forgotten about his promise or that an
enemy was making it difficult for him to fulfill his promise.
Why did it appear here? Remember, Abram had asked God for a sign. This
was the sign, a spectacular one, that clarified God’s plan of salvation. The
flaming torch, symbolizing the very presence of God, passed all alone
between the pieces of the sacrifice. God assumed all the obligations, and
Abram received all the blessings. Abram promised nothing, did nothing, and
said nothing. He merely observed what God was doing, listened to what God
was saying, and believed. Many years later, Paul put into words what God
was here telling Abram: “It is by grace you have been saved through faith—
and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no
one can boast” (Ep 2:8,9). In this covenant, the invisible God drew near to
Abram to make his immovable promise. And while it is true that God’s
people often forgot him, he never forgot them. He kept his word. The land
became theirs.
And when God, in Christ, became flesh and King Herod tried to murder him
before he was even two years old, he kept his word. When the people of
Nazareth tried to push him off a cliff, he kept his word. When he was
accused of blaspheming God by people who didn’t fear God, he kept his
word. When Peter worshiped him in the upper room and cursed him in the
courtyard, he kept his word. When people spit in his face, he didn’t spit
back. When a soldier’s scourge tore open his back, he didn’t command the
angels to stuff that scourge down the soldier’s throat.