“What Do You Do with Unrealistic Dreams?”
Genesis 15: i-6
March 26, 2000
This morning I want to focus our thoughts on the Old Testament reading from Genesis. It’s about Abraham, our spiritual father, who is faithful to God. Abraham who was willing to move out on the promises of God and risk everything on the word of God. But Abraham is human – and, like most of us, he often questions God’s judgment.
And in this lesson, as we listen to his complaints, we hear of another person – someone whom we can speculate was just as faithful – having left the good life just as loyal, for he ventured with Abraham into the wilderness. This man’s name, we learn, is Eliezer of Damascus.
We learn of Eliezer when Abraham says in a grumpy way, “0 Lord God, the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus.” it seems the Jewish law said that if a man didn’t have a male heir, at his death, his steward would inherit all that he possessed.
Ehezer, the faithful manager-overseer, was the steward of all of Abraham’s flocks. He was the loyal servant who was willing to go out from Heron and share the dangers of the unknown. Eliezer was expecting to receive the ultimate reward – an inheritance which would make him secure for life. Abraham was an old man at the time, and Eliezer dreamt that in the near future his status would radically change – from employee to employer, from servant to master, from steward to owner.
But it was not to be. God replied to Abraham’s lament by saying, “This man shall not be your heir.” God promises that a son, Isaac, will be born. Thus, the door is shut in the face of faithful Eliezer. That future which he had so fervently wished for was not to be.
Who among us has not experienced shattered dreams like this? And who among us can be sure that we will not stand with the Eliezers in the future?
A few years ago, a book was published called Going to Plan B.. I didn’t buy the book, but I did cut out the review, and I must admit it sounded fascinating. It was all about what the author called “nonevents.” These are the heartbreaks in life – where you had hoped or dreamed that something would happen, something that you desperately wanted – and it didn’t materialize. It could have been a job, a child’s changing attitude, some marvelous outcome, a legacy, or an action that never happened. Like Eliezer, you had hoped, done everything you could, and ended up with a non-event. And then what?
The authors tell us that we have choices. We can get angry and resentful, or we can adapt, revise plans, and modify expectations. In other words, you can move on to “Plan B.” You really do have choices.
We’re never told about Eliezer’s Choices. We never hear his name mentioned again in Genesis. (Which gives me great liberty to speculate – I don’t even have to call it research.) But more importantly than Eliezer, what do you do when faced with a non-event? How do you respond to unrealized dreams?
Do you look around for someone to blame? God, Abraham, the church, your parents, fate? The list is legion. (I can see by your expressions that I’ve stopped preaching and begun to meddle.) So, who do you blame for non-events? Most of us are really experts at finding someone or something to focus our anger upon for non-events.
Or possibly you’re not into anger. You just become bitter and resentful. It seems easy in our Old Testament story to see how this would be a logical outcome for Eliezer. Abraham, the faithful one, seems to be hand-in-glove with The Almighty. When Abraham complains, God satisfies his grumbling. A son is born, a legitimate heir is found. And faithful Eliezer is left out in the cold. Eliezer is left with a bitter taste in his mouth. That planned retirement – sitting on the beach having margaritas – is no longer possible. And resentment seems like a natural reaction.
Good people, resentment and bitterness can easily begin to define who we are, and become a way of life. We all know people who have suffered a blow, had a hope smashed, reached out for some cherished dream, and been smacked in the face with reality, forever shaped by this non-event. It never takes much urging to hear their story. The scars they carry are always clearly visible. They have often become professional victims – victims who constantly ask the questions of life, “Why me?” Why now?” “How can this be?”
It’s not hard to raise these kinds of questions, particularly at times when your dreams have been dashed. It’s hard to put aside Plan A when you’re wedded to certain outcomes. It’s hard to say “what’s new,” instead of “why me” – but this is what Eliezer had to learn. Eliezer of Damascus had to choose to let go of Plan A before anything new could happen. He couldn’t nurse or continue to hold on to the non-event. As one of the early mystics in the desert once wrote, “The serpent from his deep underground cavern must be released, otherwise it will fester and rot.”
The next thing Eliezer has to do is learn to trust in the “goodness of God.” Jesus taught that the attention of God is settled on the Eliezers of this world. This morning we read the Beatitudes – those words that remind us that God cares most for those who are poor in spirit, those who mourn, who hunger, who are persecuted – is this not Eliezer? Jesus, again and again, informed us that he came especially for the casualties of life. Goodness is reserved more for the Eliezer’s than for the Abrahams.
What God does for Eliezer – and for us – is to give us the strength to persevere, the courage to start over, and companionship for the journey. Eliezer was not denied the future. He was simply denied one kind of a future. God still had plans for him. Plan B.
We have all been there – where dreams die, relationships crumble, and the future seems to be unremitting darkness. If you are there now, take time to be aware of the goodness of God. Know the dangers of dwelling in the land of bitterness. Learn to let go. And be aware that the door to Plan B lies before you. The choice is yours. God’s love for you is the one constant in this fragile, changing world of ours.
Amen.