G2A #4: "The Story of Our Life" – Exodus 1-15

What’s the story that defines your life?

What is the story that that most accurately represents or most completely informs your life?

Perhaps it’s a story stemming from the immigration of your ancestors? Many of us are quite conscious of the path our previous generations journeyed to bring the family to America–stories of precarious escape, fortunate assistance, and ceaseless hard work to make a better life for future generations.

Perhaps it’s a story about your children…or lack thereof.

Perhaps it’s a story of success from your own life: a chance encounter, a stroke of luck, an “in the right place at the right time” circumstance, or a hard-won achievement that opened up a world of possibilities.

Perhaps it’s a story of failure from your own life: a squandered opportunity, an “in the wrong place at the wrong time” circumstance, a door slammed in your face.

Perhaps it’s a story rooted in your physical well-being. Maybe you were part of a high school sports team that won the state championship. Maybe you have adopted a physical activity that gives order and structure to your world, such as jogging, weight-lifting, or yoga.

Perhaps its’ a story rooted in your physical ailments such as a devastating medical diagnosis, an addiction, or mental illness.

Or, perhaps it’s a story rooted in your affinity for a sports team. Have ever seen the remarkable encounter whenever two strangers meet and learn they are both Chicago Cubs fans? It’s an instant bond of solidarity rooted in understanding, suffering, and the optimistic motto: “Wait ’til next year.”

We define our lives by the stories not only of our lives but also the stories of the lives of those before us, beside us, and after us. The stories that define our lives can either enslave us or set us free.

My goal in these twelve weeks of exploring the scripture from Genesis to Acts is to uncover a greater understanding about the stories of faith that define God (and ultimately, ourselves). So far we have heard stories that would define God as a creator, destroyer, forgiver, promise-giver, and promise-keeper. While each of these labels point to some truth about God, it is the story of the exodus that becomes the primary way that God (and eventually Jesus) comes to be understood. The story of the exodus is the story that defines God’s life. It is, therefore, the story that defines our lives. It is the story of freedom.

A lot of narrative has taken place since we left off last week with Abraham, Sarah, and Isaac. Isaac went on to have two sons: Esau and Jacob. Jacob teamed up with his mom to trick his father into giving him the blessing meant for his older brother. Jacob ran away from home only to find himself engaged in a wrestling match with an angel. The angel changed Jacob’s name to Israel and proceeded to brake his leg – laying the foundation for the idea that when you wrestle with God you end up walking away limping.

Jacob had many sons, but he favored Joseph; thus, Joseph was despised by his brothers. They plotted ways to get rid of him, eventually selling him to some nomads. While imprisoned in Egypt, Joseph’s ability to decipher dreams and foresee a devastating famine eventually led him to a privileged position in the Pharaoh’s cabinet. The whole family immigrated to Egypt seeking food, and there were reunited with and forgiven by Joseph. They chose to stay in Egpyt, instead of returning to the promised land.

The immigrant Hebrew people obeyed God’s original commandment to “be fruitful and multiply." Their prosperity in Egypt was so great that it threatened the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh had no tolerance for people who didn’t speak the native language or worship their gods (of which he considered himself one); he was threatened by the immigrant’s prosperity; and he was convinced that in the event of war, the immigrants would show their true colors and join forces against the Egyptians from the inside.

So, the Pharaoh decided to murder all the Hebrew male children. Politically, this was a guaranteed check-mate. The remaining Hebrews men and women would continue to be enslaved, thus contributing to the national economy. And the girls would be unprotected from sexual assault from Egyptian men, meaning that any children born would not only be future slaves, but more importantly, only be half-Hebrew.

The act of faithfulness that initiates the story of the Hebrew freedom is the faith-filled refusal of the Hebrew midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, to murder the Hebrew male newborns. We can’t ignore the radical nature of this story: God uses the actions of two women who were very low on the cultural pecking order to initiate the freedom of God’s chosen people.

It is so incredible, it makes you wonder what other radical and unlikely people God will employ to see the exodus to completion I mean, what’s next––a stuttering murderer on the run, exiled from both his nation and his people, hiding out among a flock of stinky dirty sheep?

