Why Am I Thus?--Gen. 25

"And the children struggled together within her; and she said, If it be so, why am I thus? And she went to enquire of the Lord. And the Lord said unto her,…" (Gen. 25:22, 23).

Isaac and Rebekah's happy marriage lacked but one thing: like Sarah before her, Rebekah was barren. Their union lacked children to make it complete.

So, Isaac took the matter to God, like the true man of God that he was.

"And Isaac intreated the Lord for his wife, because she was barren" (vs. 21).

After that, it says that "the Lord was intreated of him, and Rebekah his wife conceived" (vs. 21).

Her joy must've been completed when she learned of the blessing inside of her. A mother's happiness can only be told by a mother.

But as the months passed, things began to get difficult. Such struggling went on inside of her as she had never reckoned for, and at last, in desperation and pain, she asked, "Why am I thus?"

In other words, If this is how it's going to end up, why in the world did it have to happen in the first place?

Familiar echoes of a familiar voice reverberate in the mind.

But she didn't leave it there. Genesis says that "she went to enquire of the Lord" (vs. 22).

She asked the question. She asked why.

But she went and asked God what He was doing right away. "Lord, I know You have reasons for everything, but really, what are You doing? Why is this happening to me, inside of me?"

It takes faith to go to God and ask something like that.

But the point is not the faith it took to ask.

My point is that God answered.

God told her, plainly, what was going on. Two children are inside of you. One is stronger. The elder shall serve the younger.

And Jacob and Esau were born.

It is possible to ask questions along the lines of "why?" without a speck of faith to back the question.

But when you ask the question, enquire of the Lord, with faith that He will answer, HE WILL.

"Call unto Me, and I will answer thee, and shew thee great and mighty things, which thou knowest not" (Jeremiah 33:3).

Even though you cry, "Why am I thus?", the Lord has a reason.

And He will answer.

Lord, answer the cry of my heart… I query why is it thus with me; yet even so, show my the answer I cried for...

An Angel Before Me--Gen. 24

"The Lord God of heaven,...He shall send His angel before thee, and thou shalt take a wife unto my son from thence" (Gen. 24:7).

Abraham is getting older. Sarah is gone. And Isaac, the promised son, is in need of something.

A wife.

Abraham is convinced that now is the time; Isaac needs to be married. But not to a woman who is heathen--not a Canaanite.

He calls his servant, Eliezer, and bids him journey to Padanaram to find a wife for his son from among the daughters of Abraham's own kindred.

The servant is daunted. What if he makes the wrong choice? What if he does things wrong? This is the destiny and happiness of the son of promise that is being discussed here--destiny and the future itself. How does one choose?

But Abraham assures him that God will "send His angel before thee" (vs. 7).

Our lives tend in all different directions. Sometimes, we are so unsure of which way to turn, which way will be the way God calls for us to walk.

And sometimes, we stop still in the road, afraid to venture farther for fear of making a mistake.

But the promise to Abraham's servant is a promise to your heart. He will send His angel before you… and all will be well. So long as you are surrendered to His plan, His angel will guide your steps.

Lord, help me to always remember, no matter how frightening a choice lies in my path...that Your angel goes before me.

Bury Your Dead--Gen. 23

 

"And Abraham stood up from before his dead, and spake unto the sons of Heth, saying, I am a stranger and a sojourner with you: give me a possession of a buryingplace with you, that I may bury my dead out of my sight" (Gen. 23:3,4).

Not many years passed after Abraham's colossal test and triumph. The patriarch dwelt in Canaan still, among the children of Heth; and sadness struck the little camp.

"And Sarah was an hundred and seven and twenty years old:...And Sarah died in Kirjatharba;…" (vs. 1,2).

Laughing skeptic to loving saint; and now she is laid to rest, to look forward to the resurrection morning still many years distant for the elderly couple.

Abraham's old heart must've shattered with grief. "Abraham came to mourn for Sarah, and to weep for her" (vs. 2).

As a sojourner in a land that had been promised him by Heaven, but had not been deeded to him, Abraham lacked a proper place to bury Sarah. After a time of mourning, weeping, and sorrow before the still form of Sarah, the Bible records something interesting.

"And Abraham stood up from before his dead" (vs. 3).

It doesn't seem strange at first glance. To kneel in front of a departed loved one, asking God for comfort, trying to accept reality, weeping.

