Sermon

I like to be well organised when preparing for a trip, especially when going on holiday. Not that I pack early or anything like that, Brenda starts packing days in advance, but I start the night before.  However, I do like to know fairly well in advance where I'm going and what I'm likely to be doing, so that I can pack the right clothes and make sure I have enough books on my Kindle to read. 

What I pack for next month’s beach holiday to Cape Verde will differ drastically from what I take on my next Iona pilgrimage.

And when I'm on holiday, wherever I might be going, I like to have some idea of what I'm going to do. I hate getting up in the morning then aimlessly wandering about, wondering what to do and where to go. Our pilgrimage to the Holy Land a few years ago was ideal for me, because it was really well organised. 

Although we tried to stick to the original programme, we did have some changes and diversions along the way.  Nevertheless, our time was pleasantly filled and I knew more or less what we were going to do each day. It suited me well.

I suppose I'm the sort of person who prefers to live within a framework. I'm happier when I have my life at least roughly planned out for several months ahead, and even happier when I have some idea of where I’ll be in the next few years. I don't necessarily stick rigidly to any programmes, and may diverge from them completely, but I do like to have some sort of outline in the first place, however vague that outline might be.

We all do this to some degree.  I think the reason for all that is that it makes us feel reasonably safe. If I have control over my life and am making the decisions myself, then I feel secure. And that's a good feeling. However, it can cause difficulty if something unexpected happens which inevitably upsets our plans. 

It's not so bad when something relatively small and unimportant happens, We can cope with that, no trouble. But if there's a major upset, then we’re flustered. 

Suddenly we find ourselves plunged into what feels like a terrifyingly stormy sea, with waves which batter into me and hurl me this way and that, and there's nothing to cling on to. My careful plans are no use at all. They're all shot to pieces and I don't know whether I'm on my head or my heels.

I therefore admire Abraham enormously. Abraham was a remarkable man. Forget the fact that he was still able to be a dad in his old age! The first remarkable thing about Abraham was that he was willing to believe God, and so set out on a journey to an unknown land, without the security of his country and friends.  He only had the promise that God would take care of him. How many of you at age 75, or even 35, would make that kind of journey, that kind of commitment?

So, there he was, happily secure in his home, when God called him to move. But God didn't tell Abraham exactly where he was going, and Abraham didn't argue with that, or ask which way he was to set out or how he would know when he got there. We're told that Abraham just went, as the Lord had told him; and Lot, his brother, went with him. Remember, Abraham was seventy-five years old when he departed from Haran. 

God took away all Abraham's props of security - his home, his village, his family - and left him staggering about in unknown territory, facing all sorts of unknown and unexpected obstacles. Abraham's ten-year plan was shot to pieces and all his arrangements taking control of his own life were useless. And none of this happened while he was young. Abraham was 75 years old when God removed his props and sent him out to fend for himself in the big, wide world.

Except, of course, that he wasn't fending for himself, and that's the point. The writer of Hebrews is quoting from Abraham's life to prove a point about faith. 

Abraham had to give up that comforting, safe, control of his life to God, and simply go, not knowing where he was going or for how long or even whether or not he'd survive to see the end result.

For all of us, for every human being, frightening things happen to us at some point in life. It's as though we're sent out by God into the big, scary world to fend for ourselves. 

For some people, these frightening things start happening when they're young, and perhaps go on happening for much of life. Unhappy youngsters find themselves somehow caught up with drugs or  alcohol, and are perhaps in it too deeply to be able to easily get out of that, even if they wish to do so. Or perhaps a marriage or a close partnership goes wrong, and they feel despairing or even suicidal.

For others, frightening things seem to happen more and more the older we get, and I suppose this is inevitable. The parents of youngsters suffer agonies on behalf of their children, and especially as their children grow up, are often completely unable to help their children. 

And as we grow older, so we and our peers become more prone to illness, and eventually our family members or close friends die. So we begin to suffer bereavements or worrying times of serious illness in the family. And for some people, retirement or the loss of work is like that, a kind of bereavement, where they're not quite sure who they are any more.

All these events not only upset our plans for the future, but completely remove any props we might have. From the calm harbour of our ordered lives, suddenly we're plunged into a terrifying storm on the open sea, a storm which seems to have arisen out of nowhere. 

Like Abraham, we're sent out into the big, wide world. We're forced, perhaps for the first time in our lives, to rely completely on God, because there's nowhere else to go. And that's what faith is about - it is for us to rely completely on God.

But faith comes much more easily at those moments when it's really needed, to those who have practised a bit beforehand. Abraham was a man of God, close to God in his daily life, used to talking to God and listening to God. His faith didn't suddenly arise from a dream, he'd practised it all his life, so that when the time came, he was ready. 

As Jesus says in Luke's gospel, “the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour, so we too must be ready.”  Like Abraham, we can only be ready for our own moments of crisis if we've put the work in. We need to practise beforehand.  It's not so good at a moment of crisis to suddenly call on God for help, if we don't even know who God is. 

If we already have a relationship with God and know how to talk to him and how to listen to him, if we've been practising our faith, however small and fragile that faith may be, then when the crisis comes we'll be ready. We'll be ready to receive the Son of Man as he comes to help us.

And for those who have practised their faith, moments of crisis will offer enormous growth in spirituality and in faith. Through those awful times which feel like they've come out of nowhere and are the end of the world as we know it, comes a much greater awareness of God and a closeness to him which perhaps we haven't felt before. Just as Jesus enjoyed resurrection after crucifixion, so God continues to pull resurrection for us out of our particular crucifixion.

The whole of our scripture passage today really asks just one question.  So where are you going in your life? 

Are you so organised that every minute of every day is planned and there's no time for God? Or are you willing, like Abraham, to set out on a journey of faith, and allow God to lead you to wherever he wishes you to go? If you are, don't wait for a crisis, start practising now.