I Do.

Dear Family,

Have you ever made a vow? A promise? Given your word? We offer these with the greatest intentions, but how often have we failed to keep our promises, our vows, or our word? Too often, i think, life happens, and we find ourselves betraying our friends or family, not intentionally and not to hurt them, but all too often, it happens. Why? As stated earlier, life happens.

For me, it destroys me when i break a vow, when i don't keep my word. Sometimes i am not even aware of it until someone illumines the fact that i failed, and when that happens a rush of guilt and shame overcome me like a flood. And i want to hide my head and run away. But i can't. I have to live this and live in this world, which means that i will, again, break a vow, a promise, or go back on my word. Which raises, at least for me, a vexing question. Should we remain unattached to one another, never offering a promise or a vow at all? Should we be completely uncommitted, so that we don't have to fail, miserably?

Both are risks, aren't they? We can give our word, whole heartedly, with all the intentions and desires to see it through, only to fall when something happens, unexpectedly. We appear as aloof, irresponsible, a liar. Or. We can do the other and never commit to anything, remain neutral. Sure it affords us the right to come and go as we please, without ever letting anyone down. But doesn't it also keep us at a distance from others? Being non-committal doesn't seem to be the answer either. What are we to do?

I sense this is an age old question. How to balance the desire to commit with the reality of a life full of uncertainties? Often times i fail, terribly. How about the rest of you? Have you found yourselves falling short of a committment you made? Or have you failed to commit at all, hoping the safety of distance will keep you out of the frying pan?

Which is the path of God? In chapter 15, we have another odd addition to the Abraham narrative. We don't have a story, per se, in this chapter, instead we have a conversation, or a series of conversations, between God and Ole Abe. This isn't so much about Abe's interactions or behaviors as it is a dialogue between the Creator of the promise and the receiver of the promise.
And it has to happen, doesn't it? I mean Abe has to be at a point where Abe begins to question God's word, all together.

Abe didn't have a child. No blood heir, so Abe was going to have to leave his wealth, status, and the promise with someone who was born, as a servant, into Abe's household. Abe laments this reality to God, which is a powerful thing. Abe doesn't let God off the hook, does he? Abe calls God into accountability. "Where is my heir that you promised?" Abe knows that Abe is well past childbearing/rearing years, so the promise has to be something of a daydream, long gone. And Abe left his homeland, because God promised land and a nation, both of which seem like broken promises. Abe is, rightfully so, angry with God.

God allows, no more than that, embraces the anger of Abe. Why? Because most of us would not get angry or confront someone, who broke a promise with us, if we didn't trust them. We would do it only if we knew the relationship would survive. Abe isn't blasphemeing God. Abe is honoring God. Abe shows God incredible respect by being open and honest with Abe's feelings of failed dreams. God, on the other hand, listens and reassures Abe that the promise still holds. And here's the kick in the pants: Abe accepts God at God's word. Why? Because as God put it, Abe is a righteous man.

Righteous people can handle a delay in any promise, because they know that God will see His promise through. Righteous people don't fear the darkness, because they know that the author of Light will, once again, illumine the darkness, helping them find their way. And righteous people, like Abe, look to the stars and hear God offering reassurance, and they say, OK. Faith in God, trust in God leads to a lifetime of peace. If our lives are in turmoil, it is time to regain that faith/trust in God, which spoke peace to the storm.

Our small group read this text as a reminder of how intimate God longs to be with all of us. God allows our questions, our anger, and all the He asks is that we, like Abe, stare into the night sky and proclaim that God is God. God wants to walk between our offerings and engulf what we bring to Him with His glorious fire. He longs to take us by the hand and show us the journey He has in mind for us. And He waits, as Abe did, for us to return to the promise we made to Him at our baptisms.

It is time, folks, to return to the promise. Our promise to each other. Our promise to God. But also God's promise to us: "Surely i will be with you, even to the end of the age." In order for that promise to hold, we must be trust Jesus at his words. When we do, we will be that tree which bears good fruit in season. And isn't bearing fruit what we have desired all along? Amen.

Shalom,
jerry