But the point wasn't that he was kneeling.

It was that he got up.

He further said, "Give me a possession of a buryingplace...that I may bury my dead out of my sight" (vs. 4).

In other words, it's time to let go. The past is past. It's time to bury my dead.

Life goes past us everyday. Every time we lie down to sleep, one more day is resigned to history.

And with every breath you take, one more moment is history as well.

So many people carry the past with them. Everywhere they go. They live in the past, the glory of what once was. Something that has ceased to be and likely never will be again.

They are so busy looking behind, they have no time to look ahead.

And no time to notice where they are at that moment.

By the time they do notice, the now has become far past, and the future is still unheeded.

Abraham was a man worthy of being an example. True, he made mistakes. Everyone in life does.

And he buried his dead. Stood up. Looked forward, not back.

No, he never forgot Sarah. He carried the memory of her in his heart. He still loved the woman who had been by his side for so many trying, painful years.

But he buried his dead. Carrying a treasure of memories more precious than all his riches, he buried his dead and let the past be past.

And looked to the future.

Nothing, save but one thing, can be said.

It's time to bury the past.

Lord, teach me how to bury the past...and embrace the future...

That Angels Might Know--Gen. 22

"And He said, Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest; and get thee into the ;and of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of" (Gen. 22:2).

A voice in the night. Abraham shakes himself. This could not be the Lord.

Isaac is in the flower of manhood. Youth and innocence, trusting obedience and vigor possess him. Abraham, on the other hand, is old; weary of test and trial. Tending toward the grave. And now, in his frailty, comes the greatest test he would ever endure.

He had reason to wonder if God was truly speaking. But he obeyed, for he knew that voice too well.

He doesn't wake Sarah, fearing that the love of the doting mother will stay obedience. He arouses Isaac and a couple of servants. They gather provisions and are off to the land of Moriah.

Two days pass. Days of anguish like none other. Abraham has no strength, no heart for words. At last, the sign of promise above a mountain, and Abraham leaves the servants, taking Isaac and the fire and wood.

The question: "Behold the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?" (vs. 7).

"Oh, what a test was this! How the endearing words, 'my father,' pierced Abraham's heart! Not yet--he could not tell him now. 'My son,' he said, 'God will provide Himself a lamb for a burnt offering.' " PP 152

The altar ready, the wood ready--the plan is disclosed to an astonished Isaac. He is well possessed with powers to resist his father's duty, but he does not. Instead, he "felt that he was honored in being called to give his life as an offering to God. He tenderly seeks to lighten the father's grief, and encourages his nerveless hands to bind the cords that confine him to the altar."

"And now the last words of love are spoken, the last tears shed, the last embrace is given. The father lifts the knife to slay his son,…" PP 152

Imagination grasps the scene all too well. Saying goodbye again…

But "his arm is stayed. An angel of God calls to the patriarch out of heaven,…'Lay not thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou any thing unto him: for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld they son, thine only son, from Me." PP 152

Tears stream down both cheeks, blur the vision. It strikes home.

Thine only son. Give him up. Give up what you've waited for all your life. I have given, but I'm asking you to give it back.

Hands open, outstretched, though anguish rends the heart. Spirit says goodbye to that which it loves near more than anything else on earth. "Thy will, not mine, be done…"

But Abraham's test was just that: a test. Not only to refute the claims of the devil that the old man had broken the covenant and really did not love God, but for another reason as well.

"When to Isaac's question, 'Where is the lamb for a burnt offering?' Abraham made answer, 'God will provide Himself a lamb;' and when the father's hand was stayed as he was about to slay his son; and the ram which God had provided was offered in the place of Isaac--then light was shed upon the mystery of redemption, and even the angels understood more clearly the wonderful provision God had made for man's salvation." PP 155 

It was a test--that angels might understand better. More clearly.

In this life, we have tests and trials that rend our hearts in two. We are given that which we've sought, which we've been promised--and then asked to give it back to God, to let it go.

With tears and trembling, we often resist. Not many are able to obey as Abraham.

Yet if you obey, God may stay the knife. He may return to you that blessing you willingly returned to Him--or He may give you something better. But often, when the Lord bids you let go, it is a mere test. He wants to know if you love the Giver better than the gift.

And often, we suffer that angels might know the height and depth, the mystery of the love of the God whose breath sustains worlds we know not of…

Oh Lord, teach me to accept suffering as Abraham...And help me to let go better of that which You ask for--whether You return it to me or not...

