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Trust is a hard thing. Even between God’s people and God. It is one thing to say “We belong to God. We are God’s own” (as we talked about last Sunday). It is another thing entirely to work that belonging out in our everyday lives.
Let’s take Abram and Sarai, for example. God called Abram and Sarai to go from Ur to Canaan—to a land promised them, and with a promise of starting a great nation. Even though they set off on this adventure, this pilgrimage, it is hard to trust God totally.
We jump into the story as Abram and God are having a discussion out under the canopy of stars.
First of all, Abram intones, they haven’t been able to get going on the “creating a great nation” thing—Sarai seems to be barren, and Eliezer (of Damascus!) is Abram’s heir. What’s going on? Abram asks, and God stands firm on God’s word. There will be an heir, from Abram’s line. And there will be many decendants, in fact, as many as the stars in the sky—so many you can’t count them.
And we are told Abram believed God. Abram needed to have his hand held, but he trusted in God.
But, then, there was that “promised land” thing—how was Abram to be sure that he was REALLY going to possess this land, this far way land. Could God give him a sign?
Now if we were Abram, we probably would have expected an audiotape of the conversation, or a notorized email, something tangible. But even if we could have definitive proof of the “promise,” that wouldn’t have solved the problem. Because what Abram is asking is: Should I trust you God? Are you capable of extraordinary things?
Remember, this is the start of the relationship of God’s people with God. In our biblical text, all that preceeds the story of Abram is called “Prehistory”—Adam and Eve, Noah, Babel. Abram, as God’s chosen, is just finding out about this God. So far, Abram and God have been having this conversation—in the hills, under the night sky. Was this a trustworthy God? Give me a sign, says Abram.
So God had Abram get some animals to sacrifice, and to place them just so, and then Abram went to sleep, and darkness fell, and a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch passed between the carcases, and Abram had what in his day was proof: an encounter with God and a signed and sealed covenant.
(If you read the rest of the Abram and Sarai story it becomes painfully obvious that they didn’t trust God enough that they didn’t try to mettle in the plans, and created some hugh problems in the process.)
This hocus-pocus seems just too weird for us. Animal sacrifice, coma, dancing fire vessels! The bottom line though is something we all understand. How do you know to trust God?
It seems there is this dilemma—we want a sign, a personal interactions, something more than hearing God’s voice, God’s call. Yet that something more puts us in the same space as the divine—an unsettling, if not scary experience. The more I thought about what happened to Abram, the more I began to see parallels in other being “close-up” to God moments.
“A deep sleep fell on Abram”—doesn’t that remind you of the sleep that fell on Adam when God was performing Eve surgery?; or even the sleep during which Jacob is given visions of the heavens.
“a deep and terrifying darkness descended upon him”—sounds like the Spirit in the beginning of Genesis when the world was dark and void; it also brought to my mind the description of Mary being “overshadowed”
“smoking fire pot and flaming torch”—certainly are precursors of Moses meeting “I AM WHO I AM” in the flaming bush; not to mention God protecting the Israelites in the wilderness with a pillar of fire at their rear flank.
That was what covenant was like for the ancients—fire and sacrifice and overshadowing. There isn’t any of that in the New Testament. Except we just read that account of the three disciples on the mountain at Transfiguration when the light was so bright it blinded them and we will read in May the FIRE of God descending on the assembled crowd at Pentecost. And I’ve already made the comparison to Mary’s encounter with God in the annunciation. And certainly, we know that Lent is a time when sacrifice is pushed to the extreme on Golgotha’s hill. So it seems fire and sacrifice and overshadowing were still signs of the covenant, and the perils of coming too close to God.
But what about our time? What about our trust? What sign do we have?
Of course, we have the stories of Mary and the angel, of Jesus and the cross and tomb, of Pentecost and our participation in the church. Sometimes we want more than stories. We, like Abram, want to be reassured.
Jesus in our gospel reading for this morning provides us with just such an image. There he is on the hill overlooking Jerusalem, knowing in his bones what is going to happen there. And in his anguish he gives us a sign, a reminder of God’s unfailing love. What is it? He depicts himself as a mother hen, wanting to gather her chicks under her wing, even if they are unwilling.
This is the reassuring image? You ask. That doesn’t seem to be very positive. Jesus wants to protect us, but we’re not buying in. How is that supposed to be a sign we can hang onto? A help in trusting God?
Here is how I think it works. If we are lucky, we have had a mother in our lives who loved us. A mother who tried to shelter us from the worst storms of life. A mother who called us from danger into safety. Or even if we didn’t have such a mother, we might be aware of Mother Hens. Mother Hens are known for calling to their chicks and nestling them under their wings at night to keep them warm. Mother Hens will try to protect their children, even to the point of putting themselves in the way of a preditor.
So Jesus’ musing can calm our fear. How do we know that the covenant still stands? (if we need to ask as Abram does). A mother hen doesn’t leave her chicks. God, like a mother hen, calls to us, wants to shelter us and keep us safe. That mother love doesn’t go away, even if we stray from the nest, or refuse to heed the call.
What sign do we have? That image of being under God’s wing. Whether it be the picture of a chick sheltering under a mother hen, or being raised up on eagle’s wings—the idea is the same. God is there. God has made promises to us, as God has done in the past and will continue to do in the future. If you want more, you open yourself to fire and sacrifice and overshadowing. And that’s ok. As Jesus said to Thomas “Touch me and believe.” Or as God says over and over, “Trust Me, I’m here for good.”
May it be so for us. Amen and Amen.
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