Dear church,

Death brings something into the world we do not want. It brings loss and separation, and so we grieve. We ponder people who no longer are with us and smiles we no longer will see. And we grapple with how to make sure death won’t happen again. We redouble our efforts to topple a pandemic that has claimed four-hundred thousand Americans. 

But why do we not like death? Why do we rebel at the idea of it? Certainly, we don’t like mysteries, and death is a mystery. We don’t like change, either, and death brings change. But why haven’t we come – after all these thousands of years of human existence and, some would say, of thousands of years of human evolution – to the point we stoically accept the fact of death? Death has come to everyone, and it will come to you and me, too. Get used to it. Steel yourself against it.

And yet we don’t. We don’t get used to it, perhaps, because we can’t. Abraham was the first in the Bible to grieve death, and Abraham did so after he’d been given the promise from God for life. Abraham knew something rich and fulfilling and life-giving was on its way. As Christians, we grieve knowing eternal life is so close at hand. We know what we are made for, and we are not made for graves and tombs. We are made for communion with God. 

Perhaps Abraham was shocked when Sarah died, and he wept over her body because the promised gift was right there. He could almost taste it. A child had been born. The Promised Land had been walked. Abraham went to Hebron – the future capital of the tribe of Judah, the tribe of David and of Jesus – to bury his bride. He buried her in the place of promise. 

The realization of full life was so close – and so the disappointment at death was perhaps all the greater. The world learns this fact from us, from Christians. The world learns that death is a great disappointment from the people who live closer to God than anyone else. We rub off on the world, on humanity, like a light shining into darkness, or like a city on a hill (Matthew 5:14-15). 

We are meant for life, and so we grieve death. We teach this to the world. 

But the difference between ourselves and the unbelieving world is we also can rejoice in death. It’s great sting – and it is great – has been relieved and will be even further relieved by resurrection (1 Corinthians 15:54-57).

Chris

Dear church,

How do you handle your trials? Our problem is not that we find ourselves in trials but that we so often respond to them as if we are people of this world. The purposes of our trials – the testing of God – is not so that we somehow can earn our way into heaven or prove that we are stoic in the face of disaster. It is not about “passing” the test. No, the purpose of the test is so we can see this world in full clarity, and so we can see God in that way as well.

This is an era of great tests of our faith and of our loves. A global pandemic has caused humanity to shudder, some in fear and some in anger. A contested election has resulted in pointing fingers. A wobbly economy has left many anxious. Health officials close businesses, and workers suffer and sue.

Those who are willing can see these trials and afflictions as moments of grace. It is only in moments like these, when things are stripped away from us or threatened to be removed, that we can we see vivid reality. In what do we really put our faith? What do we really love? 

Our response in these times of loss allows for a deep examination and refining of our hearts. We can know for certain what we love the very most – and where we place our ultimate hopes.

“After these things God tested Abraham …” (Genesis 22:1). Upon what was Abraham putting his hope? He was about to find out. The love of Abraham was not first of all on anything of this world. He was a man who relied on nothing other than the power of God for his future and his welfare – and for the fulfillment of the promise. Abraham was not about to take matters into his own hands. His was a life of steadfast faithfulness to God.

Testing allows us to see what we really love. The stark clarity gives us a moment to really know. And if we don’t like what we see of ourselves in these moments of trial, we can begin moving in another direction. We can repent. 

More testing will come. The next time is another opportunity to grow.

Chris

Dear church,

God’s promises take time to fulfill. Abraham and Sarah knew this. They were filled with laughter in the waiting – doubting such things could come to be (Genesis 17:17; 18:12). And then they were filled with laughter on that surprising day when an empty womb became full and when a baby was born to them. “God has made laughter for me” (Genesis 21:6). 

The laughter of doubt becomes the laughter of joy. Hoping becomes seeing.

The great lie of the world is these things do not happen. We may look and hope, but the only laughter is the laughter of doubt. But the Christian knows nothing is impossible with God (Luke 1:37).

Presidents still carry bibles to their inaugurations. For many, these bibles are mere symbols – symbols of nationalism or denominationalism or family or tradition. When the Bible arrives at the inauguration, people find their own meanings for the presence of the book. 