Held--Gen. 21

 

"Arise, lift up the lad and hold him in thy hand; for I will make him a great nation" (Gen. 21:18).

Oh blessed day, when little Isaac was born to Abraham and Sarah! And what a fitting name to call such a child--"laughter." Michael Card's song of this blessed event rings in the mind: "They called him laughter, for he came after the Father had made an impossible promise come true… The gift of a baby to a hopeless old lady: they called him 'laughter', because no other name would do."

Abraham and Sarah laughed. The newborn Isaac laughed. The whole encampment laughed with delight and joy.

With the exception of two.

For there was another son. Another who had been celebrated before, and now was set to the side. Another who had been supposed to have been the fulfillment of the long-awaited promise.

Ishmael.

The son of Hagar, the Egyptian servant: who, by extension, now could hardly contain her disappointment and anger.

"To Hagar, this event was the overthrow of her fondly cherished ambitions. Ishmael, now a youth, had been regarded by all in the encampment as the heir of Abraham's wealth and the interior of the blessings promised his descendants.

"Now he was suddenly set aside; and in their disappointment, mother and son hated the child of Sarah. The general rejoicing increased their jealousy,…" PP 146.

Hatred. Jealousy. Disappointment.

And then mocking. Ishmael's "turbulent disposition" was seen by Sarah as the youth mocked her son, and she pled for Abraham to send Hagar and her son away.

Abraham chafed at the idea of sending the son whom he loved into the unknown. But God assured him that this was His plan: "In all that Sarah hath said unto thee, hearken unto her voice" (Gen. 21:12).

Abraham obeyed. The next morning, after giving the two bread and water, Abraham sent them away. Banished them from his encampment...forever.

Easy?

"Abraham obeyed the angel's word, but it was not without keen suffering. The father's heart was heavy with unspoken grief as he sent away Hagar and his son." PP 146

And what of Hagar and Ishmael?

They "wandered in the wilderness of Beersheba. And the water was spent in the bottle,…" (vs. 15).

The wilderness is a cruel place. And once the water and bread are gone, the harsh conditions sap the strength of the boy. He is upon the verge of death when the story finds them again.

In the desert, Hagar finds a place to lay her unresponsive son. Heart breaking with despair and anguish, she stumbles away from him and falls onto the ground, sobbing aloud. "Let me not see the death of the child," she pleads through her tears (vs. 16).

Then, the Lord appears. He asks her why she weeps, then bids her to fear not: "for God hath heard the voice of the lad where he is" (vs. 17).

Then he bids her to "arise, lift up the lad, and hold him…for I will make him a great nation" (vs. 18).

Hagar does as she is bidden, and God opens a well in the desert, and both mother and son are refreshed and the boy is brought back from death's door.

There are many times we are made to wander in the wilderness. And often we take with us things we love, things we cherish.

But wandering in the wilderness saps energy, strength...even, sometimes, love. And these things we love begin to die.

We cast them away from ourselves and fall on our faces, weeping. We cannot bear to see the end of something we've cherished so, something that we've loved so much.

But the Lord comes. He brings solace to our hearts by one way or another. Sometimes all He does is allow us to cry in His arms and comfort us while we grieve for what we have lost.

And sometimes He does the unthinkable.

He commands us to take it up again.

To hold it. In our arms. Against our hearts. In the closest place we can.

Even though it's dying. Almost gone.

When something is dying, and we're afraid to see it go, afraid of the pain that will be caused by the reality of the death of what we've loved, we don't want to pick it back up and hold it close.

That's scary.

It makes you vulnerable.

It takes faith.

But when the Lord bids you hold something, someone, you can be sure of this…

Even though you're in the desert, a well of water will open up, and the death of what you've loved will not be.

It will come back from the gates of the grave, stronger, and better than before.

But you must take it up first.

It must be held.

Lord, give me the strength to take up that which You bid me to...and the faith to hold it close.

As A Heathen King--Gen. 20

 

"Then Abimelech called Abraham, and said unto him, What hast thou done unto us? and what have I offended thee, that thou hast brought on me and on my kingdom a great sin? thou hast done deeds unto me that ought not to be done…. And Abimelech took sheep, and oxen, and menservants, and womenservants, and gave [them] unto Abraham" (Gen. 20:9, 14).

