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Which promises?

  1. In many times and in many ways, God speaks
  2. We may drift away
  3. It was only right
  4. Where you’ll find God
  5. “Stay soft”: Sabbath rest
  6. The difference between right and wrong
  7. An anchor for the soul
  8. Our great desire
  9. Which promises?
  10. Write it on their hearts
  11. The community’s relationship to God

There’s a lot of talk about hope and promises in the letter to the Hebrews. Even the last two posts I wrote about Hebrews were around this:

Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope that lies before us. This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls.

Quoting Hebrews 6 in my post “Anchor for the soul”

Our great desire is that you will keep on loving others as long as life lasts, in order to make certain that what you hope for will come true. Then you will not become spiritually dull and indifferent. Instead, you will follow the example of those who are going to inherit God’s promises because of their faith and endurance.

Quoting Hebrews 6 again, the verse I started with in “Our great desire”

At some point last year when I was first getting back into reading the bible in general and reading Hebrews in particular, I was thinking about whoever it was that wrote this letter, and wondering what grand hope they had in mind when they were writing words like “hope” and “promises”. Is it the massive saving-of-everything-and-everyone narrative arc in the Jesus story? Is it hope for their nation and restoration after Roman destruction? Is it their own personal hope for Heaven or eternity or something?

There’s a hint right there in Hebrews 6, in between the two paragraphs I quoted above:

For example, there was God’s promise to Abraham. Since there was no one greater to swear by, God took an oath in his own name, saying:

“I will certainly bless you, and I will multiply your descendants beyond number.”

Then Abraham waited patiently, and he received what God had promised.

Hebrews 6 (NLT)

The New Living Translation even uses the phrase “for example”, which isn’t really in the original language, but does capture that at this point the writer has moved on from using generic phrases like “what you hope for” and “inherit God’s promises” and is now talking about something specific.

They’re not just talking about the grand overall narrative here, they’re talking about an individual promise God made to Abraham.

And that stood out to me, because I’d probably swung the pendulum away from thinking about what God promises to individuals. Having grown up in a church that sat on the edge of Pentecostalism, we were careful not to fall into traps of the “prosperity gospel”, but we could see it in the wider Pentecostal culture. People who were too concerned with God giving them benefits in this life – whether that’s getting the marriage they wanted or the promotion or the private jet or the parking spot.

And along with the rest of my church, in my formative years it felt like we pushed back against that and tried to remember the big picture of what God is doing in the world.

Later in the book of Hebrews this tension is even laid out directly:

By faith these people overthrew kingdoms, ruled with justice, and received what God had promised them. They shut the mouths of lions, quenched the flames of fire, and escaped death by the edge of the sword. Their weakness was turned to strength. They became strong in battle and put whole armies to flight. Women received their loved ones back again from death.

But others were tortured, refusing to turn from God in order to be set free. They placed their hope in a better life after the resurrection. Some were jeered at, and their backs were cut open with whips. Others were chained in prisons. Some died by stoning, some were sawed in half, and others were killed with the sword. Some went about wearing skins of sheep and goats, destitute and oppressed and mistreated. They were too good for this world, wandering over deserts and mountains, hiding in caves and holes in the ground.

All these people earned a good reputation because of their faith, yet none of them received all that God had promised.

Hebrews 11

I think I probably anchored too strongly on that second paragraph: sometimes you don’t see the promises in this life, so let’s instead hold onto a bigger picture of hope, that we expect to take longer than our lifetimes. (Less chance for disappointment maybe?)

That’s not all bad – I think holding onto the big picture leads to a more selfless and long term approach to life and decision making. It is certainly better than the prosperity gospel style of promises.

But reading this, and noticing that the Abraham example is a personal promise – rather than just his inclusion in a cosmic hope – challenged me.

Are there any personal promises from God that I’m holding onto?

Even using this language felt dangerous to me: I’ve had times in my life where I’ve felt something that I assumed was from God, and thought I could trust it, and then watched it fail.

