Stephen
Terry, Director
A Step in Faith
Commentary
for the September 26, 2020 Sabbath School Lesson
"By faith Abraham,
when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed
and went, even though he did not know where he was going. By faith he made his
home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in
tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For
he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and
builder is God." Hebrews 11:8-10, NIV
An oft repeated story originating
in the mid-nineteenth century shows how tenuous the line can seem between faith
and foolishness. Charles Blondin, the famous, French tightrope walker was about
to cross Niagara Falls on a tight rope, pushing a wheelbarrow. Thousands would
gather to watch him perform these feats of daring do. As a challenge to their
faith, he asked the crowd on one occasion if they genuinely believed he could make
it across. When they loudly claimed to believe, he then asked them who would be
the first to get in the wheelbarrow and cross with him. No one volunteered. In
their minds he had crossed the line from faith into foolishness. This begs the question
of when that line is crossed regarding our personal faith in Christ. Some,
doubting even the existence of God, might consider expressing so much as a
desire for such faith a foolish expression lacking proper direction. Others who
felt they previously expressed such faith and found it unsubstantiated might
feel that continuing to do so would be foolish. Still others who did so and had
miraculous experiences, as we have recorded in the life of Abraham in the
Bible, may find it difficult to understand how something so real and tangible
to them can seem foolish to others.
This is not a new problem
as Paul wrote of it to the early Corinthian church. "The person without the
Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God but
considers them foolishness and cannot understand them because they are
discerned only through the Spirit."[i] Paul was a pre-eminent example
of this. Based on his upbringing and education, the message of the cross seemed
like dangerous, even seditious, foolishness. Ingratiating himself to his
mentors, he was granted authority to persecute those who showed faith in Christ,
a faith already condemned by the high priest. Trusting in the righteousness of
his education and authority, he went about extirpating groups of Christ
followers wherever he could find them. But while traveling with his entourage to
Damascus, something happened he could not gainsay. He experienced the presence
of Jesus Christ, who not only filled his head with a perspective he previously
considered abhorrent, but also left physical change as evidence that the event
was not simply a dream of some sort. Blinded by what had happened, Paul then
was led into the city by his companions and was healed of his blindness by one
of the Christians that he would no doubt have intended to imprison. Then, on
the strength of that singular, miraculous experience, Paul had the faith to change
the face of religion. He carried that faith and the religion that went with it through
the heart of the Roman Empire. His vision not only sustained him, it encouraged
others to develop the faith necessary to sustain a powerful witness as well. As
the flames of faith grew, so did the church that ignited them.
While we have often
allowed ourselves to become complacent in our faith and witness, it does not
take much inquiry to discover that faith is still producing miraculous results
in individual lives. However, this can be difficult to accept when one is not experiencing
it personally. We may be tempted to say, "Fine, you have your miraculous experience;
I have faith, too, so where is my miracle?" But is there a place in our experience
that we can justify abandoning faith once that point is reached? Or does faith
require a lifetime commitment for us to be dealt miraculous experiences? Can we
imagine Paul, Moses, or Daniel saying, "Where's my miracle? If there is none, I
am out of here." or perhaps even worse, "If I don't get the specific miracle I demand,
then there is no God?" Most often the latter is a response to a desire for
healing. Although it may also be about other things like financial needs. Such
responses reveal a commitment that is not complete but is instead conditional.
It is like entering into marriage with someone with the idea that if they
differ in any way from expectation, one is fully justified in walking away from
the relationship. Therefore, marriage is one of the stronger metaphors in the
Bible for the relationship between the believer and Christ. Christ, as the
bridegroom, is fully committed to the relationship, eternally so, and to the
point of death. But are we? Or are we more in the vein of looking for reasons
to walk away and seek something else? If our spouse notices us beginning to get
restless and look elsewhere, are the chances that they will lovingly tend to our
needs going to be more or less? Are we likely to
experience the fullness of marital bliss if we are seeking an exit? Maybe seeking
reasons not to remain in relationship with Christ will have a similar effect on
the quality of that relationship.
When my first wife was
slowly dying because of Multiple Sclerosis, many prayers were offered, and anointing
was done. But despite all of that, she continued to worsen and eventually went
to her rest. By the reasoning of some, I should have abandoned my faith in God
as a response to his failure to heal her. However, even though she lived such a
challenged life, my wife never lost faith in God and continued to share that
faith with her family and others. This caused me to ask myself how could I
abandon faith when I had less justification for doing so than she had? That
would speak more to my weakness than strength of faith. Yet, despite such
examples here we are with so many who consider themselves believers in a general
sense but would never get in that wheelbarrow of commitment because of the fear
that commitment raises in them.
Some of the most dramatic
stories of faith in the Bible are found in the book of Daniel. One story, in particular,
sheds light on the level of commitment that goes with faith. When Daniel's
three friends Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego did not bow before an image constructed
by King Nebuchadnezzar as commanded, he threatened them with being cast into a blazing
furnace for their temerity. Their response to him summed up the matter
succinctly. "If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is
able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty's hand. But
even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve
your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up." In other words, "We believe
in a God of miracles, but even in the absence of the miraculous, we will not abandon
our commitment to him."[ii] Are we then, in the
challenging time preceding the Parousia to show ourselves made of lesser stuff?
Christ may have predicted that this could be the case when he asked, "However,
when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?"[iii] This may be taken in
different ways. We may see at as a prophecy and generally true, while individually
conditional. Or in other words, true about others, but certainly not us. We may
also see it as a challenge addressing our level of commitment to Christ,
especially considering the fiery furnace in Daniel, a chance to re-examine what
faith and commitment mean in our personal experience.
Several faith
traditions predict a coming apocalyptic experience that will herald the
Parousia. Along with that troublesome time the saints are often predicted as
miraculously delivered in one form or another. If we abandon faith in this relatively
safe and prosperous time, what will be our experience when faced with the
ultimate challenge expected to precede the ultimate in deliverance? Do we
expect that the faith we have ignored for so long, the faith we have kept
tucked away in our back pocket "just in case" will suddenly pop out to save us
with a miraculous deliverance just when we need it? Maybe it will, for God has
been gracious and merciful to us beyond our right to expect. But maybe, we will
instead find that our experience is made much more difficult than necessary,
like being lost in the wilderness, wishing we had paid more attention to the survival
skills we were taught in Scouts. Shuddering under a tree in a cold shower that never
seems to stop, wondering if deliverance will ever come before hypothermia
overcomes our body heat and brings an end to our suffering, will we find that
having an adjunct faith was adequate to our need?