It hadn't been so terribly long since the scuffle in Egypt over the beautiful wife of this traveling nomad. On the other hand, years had passed; and Sarah hadn't gotten any younger. However, she must've still been a beautiful creature.

Into the city of Gerar, Abraham bidding Sarah say she was his sister again. Had he forgotten the trouble in Egypt because of it?

True enough to fate and former happenings, Abimelech, the king, sent for Sarah. After all, had she not said that this man some years her elder was her brother?

But then comes the Lord in a dream and warns Abimelech of his near-sin. Abimelech pleads that he knew not of the real situation, and the Lord concedes that He knew this; "therefore suffered I thee not to touch her" (vs. 6).

The king calls Abraham and indignantly asks what his kingdom has done to offend the man of God, that he should have brought upon his head such a great sin. Abraham answers truthfully and humbly, offering his apology.

And Abimelech forgives. Not only that, but he enriches Abraham with the substance of his own house. Forgiveness without reserve.

Even though Abraham had done things that ought not to be done.

So many are like Abraham. Making mistakes that directly affect another.

And so many often feel like Abimelech. Wronged. Cheated. Betrayed.

However, not all will answer in humbleness and contrition as Abraham did. Not all ask for forgiveness.

But all may give it as Abimelech did.

He was a heathen king. And yet he knew how to forgive--to give--better than many Christians.

Oh Lord, teach me how to forgive as Abimelech...

If I Linger--Gen. 19

"And while he lingered, the men laid hold upon his hand, and upon the hand of his wife, and upon the hand of his two daughters; the Lord being merciful unto him: and they brought him forth, and set him without the city" (Gen. 19:16).

The crowd had already gathered around Lot's house and been struck with blindness. Two visitors, brought into the safety of a God-fearing man's home, had shown themselves to be messengers of the divine judgment that was soon to be rained on Sodom and Gomorrah. Lot had pled with his sons-in law and married daughters to flee--and they had refused. Called him crazy. Now the remaining four were bidden to flee the city.

And they lingered.

In a city filled with wickedness, filled with crime and vice and disgustingness of all sorts, they lingered.

Because they liked the sin? No.

"Lot delayed. Though daily distressed at beholding deeds of violence, he had no true conception of the debasing and abominable iniquity practiced in that vile city….

"Some of his children clung to Sodom, and his wife refused to depart without them. The thought of leaving those whom he held dearest on earth was more than he could bear.

"It was hard to forsake his luxurious home and all the wealth acquired by the labors of his whole life, to go forth a destitute wanderer. Stupified with sorrow, he lingered,…" PP 160

Because he couldn't bear to leave those he loved. And it was hard to leave his things.

Goodbyes are never easy. But eternal goodbyes are even harder.

And even though they had been told to flee and lingered, God understood. He can sympathize with this human sorrow at saying goodbye--He will someday say goodbye to many of those that He loves, never to see them again. Yet, judgment could not be stayed. So, the angels physically took the hands of Lot, his wife, and their two remaining daughters, and led them out of the city.

Why?

The Lord was merciful. Mercy abounded towards those who were faithful; even though they had lingered, and even though they had dwelt in the middle of the doomed city Sodom, and even though God's wrath could not be delayed.

Mercy in the midst of judgment.

God's judgment upon our earth will soon be uncontainable. We will have filled up the cup of iniquity and the Lord will "descend from heaven with a shout," to gather His children home.

But before that happens, we will be called out of the doomed city, prophetic Babylon. Again, mercy in the midst of judgment.

And I assure you, you will leave some behind who you dearly love.

However, if you linger, you may escape with your life, but you may lose another who would have escaped had it not been for your lingering. For Lot's wife perished due to her husband's example.

I beg of you, no matter how hard the struggle, no matter how intense the pain at saying goodbye, linger not.

In heaven, when all is said and done, you may shed tears for those you loved. But the Lord Himself will cry with you and comfort you. He will miss them more than you do.

No, goodbyes are never easy. And eternal goodbyes much less so.

But linger not as Lot. It will cost you, though the Lord lays hold of you and pulls you out of the very jaws of death.

Lord, keep me strong and faithful...and  if I linger, lay hold of me and pull me out...

"I Know Him"--Gen. 18

"For I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment; that the Lord may bring upon Abraham that which He hath spoken of him" (Gen. 18:19).