As a 23 year old when Anna – then my girlfriend, had developed a chronic sickness and we prayed, and something shifted, she felt well for the first time in months, and we felt hope, but only for a night. Over a decade it had good days and bad days and the sickness shifted and morphed but the promise of full healing never really came.

Or when my friend Casey and I started Today We Learned and we felt so strongly God was calling us to have some kind of impact in the education sector through our startup, but it fizzled out. It was great growth for us and I regret none of it – but if I had clung to my sense of what God wanted to do as a trustworthy promise, I think I would have been disappointed.

It’s not all disappointment – other times I’ve felt things and trusted them, and it’s made all the difference. When Anna was really sick and we weren’t surviving off the income from my casual jobs, I was waiting for a job opportunity at our church, when an unexpected offer came from a software startup. I intended to decline it but felt like God was saying “This is me looking after you”. And 12 years later my career in this industry really has felt like being looked after.

So I’m open to hearing promises God has for me, but I’ve had enough experience to not put too much hope in a specific, personal promise – or in my interpretation of such a promise.

So, last year when I read this, and chewed on the idea that the personal promise, like Abraham’s example, is also important, I opened up to it. And while out hiking, sometimes thinking about this, sometimes praying, sometimes just reflecting on how rough life was feeling at that moment, and also just enjoying the view – somewhere in there, I felt like God made me another personal promise.

Photo: a wide photo of the bush landscape and the blue skies. You can see the Mundaring Weir (a giant dam) in the distance. It looks smaller in the photo than it did in real life.
One of the views from the hike

For now I don’t think I want to share it here. But I’ll say it’s vague enough to not really be measurable or provable. But despite that it’s real and concrete enough that it shifted something for me, and has been an anchor for me to hold onto in one of the hardest periods of my life.

While writing this post I caught up with Allen Brown and we talked about Abraham’s promises. As he is so good at doing, he helped paint the big picture for me – how does this one story about Abraham tie into the big story?

And it was a reminder for me that Abraham’s promise we talked about before – that he would have descendants beyond number, was both something personal for him and part of a deep global story. Personal: the deep desire for him and his wife to have a child after years of infertility – many can relate to that even today. And part of the deep story: through his family, which would grow into a nation, God would demonstrate and orchestrate a different way of life, for the people to live in covenant with God – living aligned with his ways rather than independent and opposed – and through this nation, all other nations would be blessed. That’s the big story.

So when the writer for Hebrews talks about hope and promises that are an anchor for our souls – which promises are they talking about?

There’s no doubt that they had in mind the new way of life, the community in a committed covenantal relationship with God:

But now Jesus, our High Priest, has been given a ministry that is far superior to the old priesthood, for he is the one who mediates for us a far better covenant with God, based on better promises.

Hebrews 8

But by including the example from Abraham, there is a beautiful reminder that weaved into the big story that spans across generations and continents, there are billions of individual stories, and while God is in covenant relationship with humanity as a whole, God is also connecting with individuals. With us.

And God also offers hope and promises on the scale of our short lives, and these are beautiful for us on their own, but when included as a thread in the bigger tapestry God is weaving, it can be breathtaking.

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Easter Saturday

Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal.

Jesus (John 12:24 paraphrased in “The Message” bible)

The big days of Easter are Good Friday and Easter Sunday.

Good Friday is all about death, suffering, abandonment, sacrifice, grief.

Easter Sunday is all about life, resurrection, power, restoration, hope.

Australian’s even get a public holiday on the Monday for some reason. But the Saturday… it’s just a normal Saturday. Life goes on.

As I’ve been walking my own path of grief over the last few months with a relationship breakdown, I’ve had this short teaching from Jesus rolling around in my head: “Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground… it is never any more than a grain of wheat”. For me, I had to let something go, watch it fall to the ground, watch it die. And trust for something new, something with new life, something as yet unknown, was going to emerge on the other side.

But between the death, and the resurrection, is the Saturday. The day where the body is lying in the ground.

