Telling Our Faith Stories to…
One of Scripture’s most confronting stories of faith and safety is that of Abraham and Isaac in Genesis 22, the Old Testament reading for this week. We sit in hope that God will redeem Abraham, or rescue Isaac from what seems to be a traditional sacrifice. God intervenes and the story moves from…
One of Scripture’s most confronting stories of faith and safety is that of Abraham and Isaac in Genesis 22, the Old Testament reading for this week. We sit in hope that God will redeem Abraham, or rescue Isaac from what seems to be a traditional sacrifice. God intervenes and the story moves from fear to hope, from looming death to heavenly provision. It’s a fearsome narrative.
If you’re able to read it separately, without your prior knowledge of Abraham, Sarah, Isaac and their journey of faith with God, what does the story look like? Does God seem generous, or something other? Is this a story we tell lightly, or with all the weight given by the original storyteller?
Now, let me put it in an entirely different context: in Nigeria, Boko Haram is stealing young girls to be sold as child wives, because of their bastardised version of Islam; the church is (appropriately) under the hammer at the Royal Commission because so many children have been harmed when under our care; there are constant examples of how we have not protected the most vulnerable members of our society, with Jimmy Saville in England being the latest appalling example.
We always hear – and offer – stories in our own context.
When we tell the story of Isaac and Abraham, into this kind of world, how does God appear? If we have been raised from Sunday School till now with this story, will it sound different for those who are only now hearing it for the first time? If you don’t have an experience of grace, if you haven’t been restored by God’s forgiveness and love, then how do we hear a story like this about God in a way which makes sense?
I know this is confronting, but so is Isaac’s story. When we bear witness to our God in Christ, we are speaking into a community which has less and less relationship with the stories of our faith. Whenever I preach, I expect that there are vulnerable people listening: people who have illness, suffer abuse, deal with addiction, or are abusers themselves.
How do we offer the gospel in such a place? How do we discover the wisdom and grace to speak?
We must speak. We must act. To serve, to offer healing, to act with justice, to lift up the fallen, to trust in Christ. We may well need the faith of Abraham, but bear in mind we are often dealing with those who, like Isaac, are in our hands.