A hot day, an aged patriarch sitting in the door of his tent, and figures of three strangers appearing out of the shimmering heat: a recipe for timelessness.

Abraham bid these strangers stay, and he served them with his own hands. Food, rest, water to cleanse their feet: nothing was left undone that could not be brought to them. And God commanded this act of hospitality to be recorded for ages since to read and take heed.

After giving evidence of divinity by pronouncing the blessing of a child upon the aged couple, the Lord (as He is now revealed) and His two holy companions head toward the city. The Son of God pauses, and as if speaking to Himself, says, "Shall I hide from Abraham that thing which I do; seeing that Abraham shall surely become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him?" (Gen. 18:17,18).

And then, those words: "For I know him."

Rewritten in simple English, God is asking, "Why should I not tell Abraham what I'm going to do, especially since he is going to be great in the earth as My messenger, My friend?" And almost like assuring Himself, adds, "Yes, it is safe to tell him. I know him. I know he will honor Me."

Then, the legendary back-and-forth between dust and eternity. "Fifty?... Don't be angry at me, but what about forty-five? ...forty? ...thirty? ...twenty? ...ten?"

Each time, God replies, "For the sake of so many, I will not destroy the city."

And then, so humanly, "the Lord went His way, as soon as he had left communing with Abraham: and Abraham returned unto his place" (Gen. 18:33).

What must Abraham have carried away from that face-to-face conversation with the Omnipotent? The hope that Sodom would not be destroyed after all? Awe and wonder at having been in the very presence of God?

Or perhaps it was that sentence, that sentence fragment: "I know him."

God knew Abraham. He knew that he would keep the faith, teach his children and his household to love God and keep His commandments. He knew that Abraham's descendants would treasure this knowledge, though they would have many setbacks.

Thus, "I know him."

My question is this…

What would be the following words, if the Lord said of you, "I know them"?

May it be that our rendering by the Most High would be like that of Abraham of old.

Lord, I want you to know me...as Abraham.

Mark of Ownership--Gen. 17

 

"Neither shall thy name any more be called Abram, but thy name shall be Abraham; for a father of many nations have I made of thee….As for Sarai thy wife, thou shalt not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall her name be" (Gen. 17:5, 15)

The Lord God Almighty appears to Abram and declares His name: "I am the Almighty God;" and then bids the patriarch to "walk before Me, and be thou perfect" (vs. 1).

That's quite the command. The God of heaven and earth, commanding  a finite, sinful creature to be perfect. It seems impossible.

But "all His biddings are enablings" (COL 333.1). The Lord would not leave Abram to struggle to this destination called perfection without providing the way and the means to get there.

As a token of God's love, and of His promise to help Abram and his descendants to attain this, He establishes a covenant with His chosen people--circumcision. But before He ever mentions the rite, He does something else.

That's right. He changes their names.

Abram becomes Abraham. And Sarai becomes Sarah.

Abraham's new name meant exactly the same thing as his old one: "exalted father" or "father of nations." And Sarah's new name meant the same thing as her old one: "princess."

Why change the name if you aren't changing the meaning?

In the beginning, God named all things...sort of.

God named everything, but Adam named things as well. Adam named Eve, his children, and all the animals. It's interesting that God didn't name Eve like he did Adam. Nor did God specify what names to call Cain and Abel.

When you name something, you are establishing authority. Right of ownership. God, in naming man, woman, sky, land, sea, trees, plants, established that He was the ultimate Ruler of all. But Adam, in naming Eve, Cain, Abel, fox, monkey, cow, and penguin, established that he was the secondary authority.

When Abraham was born, his father, Terah, called him Abram. His father had the right to name him, as he was the authority figure.

But when Abraham left his father's house at the command of God, and followed the unseen Creator God across land and desert, through trial and battle, he gained a new authority.

God became the ultimate authority, and thus, He gave His possession a new name.

There's a reason that God dictated what Isaac's name would be.

He was establishing ultimate ownership of the unborn child.

And when He asked Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, He was testing Abraham to see if he would recognize that claim of ownership.

Another was also named by God before His birth. And God claimed ownership of Him as well. Jesus' name was given to Mary and Joseph by Gabriel. And Jesus was God's...alone.

And get this… He's going to change your name too.

"To him that overcometh will I give...a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it" (Rev. 2:17).

What's the purpose of a new name if no one except you and God know what it is?

Ownership.