It’s not hard to imagine what that day felt like for those closest to Jesus.

The shock of the day before, the grief, the loss. Apparently he’d hinted at a resurrection but it doesn’t seem like any of them were feeling that hope on Saturday. The lifeless body had a finality to it. They wouldn’t see his smile again, hear his voice again, eat a meal with him again.

And just as their friend’s body was lifeless, so too all the hope they had tied up in him as their leader would have felt lifeless… it was over, it was futile. The talk of “the coming Kingdom” felt real at the time, but it amounted to nothing.

The Saturday is rough.

And it’s a key part of human experience.

The thing you knew is dead and buried. And there’s no sign of new life yet. And for now, this is where you are, and this is it.

There’s a certain grace in this story that Jesus’ death came as the Sabbath started… the rhythms of life went on, but the rhythms told his friends and family to stop, to rest. To not try figure out the next steps. Not yet.

There is hope. That’s the Easter story. But on the Saturday you probably won’t feel any of that.

And that’s okay, because the resurrection doesn’t require us to do anything. It doesn’t even require us to believe anything or maintain a minimum level of hope. The new life that is going to come isn’t something we need to organise or lobby for or make happen. It will be given, it will be undeserved, it will be grace.

And that’s good, because when it’s Easter Saturday, we probably don’t have it in us to do anything. The grief is real, the hopelessness is real. We just wait.

(And if we can, rest.)

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An anchor for the soul

  1. In many times and in many ways, God speaks
  2. We may drift away
  3. It was only right
  4. Where you’ll find God
  5. “Stay soft”: Sabbath rest
  6. The difference between right and wrong
  7. An anchor for the soul
  8. Our great desire
  9. Which promises?
  10. Write it on their hearts
  11. The community’s relationship to God

Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope that lies before us. This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls.

Hebrews 6

These words and metaphors have been ones I’ve found myself clinging to and meditating on through what has been a pretty rough ride in my life this year.

Fleeing to God for refuge. A hope that gives us confidence. An anchor to hold us steady.

These images have helped give my soul a sense of stability when life has felt incredibly unstable.

But I’d usually imagine the anchor holding us in place in the storm. Then I listened to Krista Tippett (host of On Being) interview Kate Bowler (host of Everything Happens). Kate was diagnosed with terminal cancer as a young mother at 35. Somehow, she’s still here, and so her take on “Hope” carries extra weight.

Tippett: What at this point is your working definition of hope?

Bowler: I think before I would’ve said it was something like certainty. I might have looked from a doctrinal perspective and been like, “Well, Krista, thank you for asking, I actually have six things about God I’d love to tell you.” Because depending on your story of faith, it’s a long timescale — that it’s the consummation of the earth and the great triumph of good over evil, et cetera, et cetera. But I think hope now feels like God and love is like an anchor that’s dropped way in the future. And I’m just, along with everyone else, being slowly pulled toward it. And that feeling won’t always feel like the details of my life have somehow clicked into place and that I get to feel the fullness of my life. But that, ultimately, that this is a good story. It’s just not only mine.

From an interview with Krista Tippett and Kate Bowler on the On Being podcast

Not an anchor holding us in place, but “an anchor that’s dropped way in the future. And I’m just, along with everyone else, being slowly pulled toward it.”

That’s hope.

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Faith Justice and Politics Personal

Human Faces

When I see the human face behind a political issue, the emotions of apathy, indignation or anger become less.  Then empathy (understanding their suffering), sorrow (grieving with them), remorse (that collectively, the humans in my country did this to other humans) – these emotions become stronger.  Finally, there is hope – these people have courage, and see a better future.  They want to fight injustice, and fight for the rights of those who follow.  I hope, at the end of my life, I can say that I partnered with these guys, not the powers that locked them up and stole their childhood.

Refugee looks back on ordeal of seeking asylum and being detained in Nauru

(God, have mercy, do not treat us as our sins deserve.)