Genesis 15:1-6; Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16; Luke 12:32-40
How’s your faith these days? If Abram, from our reading in Genesis, is the pinnacle of faith, trusting God’s promise to give him descendants as numerous as the stars even though he has no child of his own blood, how do you stack up? Do you have the assurance of things hoped for, do you carry the conviction of things not seen?
It’s a hard thing, I’ll give you that. This past week, with mass shootings, with the UN Report that climate change is being primarily driven by global agricultural practices, with farmers in Taber having their crops flattened by a storm––it’s hard to have faith that God is watching over us. Or maybe there’s something going on in your own personal life that makes it hard to have faith––someone you know has cancer, or is struggling with mental illness, or some untreatable progressive condition. The reality of living, the presence of suffering, makes faith difficult, if not impossible.
But maybe I need to back up a minute. What is it that we mean when we talk about faith? Well, for Abraham, faith was an action–it was a trust in God that enabled Abraham to carry on with his life as if what God had promised would actually happen. Faith is behaviour––it is acting without proof that our actions will be effective. We actually do things by faith all the time. When we see a green light and drive through the intersection, we are acting by faith. We have no evidence that the people waiting at the red will actually wait for us, we’ve probably never seen them before in our lives. And yet we drive, by faith, trusting that we won’t get hit. Faith is what we do.
For the author of Hebrews, faith is a belief. It’s the thoughts that undergird our actions. It is also illogical, irrational. The original greek text says that faith is the assurance of things hoped for, which means faith is a foundation or building block made from things that don’t even exist yet. Faith is the conviction of things not seen, which means faith is being convinced of something without evidence. Conviction is a legal term––imagine going into court and saying to a judge and jury, I want you to convict this person without evidence! That’s what faith is. It is believing in something without any evidence for that belief.
And so it’s no wonder faith is hard! Faith is believing, and then acting on that belief, contrary to everything that we see and experience.
And so it’s no wonder we don’t do a good job of living by faith. At least, *I* don’t. I trust evidence. I trust experience. I am not so keen on “blind faith.” If God came to me and said, your descendants will be as numerous as the stars, I would probably say, “Are you sure that’s a good thing?” The church’s conviction that God will provide has supported, and even encouraged, our unrestricted growth and the accompanying consumption of the earth’s resources, including its renewable resources, leading us to the situation we’re currently in. Blind faith that God will step in and save us leads people to trust in “thoughts and prayers,” rather than acting to legislate stricter gun control. Blind faith leads people to turn their backs on modern medicine. People die because their faith tells them to pray rather than take prescription medicine. Acting as if God will indeed come down and save us from all our troubles has led us to some very short-sighted decisions that have devastating consequences. I don’t have a lot of faith in living by “faith.”
Except. Except that we are commanded to have faith, and the New Testament is pretty clear, “by faith you are saved.” And, I see what happens when we live without it. If faith is believing that God is committed to our well-being, and acting on that belief, then the absence of faith is not doubt, but fear. And I see a lot of people living by fear, rather than by faith. Fear causes us to put up walls (literally and around our hearts), to lock the doors, to insist on stability, to react rather than taking time to think things through, to try to predict and control every single variable and outcome. And it never turns out well. Abram acted in fear when he used Hagar, Sarai’s handmaid, to have a child, rather than trusting in God’s word, and that caused a whole mess of trouble. Every time we act in fear, we derail or delay God’s goodness intended for us. To put it in Lutheran language, every time we allow fear to drive us, we break the First Commandment, which is to “fear, love, and trust only God.” Whatever we fear ends up controlling us, and it leaves no room for trusting God. As much as I don’t like living by faith, I really don’t like living by fear. Blind fear is as devastating as blind faith.
So then how do we navigate between faith and fear? How do we acknowledge the reality of our situation without giving up because we see no hope? Really, what I’m talking about is having a mature faith; simple answers won’t do here. I’m talking about the kind of faith that Jesus had––a mature faith that recognized that the words he was preaching were going to lead to his death––he never denied that the consequences of his ministry would be fatal for him, and in fact rebuked Peter for Peter’s own denial. And yet Jesus never gave up preaching God’s love. He didn’t lose hope, he didn’t go back to Nazareth and his carpenter shop and live a life of passive acceptance of the inevitable. How do we get the faith of Jesus? How do we live in a mature faith that accepts the realities we are in and also moves us to live in hope? How do we act as if we are going to die and going to live at the same time?
Because this is what faith is: it is believing and acting as if today is the last day of our lives and, at the same time, the first day of the rest of our lives. Faith is, as we now know, a paradox. It is irrational. It makes no sense. It is trusting that God is going to take care of us while also believing that God is not going to swoop in and make everything better. How do we have that faith?
You may recognize these words, “I believe that by my own understanding or strength I cannot believe in Jesus Christ my Lord or come to him, but instead the Holy Spirit has called me through the gospel, enlightened me with her gifts, made me holy and kept me in the true faith.” Again, “I believe that by my own understanding or strength I cannot believe in Jesus Christ my Lord or come to him, but instead the Holy Spirit has called me through the gospel, enlightened me with her gifts, made me holy and kept me in the true faith.” These are Martin Luther’s words, in his explanation to the Apostles’ Creeds in the Small Catechism. They were the foundation of his faith, he who also struggled to live a mature faith, to acknowledge the reality of the world and yet also to trust that God had more.
We cannot believe, we cannot have this faith on our own. We cannot accept the irrationality of believing without evidence on our own. We cannot live as if we are both doomed and saved at the same time on our own. Abraham did not trust in God on his own. The author of Hebrews did not have assurance or conviction on his own. Jesus did not have faith on his own. This is the heart of our Lutheran beliefs, that we can not do it on our own. We simply can’t. We are human and this is beyond our capacity. Left to our own devices, we live by fear, whether that takes the shape of denying that there are any problems at all or accepting that there are problems and engaging in panic or giving up completely. “By our own understanding or strength we cannot believe in Jesus Christ our Lord or come to him.”
And yet, “the Holy Spirit has called us through the gospel, enlightened us with her gifts, made us holy and kept us in the true faith.” The Holy Spirit, the Spirit of God that was present at Creation, the Spirit of God that raised Jesus Christ from the dead, the Spirit that gave life to the dry bones, that blazed amongst the disciples at Pentecost, keeps us in a true and mature faith. The Holy Spirit empowers us with Jesus’ faith––to accept that death is coming, and yet to continue to believe in God’s promises. The Spirit of God gives us the faith to accept that death is inevitable and to live as if new life is just as inevitable. Through the Spirit, God gives us the courage to accept the evidence that there are good reasons to be fearful, and to continue to act in hope of God’s goodness. The Spirit gives us the faith to walk towards the cross and still hope in resurrection.
And it’s not up to you. It’s not up to me. It’s up to God. Often we have trouble walking that middle path between blind faith and blind fear. Sometimes, we spend too much time believing that God is going to save us all and we’re never going to die and carry on our merry, and fatal, way. Sometimes, we spend too much time believing that we’re all going to die no matter what and we give up hope and give in to despair. But the Holy Spirit comes among us to give the holy faith we need to avoid both extremes. “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is the Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” It is God’s good pleasure to give you faith, to give you the assurance, to give you the conviction, to carry on in hope. Thanks be to God. Amen.
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