But a Christian should marvel at the sight of it. Perhaps we should laugh in disbelief. Even now, at the center of world power, in an age of reckless untruth, we can find the very words of God and the prayers of men. One of those prayer says, “Come, Lord Jesus” (Revelation 22:20).

Can dead things still be given life? We can pray for our country, that God would spark one more revival springing from the words of that book that holds up the president’s hand. Nothing is impossible with God. Dead things, empty countries, can become alive again. 

Perhaps someday our laughter of doubt will become a laughter of joy over a new thing God has done.

Chris

Dear church,

Sin leads us into captivity. Our lies and deception open the door to the world of death, and it comes and takes us. The story Sarah’s captivity begins a pattern that is repeated elsewhere in the Old Testament. God’s people are taken captive, and God frees them by his own power. 

Abimelech was the second king who swept Sarah into his home (see Genesis 12). King Abimelech was not afflicted by plagues from God but by a dream from God. God’s people would continue to find themselves in captivity – think about Joseph and then the entire nation of Israel in Egypt – and God would bring dreams and plagues again in order to set his people free. 

Only God has the power to save. And only humans have the capacity to fall into sin again after we’ve seen the saving power of God. 

A common description of God in the Bible calls him “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6). Again and again, he grants us mercy. Again and again, he is patient as we turn away. Again and again, his love holds onto us even as we try to pull away. Again and again, he frees us from our self-inflicted captivity. 

God’s people can expect the way of escape to appear in front of them. We ought not to fret in any circumstance because God will show us the way out. This is even the case before we fall into sin (1 Corinthians 10:13). God provides a way of escape.

Chris

Dear church,

Sometimes we try to linger. We put our hands to the plow, but then we look back (Luke 9:62). God is in the process of delivering us out of the judgment he has planned for this world, and we are too wedded to its sinful pursuits to come along.

And God takes us by the hand and pulls, seeming at sometimes to drag us along out of the city gates. “Don’t look back,” he says. And we learn about God’s righteous judgment.

Lot ended up living in a cave, his body ransacked by his two daughters. He was a man of good intentions. At times, even, he was bold and brave. But he was foolish and prone to fear. In the end, hiding in his cave, he gave up. 

Saved by God and frustrated by others and ourselves, and fearful of what might happen next, we might end up living in our own personal caves, away from the world. 

We read about civil unrest and stolen elections and race wars and impeachment and censorship, and we look toward our caves. We determine once for all not to look back at the world. God was right. Head to the hills.

And we find a cave. This surely is not what God intended. We make little arks for ourselves, protected from God’s judgment and from people who are not safe. We hide ourselves in our work or in our families or in our hobbies. We are driven by fear. 

And we are lingering once again. We know God’s judgment is real. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom (Proverbs 9:10). But we fear other things, too. And we are not perfected in love (1 John 4:18). 

Are you in a cave today?

Chris

Dear church,

Abraham gives us a glimpse of the future. He gives us a glimpse of Jesus Christ. 

We know Abraham had been chosen by God. Abraham’s family was to be a blessing to all the families of the earth (Genesis 12:3). 

We learn later that this was to happen through Jesus Christ – a descendent of Abraham. Jesus died for the unrighteous and the sinners. That is us. One man gave his life for all. 

And here, outside the city of Sodom, Abraham was negotiating with God for the sake of the people there. Abraham already was serving as a blessing to other families on earth. If God could find ten righteous people, he would preserve the city. Abraham argued for that outcome.

This is a picture of Jesus. 

No one is righteous, of course. Not even one (Romans 3:10). On this earth, God wouldn’t find any who could pass the test. 

And so God entered into the picture as the lone righteous human. God would save many for the sake of the one. 

Outside Sodom, Abraham stood and negotiated with God. We call this intercession. Again, this is a picture of Jesus Christ. “Christ Jesus is the one who died – more than that, who was raised – who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us” (Romans 8:34).

We ought to picture ourselves as residents of Sodom. I suppose our world is not much different than what we see in Sodom – a world of sexual immorality and greed and a world that devours its own.

But one righteous person has lived among us. And for the sake of this righteous human, if we put our faith in him, we are spared. 

Chris

Dear church,

God didn’t command a light and easy thing. Circumcision for a grown man – especially one who is ninety-nine years old, is not a light and easy thing. This task involves physical pain – pain in the flesh.

Sometimes we might ask why God would have Abraham do such a thing. Was this necessary?

