Part 1: Introduction

As we’ve noted, the first stage of Abraham’s life as recorded in Genesis is the Call from God to leave his homeland and travel to a new land: Canaan (Ge 12-14). The first chapter of this account consists of that initial call and Abram’s immediate journey.

This account comes immediately on the heels of the Tower of Babel, a deliberate defiance of God’s command to scatter and populate the earth. Abram’s immediate obedience is in stark contrast.

God’s call to Abram is clear: he is to leave his relatives and his homeland and go to an unspecified place “that I will show you” (Ge 12.1). His next words are prophecy, not command; they describe the fruits of obedience: Abram will have many descendants, who will be blessed, and who will bless the whole world (Ge 12.2-3). This promise will be repeated and expanded in upcoming chapters; we call it the Abrahamic Covenant, which promises a homeland, a posterity, and a universal blessing. Commentator Harold Willmington has characterized this as “soil, a seed, and a Saviour.” This is literally a global promise, the extent of which Abram could not possibly have fathomed.

This promise sets up the theme of the rest of Scripture. In contrast to the builders of Babel, Abram obeys, and God will set in place a plan to rescue mankind from its own rebellion, destroy Babylon (Re 14.8; 18.2), and restore Eden (Re 21.1-22.5).

Global, indeed.

I should note that Abram’s family has been introduced a paragraph earlier, at the end of chapter 11. There we learn two important things: that Sarai is barren, and that Abram’s father had already moved them from Ur, their home, to Haran, enroute to Canaan. This confusion is cleared up by the fact that the next paragraph is a flashback; the KJV and NKJV, as well as a footnote in the ESV, read the verb in verse 1 as perfect: “God had [earlier] said.” Thus the call comes in Ur, and the family members start toward Canaan. Their journey is punctuated by a stop partway, in Haran, on the Fertile Crescent.

The New Testament says that when he left Ur, he went “not knowing whither he went” (He 11.8). The Lord led them along, first to Haran for a time, and then eventually to Canaan. This was a journey of faith.

If we look closely at the numbers, we note that Abram’s father, Terah, was 70 when Abram was born (Ge 11.26) and that he died when he was 205–when Abram would have been 135. But the account says that Abram left Haran for Canaan when he was 75 (Ge 12.4)–so he must have left 60 years before his father died. Did Terah refuse to go along? Why? We don’t know. But Abram is following the Lord’s leadership, not his father’s. He needs to go.

So he gathers his closest family–his wife, and his nephew Lot (Ge 12.5)–as well as his servants and his growing possessions. (The blessing has apparently already started.) And he heads for Canaan. When he arrives, he surveys the land, arriving at Shechem (Ge 12.6), where the Lord again promises him both the land and a progeny to dwell in it (Ge 12.7). He proceeds southward to the area of Bethel (actually given that name by his grandson Jacob years later; the author of this account, Moses, is writing from a later perspective, when his readers would be used to calling the place by its later name) (Ge 12.8). In both of these places he builds altars, worshiping the Lord who is guiding him, and likely indicating his faith in the promises by “planting his flag,” so to speak.

Famine arrives (Ge 12.10). In such times, looking to Egypt, with its reliable water source in the Nile, was common. God later told Isaac not to go to Egypt (Ge 26.2); yet Jacob took his family to Egypt at Joseph’s insistence and with God’s apparent blessing (Ge 45.16ff).

Should Abram have left the land where he had built the altars, or not?

In any case, we all know the story of Abram’s fear of Pharaoh and his nonsensical lie about his beautiful wife, thereby putting her at risk of joining Pharaoh’s harem. He does not appear to be acting in faith any longer.

But God protects him–blesses him–keeping his promises despite Abram’s apparent lack of faith.

God is like that.

Next time: back to Canaan, and settlement.

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I’d like to spend the next few posts–maybe 10 or 12–on a theological look at the life of Abraham as recounted in Genesis 12-25. As we’ll see, he’s a foundational character in Scripture, and there’s a lot to learn from him–about history, about philosophy of life, about making and recovering from mistakes, and most of all about God.

I’ve begun by saying he’s a foundational character. Let’s demonstrate that.

He is, of course, an Old Testament character, whose entire life narrative is in the first book of the Bible; but as a measure of his long-term significance, I’d like to survey what the New Testament says about him.

He’s mentioned in all four Gospels, Acts, Paul, Peter, James, and Hebrews.

