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SERMON
Patrick O'Shea had served for twenty years as priest in the Irish parish of Ballybuck. One afternoon the Bishop of West Cork came to Ballybuck to visit his faithful priest. As Father O'Shea walked through the village with the Bishop, he said, "Sure, your eminence, I get great honor as I walk through my parish. Many of the people lift their hats to me as a sign of respect. Some even genuflect. I get nothing but honor. But you know, your grace, I think I'd exchange all of the respect in the world for just one friend."
I believe God feels the same way. Oh, I know the Bible teaches us that God is awesome in majesty and power and that we should approach him with the utmost respect and reverence. But I'm persuaded that the worship in which God delights comes from a friend to a friend. Three times in scripture Abraham is called the "friend of God." For example, in Isaiah 41:8 God himself says, "But you, O Israel, my servant, Jacob, whom I have chosen, you descendants of Abraham my friend…"
Why does God call Abraham his friend? Because of the intimate way Abraham learned to know God - which happened partly because Abraham wasn't too busy to spend time with God. If our lesson from Genesis this morning says nothing else to us, it should at least tell us that God desires to be our friend. And if we are not his friends, it is not God's reluctance or distance that's the problem. It's our sin - or maybe it's our priorities - or the pace of our lives.
One of the great needs of Christians in this day is to learn to "waste time" with God. Yes, prayers offered on the run, especially in a crisis, are valid. They'd better be. But we grow in our faith as we spend time simply being in God's presence, spending time with God without any agenda. That's how we become God's friends - like Abraham - and like Sarah.
Genesis chapter 18 begins with a very homey scene. It's what we might call kitchen sink religion - it's faith in overalls - a combination of grace and groceries. The story centers around three persons. First we see God in disguise, then Abraham in haste, and finally Sarah in doubt. It seems strange to suggest that Abraham and Sarah actually entertained God in human form, but that's how it begins: "The Lord appeared to Abraham near the great trees of Mamre…"
As Abraham was taking a mid-day siesta, three strangers suddenly appeared. And though they probably looked like ordinary travelers, they were immediately extended more than ordinary hospitality - even by Middle Eastern standards. Abraham had either the spiritual awareness or enough previous experience to know that this was a unique encounter. He didn't yet recognize that this was God accompanied by two angels who would then go on to Sodom. But he saw something special, and in response he gave it his personal best. At age 99, in the heat of the day, he ran to attend to them. And even though Sarah had servants, he got her to personally fix them some lunch.
It was a wonderful meal. She served them yogurt (I know it says curds) probably with some dates or figs, a glass of cool milk, tender veal cutlets, and fresh hot bread right out of the oven; served with gracious hospitality. Through the meal Abraham enjoyed their companionship. When the meal was over, the Lord moved to the purpose of the visit. He said to Abraham, "Where is your wife Sarah?" Abraham replied, "There in the tent." Then, in a voice loud enough for her to hear, the Lord said, "By this time next year your wife will have a son."
What a way to repay their hospitality! The promise could hardly have been more specific. Abraham and Sarah didn't have many needs. But one thing I'm sure was constantly on their minds. They had no child of their own. This was the news they most wanted to hear and believe. And as with the best of friends, God is ready and willing to meet our deepest needs, our dearest desires. But as we will see, God expects us to be honest with him, because that is also part of being God's friend.
Sarah was in the tent, listening to the conversation. In that culture, at that time, that was her place. But she was close enough to catch the promise of a son. (The Lord made sure she overheard it.) The narrator underscores the obvious in telling us that Sarah was "past the age of childbearing." And so, understandably, when she overheard the promise of a son within the year, Sarah laughed to herself as she thought, "After I am worn out and my master is old, will I now have this pleasure?"
Sarah's laughter here was different from the laughter of Abraham in the previous chapter. His was the laughter of wonder mixed with growing belief. Sarah's laughter, however, was clearly an expression of disbelief. Of course, Abraham had the advantage of having heard God repeatedly reinforce his promise. But Sarah certainly knew about it. So even if she didn't realize the identity of this stranger who had predicted her delivery date, her disbelieving laughter was still inappropriate, if not inexcusable. To laugh as she did was to say in effect, "Yeah, right! I've heard that one before."
But then, even though it says that Sarah had stifled her laughter, the Lord turned to Abraham and, again in a voice loud enough for Sarah to hear, he asked, "Why did Sarah laugh? … Is anything too hard for the Lord?" Having been caught red-handed with what she thought she had done in secret, Sarah did what most of us would be tempted to do. She was so afraid that she blurted out, "I didn't laugh." The Lord's reply was as crushing as it was simple: "Yes, you did laugh." You know it - I know it - and you know I know it.
Why did God respond to Sarah that way? Why didn't he just say,
"Whatever"? The answer is that he had to do it for her sake. He had to force the issue if Sarah was to become the whole and happy person God intended her to be. In her culture Sarah may have belonged in the tent, but to God she belonged at his side. But God needs the truth from us in order to heal us and seal his friendship with us. Now, I doubt Sarah felt like God was being much of a friend at that point. Later, however, she would come to cherish what God had done for her in being honest with her, even though it must have hurt at the time.
