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Texts: Genesis 16:1-15, 21:1-19 W 4th
Lent Midweek The Fruit of Two Trees, Part II In the name
of him who sees and hears us in all our times of want and need, dear friends in
Christ: We have, in our Lenten
meditations, been reflecting upon the two the fundamentally different ways the
Bible presents for people to approach God and carry on a relationship with
him. One of these ways is according to
the Law, which describes what man’s obligations toward God are. Its focus is on human work and effort. And if the Law were kept perfectly, whole and
undefiled, well, then a person would have a proper relationship with the
Lord. But if the Law is not kept
perfectly, then it can only condemn a person for his failure to obey. It is powerless to restore a relationship
with God that is broken by sin. After
sin, the Law’s only power is to bring death.
Because of that, we can thank the Lord that he has provided sinners like
us another way to approach him; namely the Gospel. It describes what God does for man without
condition, without obligation, and without any inherent worthiness on our
part. The Gospel is God’s work for us
done only out of his own goodness, grace, and longsuffering love. And the Gospel can and does fix what’s
broken: through it sin is forgiven,
relationships are repaired, and life is restored. And thus far we have seen how
these two different approaches have been set before us even from the very
beginning of the Scripture in the stories of the two trees in the Garden of
Eden, in the sacrifices offered by the two brothers Cain and Able, and last
week in the story of what happened some time after the flood when Noah had a
little too much wine to drink. And by
now it should be evident that another consistent theme is developing: that is, we naturally favor the Law. When given a choice between the two
approaches for relating to the Lord, people will select the Law just about
every time – even though it always only brings them trouble, condemnation, and
death. Adam and Eve literally
picked Law over Gospel right off the tree, and so did Cain – that’s how he
wanted to approach the Lord. And last
week we saw that people naturally want to deal with one another according to
the Law as well. When Noah fell into a
sinful and shameful situation, there was somebody standing by ready to point
out his disgrace, ridicule him, and spread the news of it around. That’s almost always the case because at
heart we all love the law and want to justify ourselves according to it – and
that’s easier when we can point at someone else’s failures and say, “Well at
least I’m better than him.” But we also
saw that others dealt with Noah according to the Gospel. They intervened to end Noah’s disgrace and
cover his shame; showing that those who live by the Gospel want to extend it to
others. This
evening’s Scripture selections continue to shed more light on the tension
between Law and Gospel in the life of a believer; and how they each have a
place – and how they need to be kept in their proper places. God called
Abraham when he was seventy-five years old.
And this is pure Gospel. Abraham
was idol-worshipping pagan; but the Lord chose him and called him, the Lord
reveled himself to him, and he gave Abraham a number of gracious promises. Specifically, the Lord told him that he was
going to make a great nation of his descendants, and give them a good and
spacious land as their lasting inheritance.
More importantly, the Lord promised Abraham that he would bring the
Savior into this world through him. And
by the power of the Spirit, Abraham believed the Lord’s promises. Acting only on trust in what God told him,
Abraham got Sarah his wife, gathered their belongings, and stepped out in faith
to travel to the Promised Land. He was very pleased with what he found when he got there. It was everything he had been told and more. And the Lord had him walk the length and breadth of it to inspect it. It was splendid. And the Lord told Abraham, “All this I am going to give to you and your descendants.” What was Abraham’s’ part? Only to trust in what God had said. And he did – at least at first. He set up his tent in a nice spot, got himself comfortable … and he waited. For ten long years he waited … and the longer he waited, the more anxious and worried he became. God had promised this land to him and his descendants – but at present, it was full of other people – people who owned the land and who weren’t particularly willing to give Abraham even a piece of it. But the biggest problem, as you probably know, was that Abraham didn’t have any descendants to inherit the land – not even one. “Now, how in the world is the Lord going to give all this to me and my descendants – not to mention bring the Savior of the world through my line – if I don’t have any children?” Time was running out. Abraham was now eighty-five. That was old in his day. And his wife Sarah, at seventy-five had long since passed the years of her fertility – if indeed she had ever been fertile to begin with. Though they’d tried for decades, she’d never shown any signs of beginning a pregnancy much less bringing it to term. But by now her formerly fruitless womb was as good as dead. It came at last to the day when
Abraham, his trust in the promise failing, decided it was time to take matters
into his own hands. He considered a
legal solution to the problem. “If I
don’t have any natural descendants, perhaps the promise might still be
fulfilled if I adopt my head servant.
I’ll make him my son and legal heir.
That’s probably what the Lord wanted me to do all along.” It didn’t make Abraham very happy – he really
had his heart set on having his own child – but it seemed it was not to
be. So with some sadness and
frustration, and no doubt feeling a bit cheated, he began to make the arrangements. That’s when the Lord came calling. “What are you doing, Abraham?” “I’m helping to fulfill the promise you gave
me, Lord. I figured somebody
should be working on it. Thanks for
asking.” “Abraham, I told you that the
promise was for you and your descendants – your natural
descendants. You are going to have a
child of your own. This is my work, not
yours. Trust me. I’ll take care of it.” Abraham was overjoyed with this
news. He believed it and shared it with
his wife Sarah. And I imagine that she
must have been pleased – for him, anyway; but internally she was probably
heartbroken. “Yes”, she thinks, “he
can still father a child – but not by me.”
