“Been There, Done That?”

Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16

August 12, 2007

St. Paul United Methodist Church

Rev. John A. Fleming

I like the story that Max Lucado tells in his book And the Angels Were Silent about the time that he and his four year old daughter, Andrea, went for a walk. It was common for Max and Andrea to take afternoon walks in their neighborhood, but this time Max wanted to take a different route. Andrea was four and curious, so her dad suggested, “Let’s cover some new ground.”

She smiled and agreed and off they went, striding confidently out of the safe harbor of their cul-de-sac and stepping out into unknown regions a neighborhood or two beyond their own.

Max writes, “Captain Kirk would have been proud.” Do I need to explain that? For those of you who do not know, Captain Kirk was the captain on Star Trek before John Luc Picard and the second generation came around. The theme song during the early days suggested that they would boldly go where no one had gone before!

So the area was brand new to Andrea. Max says that they walked down streets Andrea had never seen. They encountered dogs she had never offered to pet. It was new territory and they were wandering in the wilderness. The yards were different. The landmarks were unusual. The houses were larger. The kids playing in those neighborhoods looked older. Everyone was friendly, but the two Lucados were wanders in a strange land.

Max, of course, wanted to be a good father to his four year old. He wondered if the new surroundings might be bothering Andrea. He thought that the new sights and the new sounds might be generating a little anxiety in his daughter’s soul. So he looked down at her and asked, “Andrea, are you all right?” She looked up at him and with great confidence said, “Sure!” Max was not convinced. He was surprised she was doing so well. He wanted to make sure she understood that she was in unfamiliar territory, so he asked, “Andrea, do you know where we are?” Without even a tint of stress in her voice she answered, “Nope!”

Her father began to think that his little girl wasn’t taking their trek seriously. Obviously she didn’t understand the severity of their situation. He wanted her to and so he pressed her and he asked her, “Andrea, do you know how to get home?” Again she answered boldly and without any stress in her voice, “Nope!’ Her daddy asked and exclaimed all at the same time, “And you’re not worried?” Without slowing her pace, without breaking stride, she reached up and took her daddy’s hand and said, “I don’t have to know how to get home. You already do.”

Both the daddy and the preacher in Max, but mostly the daddy in Max, smiled as they turned and headed towards home. His four year old skipped all the way home.

Our scripture lesson for this morning, in part, is about knowing the way home. The words come from one of the most famous passages in the book that we have come to call Hebrews. There are two passages that are the most famous in this letter. This one and the one right after it. Next week we will look at that passage.

Most preachers and pastors aren’t sure what to do with this book in the Bible. Some say Paul wrote it. Others don’t think so. Some think Hebrews is a letter, others are sure it is a sermon. Some even say that it is a commentary, like the commentaries that can be found in my office and in our church library. I don’t know.

What I do know is that the words were written to a people who were thinking about throwing in the towel and giving up on Jesus. It is as if they are standing at a cross road and facing a can’t turn back decision. All of them were new to Christianity. I am sure of that. They had not been taught by Jesus, but they had been taught by the ones who had been taught by Jesus. And they were thinking about giving up because they were no longer welcome in their beloved Temple. They had no place to worship. Some in their number had been thrown into jail cells for what they believed and they wanted no part of that.

I don’t know. Maybe it was the tug of the old and the fear of the new that kept these people sitting on the fence. My guess is that they were much closer to giving it all up than they were to pressing on. Paul wrote to them or preached to them. He tried his very best to convince them that following Jesus was worth every risk.

Now do me a favor. Put yourselves in Paul’s shoes. If these were your people, if you were in charge of their souls, what would you say to them? Whatever you say, it has to be both powerful and convincing. It has to pull on their heartstrings. It has to encourage them. It has to convince them that while everything around them is coming unglued, and the things they thought were nailed down, aren’t, and that while all hell is breaking loose, God can be trusted.

So what does Paul do? How does he begin? He doesn’t try anything revolutionary or innovative. He begins with a definition, his definition of faith. It’s this one: “No faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” That’s not bad. How do you define faith?

Here is what some other people have said about faith. One preacher writes, “Faith is not being sure where you are going, but going anyway.” Another said, “Faith is a journey without a map.” Still another said, “Faith is not so much something you can get more of. It is something deep inside of you. You’re not really sure that it’s there until you really need it.” Those are good definitions.

A lot of folks say that there is an inward element to faith. It’s something that says that when there are so many things to be unsure of in our lives, the one thing we can be sure of is that God is leading the way. Someone else said that faith is like swinging out on a vine across a deep gorge and trusting that the vine will hold. It has held every time before.” Faith inside trusts and believes in God. It believes the promise that pain and crying and death will be no more.

But there’s also an outward element of faith that tends to ask us to do something. So faith prays boldly for those who mourn. It cares deeply for those who are sad. It works tirelessly for those who are hurt. Inside, faith moves heart. Outside faith moves mountains.

But the truth is that it’s always easy to talk about faith, but it’s a whole lot harder to embrace it. We want to give ourselves over to God, but we’d like to know where our life is headed. We want to know the plan. We’d like to see the schedule. We would like to have a little input. We’d like to be consulted. That’s just not the way it works.

So Paul defines faith, he talks about faith, but he also reminds the Hebrews of the faith of some of their ancestors. I don’t know about you, but it always helps me when I see where some of my family has been. Paul asks Abraham and Sarah to take center stage. Abraham and Sarah, you will remember, set out not knowing where they were going. They were given the promise of descendents long after they were able to have children. And I just have to ask you, “How would you respond if God called you to pack up your stuff and your family and put it all in a U-Haul truck and start driving, not telling you were you were going?” It sounds like being a United Methodist pastor.

Well, there are some great lessons in these verses this morning. I’d like to just give you something to go home with today. First and foremost, I think, we need to be like the apostle Paul writing to the Hebrews. We need to encourage one another.

I still remember the story of the little girl who was struggling one day with learning to ride her bike. Her mom was tired. The girl was doing her best. She looked back at her mom and said, “Courage me, Mama. Courage me!”

Paul says that it is easy for us to give up. He writes, “If they had been thinking of the land that they had left behind, they would have had the opportunity to return.” Giving up is oh so easy.

I remember going to Dallas for seminary. My mom and dad helped me move into campus housing, into Perkins Hall. We picked up the key and moved in. Susie was with us. We unloaded. Susie and I spent some time together and then she went to the hotel. In the morning we ate breakfast and then the three of them left me all alone in Dallas. I was five hours away from anyone I knew. I didn’t know a soul. My roommate was from Calcutta, an engineering student who didn’t speak English.

I don’t know what I was expecting in the first week of classes, but by the end of it I was scared. I had some very smart professors who talked above my head. I was ready to quit. I could have had the car loaded and been out of there in a matter of minutes. I called my dad. My parents have always been wonderful. They’ve always encouraged me to do my best. I talked to my dad about how hard things were. I told him that I wanted to come home and do something else. I didn’t know what that something else was. If there had been even the hint of it being all right for me to come home, I would have. Instead my dad told me I could do it. He reminded me of the things that were deep inside of me.

Paul says three things live in us. Our stained glass windows tell the story of them. They are faith, hope, and love. Sometimes we just need reminding of our inner strength.

Do me a favor. Go back to the story that began our sermon, the one that Max and Andrea. Now do yourself a favor. Reach up and take your Father’s hand and say what Andrea said to her dad. “I’m not sure where I am. I’m not sure which road leads home. But you do and that’s good enough for me.” Let us pray.