Sermon for Sunday, August 7

Day of the Church Year: 9th Sunday after Pentecost

Scripture Passage: Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16

There’s a phrase in Latin ex nihilo that means “out of nothing,” usually referring to creation out of nothing. God creates ex nihilo, out of nothing. Today, the writer of Hebrews chronicles the ex nihilo faith of the ancients.

In the manner of the Old Testament, Genesis chapter 11 includes a genealogy, describing the lineage of a man named Abram and a woman name Sarai whose names would later be changed to Abraham and Sarah. At the end of chapter 11, we learn nothing of them but their family ties and their home region, and boom, chapter 12 opens: “Now the Lord said to Abram, ‘Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.’” The writer of Genesis tells us in the very next verse: “So Abram went.” Ex nihilo, out of nothing, Abram and Sarai go! With no prior revelation of God, with no years of faith formation, with nothing but the word of God, Abram and Sarai go leave their country, their kindred, their father’s house as God commands.

Similarly at the conclusion of the book of Genesis, Joseph comes into a seat of power in Egypt, relocating his whole family there. As the book of Exodus opens, however, the new pharaoh, the new king, does not remember Joseph and his family and enslaves them and their descendants—for 400 years. 400 years into their enslavement, a child named Moses is born, saved from death by the courageous midwives Shiprah and Puah, placed in a basket upon the water by his terrified mother, drawn from the water by pharaoh’s daughter, raised in pharaoh’s home meaning he is not raised within the religious tradition of his people. As an adult, Moses flees from Egypt. While herding sheep in the desert wilderness, Moses sees on a mountain a strange burning bush whose leaves are not consumed. God speaks to Moses from the bush and sends him back to Egypt to free God’s people from slavery. Ex nihilo, out of nothing, Moses goes! With no prior revelation of God, with no years of faith formation, with nothing but the word of God, Moses goes.

It is this ex nihilo faith that the writer of Hebrews commends today. For according to Hebrews, faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Faith, by its very definition, stands on hope. Not evidence. Not data. Not certainty. Hope.

I used to be certain.

I used to be certain that God existed, that scripture offered up black and white ethical guidelines, that the doctrines of the church reflected the laws of the universe.

I used to be certain.

Then, I went to college and was formed by serving at Bible camps, worked at a shelter and moved to the south side of Chicago to go to seminary. I learned about the world, met and learned from unforeseen challenges, listened to stories of life that sounded to my ears like they happened in a foreign country, not in the US, so far removed were they from my own experiences. In all this, I prayed daily and studied scripture, served as a hospital chaplain, earned a Master of Divinity degree, and led worship in college, in churches, hospitals, around campfires, at the shelter, at Holden Village, and in my seminary chapel.

And I was no longer certain. Instead, I had and have faith. I live with an assurance of things hoped for, a conviction of things not seen. I don’t know anymore if God exists, but I hope that God does. I have faith that God does. I have faith that the power of love trumps the power of sin, death, and evil. I have faith that the resurrection of Jesus means new life is possible even in a world filled with injustice, illness, death, hate, indifference.

The irony of faith is that it doesn’t increase with knowledge or practice. It has an ex nihilo quality. We don’t study our way into faith. We can study our way into greater understanding of biblical story, of church doctrine, of Christian tradition. We can practice our way into following Jesus just as we do nearly every Sunday during Faith in Motion and by the myriad ways we serve and love the world. But as some Christian leaders say, faith is “caught” more than “taught.” The reason the writer of Hebrews tells stories of the ancients, like Abram, Sarai, and Moses, is not to teach us their stories but to inspire us by their stories, to inspire by their faith.

Now, Grace Lutheran Church, maybe I haven’t told you before, but I tell others on the regular: You, dear people, make me believe in God. Your lives, the ways I see you live with courage and love, the ways I see you give of yourselves for the sake of others, your lives inspire faith in me. My convictions about a gracious God are not entirely unseen. For I see God’s grace at work in you and in our life together.

And it’s not just your faith that inspires me but the faith of so many who have come before us. The eleventh chapter of Hebrews is known as the “Roll of the Faithful,” lifting up the heroes of scripture, the kings and prophets and, mostly, the ordinary people assured of things hoped for, convicted of things not seen. The writer of Hebrews brings the Roll of the Faithful to a beautiful conclusion: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us.” All the faithful who came before us, all the faithful who surround us today spur us on for lives of faith and hope. Especially here on Sunday mornings, because we read and study scripture, because we share our own witness in this place, we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. And thanks be to God! Because, some days, faith and hope are in short supply. We can’t teach each other faith and hope, but we can sure catch it as we sing and pray, share the peace and receive Christ’s body and blood together.

Who are on your Roll of the Faith-full? Whose faith has inspired you and why? Let us name them and share just a sentence or two about their impact in our lives—that we may all be inspired by their faith and hope.

We lift up names and stories.

Let us pray. We give you thanks, O God, for these faithful whose faith and hope have inspired us for lives of faith and hope. Ever lift us up by this great cloud of witnesses that we might run with perseverance the race set before us. And all God’s people said: Amen!