Although Sarah's laughter that day was cynical and unbelieving, God loved her enough to force her to be honest with him. God could have said, "Well, if you don't choose to believe me, we'll just cancel the promise. I'll establish the Redeemer's line through someone else." But the Lord didn't do that. Sarah's unbelief at that point didn't overturn his covenant promise. Instead God gave Sarah's faith room to grow.
But not until the New Testament letter to the Hebrews was written did Sarah finally get proper recognition. Hebrews 11:11 says: "By faith even Sarah herself received ability to conceive, even beyond the proper time of life, since she considered Him faithful who had promised…"
Now, what do you suppose turned the laughing, lying, cynical Sarah of Genesis 18 into the woman of faith Sarah described in Hebrews 11? The author of Genesis doesn't tell us. But my best guess is that, after the visitors left, Sarah must have thought long and hard about what she had heard. The words echoed in her heart - especially the question: "Is there anything too hard for the Lord?" That is one question with which we all need to come to terms.
Now, keep in mind that, in these last encounters with Abraham and Sarah, this unknown God gave himself a peculiar name. Melchizedek, the priest of Salem who blessed Abram, knew this God only as El-Elyon ("God most high" - chief god of the Canaanite pantheon). Hagar called him El-Roi ("the God who sees me"). But here God introduces himself as El Shaddai ("God Almighty" - the God who can do anything).
As Sarah thought about this God, she began to feel the full force of that question: "Is there anything too difficult for the Lord?" And as she began to look beyond the contrary facts of her barren life, beyond the contrary feelings of her barren heart, I think she must have come to a place of acceptance. I think there came a point at which she said, "Well, of course, nothing is too difficult for God. God can do anything." And as it says in Hebrews 11: "By faith Sarah received ability to conceive, even beyond the proper time of life, since she considered Him faithful who had promised…"
So Sarah took God at his word and as a result, she was given a son. She named him Isaac. That's interesting, because the name Isaac means "laughter." But wasn't laughter the problem? Well, it was the problem in Genesis 18 where it was the cynical laughter of unbelief. But Genesis 18 wasn't Sarah's last laugh - or her best. In chapter 21 where we find the account of Isaac's birth, Sarah says, "God has brought me laughter, and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me."
Was that the laughter of unbelief? Not at all! When Sarah set her attention on the all-sufficient God and not on herself or on others, she received the promise and began to walk in the freedom of laughter. She found herself laughing at her own earlier laughter. I can imagine her saying, "God, I was such a dope!" Sarah had once laughed in unbelief; but God had the final word. And he turned her unbelieving laughter into the kind of joyous and grateful laughter that honors God.
And because you and I know the promises of God, we can know that kind of laughter in our relationship with him as well. It begins with the promise of new life in Jesus; and it grows as we grow in him. The more we learn to recognize God's voice and believe in his promises, the more we can learn to laugh at our own "barrenness." And as we choose to take our eyes off ourselves and look to him, we grow in joy.
If you want to do a wonderful word study, take your Bible and a good concordance and look up the words, "but God…" See how many times human resources are exhausted, despair grips the heart, pessimism and gloom settle in on people who realize that there's not a blessed thing they can do about their circumstances. Then watch the Holy Spirit write "but God…" over it all, and the whole situation changes to victory.
Abraham and Sarah, at just the right time, experienced God's great compassion when he gave them the child they had longed for. But you and I have known God's infinitely greater compassion. At just the right time, in the fullness of time, God gave his life for our sake. Jesus put it this way: "Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:13) There is no greater love anywhere, no greater compassion, no greater friendship, than that the Lord Jesus, the Lord of Glory, would die for us, his friends. And the Lord expects of us the same kind of intimate trust and obedience that he expected of Abraham and Sarah. In fact, Jesus went on to say it quite clearly: "You are my friends, if you do what I command." (John 15:14) The Lord expects the same honesty from us that he expected of Sarah. And in return, he gives us himself.
I'm convinced that God wants us to experience the deepest sort of joy and laughter at the center of our lives. But that's only going to happen if he's there. God longs to give us himself, but he loves us too much to force himself on us. By his loving design, it's our choice. We need to welcome him. We need to give him our best. We need to spend time with him. We even need to get off our agendas and schedules and waste time with him. We need to tell him the truth in our hearts. (It's okay; he knows what's in there anyway.) We need to trust his goodness and his promises. Then, like Abraham and Sarah, we will be his friends.
I believe that's what the Lord wants of us. Dare we put into God's mouth the words of Father O'Shea of Ballybuck? "I get great honor as I walk through my church. Many of the people lift their hats to me as a sign of respect. Some even genuflect. I get nothing but honor." But might he also say to us, "I am truly honored by what you do. But I would trade all the distant respect in the world to have you as my friend."
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