He’s identified as the start of God’s covenant with Israel (Lk 1.55; He 6.13-15); first-century Jews are called “sons” or “daughters’ of Abraham (Lk 13.16; 19.9; Ac 13.26; Ro 11.1; 2Co 11.22; He 2.16). He permeates Stephen’s sermonic history of the nation (Ac 7.2, 8, 16, 32). He is called the father of Israel’s great hope, the Messiah (Mt 1.1-2, 17; Lk 3.34), and he is said to point to that same Messiah; Jesus states that directly (Jn 8.52-58), and Peter emphasizes it as he introduces the New Covenant at Pentecost (Ac 3.13-25). He represents the Levitical priesthood, which of course is descended from his great-grandson, and which Christ, as a priest after the order of Melchizedek, supersedes (He 7.1-9).

His relationship with God is exemplary for all believers; he comes to God by faith, not works (Ro 4.1-16; Ga 3.6-18; He 11.8-17; Jam 2.21-23), thereby rendering physical descent relatively unimportant (Mt 3.9; Lk 3.8; Jn 8.33-40; Ro 9.7; Ga 4.22). Consequently, he represents all who come to God (Mt 8.11; Lk 13.28; Lk 16.23-30).

We can organize Abraham’s life into several stages. When we meet him, he is a Mesopotamian, apparently an idol worshiper (Jos 24.15), whom God calls to “a land that I will show you” (Gen 12.1). We might call this stage The Call (Ge 12-14).

The lengthiest stage begins with a divine covenant (ch 15), which Abram (as he’s called at the time) misguidedly tries to assist by having a son through his wife’s servant (ch 16). After a formal initiation through circumcision (ch 17), the covenant is fulfilled in the birth and preservation of Isaac (ch 18-22). We’ll call this stage, obviously, The Covenant.

Finally, there’s a denouement: he acquires a burial place (ch 23), acquires a wife for Isaac in Rebekah (ch 24), and sees his family tree greatly expanded (ch 25). All of this assures us that God’s covenant promises for him will be fulfilled.

He will show us a typical man, a sinner, inclined to fail despite his many strengths and advantages. But in the end he is characterized by a single simple trait: faith.

He believed. As can we, as human and messy as we are.

Next time: Call and Response.

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Do Justly | Part 3: Love Mercy

Finally, Paul says, Walk humbly with God. There are actually two ways we think of walking. One is with the emphasis on where you’re going, and the other is with the emphasis on whom you’re with. The destination, or the journey. Let me illustrate.

You get into a crowded elevator. What happens the instant the door closes? Everybody turns around and faces the doors. And they probably stand with their hands folded in front of them, and they stare at something. What do they stare at? They stare at that little thing over the door that tells you what floor you’re on. They watch the numbers go up or down, and you would think that there was never anything so interesting in all the world to all those people on the elevator. They’re staring there: four … three … two …. What is so interesting about that? Why are they so focused on something so thoroughly predictable?

They’re staring because they don’t want to interact with anybody else on the elevator. They all feel very uncomfortable. Why? Because a trip on an elevator is not about fellowship along the way. It’s about getting from here to there. I want to get from the sixth floor to the first floor. I don’t care who else is on the elevator, and I’m not going to talk to him. There’s something about elevators that makes us all snobs.

Everybody’s that way in an elevator. As a matter of fact, if you do talk to somebody in an elevator, they start wondering. I saw on the internet one time a list of interesting things to do in an elevator. One of them was get on with a cooler, and on the side of it a little sign that says “human head,” and then just stand there. Or turn to the person right next to you and say, “I washed my socks yesterday!” And they wonder, what’s wrong with this guy? Why? Because a trip on an elevator is all about the destination. It’s not about who you’re with along the way.

But there’s another kind of trip. There’s another kind of walking.

When my wife and I were dating, sometimes we would go for walks. I would say to my then-girlfriend, “Do you want to go for a walk?” And she never said to me, “Where are we going?” Because when you’re going for a walk with someone you love, you don’t care where you’re going. It’s not about going anywhere; you’re going to end up right back where you started, except more in love than ever before. Going for a walk is about spending time with the person.

The night we got engaged, I took her out to a fancy restaurant and a nice couple next to us had a little baby and was kind enough to let us hear the baby cry all through the meal. Such a cute baby. After the meal I had the ring in my pocket, and I said, “You want to go for a walk?”

