Category Archives: Book of Hebrews

by

The unsung (Hebrews 11:32-40)

crowd_2

When the credits for a movie roll, a lot of names are missing. That is, the people who stood behind the heroine as she prepared to board the ocean liner or who milled on a sidewalk during the car chase–the ’extras’–don’t see their names scroll by; they are not singled out for attention. We’re used to this. Even in a day when celebrity is as common as cell phones, we expect that many will still be overlooked.

And yet, each of these people has value, each has a contribution to make, a song to sing. Lit up by limelight, getting a speaking part, achieving some measure of notoriety–these all have their place, but they tell us nothing of worth. In that department, sheer existence is sufficient.

As Hebrews wraps up the catalog of faithful people, we get a quick list of familiar names. But then we are told of several others, women and men whose exploits do not show up in Scripture but who all the same are remembered for their faith. It is as though our author wants to impress upon us that many down through the ages have lived well, and anonymously. What we see in this is that faith is not merely a trait of the famous, nor does God smile only on the well-known. There are many (we rub shoulders with them every day) whose lives play out off- off-Broadway to the glory of God.

by

What we focus on (Hebrews 11:20-28

Telescope

What catches my attention in this next section of Hebrews’ ‘catalog of faith’ is what isn’t there. The stories our author recounts are well-known, but details familiar from the earlier record are curiously absent. A cover-up, perhaps?

My sense is that air-brushing is not the writer’s intent here. Rather, we’re hearing what needs to be told regarding the bigger picture. Quite clearly, this author has set an agenda of discussing faith–on a personal level, as it touches the body of Christ, and then, even bigger, what it means to read the world through a lens of faith in God’s way. Approached from that point of view, stories told as they are here ‘fit’: they are illustrating what happens when people follow God.

People fail–but failure is not the big story in Scripture. What matters is that God can make things right–indeed, that making things right is what God does. When we miss that, or insist on calling out the mistakes, we miss much. Conversely, when by faith we focus on grace, when we count on, embrace, welcome, live as though we might die without grace–what happens then?

One thing, at least: we see what’s worth looking at.

by

Does it count if…? (Hebrews 11:17-19)

pencil_paper

The ‘binding of Isaac’ is one of the OT’s seminal stories. It strikes swift and deep, cutting into the heart of any parent who has nurtured a child, any person who has harbored a dream. Give it up, God says–and the right response of faith is, we know, Of course.

And yet.

It is no easy matter to see or hope for something, and then for that seen, hoped-for thing to materialize, only to be put in the balance. Harder still if that balance tips the other way, so that what is precious slips out, away from one’s grasp.

Give it up. Of course. But I can’t. Not now, at least–but perhaps I could if….

In Hebrews account of Abraham and Isaac, we read a detail not supplied in Genesis, where this story first appears. The early telling is long and tense, with no ‘omniscient narrator’ (to use a phrase fiction writers and readers know) explaining what is going on inside Abraham’s mind. In Hebrews, though, we read that Abraham complied after reasoning that God would raise Isaac from death.

Maybe the writer of Hebrews is, like preachers since have done, adding a wee bit to the original story. It might also be, though, that he has an inside track–a piece of information that has hitherto been missing from the record. Problem is, what he says seems to contradict the point he’s been trying to make in this extended treatment of faith. After all, if Abraham is banking on God resurrecting Isaac, does it really take faith to go through with the directions God has given him to follow?

I think so. First, there’s nothing that requires faith and reason to be incompatible. That is, just because we’re called upon to be people of faith, we need not unhook our brains. Indeed, there are times–and they tend to happen when we ‘over-spiritualize’–when what is purported to be faith is simply foolishness. To say it in language borrowed from James, faith ought to have an ‘action’ component–and sometimes, the appropriate action is careful reasoning.

Second, it still requires faith to believe that God can–and will–raise a dead person. Abraham had been around long enough to see plenty of people die. He also knew his history: up to that point, resurrection hadn’t exactly been common. So even if he’s calculating, banking on a miracle, it’s a long shot by any measurement.

