Faith does not always make reasonable sense. Sometimes faith is just the opposite of reason.
Of course, Abraham is not a perfect man, either. And the Scriptures tell his story unblinkingly, flaws and all. Sometimes, reason wins. Just ask his wife about that.
The thing is, Old Abe had not yet read his own biography to the final chapter. Later storytellers can find lots of wonderful poetic timings and significant moments that changed the course of his life. But while he was busy living it, life was much less neat. Abe was improvising, longing to hear the voice of God speak to him again and make sense of things. By faith he built altars along the way and offered sacrifices. And by faith he placed his cell phone on the table next to his bed every night, waiting for a second clarifying call.
In the meantime, he followed the only clear directive he had received, and moved forward into the hostile wilderness. That’s how it is most days, you know. Even when Jesus was here in the flesh, He did not tell His disciples how all the plans would unfold.
Abram went, but didn’t know where he was going. God only told him what he needed to know, when he needed to know it. No map. No final destination. Only a general promise, followed by months of silence. And I’m certain that in those months of time, there were days when Abe felt like he was alone in the universe.
Abram took off, waiting for the Lord to show him the land that he would be given. He traveled one day, two days, two weeks, and hadn’t been shown the land yet. Travelled all the way through Palestine, as it came to be known, without a further directive from God, and ended up all the way down in Egypt.
Faith versus Reason, round two: Abe was no longer hearing from God, so old Abe began to use his head. He was afraid, to be frank. So he turned to his wife, Sarai, and said, “Sarai, you are beautiful.”
“Why, thank you, Abram. I’m 65 years old, but I like to think I have taken good care of myself so that you would be pleased.”
“Yes,” said Abram, “You are pleasing to me. But I’m afraid that when the king of Egypt sees you he will take you for his wife and will kill me. So here’s how you can show me that you love me.”
“What is that, my husband?”
“Tell the Egyptians that you are my sister. Then they won’t kill me when they take you into their harem.”
“Why, Abram, that makes me feel so, . . . well, . . . so protected.”
I think that Abram did many things right as a man of faith, but this was not one of them. After his first bold venture of striking out into the wilderness in obedience to the voice of God, he failed. Like we all do. The eyes of faith do not stop at what is under the sun. But Reason can only see so far.
What’s more, the same thing happened again later when Abraham does it again with another ruler. Yet, both times, those kings loaded him down with gifts. Which goes to show that crime doesn’t always not pay. I think that’s how you say it.
And that’s when perhaps the greatest miracle happens in the Bible: Sarah does not poison her husband’s falafels.
People were looming very big in Abe’s eyes, because at that moment God had become small. If I conclude that God is nowhere, I will either conclude that life is meaningless, therefore I can be as selfish as I want to be, or I will conclude that my goal is to protect myself. Reason wins this round.
But really, all of life is but a prelude to heaven. Heaven is the symphony; this little time on earth is only the tuning of the orchestra. Heaven is the goal of our journey.
In the middle of that whole awkward story is this revelation from God. Almost as an afterthought, God describes Abraham in a new way:
“Now then, return the man's wife, for he is a prophet, so that he will pray for you, and you shall live. But if you do not return her, know that you shall surely die, you and all who are yours." Genesis 20:7
He is a prophet! Another first. Abraham is a man who proclaims the things of God, explains the ways of God, and speaks truth on God’s behalf. Perhaps he speaks things that are supernaturally revealed, and perhaps he is more of a teacher or considered to give wise counsel. But a term that is otherwise reserved for Samuel and his ilk is applied to Abraham, right while he is in the midst of his strange betrayal of his own wife.
Fast forward ten long years. Abe is now 85. One-eyed Sarah is 75. God had promised them land, promised them heirs, and then God was deathly silent for a decade.
God had given Abram some wonderful promises. And yet, you might say that though Abe’s team was down by six runs going into the final inning. God had promised that they would rally and win in their final at bat. But now there are two outs, and the bases are empty, and the score has not changed. Abe is frightened by the silence. He panics.
Time to try to fulfill God’s promise with a “near miss,” that perhaps could catch the essence of the promise but makes an idealistic promise more realistic: Maybe if Abram slept with Sarai’s handmaid, it would be “almost” the same, and Abram would still be the father of a nation through her. Yeah, maybe that’s what God meant back then. Send in a pinch hitter.
Faith and reason do battle again, and once again reason wins. Abe compromises God’s perfect promise in order to try to bring it about—sort of. Actually, it only seems to work for a moment, but causes greater problems down the road. Abram sleeps with Hagar, she bears him a son, whom he named Ishmael. To this day, the world is at war largely because of the offspring of Ishmael fighting against their cousins. Reason scores again.
Unbelievably, fast forward another fifteen years. Abe and Sarai are now 99 and 90, respectively.
Still, no fulfillment of those wonderful promises.
Abe is beyond being frustrated with God. He is alone.
By now, the final out has been made, the tarp has been rolled out on the field, the crowds have left the stands, and the clean-up crew is sweeping cleaning compound on the bleachers. Abe and One-Eyed Sara sit dejectedly on the visitors’ bench and mourn the loss, while the fat lady sings.
And, of all times, now is when God comes strolling across the field. God has the audacity to show up way too late and repeat his promise and show him the stars. This time, the promise is even grander, and it includes a name change for Abraham (Abraham means “father of many”). God changes Sarah’s name, as well.
Reason screams that it is physically, literally impossible. But Abram is an example of faith because when the chips were down he once again believed God, at least for the moment, and the Lord even declared him righteous for his faith. Faith evens the score with reason.
Abraham must be thinking, “Why torment me with empty words? I’m almost 100 years old, my wife is 90. Nice promises you have spoken for 24 years, but WHERE’S THE BABY?” It makes him laugh, and then makes Sarah laugh at the incredibility of it all. So God tells them to name him Laughter Boy, and a year later, Isaac is born!
And faith becomes sight at last! So the final chapter was a good ending, after all. Faith over Reason, in extra innings.
Sometimes, Faith and Reason stand opposed to one another, and our act of faith causes us to do something that is unreasonable. And sometimes Faith and Works overlap to become one and the same. James says it this way:
You say that you believe. But I know what you really believe by watching what you do.
Abraham’s story is a long story of walking by faith, not by sight. And finally, at the age of 100, what seems to be the final chapter of Abraham’s life results in a happy ending. We find that it was a comedy, after all. And Isaac is born.