And she said, “You know, honest to goodness, I’m really tired. And I have kind of a headache. And I think I’ll just turn in early tonight.” She doesn’t understand what’s happening. And I said, “We’re going for a walk!” Got the ring in my pocket. And so we went for a walk. And later, she was glad that we went for a walk. And it’s become kind of a little story we tell about how she almost didn’t get married because she would rather take a nap.

But, you know, going for a walk is not about what floor you’re headed for. Going for a walk is about the person you’re with.

Now, every morning the God of heaven comes to you and he says, “Do you want to go for a walk?”

And almost without fail, we say to him, “Well, this isn’t really a good time. I got so much to do. I got to be in class at 7:30. And then there’s other things I have to do,” and it’s so busy, and you get to the end of the day, and you haven’t spent time in his Word, and you haven’t prayed. Oh, who has time to pray? And at the end of the day, God goes home alone.

And the next morning, he comes to us again, and he says, “You want to go for a walk?” And maybe you step back, and ask, “Where are you taking me?! Is this gonna hurt?”

And what does it do to his heart? What does it say about our priorities when we say, “Maybe another time”?

Do justly. Love mercy. Walk with God.

It’s not legalism to be really serious about doing these things. And deciding not to do these things deprives us of innumerable blessings.

These days a lot of people are angry, and afraid, and depressed.

Might this have something to do with that? Maybe?

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Accessing the Enablement | Part 3: The Offices | Part 4: The Qualities | Part 5: Case Studies | Part 6: Contentment | Part 7: Loyalty | Part 8: Commitment | Part 9: Endurance | Part 10: Summary

In Part 9 of this series I raised the issue of the outcome of Paul’s hearing before Caesar after the end of the book of Acts. As promised, I’m going to take this post to lay out my thinking on that question.

We know that every Roman citizen–and Paul was one (Ac 22.28)–had the right to appeal directly to Caesar for justice. Paul did that when he saw that he was not going to get a fair trial in Judea (Ac 25.11).

Now, Caesar is a Very Busy Man, and one who holds the imperium, and with it the absolute power of life and death. You don’t demand his time unless you’re pretty sure you have a case. As a lifelong citizen, Paul knew how the system worked, and he was no idiot. He had a good case.

But there’s considerably more evidence than this.

While he is under house arrest in Rome, awaiting the hearing of his appeal (Ac 28.30), he wrote the four “prison epistles” (Philemon, Colossians, Ephesians, and Philippians, probably in that order). In those epistles he expresses optimism about his prognosis; he makes plans to visit Philemon after his release (Phm 22) and to visit Philippi (Php 1.25; 2.24). These comments likely came toward the beginning and then toward the end of his two-year imprisonment, respectively; his outlook was likely consistent throughout, despite the delay.

Throughout the arrest process, the Roman officials consistently see no merit in the charge by the Jewish leaders. The arresting officer, Claudius Lysias, told the procurator, Felix, that Paul was not “worthy of death or [even] bonds” (Ac 23.29). Felix kept him in bonds, but apparently only in hopes of receiving a bribe (Ac 24.26), and Festus, his successor, expressed puzzlement as to how he was to explain to Caesar any sensible reason for Paul’s initial arrest (Ac 25.13-21).

While it’s true that Caesar–Nero–famously went cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs and initiated a violent and broad persecution of Christians, that came later, apparently when he needed to find someone to blame for his inept handling of–his “fiddling” during–the burning of Rome in AD 64. Paul’s appeal came to him four years before that. In fact, about that time–AD 60–there was a release of a group of Jewish priests under Nero (cf. Josephus, Vita, paragraph 3; Schaff, History of the Christian Church, 1.33.6).

As we’ve noted already, 2 Timothy 4.16-17 sounds very much like a recounting of his appeal hearing and acquittal. Given the evidence already cited, it’s hard for me to believe that the hearing took more than about 15 minutes. We know that earlier, in Corinth, the procurator Gallio had dismissed a similar charge against Paul without even hearing his defense (Ac 18.12-17). There’s hardly any greater way for a judge to indicate the weakness of a plaintiff’s case than that.