Well, yes, that is exactly the guy God chooses to see the exodus to completion! His name is Moses.

What ensues is this incredible story of God using the unlikeliest of heroes to convey God’s presence in a world of oppression, scarcity, and fear. The entire story establishes the timeless conflict between two types of ruling over people:

“On the one hand is Pharaoh–whose leadership is about diminishing life, limiting growth, possessing, keeping people enslaved, and killing when one is threatened. On the other hand is the Lord–whose leadership is about multiplying life, being fruitful, setting people free, being in relationship, and who only resorts to killing as a way last resort in order to free those who have been enslaved.”

— Rolf Jacobson

In the end, it is God’s life-giving version of lordship that proves more powerful than the Pharaoh’s life-taking version of lordship. Freedom is brought about by faithfulness, not force; patience, not political power. In the end,

“The exodus is seen to be a sign of hope that poverty and oppression are not the last word, for God is at work on behalf of a different future.”

— Terrence Fretheim

The exodus is the story that defines God’s life. From this point on in scripture, God is referred to as “The one who brought us up out of the house of slavery.”

The exodus is also the story that defines the lives of God’s chosen people. From this point on in scripture, God’s chosen people are referred to as “Those whom God brought up out of the house of slavery.”

There are many stories we can use to define our own lives––stories of success, failure, achievement, luck, ancestry, occupation, or family system.

But above it all, there is a story that unites us with each other, those who have come before, and those will come after. Above it all, we are “those whom God brought up out of the house of slavery.”

God has set us free from the stories that drag us down as well as the stories that puff us up. We are not slaves to our successes, failures, achievements, luck, ancestry, occupation or family system. We are the ones who have been set free for one single reason: that God would use us to set others free.

May we always remember that we are slaves who have been set free. May we keep our eyes open to those who are suffering in the world today. May we see them with the eyes of Moses, for even though we may be reluctant or doubtful that God can accomplish such great good through us, God most certainly can and will. That is true freedom.

Amen.

Rolf Jacobson quote from the online article “Commentary on Exodus 1:6-22; 15:20–6:8” at www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id-1086

Terrence Fretheim quote from Exodus (Interpretation commentary series), page 18.

G2A #3: "Promises, Promises" – Genesis 12-21

The story goes that after an evening out, some parents returned home to their children, whom they had left with the baby sitter. They were pleasantly surprised to find the kids fast asleep. When the sitter had been paid–just as she was walking out the door–she communicated this detail: “Oops-almost forgot to tell you. I promised the kids that if they would stay in bed, you would take them to Disneyland tomorrow.”

Fortunately, that circumstance hasn’t been a part of our experiences with babysitters, but it is true that ever since my wife and I became parents, we have had to pay particular attention to the way we use promises.

Making promises with our children often seems like the only way out of difficult situations. We promise rewards or treats if our kids can manage to recover their sanity in the midst of tantrums or other difficult behavior. We promise punishment if negative behavior continues. And when the kids are scared or worried, we promise that everything will be ok.

Pay attention to how often you make promises in any given day. We make promises not just in matters of parenting, but also with other relationships including co-workers, employees, siblings, parents, partners, and so on.

Making promises can be incredibly virtuous or incredibly deceitful. The difference lies in the intent and ability of the promise-giver to actually see the promise come true. The example that began today’s message is an example of an inappropriate promise. We can’t make promises on behalf of other people; nor can we make promises that we either have no interest or ability in helping to come true (as the babysitter did).

Also, promises create precedence. If a child throws a tantrum when you are trying to get him or her out the door, you might be inclined to say, “If you cooperate I promise we can stop by Target and buy a toy from the dollar spot.” You better believe that by doing so, a precedent has been set. Next time the child refuses to cooperate with your efforts to get out the door, he or she will expect you to offer a trip to Target to purchase a toy, which is fine as long as you intend to fulfill your promise in perpetuity – or at least until the child grows tired of collecting cheap, plastic knickknacks.