You are God's. And one day soon He will establish it forever.

He will give you a new name.

But He also wants to give you a new name on this old earth. He wants to establish His ownership of you here and now.

"I will change your name: you shall no longer be called 'wounded,' 'outcast,' 'lonely,' or 'afraid.' I will change your name: your new name shall be 'confidence,' 'joyfulness,' 'overcoming one,' 'faithfulness,' 'friend of God,' 'one who seeks My face.' "

Your name.A mark of ownership.

You are property of the King of Kings.

Oh Lord, change my name.

More Than Delay--Gen. 16

"And Sarai said unto Abram, Behold now, the Lord hath restrained me from bearing: I pray thee, go in unto my handmaid; it may be that I may obtain children by her. And Abram hearkened unto his wife." Gen. 16:2

Abram's faithlessness has been the topic of many a debate and sermon. This pie has been sliced in almost every possible way: the story is familiar.

Sarai talks with Abram, stating that "the Lord hath restrained" her from having children. Giving this as an excuse, she bids him take Hagar, her Egyptian servant, as his second wife.

Abram, knowing that Sarai is not only barren, but also now very old, thinks that perhaps this is what the Lord meant. After all, it's a way to fulfill the promise, is it not?

Besides that, it's been ten long years of waiting and hoping. Ten years since the night that Abram "believed, and it was counted to him for righteousness" (Gen. 15: 6). Ten years...and no son. 

Bottom line is, Abram's tired of waiting. And so's Sarai.

And thus they adopt a practice that the heathen nations around them used, that of polygamy, to gain what they felt surely must be the fulfillment of the promised child.

What they got for their efforts was a child on the way--but a very unhappy family.

Sarai complains to Abram. So does Hagar. Hagar snubs her mistress, is dealt harshly with, and runs away into the desert. She collapses, weary from travel and still stinging at the thought of her mistress's harsh actions and words, by a fountain.

The Lord speaks to Hagar, tells her that her child will be a great nation. His name will be Ishmael. And He bids her return to her mistress and be subject to her. Come down off your pedestal, in other words. Return to your proper place.

Hagar listens. And obeys. And "she called the name of the Lord that spake unto her, Thou God seest me: for she said, Have I also here looked after Him that seeth me?" (Gen. 16:13).

That's a really good question.

Had Hagar been looking toward Him who was watching her?

Had Abram, or Sarai?

Not at all.

In the hopes of the promise being fulfilled at last, they lost sight of the One who had made the promise, employed means that He did not sanction, and then called it Providence.

However, one thing remains.

The Lord had still promised. And the fulfillment--the true fulfillment--was still in the making. It was still coming.

In the words of a familiar song, "Wait a little longer, Child: the time will come in time."

The promise is still a promise.

Which means that it will come to pass...in His time.

This was more than delay. This was a test.

A test of faith. A test of courage. A test of that belief manifested in chapter 15.

It is more than delay. It is a test, to see if you will believe that the Lord is leading, was leading, and still will lead.

Even if the promise you expected turns out to be from a different source than originally thought.

A promise is a promise.

And delay is always more than delay.

Lord, bring me through each delay… Teach me to wait patiently.

No Questions Asked--Gen. 15

"And he believed in the Lord; and He counted it to him for righteousness." Gen. 15:6

The battle for Lot's restoration is won; and after receiving honor from both the king of Sodom and from Melchisidec, the otherwise unknown priest-prophet-king of Salem, he returns to his quiet life beneath the oaks of Mamre.

At least, he hopes his life is quiet.

Fear stirs in his heart. Fear that now that he has won such a great victory that the nations surrounding him will rise up against him and his quiet life with the Creator God would be consumed in battles and strategies.

This fear tormented the patriarch so greatly that the Lord spoke to him, reassuring that "I am thy shield and thy exceeding great reward": "Fear not". (Gen. 15:1)

Abram questions: "Lord God, what wilt thou give me, seeing I go childless,...and lo, one born in my house is mine heir" (Gen. 15:2, 3).

The Lord replies: "This shall not be thine heir; but he that shall come forth out of thine own bowels shall be thine heir" (vs. 4).

Then the Creator summons Abram out of his tent and bids him "consider the heavens": to "tell the stars". Obviously, Abram cannot.

The application? "So shall thy seed be"(vs. 5).

Abram is not getting younger. And Sarai is barren.