Finally, there’s a broad and consistent tradition in the church fathers that Paul traveled to and preached in Spain, a significant event that is completely unaccounted for in Acts:

• Clement of Rome (AD 80-140) writes that Paul “reached the farthest bounds of the West,” or Gibraltar (1Cl 5.6);
• the Muratonian Canon (AD 170-200) notes that Luke omitted “the journey of Paul, when he went from the city (Rome) to Spain” (MC 37);
• Eusebius (AD 263-339), the “father of church history,” writes, “After he had made his defense it is said that the apostle was sent again upon the ministry of preaching, and that upon coming to the same city a second time he suffered martyrdom” (Eccles. Hist. 2.22.2);
• Cyril of Jerusalem (AD 318-386) writes that Paul “carried the earnestness of his preaching as far as Spain” (Catechism 17.26);
• Chrysostom (AD 347-407) preached, “After he had been in Rome, he returned to Spain” (Homily X on 2 Timothy 4.9-13, verse 20).

Parallel to this evidence regarding a Spain journey are several references in the Pastorals, which I think were written after Nero released him, that describe him going places and doing things that are also not accounted for in Acts: Paul’s traveling from Ephesus to Macedonia without Timothy (1Ti 1.3); his leaving Titus in Crete (Ti 1.5); wintering at Nicopolis (Ti 3.12); leaving Trophimus sick at Miletus (2Ti 4.20).

I should note that I am indebted to the research of Otto F. Meinardus in The Biblical Archaeologist (June 1978) for much of the information about patristic references to Paul’s travel to Spain. The link is behind a paywall, but a library with a subscription to JSTOR will have access.

Further, Leon Morris has a good summary of these arguments in his Introduction to the New Testament .

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Part 1 

I’ve given one example of an OT prophet who didn’t understand the message he was given to deliver, and I’ve suggested a couple more possible examples. I don’t know whether you noticed or not, but none of those examples involved a prophet who was puzzled over the specific idea that Peter says puzzled multiple OT prophets. 

And what’s that? It was a twofold question: “searching what, or what manner of time” (1P 1.11)—that is, what’s going to happen, and when is it going to happen? And the “it,” in this case, is a very specific event: 

• The Christ (Messiah, “Anointed One”) will suffer, 

• And then he will reign in glory. 

How can that happen? 

I suspect that their understanding was clouded by a related issue. It appears to me that the Jews—both before and during Jesus’ day—were expecting four different “coming ones”: 

• The prophet like Moses (Dt 18.15); 

• David’s eternally reigning Son, the Messiah (2Sa 7.16); 

• The Servant of the Lord (Is 42, 49, 50, 52, 53); 

• And Elijah (Mal 4.5-6). 

They didn’t seem to understand that three of these four are the same person, as evidenced by the people’s questions of John the Baptist (Jn 1.20-21). 

The prophecies are very clear that the Servant of the Lord will suffer (esp. Is 52.13-53.12) and that David’s greater son will rule forever (2Sa 7.16). But those two are the same person, and apparently the prophets themselves didn’t understand that. 

• This coming one would be despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief (Is 53.3);  

• He will bear our griefs, and carry our sorrows (4); 

• He will be wounded for our transgressions, bruised for our iniquities—and with his stripes we will be healed (5); 

• The Lord will lay on him the iniquity of us all (6); 

• He will be brought as a lamb to the slaughter (7);  

• He will be cut off out of the land of the living, for the transgressions of Isaiah’s people (8).  

• And yes, he will make his grave with both the wicked and the rich (9); 

• The Lord will make his soul an offering for sin (10); 

• He will pour out his soul unto death, and make intercession for the transgressors, and bear the sin of many. 

And then, and only then, he will see his seed, and prolong his days, and the pleasure of the Lord will prosper in his hand. 

Why Peter Says It 

Now. 

Why does Peter bring this up? What’s his point, in this context? What does this have to do with our suffering? 

I can’t read Peter’s mind, but let me hazard a suggestion. 

Peter’s writing about the confident hope we have in suffering. But how can we have a confident hope when we just don’t understand why stuff happens to us the way that it does?  

First, we have the example of the prophets, who didn’t understand—for the rest of their lives—and they believed anyway.  

• Doesn’t it make sense that an infinite, ineffable God would occasionally do some things that are beyond our intellectual reach? What kind of a God would it be who did only things that our finite minds can understand?  

• Doesn’t our confidence increase when we realize that our failure to understand isn’t evidence that anything is wrong with God’s plan?  

Further, we have the historical example. Unlike the prophets, we have the benefit of hindsight: we have seen their prophecies fulfilled, even though they sometimes didn’t have the foggiest notion of what they were talking about. We know how the Servant could make his grave with both the wicked and the rich.  

What about those prophecies yet unfulfilled—the ones we still don’t understand?  

Do you think this God will fulfill those promises too?  

I do.  

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