By faith Abraham offered Isaac as a sacrifice when God tested him … even though the Lord had promised that it was through Isaac that Abraham’s descendants would be numbered. It was by faith that Isaac promised future blessings to his sons, Jacob and Esau. And It was by faith that Jacob, before his death, blessed each of Joseph’s sons and bowed in worship while leaning on his staff.

Hebrews 11:17-18, 20-21

If you’re wondering why my blog has disappeared, here’s a pictorial hint:

But that’s not what I want to write about …

Relationships are funny and complicated things. Human beings want intimacy but cultivate autonomy. We relish independence but long for connection. We want others to accept us as we really are; at the same time, we spend scads of energy either covering up our true condition or performing a variety of conjuring acts to prove that we are better than we know ourselves to be. We put tremendous expectations on ourselves and on others, yet hate to feel that we would impose such standards on anyone. With all this complexity, what could possibly go wrong?

This complexity is even evident in the lives of the biblical saints. Abraham and Sarah, Isaac, Rebekah, and Jacob exemplify the struggle and the consequences of relational maladjustment. Models of faith in the verses from Hebrews, suffering from the curse of unbelief. It’s not that the Scriptures are wrong about saying that they trusted in the Lord. But what a decidedly mixed record. In their daily confrontation with temptation, human weakness comes to the fore in patterns of self-will, self-reliance, and deception.

Take the Tale of Abraham and Sarah. Here, in some particular order, are some high and low points:

Abraham leaves Ur without knowing his destination. Why? Because God told him to. Excellent beginning. Then, Abraham pretends Sarah is his sister and lets Pharaoh take her as a wife. Why? Because he is afraid. Not something that will improve your marriage. Next, Sarah laughs when she hears that they are to have a son. Why? I think it’s because she was disappointed in Abraham (and God) and probably bitter about being childless. And then there is the attempt at producing an heir via Sarah’s maid, Hagar. Oy, vey. At one point, Abraham gives Lot the choice of which land to inhabit. A+ expression of meekness. Finally, Abraham obeys the Lord and prepares Isaac as a sacrifice. Unfathomable faith.

What does this odyssey of testing reveal to us? Three things especially stand out. First, faith and unbelief have profound effects on relationships. Think about what it meant to be Sarai, sent to Pharaoh’s house to be his wife because Abram was full of fear for his own safety. Or consider the very long-term effects of pairing up Abraham and Hagar. This is playing God at its most baneful, with repercussions that echo to this day. In the next generation, parental partiality toward Jacob and Esau caused long-term relational dysfunction between the two brothers. On the plus side, Abraham’s allowing Lot first dibs on land was a true exercise in peacemaking arising from trust.

This is history that, while dramatic, finds parallels in our own lives. True, I have never pretended that Joanne wasn’t my wife (forgetting to introduce her at social functions is not quite the same thing). Yet all of us have experienced relationship trauma rooted in anxiety, selfishness, or other expressions of trust-deficits. Occasions for pain begin early in human interactions. Sibling rivalry, competition for best friend status, experiences of rejection and indifference consume emotional energy and prompt behaviors that mimic Animal Farm levels of meanness and spite.

As we “mature,” relational challenges become deeper, more complex, often less obvious on the surface. For example, I am married to my best friend; the competition is over. But best friend spouses endure special treatment that other friends avoid. They have new rivals: the person that we want them to be and the self-centered idol, me. They endure our selfishness and sinfulness as no one else does. The greater my unbelief, the more my wife and children, my friends and co-workers suffer.

Second, there is evolution. Scripture often describes a person as “walking with God.” Most likely the phrase means listening, conversing, obeying. But I also see it signifying growth in wisdom, in faith, in fruitfulness. We never meet Abraham as a young man, so we don’t know where he began his journey of trust. What we do see is that the man who lies about Sarah is not the same person who tells his servants that he would return with Isaac from their trip to Moriah.

Jacob displays the same faith trajectory, highlighted by the wrestling match of Genesis 32. Up to that point, Jacob’s constant conniving and greed put him at odds with pretty much everyone he encounters. As he limps away from his Friday night Fight, Jacob has found humility and a deeper understanding of dependence on God. As a consequence, Esau (and no doubt many others) must have greatly benefitted from the change. Grace works similar changes in us.

Third – and the main reason humans increasingly living by faith – God has a very confident view of his own place, purpose, and competence in the narratives. The most striking feature of his relationship with our heroes is that the Lord doesn’t obliterate them at some point in the story. He is apparently not bothered by their inability to follow a straight path of spiritual growth. He patiently encounters them in their weakness. Instead of constant disappointment, there are promises. In the place of withdrawal, there is presence. The Lord continually reinforces his call to those whom he has chosen. Even his rebukes are intended to build up and encourage.

God’s persistent faithfulness in the face of my/our relational infidelity should be a comfort to our friends and family. I often say to my wife and children that I am part of the cross life that the Lord calls them to endure and triumph in. While that might not initially sound particularly heartening, a deeper consideration opens us to a more positive perspective. While I might be prone to sin and failure toward you, the Father is full of grace that transcends. He is not only transforming me, but providing forgiveness, reconciliation, mercy, compassion. The cross means all these things, and more.

So we find confidence for our children, and our children find relief from the burdens of their parental expectations. We can release our spouses and friends from our controlling identity quests, and leave them to the good purposes of the Father. We can give our marriages, co-workers, bosses, siblings into hands that are surer and stronger than ours. How blessed we are not to be sovereign, but to be the subjects of perfect Sovereignty.

That’s enough to get our hopes up and set on all the right places. And to bow in worship …