As I read these initial chapters of Genesis I am tempted to view God as a parent who is trying to figure out the best way to respond to children in the throes of a tantrum. Last week as we explored the stories of the first sin, Cain murdering Abel, and Noah’s Ark, we saw plenty of examples of God responding to unruly humankind with all manner of threats, curses, and punishment – each leading to an even greater sin and even greater punishment – to the point where God decided to begin all over again and destroys the Earth. Not only did God regret this action and vow never to do it again, but only a couple verses later and Noah’s righteous family has proven anything but righteous…and the pattern of sin and punishment continues.

However, by the time Abram arrives on the scene, God has decided to try a different tack – as opposed to punishing past offenses, God engages in proactive promises. God promises to make an ordinary man one of the key figures of human history. God promises to give a child to a woman whose ninety years of life have proven anything but fertile.

Abram and Sarai respond to God’s promises in interesting and wide-ranging ways:

• Abram agrees to pick up and move to the promised land with no certainty, which is admirable.
  
• Abram then fears for his life and pretends his wife is his sister so that she would marry the Pharaoh and ensure their safe passage, which is detestable.
  
• Sarai becomes impatient and convinces Abram to sleep with, and impregnate, her servant, Hagar, which is, well, I’m not sure what adjective to use here.
  
• Then, Sarai laughs out loud at God’s promise that she would give birth to a son in her old age, which is understandable.
  

These varied responses not only make for an entertaining story, but they demonstrate the profound message that the validity of God’s promises do not rest on our ability to make them come true. God’s promises are not contingent on our worthiness or correct responses to every situation. This is a remarkable shift in God’s dealings with humankind.

“All these views of blessing hang on a single theological premise: God chooses to remain intimately connected to the creation and particularly to the flesh and blood that became human when God mixed dust with God’s own breath…. Time after time, God cannot quit on the chosen but failed agents of blessing. To do so would be to abandon all hope for the world or to suffer a complete loss of face and reputation….the evidence of what it would eventually cost God to pin God’s hopes on flesh and blood appears all through the Scriptures. From the vantage point of Golgotha, the question was never whether, but only when, that faithfulness would finally cost God life itself.”

— Frederick Niedner

This shift in how God interacts with humankind demonstrates that there is yet another factor in determining the virtuousness of promises. Good, life-giving, promises not only in the intent and ability of the promise-giver to actually see the promise come true; but good, life-giving promises also require empathy – a willingness enter fully into the life of another.

As I studied pastoral care, first in a classroom and then in a hospital setting as a chaplain, it was common to use the analogy of a dark pit. Imagine one who is suffering as sitting in a dark pit with no clearly visible way out. When we care for someone who is suffering, our impulse is to send down a ladder to the pit. The ladders Christians like to use are the classic one-liners like “I promise everything will be ok” or “I promise this all happened for a reason” or “I promise God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” and so on.

Ladders seem like a fine way to get out of a pit…especially when we’re the ones standing at the top, looking down. But ladders always seem rickety and obtrusive to the people at the bottom, if they reach down that far at all.

Another natural tendency is to go down to the pit to rescue the person who’s suffering. We stand at the top and, frankly, the pit of despair doesn’t seem like it’s really that deep. We think the person who is suffering is being over-dramatic. So we promise “I’ll save you!” We jump down, grab a hold of the suffering person, and tug and pull them with all our might and self-righteousness, only to find their weight is too much to bear alone.

The third way, however, is the way of empathy. The empathetic promise is the one that says, “I will be with you.” The empathetic promise is the one that sends us down to the pit simply to sit beside the suffering one, so that we can truly understand the depth of their emotion and serve as a healing and patient presence of love in the darkness.

God’s promise to Sarah and Abraham, and to their descendants (of which we are adopted) is the empathic promise of presence in our pain. Through the first creation, the rainbow covenant, and now the promise of blessing to Sarah and Abraham, God intends and is able to see God’s promises to creation come true and is willing to dwell completely with us to prove God’s steadfast love.

Amen.

Frederick Niedner quote from Feasting on the Word, Year A, vol. 2, p54