Maybe the point, then, is that this section of Hebrews is rounding out our understanding of faith. At times, it is a mystical experience: it just feels right in ways we cannot easily explain. At others, though, faith is fueled by reason–and as such is in no way diminished.

by

A foot on both sides (Hebrews 11:10-16)

Blank signpost 2 (clip path)The ‘heroes’ of Hebrews 11 nudge us towards an ‘already/not yet’ perspective, where one is both aware of one’s immediate surroundings and engaged with what is on the far horizon. Abraham is one such example–this patriarch who looked forward to the city with foundations engineered by God, who held fast to the notion of fathering a child in his dotage. Others with similar mien are remembered by this author, too, women and men who saw what had been promised them but never held an ‘answer’ in their hands.

The book’s writer describes them as aliens and strangers on earth whose home lay in a better country, where God has prepared a city for them. But he knows as well that for all their tilt toward a future destination, each of these people lived a solid, substantial, particular life. None of them detached from daily responsibilities or realities, none walked into the desert or up a mountain expecting to be whisked away. Indeed, to imagine that God would vacuum saints to heaven upon their ‘conversion’ is rather fanciful; far more typical is that people with faith in God generally stay where they are. In fact, it’s not uncommon for those with such faith to find more than occasionally that things get worse–as Abraham, for one, discovered.

Living by faith is no easy matter. Faith takes work, brings trouble, means–often–a long march in the dark. But what our writer seems to be suggesting is that for all the scouring and uncertainty associated with a life of faith, it beats the alternative. Without it, one drifts in the present, punting from pillar to post; without it, the future is faced with unfounded hope. Instead, as the folks profiled in this book would no doubt agree, an active, vital, vibrant faith–in God–is essential for now and later.

by

Faith’s echo (Hebrews 11:3-9)

long journey

By faith, assertions are made, positions taken, courses set. And then? Life spools out from where faith is expressed, ripples expanding from a stone chucked in the pond. By faith…

We hold God to be the agent of creation, even if we have rather spirited discussions about the means by which that creation came to be. What matters is intentionality. Creativity. Exuberance, intricacy, abundance; care, surprise, love.

Abel, though long dead, still speaks out of every sacrifice offered from a grateful, well-aligned heart.

Enoch, who “walked with God and was not,” indicates that a God-pleasing life is as simple and as complex as believing that God exists and rewards–which is to say, God is real and makes a particular, specific impact on each life.

Noah built. Noah, whose very name conjures a story we know on account of the puzzles and books and wooden arks at craft shows: what radiates from Noah’s faith? A clear-eyed view of ‘the world’ that skipped over conventional wisdom in favor of what he took to flow from the heart of God.

Abraham went. Aeons before Bilbo Baggins, he left kith and kin, hearth and home, and struck out for parts unknown. Crazy. Except that his family–including his dad!–went along, swept up by this guy’s crazy confidence. Have you been part of a movement like that, led by one with a ludicrous vision that for all its preposterousness smacked of God? If so, you know the effects of Abraham’s faith. If not, it still might not be too late.

Faith lodges in a heart, becomes a splinter in the mind. And then: it grows, and spreads.

by

Another gift (Hebrews 11:1)

PitonThe faith chapter. Heroes of the faith. Faith’s Hall of Fame. The eleventh chapter of Hebrews is regularly pulled out when questions of faith arise, or illustrations of faith are needed.

We know these stories–some better than others, perhaps–and they inspire. But read them as though for the first time and they sound different: people did that on the basis of … this? To trust in what one does not see; to set a stake into what one hopes will occur–

Such courage.

Or, such fools. Faith can look odd, even loopy, at times. It can feel that way, too, for those who venture out on what can seem like thin ice. A walk into the dark, a jump off the edge: faith is always about new territory, new sensations. It involves risk.

We have our own experiences with faith, about how we exercised it, or shied away when the job that went south and left us hanging or the relationship that soured and stirred a hornet’s nest full of questions or the time(s) finances shifted dramatically, or health. We know how we wanted to respond, and how we actually did. We recall thinking: I’ll remember this for next time–but then next time came, and we were back in first grade.