Some people will read how circumcision in the ancient world represented a mark of belonging. If you were circumcised – or if you had a specific mark on your body – you belonged to someone. Abraham now belonged to God. 

But there is much more to this strange command by God than this. We ought to read this text with eyes of faith – and with the mind of a Christian – if we want to understand it fully, and if we want to hear what God may want to say to us. 

This painful act of obedience by Abraham took place in his flesh. God told Abraham to mark his very flesh – to cut some small piece of it away. 

It is fitting God would do such a thing. We are people of flesh. We are driven by the desires of our flesh – by our desires for food and drink and sex and sleep. These things govern us. 

The first sin gives us a clue. When Eve saw the fruit, she saw it was pleasing to the eye and good for food (Genesis 3:6). Sin enters into our body through our flesh. It corrupts our desires. No longer do we desire God. Instead, we desire things of the flesh. We desire only things of this world. 

As Christians, we know that to live solely in the flesh is not good. 

The apostle Paul wrote, “I am of the flesh, sold under sin” (Romans 7:14). The apostle John added that the things of the flesh are worldly and contrary to the way of God: “Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world – the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life – is not from the Father but is from the world” (1 John 2:15-16).

Our flesh has the sting of sin about it. And God told Abraham to mark his flesh – to remove part of it. 

This is the first command of the covenant God made with Abraham and his offspring. And it was directed at the very part of Abraham’s body that would be so instrumental in fulfilling God’s original command to “be fruitful and multiply” (Genesis 1:28). It also is the part of the body that would make it possible for Abraham’s “very own son” to become his heir (15:4).

And Abraham obeyed. And we know this must have been painful for Abraham. When we cut away sinful flesh, it hurts.

We must keep a couple of things in mind. Abraham was justified by faith. He believed in the promises of God, and it was credited to him as righteousness (Genesis 15:6). Abraham’s good standing with God did not come through circumcision. Abraham already was right with God before he took up the knife. We must understand this clearly if we are to understand the gospel at all. God’s grace comes first, and it is received by faith.

But obedience to God – as Christians, we call it sanctification – remains a vital part of the picture. It was impossible to be part of the people of God without obedience. In Abraham’s day, that meant circumcision. A male member of Abraham’s family – even with the biological connection – could not be part of the people of God without circumcision.

Obedience is crucial to our walk with God. Abraham believed God and was righteous. Next, he obeyed God. He cut away the flesh and walked in God’s covenant. God said, “I am God Almighty, walk before me, and be blameless” (Genesis 17:1).

God expects his people to trust him and to obey him. Many years later, Moses would tell the people of Israel, “You shall walk in the way that the Lord your God has commanded you, that you may life, and that it may go well with you, and that you may live long in the land that you shall possess” (Deuteronomy 5:33). 

For the people of Israel, obedience brought life. And it started with circumcision.

But the people of Israel were not able to “walk before” God. They weren’t able to “walk in the way that the Lord” had commanded them. They were circumcised, but that was it. Their obedience came to a faltering halt. Their sin, their flesh, was too much.

We aren’t able to walk before God in that way, either. We aren’t able to follow his commands. Circumcision for us, like for Israel, is about as far as we can get. We remain people of the flesh, “sold under sin,” as the apostle Paul said (Romans 7:14).

This is why Jesus Christ came. He came to free us from our flesh. His death on the cross was the ultimate circumcision – the firstborn of all creation, cut off from life. 

I believe this picture of circumcision, of Abraham’s obedience, is designed by God so that it will remain with us. I believe God wants us to keep this in our minds.

We believe in Christ, and it is credited to us as righteousness. And then we are circumcised. And this circumcision we receive is not of a tiny part of our bodies. Rather, it is of our whole selves – our entire flesh. 

The apostle Paul wrote, “For no one is a Jew who is merely one outwardly, nor is circumcision outward and physical. But a Jew is one inwardly, and circumcision is a matter of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the letter. His praise is not from man but from God” (Romans 2:28-29).

Our hearts are circumcised by the Holy Spirit. The entirety of our lives of flesh is cut away. The seat of our desires is reformed. 

Jesus died on the cross for our sins, justifying those who believe in him. The Holy Spirit circumcises our hearts and enables us to walk before the Lord. And we walk with the Lord: “Faith apart from works is dead” (James 2:26).