But instead of asking, "How?" or even "When?", Abram "believed in the Lord; and it was counted to him for righteousness" (vs. 6).

Believing. Counted for righteousness.

Our own righteousness is as filthy rags.

But, "believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved."

This believing is believing God says what He means and means what He says...without questions asked. Without the additional, "I believe, but…"

No questions asked.

I believe.

And it is counted me for righteousness.

Lord, my God, help me to truly believe.

Remember. Forget. --Gen. 14

"And when Abram heard that his brother was taken captive, he armed his trained servants, born in his own house, three hundred and eighteen, and pursued them unto Dan." Gen. 14:14

Dwelling in peace and prosperity in the plains of Mamre, Abram hears tell of a terrible battle that was fought and won down in the vale of Shiddim. A survivor staggers into camp with the news--"They took Lot,...who dwelt in Sodom, and his goods, and departed" (Gen. 14:12).

And what did this mighty patriarch do?

Remember, Lot had chosen the most beautiful, prosperous, and promising lands for himself. When the whole of it had been promised to Abram and his seed, a selfish young man chose it for himself, with no respect to his uncle, whose kindness and protection had even gotten him to Canaan in the first place.

This could have been the classic example of "You get what you deserve."

Abram remembered.

And in the face of his love for his family, his love for mankind, and his love for his God, he forgot.

Servants were armed, Mamre and his brothers called, and off sallied Abram, leading a band that was small compared to the forces they would face.

They came marching back to Sodom, triumphant in a resplendent victory.

Why? All of this war, this battle, this terror and fear and killing… This risk, this chance; this gamble of his own life…..for a young man and his family, who had shunned the kindness of an elder kinsman, who now dwelt within the very walls of the dark city of Sodom.

Why would Abram risk his own neck for something like that?

He had plenty to remember.

And he chose to forget.

Not only to forget, but to be there when occasion called. When Lot needed him, Abram was there. Even though Lot never asked for it. Lot sent him no message of pleading: "Uncle Abram, come save me!" But Abram went anyway.

The unasked was given the ungrateful.

And the unthinkable was given the unselfish.

The essence of forgiveness is forgetting. And remembering.

Remember. Forget.

Remember the friend, forget the follies.

Remember the doer, forget the deeds.

Remember the love, forget the lies.

Remember the beauty, forget the betrayal.

Abram risked life, wealth; the security of the family he left in the plains of Mamre while he went to battle; he risked everything to rescue someone who he loved, even though that someone had asked for no help, had given him no reason to still love.

He remembered. And forgot. And won.

Lord, teach me to forget...and help me to remember.

Where You Belong--Gen. 13

"And he went on his journeys from the south even to Bethel, unto the place where his tent had been at the beginning, between Bethel and Hai." Gen. 13:3

Abram answered the call of God, and after his father's death headed out into the great world, "not knowing whither he went." He let God lead...and ended up in the Promised Land.

Beautiful valleys, rich verdure everywhere: and God promised this to Abram and to his seed forever. Abram journeyed through this land, pitched his tent, and built an altar, on which he offered a morning and evening sacrifice.

A witness to the heathen around him, a light in darkness, a source of hope for all the people who were with him, who had cast their lot in with him, trusting in this God that they knew so little: Abram had a wonderful influence.

And then a famine which caused them to repair to Egypt. No, they didn't abandon the hope God had given them of the Promised Land. They didn't give up on the fact that God had led them there, and that He had promised it to them. But in order to remain alive--and to go through what God needed them to--to Egypt they went.

We know what happened there. Abram lied, Sarah was taken, the Pharoh's household was beset with a terrible plague, and the patriarch was sent from the land of Egypt with his wife restored, greater wealth than when he came, and the reputation of having a God who would fight for him if anyone did him harm.

Ellen White states that God took Abram to Egypt--He led him there--in order to have his faith tested. Good came out of that trial, assuredly: yet it still was a trial. A half-bitter experience. But God led...and the safest place, the happiest place, whether in affliction or in peace, was where God called.

And after that, where to?

Back to Canaan. Back to the Promised Land.

The saying goes, "Sometimes right back where you started from is right where you belong."

Abram went back. Pitched his tent. Repaired the altar. Lived in the Promised Land.

Right back where he was in the beginning.

As a human family, a race of creatures, we started out in Canaan--only it was called Eden then. We were in paradise: perfection in its purest form. The epitome of purity and holiness, true joy. 