Faith is being sure of what we hope for, certain of what we do not see.

The assurance this writer speaks of, the confidence–it is not innate, automatic, or easy. Look over the list of ‘heroes’ in Hebrews 11, and notice how many of them stumbled. Our author is not blind to this, but rather rounding out our understanding of ‘the Christian life’ by telling us what God wants in people. But notice this, too, how faith is commended on account of what it brings to that life.

Consider the ‘faithful’ listed here, and how uneven they are in their exercise of faith. These people are ‘heroes’ not because they are always stalwart and unwavering, but because when they fall, they get back up and try again. They keep wanting what God wants, even if they don’t always follow through with flawless execution.

And when they do–when they do anchor themselves by faith in God, what then? Confidence (built from Latin words for with + faith), which beats the insecurity, fear, and anxiety that tends to lodge in a life, and dislodge equanimity. Seen like this, faith brings blessing, because it sets a heart and mind at peace.

by

Hang on (Hebrews 10:26-39)

together

Encourage one another–and all the more as you see the Day approaching… (Heb 10:25).

It’s frightfully easy to tell people what to do–to think you know what they should do. It’s another matter to be so close to another that you understand deep in your bones what this person needs. That kind of nearness can engender a quiet empathy and a willingness to wait before speaking; it can also lead to insight that, once expressed, hits home.

We’re seeing the latter here, in the second half of Hebrews 10. Our writer is no hectoring preacher standing in a lofty pulpit with thundering instruction and warning, but a concerned, engaged pastor who tenderly cares for his flock. No wonder that some commentators, seeking a way to describe this book, call it a series of sermons–but let’s understand: there’s no sermonizing here. Rather, we have one who walks alongside those he addresses. He knows their plight. He lives in their neighborhood.

There are some associated with this community who make light of a relationship with God. They eat and drink what the Lord offers, but refuse to be nourished by such sustenance (Heb 6:4-6). They keep on sinning, too, as though such a lifestyle is of no consequence. But we reap what we sow; we are shaped by what we worship, too. And in the end, our choices will be judged when we fall into the hands of the living God.

That sounds ominous. Except that this author is not blanketing his audience with a threat so much as simply stating the obvious and then moving on to his main concern–which is the true slant of his readers’ hearts. Remember, he urges them: those days when you stood your ground despite severe trouble, when you stood next to those who were beaten down, when you let go of what you couldn’t hold. You’ve been strong, and you must be so even still; you need to persevere.

The people he is writing to are up to their necks in trouble, wondering if they took the right path initially, or whether they’ve fallen off completely. Yes and no, this writer says. Hang on, he implores. He is reaching down through the hole in the ice to grab collars and pull them up; he is in the hot field, on the warehouse floor, at the counter, settling into the pew–knowing this life they are living, telling the story they want to be true. We are not of those who shrink back, he insists, and his words ring with sincerity and experience. We are among those who believe, who know the feel of what it means to be saved.

by

Drawing near (Hebrews 10:19-25)

The hinge word Therefore sums up Jesus’ priesthood, blood, cross, atonement, perfect obedience and moves toward the follower’s response. In light of all Jesus is and does, this author says, we should…

…draw near. It’s a surprise, because so many enormous theological concepts have been in play. That our writer is talking about fellowship? Community? Not what we might have expected.

And yet, when we read elsewhere about God’s commitment to reconciliation (as in 2 Corinthians 5:16-20), it begins to sink in that fellowship with God is huge. We who are prone to talk about ‘the gospel’ by starting with ‘sin’ can miss this: we can miss that Jesus came and did all this so that we might be reunited with God and enjoy an ongoing relationship.

Saying this takes nothing away from the death of Christ, our need for forgiveness, or the call to a life of obedience. But Jesus doesn’t die in order to coerce a new cadre of servants, doesn’t go through with all His ‘work’ so as to engender a sense of obligation or to keep reminding us of our sin. Rather, this urging, this invitation to draw near focuses us on the vivid display of grace and love in Jesus’ incarnation, which has as its aim a new community.

