(Sermon for February 28, 2010 || Lent 2, Year C, RCL || Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18)
Something happens during our worship service that I would bet youâve never really noticed before. Actually, this something happens twice during our worship. In fact, this something has already happened twice during this very service. The readers finished both the story about Abram and the piece of Paulâs Letter to the Philippians, and then they said, âThe Word of the Lord.â And you responded, âThanks be to God.â
Have you ever wondered why we say, âThanks be to Godâ at that particular moment at the conclusion of a scriptural reading? If you havenât, donât worry: I didnât wonder why until I started writing this sermon. Saying âThanks be to Godâ seems rather strange at first. For what are we really thanking God? Honestly, this thanksgiving would make much more sense if the reader herself were the one offering it. I can imagine the reader thanking God for the lack of unpronounceable names in the lesson; or for the ability to pronounce Melchizedek and Nebuchadnezzar on the first try; or for the opportunity to serve God in the capacity of reading the Bible aloud. But the question remains: why do we respond with thanks to God when the reader says, âThe Word of the Lordâ?
This morningâs lesson from Genesis provides an answer. But first, hereâs a quick recap of the first few episodes of Abramâs story. God tells Abram to leave his country and set out for a new place, which only God knows about. So Abram, his wife Sarai, his nephew Lot, and their household set out on a journey. They wander through Canaan and down into Egypt, where Abram gives his wife to Pharaoh to save his own skin. But when a great plague hits Egypt, Pharaoh realizes Saraiâs already married, and he sends her back to her husband. Abram and Lot part ways because their herds have grown too great to share the same land. Finally, Abram settles by the oaks of Mamre. Soon after, he takes part in a battle among the local kingdoms. And on three separate occasions during these adventures, God tells Abram that God will give him offspring and make of him a great nation.
But Abram worries because he remains childless. Heâs getting on in years. Sarai is barren. Heâs rich and powerful and secure, but the one blessing he desires above all else has eluded him. He has no descendants to inherit his land. A slave born in his house will have to be his heir. Eliezer of Damascus is going to get everything. How does this fulfill your promise, God?
In this way, Abram questions God when the word of the Lord comes to him in a vision. Half in accusation, half in resignation, Abram states the situation bluntly: âYou have given me no offspring.â And during this moment â during Abramâs most anxious, most doubtful, most defeated moment â the âword of the Lordâ comes to him. The Word of the Lord comes to him and says, âNo one but your very own issue will be your heir. Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them. So shall your descendants be.â The Word of the Lord comes to him and gives Abram the strength to believe that God will fulfill Godâs promise. This is the same âWord of the Lordâ for which we twice give thanks on Sunday morning.
You may ask: âHow can mere words give Abram such strength? What if the promises are empty? Whereâs the action to back up the talk?â Okay, Iâm about to say the âHâ-word and I need you to stay with me for just a minute here. Genesis was originally written in Hebrew. Translators do the best they can to render the original language into English, but sometimes a Hebrew word is just too deep and complex for a single English word to suffice. In these cases, the English is like looking at a picture of a cake. The Hebrew is like taking a big bite of the cake itself.
Such is the case with the word âWord.â In Hebrew, the âWordâ is not simply speech or writing on a page. The âWordâ happens to people. The âWordâ is an event, an encounter, an action that calls for further action. In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, God spoke creation into being: âGod said, âLet there be lightâ and there was light.â The Word of the Lord happened, and, as a result, creation came into existence. When the Word of the Lord happens to Abram, he finds the strength to go on trusting God in spite of all the reasons why Godâs promise seems preposterous.
And when we hear a reading from Holy Scripture on Sunday morning, we respond âThanks be to Godâ because the Word of the Lord has just happened to us. In that encounter with the Word, we are aware that God continues to speak us into existence. And from existence into service. And from service into love. And from love into the transformation that happens when we follow Jesus Christ our Lord.
You see, when the Word happens to us, we are changed. We may be changed minutely or momentously, but we are changed. We may be changed slowly or suddenly, but we are changed. We are changed into better lovers of God, better servants of other human beings, and better human beings ourselves.
In the film Life as a House, George talks about change, a subject about which he knows a great deal. George has been diagnosed with cancer, and he is using his final months to repair his relationship with his estranged son. By tearing down his house and rebuilding the home he always wanted, he and his son work through the messy process of reconnecting. At one point, George says: âYou know the great thing, though, is that change can be so constant you donât even feel the difference until there is one. It can be so slow that you donât even notice that your life is better or worse, until it is. Or it can just blow you away, make you something different in an instant. It happened to me.â
In Abramâs case, the Word happens to him, and the change comes slowly. The Word gives him trust in Godâs faithfulness, but at first Abram fails to understand the expanse of Godâs miraculous promise. Abram doesnât realize that God desires not just Abramâs own offspring, but Saraiâs, as well. So Abram bears a son with Hagar, his wifeâs slave-girl. But the Word isnât finished happening to Abram yet. Years later, Abram stumbles into Godâs presence again, and God renews his promise a final time. In the pivotal sign of the change, which the Word has on Abramâs life, God changes his name to Abraham and Saraiâs to Sarah. Soon after, Sarah bears Abraham a son named Isaac, and the countless generations that follow rival the number of stars in the heavens.
I invite you to reflect on how the Word is even now happening to you. Is the change, which the Word is causing in your life, so constant that you donât feel the difference until there is one? Or is the Word blowing you away and making you into something different, something new, in an instant? Either way, know that our Creator continues to speak creation into existence. Our Creator writes the Word on our hearts. Our Creator puts the Word on our lips so we may speak love and welcome to all we encounter.
The reader says âThe Word of the Lordâ to make us aware that the Word is happening to us even now this morning while we sit in our pews. We respond âThanks be to Godâ to show our gratitude for Godâs movement in our lives. But the Word isnât through happening to us yet either. The Word happens to us to enable us to serve and to love. The Word impels us to go out into the world and invite others to notice the Word happening to them. As followers of Christ, we live with the joyful expectation that the Word will happen to anyone, anywhere, at any time.
And when the Word happens to us, we will be changed.
Speaking of cake, the day I preached this sermon was my first at the church to which I was recently called to be the Assistant Rector (Assistant to the Rector, Dwight!). They got me this cake, which is awesome.
Then, the kids ate it.