We fell. 

And now, we see very little of that perfection that once was anywhere in this world. It still lingers in the works of nature, the word of God, and the workings of the Lord in the lives of men...but there is precious little to be seen in the cruelty and terror we find around us. 

We are in Egypt. 

But get this...

We belong in Canaan.

God doesn't want us to be in Egypt in the sense that He didn't want us to fall, to sin. But He is using that fall, that sin, to bring us closer to the throne of God and to His own heart than ever would've been possible had we remained in Canaan. 

Like Abraham, we too, will come out from thence richer than when we went in. 

You were created for the Promised Land. For Canaan. For happiness, both on earth and in heaven. You've been promised this land, this happiness, by the God of heaven.

Egypt isn't your home.

God has called you to Egypt to learn something, to do something, to help someone--even if that someone is yourself.

But amid the lesson-learning, the trial-and-error we call life, don't ever forget this one thing…

Canaan is where you belong.

Lord, help me to remember...Canaan is my home.

You are Abraham--Gen. 12

"Now the Lord had said unto Abram, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from they father's house, unto a land that I will show thee." Gen. 12:1

The builders of Babel were scattered like grass seed in a strong wind. And with each one of their companies went the idolatry and apostasy.

And, albeit sadly, God turned from the greater population of the earth. He left them in their rebellion and sin, and entrusted one with the message, the faith, the hope of a Redeemer to come. One.

Abram.

One in a thousand: a pure, faithful, and godly man in the midst of a family who professed religion and yet worshiped "other gods" as well. Bound to home by ties that were strong, yet not so strong as His connection with heaven.

And when God said, "go," he went.

Just like that. But it wasn't easy.

"It was no light test that was thus brought upon Abraham, no small sacrifice that was required of him. There were strong ties to bind him to his country, his kindred, and his home. But he did not hesitate to obey the call. 

"He had no question to ask concerning the land of promise--whether the soil was fertile and the climate healthful; whether the country afforded agreeable surroundings and would afford opportunities for amassing wealth. God has spoken, and His servant must obey; the happiest place on earth for him was the place where God would have him to be." (PP 126)

The happiest place on earth. Happiest. It had nothing to do with who was there, what the weather was like, what opportunities there were to be had. All that mattered was that he was where God wanted him.

Ouch. 

How often has my happiness depended on everything but...?

And then... "Many are still tested as was Abraham."

"They do not hear the voice of God speaking directly from the heavens, but He calls them by the teachings of His Word and the events of His providence.

"They may be required to abandon a career that promises wealth and honor, to leave congenial and profitable associations and separate from kindred, to enter upon what appears to be only a path of self-denial, hardship, and sacrifice.

"God has a work for them to do; but a life of ease and the influence of friends and kindred would hinder the development of the very traits essential for its accomplishment. He calls them away from human influences and aid, and leads them to feel the need of His help, and to depend upon Him alone, that He may reveal Himself to them." PP 127

I've been called to a strange country. Different customs, different people, different language. Very little here is familiar. Faces, names, places: all is strange. Foreign. Even scary. Hard, trying; a trial, a struggle.

Why am I here? What do I think I'm doing in the mission field when I have so many faults to overcome?

I am reminded: God does not refine worthless stones.

I'm here because God called. And, by extension, because being home would hinder the development of the very traits God needs to be manifest in me. Being surrounded by a network of friends and family who love me, who care, who want to be there, would get in the way. God wants me to feel His love through that of others--but I have a few things to learn first that can't be learned in that atmosphere.

Suddenly, a lot of things make a whole lot of sense.

But this doesn't just stop with a frightened, tried, struggling missionary learning big lessons in the jungles of Thailand.

This extends to the world.

And, more exactly, to YOU.

"Who is ready at the call of Providence to renounce cherished plans and familiar associations?

"Who will accept new duties and enter untried fields, doing God's work with firm and willing heart, for Christ's sake counting his losses gain?

"He who will do this has the faith of Abraham, and will share in that 'far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory,' with which 'the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared.' " PP 127

There you have it.

You are being called. Where? I don't know. When? I don't know that either.

But I know who. You.

And I know why. God needs you.

And He needs to teach you, just like He's been teaching me.

Look in the mirror.

YOU are Abraham.

Lord God, make me Abraham. Give me his faith. And continue to teach me.