As we draw near–with confidence–this God who beckons, we cannot help noticing others doing the same. And in the company of such folk, we have the opportunity to encourage one another. We know, after all, what it is like to start boldly and then have our enthusiasm flag; we know how powerful it is when another puts an arm around our shoulders, looks us in the face and says, You can do this. We know what happens when we offer this, too,

And so the virtuous cycle continues: God, active on our behalf, drawing us close; us moving near, encouraged by and encouraging others; confidence growing, love flowing, praise redounding to the glory of God as the kingdom expands to include many, as we see the Day approaching.

by

Metaphoring (Hebrews 10:1)

tree on fireThe law is only a shadow…

We just finished watching the Lord of the Rings cycle (stormy weather got us started) where ‘shadow’ describes the malevolent presence hanging over Middle Earth. But that is not what Hebrews’ author has in mind with his use of this metaphor. As the context indicates, shadow here has to do with a lack of fullness and detail, an absence of texture and effect.

Shadows give some information–they outline basic shapes and can, in certain cases, suggest size. But they are lacking in what we really want to know. Indeed, a shadow, confined as it is to two dimensions, is always less than the object which casts it.

This seems to be our writer’s point, insisting as he does that we focus on the realities themselves. Apparently some of his readers were looking more at the pavement than at the trees, and missing the fullness of what was theirs to enjoy.

Metaphors, stories, riddles, poems–they’re gems that catch the light and shoot off sparks, crops that yield fruit long after the seed was sown. Writers like this use them to get into hearts and minds so as to reshape lives.

by

An unexpected cleansing (Hebrews 9)

Tomorrow is Reformation Sunday, and in the church I serve, we will celebrate the eucharist together in each service. Those words of Christ–this cup is the new covenant in my blood–will ring out, and we will hear, again, that we are bound together, one to another, and the whole body to God, by a promise written in blood.

Hebrews talks about blood, reminds us how Moses instructed that blood be used for sprinkling tabernacle, instruments, and even priests. In fact, our writer says, the law requires that nearly everything be cleansed with blood (9:22).

I heard a man who led a large cleaning company talk about how difficult it was to get blood out of stuff; he was marveling over the Biblical idea that blood would be used as a means for cleaning. And yet, this is exactly what Hebrews wants us to grasp, although more than carpet and upholstery is in view. Without the shedding of blood, we read, there is no forgiveness.

Blood is necessary because so much has gone wrong. That is, sin has crept in and sullied God’s original pristine design. Restoration is possible, we understand, but it requires blood. And Jesus, we are told, is the one who supplies what is needed.

In my study of glory, I’ve been pondering the matter of atonement, wondering about what it was Jesus did. One of the books that’s shaping my thinking is  Razing Hell, where Sharon Baker explains a view of atonement which sees Jesus’ ‘sacrifice’ not as a matter of payment or punishment, but more one of pouring Himself out completely on behalf of those God has forgiven. All have sinned, so all need cleansing, and such deep cleaning occurs only when the blood is applied.

It sounds like an extension of the OT practice, where animal blood was spattered here and there–but Hebrews’ author is quick to point out important differences. He is building to a crescendo, about to tell us that the law was prepatory to something greater, a shadow of something more substantial (10:1). But for now, it is enough to mention how the frequency of those animal sacrifices indicated their limited effect. In sharp contrast, Jesus’ single sacrifice was both necessary for and sufficient in doing away with sin (Hebrews 9:26, and again in 9:28). It is a breathtaking claim.

One could go on and on, but instead, I’ll stop with a connected, though tangential, point–noting that in performing the work of cleaning, Jesus occupies not only the role of priest, but also of, for lack of a better word, janitor.

This church I’m going to tomorrow–we went there some months ago with friends who remarked on the condition of the building. It’s an old place–close on two centuries, but it has aged gracefully. It’s obvious people here care, our friends said, and as I’ve come to know more of those who are part of this church, I can vouch for that, even as I’m growing to respect all it takes to keep a building like this in good order. We’re prone to look down our nose at custodial service, but who of us does not appreciate when this is done well, or miss it when omitted? And when the work is done by those who care about putting things to rights, who render service gladly, well then…