Faith. Such an important word. Such a wide topic. Where do you start?
The writer of the book of Hebrews started with a definition: “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”
It sounds like a very somber, static thing. Something to treasure and hold close. But to illustrate the point, Hebrews begins to tell the story of Abraham and his family. “By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to set out for a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; and he set out, not knowing where he was going” (Heb. 11:8).
This “faith” may still be somber, but it isn’t static—Abraham, and his faith, are on the move. Or as the editors of Glory to God commented on a hymn about faith, “faith is not a state of being but a process of becoming” (hymn #684).
Let’s sing the first verse of that hymn, “Faith Begins by Letting Go,” Hymn #684.
Faith begins by letting go,
giving up what had seemed sure,
taking risks and pressing on,
though the way feels less secure:
pilgrimage both right and odd,
trusting all our life to God.
Abraham got on the road: He and his wives and his children and his servants and his goats and his cattle along with all the belongings that they couldn’t do without for a life on the move. Abraham set out, by faith.
I happened to pick up a book called “Walking with Abel” by Anna Badkhen that chronicles her year-long stay with the Fulani tribe in Africa. The Fulani are nomadic herders—they walk across Africa, in the Sahel region (from the Indian Ocean to the Atlantic). Walking. Walking like their ancestors. Walking as they have done as far back as time can remember. They are the closest we can get to Abraham and his people.
This is what it means for them “to set out.” It means not having a permanent home. It means letting go of many things. For you can only take the most precious of things when you are constantly on the move. Some things have to be left behind. You bury your dead along the way. Listen to Anna Badkhen, who they name Anna Ba:
“Oumarou had three other dead children. They were buried at two different resting stops on his migration route. Each campsite was a grave site. Each season the old cowboy measured with his footsteps the distance from one dead child to the next. Two thousand footsteps per mile, 20,000 to 40,000 footsteps a day, 7-15 million footsteps a year, on the raw hide of the earth. The drawn out journeys of bi-annual migration and in between the constant movement of twice daily pasturage, of daily round trips to water holes and distant markets. Every footfall contains the kernel of our becoming. The mega-narrative of our timeless hegiras, our common travelogue writ large. Every footfall brings the walker closer to the next patch of shade, the next well, the next resting spot. Every footfall is a leap of faith that at the end of the trek lie pasture and water for the cows: Redemption, Forgiveness, Self-compassion. Every footfall begets a separation. Each time the [Fulani ] moved camp, they left behind huts sedulously wainscoted and torn down, loved ones, lovers, graves. Salimata pitied me. She knew the heartbeat of the savannah with the soles of her feet, and she knew that the land preserved all the memories (past and future) and replayed them again and again in cycles that lasted a season, a decade, an eternity. Cycles of plentitude and uncertainty, of holding on and letting go, of life and death and life again.” (Around minute 57 of audiobook)
And I realized that I was hearing in my mind the words of Paul as he talked to the church at Corinth, “we walk by faith and not by sight” (2 Cor. 5:7). Walking by faith. Faith “not as a state of being but a process of becoming.” By faith, Abraham set out. But what an image from Anna Ba of what that faith is like--as the slog of step by step, day by day, year by year. Faith isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon.
Let’s sing the second verse of Hymn #684.
Faith endures by holding on,
keeping memory’s roots alive
so that hope may bear its fruit;
promise-fed our souls will thrive,
not through merit we possess
but by God’s great faithfulness.
When Anna Ba first came to the Fulani, Oumarou told her that “We learn one of three ways: Through our feet, through our eyes, through our minds.” All of a sudden “walk by faith not by sight” takes on even more meaning.
I know that we often learn through our minds—thinking things through logically, studying the scriptures, systematically building our relationship with God.
I know that we also learn by seeing—especially seeing others making visible the love of God in Christ in our world.
But have you ever thought of learning through your feet? I’m not even sure how that is accomplished. But I do know it is being in motion. And as I read the Seasons of the Spirit “Prayer of Confession” for today, I began to see a glimmer of what learning through our feet might mean.
Faith is …
acting for good when we’d rather do nothing;
siding with life when we’d rather play dead;
speaking the truth when we’d rather be silent.
Faith is …
noiselessly listening when we’d rather shout out;
paying attention when we’d prefer not to notice;
standing for right when we’d far rather keep walking.
Faith is …
trusting that after the darkness there will be the light;
seeing the rainbow as the sign of the sun;
hearing the rooster crow as hope for the dawn.
Faith is…
upsetting the comfortable status quo;
unreasonable, irrational, a foretaste of heaven;
the step at the edge to all that is good.
Although faith is something that we are called to individually, it seems that the way it is worked out most often involves others. Abraham doesn’t set out on his own. The Fulani travel in family groupings and larger communities. Jesus sent out disciples two by two. Faith binds us together, even as we walk our path and work for a better world.
Let us sing the third verse of Hymn #684.
Faith matures by reaching out,
stretching minds, enlarging hearts,
sharing struggles, living prayer,
binding up the broken parts;
till we find the commonplace
ripe with witness to God’s grace.
By faith, Abraham set out. We too are called to “walk by faith and not by sight.” It is a daunting task. We know it is an arduous journey. But God has called. We respond in faith. For ”faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”
We set out,
clearing our minds so that we might hear God whisper.
We set out,
opening our eyes so we might see God’s love.
We set out,
Readying our feet so we might join
the endless string of the faithful followers
of our faithful God.
May it be so, Alleluia, Amen.
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