What Does it Mean, to Go Out by Faith?
Hebrews 11: 1-3, 8-12
March 8, 1992
“By faith, Abraham obeyed the call to go out to a land, and he left home without knowing where he was to go.” The story is so familiar to most of us, we often take it for granted. But, think for a moment, that must have been some move. Comparable if not in miles, in many other ways, to what David and Mary Richardson did this past week and a half, when they came from England to the U.S
Now I have no idea what David and Mary’s friends said when they announced they were leaving, but let’s imagine the response that was made when Abraham made his announcement.
“Abraham, where in the world do you think you are going?” “I don’t know,” he probably replied. “I just feel a call.” “What do you mean, you don’t know? What is this, a wild dream? Have you thought of your family and friends? Things will never be the same after you’ve gone. Don’t you realize how indispensable you are to all of us here in Haran?”
Then Abraham gave one of his best answers. (Unfortunately, it was never recorded in the Bible.) He said, “No one is indispensable, except to God.”
How about that, mothers and fathers, husbands and wives, employers and employees? None of us is indispensable, except to God. Our children need us, but not that badly. Our spouses need us, but much as we hate to admit it, they can survive without us. Our jobs need us, but there’s always someone else who can do it as well or better. Only to God are we indispensable, because God is the creator. And without us, God cannot create.
“No one is indispensable, except to God.” When new staff members come on board, I usually try to make this point in a subtle message. If we become indispensable to parish groups, we’re not doing our job. All we are doing is fostering dependence. The task of ministry is to set people free to pursue their own calling. Not to make people depend upon our management, our ministry, our direction, however wonderful it might be.
It is said that confession is good for the soul. People sometimes come up to me and say, “What would we do without you?” (And 1 16ve it.) Yd like to have you believe the many good things that happen here are due to my direction. But I know that isn’t true. As Ed Koch, the former mayor of New York, said when asked how he managed such a large city, his answer was that he did not manage New York. He simply presided over its serendipitous happenings. And that’s a good description of the ministry at St. Philip’s. Fm not indispensable, because I simply preside over the wonderful serendipitous happenings of God’s people.
But enough of confessions and back to our text. We read that Abraham obeyed the call. For many of us, this conjures up the image of someone going to seminary, or becoming more religious than God. But it wasn’t seminary, nor did it mean that Abraham suddenly became religious. Instead, this call meant that Abraham went on a journey. And it’s during a journey of discovery that God apprehends him.
Most of us know ahead of time when we go somewhere, when we take a new job, when we enter a new relationship, where we are going. We have a job description, a map, a set of e> expectations, and a contract. But Abraham had fewer answers than questions. No instructions, no agenda, only the promise of a presence on the journey.
I’ll let you in on a secret about David Richardson. For the past six months, Fm guessing, he’s probably been frustrated beyond words. As any seasoned cleric, he began our talks about coming here by inquiring about the job description. He quickly learned that I didn’t have a job description. I am sure that early on, he must have turned to Mary and said, “Those bloody Americans don’t even know proper business procedures.” About all I said was, “We hope that he would come and be with us to help us discover our several callings; the calling which would tell us where each of us fit in as members of this community.”
Talk about being ill-defined, tentative, and vague. If I had been a little quicker on my feet, I might have said Hebrews 11. “By faith, Abraham obeyed the call to go out to a land without knowing where he was to go, or what he was to do.”
Having experienced David’s sense of humor, I can guess he might have replied, “But my name isn’t Abraham.”
Seriously, though, that’s what Faith is all about. It’s not certainty; it’s about trust. It’s not a job description with a strategic plan; it’s commitment without all the evidence being in. Faith is learning to trust God in the dark. Faith is not knowing the outcome, but living as if to God and only to God, we are indispensable.
St. Augustine once wrote, “God has a work to do with us – that will not be done without us.” I believe those words. They describe my understanding of a call, even if I don’t know what it is all about. Where it will lead. I know that in the doing, I will be apprehended by God.
I believe that each of us is called – that God’s plan will not happen without us. We are indispensable. Indispensable to God. And, if we’re going to be fully alive, each of us had better look inside ourselves and discover what the nature of that call is. And then be prepared to go on a journey, for each of us has a middle name – and it is Abraham. Amen,
I am indebted to Robert Raines and his book, Going Home, for many of my ideas in this sermon.