And so the good works we do in this world are the sign of our faith. Just as any Jew can be identified by his circumcision – if you cared to look closely enough – so every Christian can be identified by his or her circumcision of the heart, which is borne out in righteous action. 

The apostle Paul, in fact, said the physical circumcision of a tiny bit of flesh was overwhelmed by the actions of Christ on the cross and the work of the Holy Spirit within us. Paul said, “For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love” (Galatians 5:6). 

And now, like Abraham, we walk in the covenant. That is, we walk by the Spirit. Read Galatians 5:13-26 when you have a moment.

This leaves me still with a question. Is our circumcision painful, like Abraham’s surely was? When our hearts become circumcised, when the flesh is cut away, does that hurt?

I think surely it must. The cutting away of a small piece of flesh from our human body must be nothing compared to the Spirit’s surgical circumcision of our hearts. This circumcision is enlivened by the Word of God. “Let us therefore strive to enter that rest, so that no one may fall by the same sort of disobedience. For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And no creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account” (Hebrews 4:11-13).

And so yes, I think the circumcision of our hearts is a painful thing. When the Spirit cuts sin out of our lives, when the flesh of sin is removed, it can hurt. 

The Spirit is unrelenting in riding our hearts about forgiving an enemy, and it hurts to take action. The Spirit will talk to us about our lack of patience, and we sit in anguish as we wait. The Spirit will speak to us of our pride and our arrogance, and we must listen in humility. The Spirit reminds us of other shortcomings, and the pangs of regret and repentance well up within us.

And all of this hurts. The cutting away of our sinfulness hurts. Sanctification can be painful. It is a ruthless process that God has under way in our lives right now, cutting out the sin and death and making us fit for eternal life. 

But it is worth it. This is how we keep in step with the Spirit. This is how we move forward toward God’s Sabbath rest after our circumcision. We respond to the Spirit’s promptings, despite the pain. 

Jesus was clear about it: “If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. For it is better than you lose one of your members than your whole body be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body go into hell” (Matthew 5:29-30).

The circumcision of our hearts can be painful.

I feel like I should write something hopeful here. We don’t like painful things. We want our walk with God to be light and easy. And if we’ve walked very long with God, we know we have a lot of sin built up in us, and God is meticulously working on it. 

Perhaps the most hopeful thing to remember is we are not alone. Christ lives in us. The Spirit’s circumcision replaces our sinfulness with Christ himself. The apostle Paul said, “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Galatians 2:20). 

Chris

Dear church,

I think at some point in all of our lives we struggle with the concept of works-righteousness. 

This is the idea that in some way we can earn our salvation. We put all our good works on a divine scale, and we hope they outweigh our bad works. The gates of heaven will open for us if we do enough good things during our lives. 

While this is completely the opposite of how the gospel actually works, we still struggle with works-righteousness. 

Some people attend church gatherings for this reason. Some people tithe for this reasons. Some business owners give to charity for this reason. Some people look after their neighbors for this reason. We know God expects us to do good things, and so we do them in order to earn merit with God. 

In essence, we try to get to heaven on our own. We want to obtain the gift, and we look around at the resources we have available – money, time, energy, desire – and we put them to use in trying to earn the gift. 

Sarai was trying to obtain the gift. In this case, the gift was a promised child who would become Abram’s heir and build out a family that would outnumber the stars in the sky and that would bless the entire world. 

The child was slow in coming. Sarai was getting along in years, and so was Abram. Time was growing short. 

And so Sarai looked around at what resources she had available. Her eyes descended on Hagar. Sarai’s plan was set. 

Of course, this wasn’t God’s plan, and it turned out to be a big mess. But God stepped in. That is what he does. Even in our messy situations, he miraculously turns blessing after blessing. 

But the point of this story is our human nature not to trust in God’s grace and to try to do it all on our own. This is the fundamental concept of sin. This is why Adam and Eve took the fruit. You might want to read Romans 4 and Galatians 4 at this point.

We cannot earn our salvation. We cannot earn the gift by our own good deeds or smarts or money. We must only trust in God. 

This is why it is good news. 

Chris

Dear church, 

For Abram, everything came down to having a child. Without an heir, the promises of God were worthless. He needed flesh and blood. The promise had to become something that could be seen and touched. It was not simply a matter of words. 

And God kept making the promise bigger. “Look toward heaven, and number the stars, if you are able to number them. … So shall your offspring be” (Genesis 15:5).

Abram believed God, and God counted Abram’s belief as righteousness. 

This is an encouragement for us to continue to believe, even in the waiting. The whole of the God’s plan for humanity involves waiting. Noah waited in the boat. Abram waited for a child. Joseph waited in prison. The Israelites waited in slavery – and then in the wilderness – and then in exile. 

It was one long wait for the Messiah – the one who finally emerged and then lived, died, and rose again.

And now God’s people are waiting for the last time. We pray, “Come, Lord Jesus!” (Revelation 22:20).

And there is waiting within the waiting. 

We wait for God’s work to be completed in us. Like Abram, we wait for God to do something new with our flesh, with our bodies. Abram’s body wasn’t producing. Sometimes our bodies don’t produce, either. They don’t produce good works. 

And we wait for those good works to emerge, for the things of God to begin to become natural to us. We are called to live like Christ, and we so rarely do. “For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God” (Romans 8:20).

Like Abram, there’s nothing we can do on our own to become the sons of God – to live like Christ. On our own, we just sin. We might muster a few good deeds here or there. But the whole of our lives is lived in sin. In our flesh and blood, we are sinners. And we want to be like Christ – in our flesh and blood.

And so we wait for God to fulfill his promises in us. And sometimes it can be frustrating – because we know faith without works is dead (James 2:17).

Abram was as good as dead (Hebrews 11:12). But that turned out to be OK. God can work miracles even then.

For years, Abram had to live with only the promise. He had to trust. And then God did something in Abram’s flesh and blood. 

So as we struggle with sin, we ought to remember Abram. We ought to continue to believe God is able to do in us what he has promised. And we ought to watch for the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives. 

Chris

Dear church,

Employees at a well-known global company donated more than $1 million to a political candidate. They were hoping to get the candidate voted into office. They thought the candidate’s agenda was a good one. 

This is how things work in our country. Money and politics go together. 

Then, after the candidate was elected – and even before the candidate was elected – a wave of employees from that company began to be hired by the candidate for a variety of jobs.

This also is how things work in our country. I scratch your back, and you scratch mine. 

This sometimes is called political patronage. The political candidate now was the patron, doling out gifts to those who provided service to the candidate. The supporters are compensated for their support. The candidate acts somewhat like a father, taking care of his children. And the children happily receive the gifts.

This is not an unusual practice, and no one would raise alarms. The unusual part would be if someone were to decline to participate – when a political donor then turns down the offer for a political job. 

And this kind of political give-and-take has happened for centuries. 

But Abram declined to participate. 

After the battle, when the dust settled, Abram had won back the belongings of the king of Sodom. The king offered to give Abram the winnings of war. “Take the goods for yourself,” he said (Genesis 14:21). 

Abram declined. He did not want to participate in this system of political patronage. He was not going to voluntarily – or involuntarily – fall into a dependent relationship with a pagan king. “I will take nothing,” he said (Genesis 14:24).

Abram’s actions were guided by his singular allegiance to “God Most High.” He was not about to have divided loyalties. He wasn’t going to fall into the trap of also needing to serve some worldly cause. 

We sometimes say, as Christians, we are in the world but not “of” the world. Jesus told his disciples, “If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own” (John 15:19). Of course, the disciples were not “of” the world, and so the world hated them.

The world hates those who don’t play by its rules – by its give-and-take system of patronage. It hates those who have higher allegiances, and those who refuse to bend the knee to the way of the world and to its institutions. 

Christians need not play along in the world’s ways. We ought to think about the way in which we might find ourselves beholden to anyone or anything in this world. If we receive, what must we then give?

The government bail-outs last year to businesses and nonprofit organizations gave me pause. If a church were to accept the government’s help, what might it be asked to do in return. In an even stickier and far-reaching issue, is it possible a church’s tax-exempt status may someday put strict limits on its ability to operate? Would the government ever say, “I have made Abram rich”?

These are interesting things to think about. 

Abram declined to take any of the spoils of war. Instead, he drank the bread and the wine that was provided by the God’s high priest. And he donated a tenth of everything.

Abram’s allegiance was clear. May ours be so, too.

Chris