To make the promise come true for him, she concludes that she must share
her husband with another. It happened
that by law and common custom of the day, a childless woman of substance could
have a child by proxy through one of her servant girls. And Sarah just happens to be in the
possession of an Egyptian maiden named Hagar who is youthful, and pretty, and
apparently quite fertile … and how it must have pained Sarah to offer her to
her husband in her own place. But
because she loves him she makes this sacrifice.
And I suppose she has to
make the offer because he loves her too much to ask – but the fact that he so
readily agrees seems to indicate that it’s more or less what he had in mind to
begin with. But now, stepping out of the story
for some theological analysis, we need to see that the two women represent the
two approaches to God: Law and
Gospel. In Sarah we see the covenant of
the Gospel. It’s the original,
longstanding covenant of love and commitment.
And we know too that ultimately she will conceive and bear a child – but
only through God’s work – and only after he brings to life that which is
“dead”: the couple’s natural ability to
produce offspring. Hagar, on the other
hand, is the Law. In her we see what people
are able to do with their own abilities.
And it’s no coincidence that Hagar is the servant of Sarah: that’s the proper place for the Law. It’s supposed to serve the Gospel by showing
us our sin and the futility of attempting to approach the Lord by the Law. It’s meant to show us that we need a
different solution – a better solution that does not rely on what we do –
because what we do will never be good enough or acceptable to God. And in that way Law is supposed to lead us to
the Gospel – what God does for us without our help or involvement. All we do is trust in what God has said he
will do. The problem comes when this trust
is put to the test of time. We don’t
like having to wait. We want rapid
results and quick fixes – we want to see, not have faith in the unseen. And rather than continue to wait and trust in
hope, especially when it doesn’t look like there’s any possible way for God to
do what he promised, it’s so tempting to think, “Well, maybe the Lord wants me
to do my part. Surely there’s something
I can do to speed things up and make the promise come true.” But you see it’s at that point when trust in
God and Gospel has failed. Faith is
being placed instead on human effort – on Law.
That’s what Abraham does when he takes Hagar to mother his child – he’s
trusting in the couple’s own natural abilities to produce an heir. And as soon as he does, sure enough, he gets
results: Hagar conceives. The Law always does – but it’s the fruit of
the wrong tree, so to speak.
Nevertheless it looks to Abraham as if the promise of God is coming true
– all thanks to his clever plan and participation. And see what happens
immediately: as soon as she conceives,
Hagar the slave girl begins taking on airs.
She no longer wants to submit herself to Sarah, as she should. “After all”, she thinks, “I’m the fruitful
one. I’m the mother of the child of
promise. I can do what Sarah can’t – so
why should I listen to her? And Abraham
won’t do anything to me because he wants to protect his child.” This is the way it happens, when we turn to Law
for results: we get them – but then Law
wants to move out of it’s place as the Gospel’s servant. It wants supremacy for itself. And though the Gospel tries to force it back
to its proper place, it’s too late. Pandora’s
Box has been opened. It’s like trying to
put toothpaste back into the tube. Soon
Law is off and running on its own. Like
the child that is the fruit of her womb, when the Law produces results she is
as stubborn and uncontrollable as a wild donkey, set against every man, and
living in hostility toward all. It takes
the Lord’s own intervention to get her back under control and send her back to
her proper place as the servant of the Gospel. Let me apply this in practical
terms to make it clearer. This is just
one of thousands of possible illustrations.
But suppose a church decides it wants to raise money for a particular
mission project. Week after week the
pastor encourages the congregation to give by preaching the Gospel and telling
them of the privilege they now have to share the saving word they have received
with others. But the results are always
minimal: just a couple of bucks and some
loose change. So, in frustration, the
pastor decides to turn up the heat and apply the Law. The next Sunday he preaches a scathing
message about the luxuries we all enjoy, the terrible waste we make of our
resources, the poor souls going to hell every day because you failed to
contribute, how that other smaller church down the road has given so much more,
and how the Lord will certainly reward those who give generously. All Law and not a word of Gospel. But guess what? It works (or at least it seems to). This time the mission offering is
substantial. So what’s he going to do
next time he wants results of any kind?
Suppose he wants to improve attendance at church, or get his members to
spend more time in Bible study and prayer, or just to get them to live more
godly and righteous lives – all things we would admit are good goals. There’s nothing wrong with the
intentions. But to get results, he will
use the Law. But to use the Law to
produce results is to shake the fruit off the wrong tree. The fruit of the Law can only bring
death. What this pastor and congregation
fail to understand is that the Lord can do a whole lot more with a couple of
bucks and some loose change given in love for the Gospel’s sake than people can
do with a hundred million dollars given under the Law’s motivations. As the Lord directed, Hagar
returned to Sarah and Abraham, and she gave birth to her son Ishmael. He was the delight of Abraham’s life. And that makes sense because not only was he
Abraham’s son, he was his proudest achievement – his part of making the promise
of God come true. But then some fourteen
years later the Lord returned to Abraham.
He said that now at last he was going to fulfill his word and give
Abraham the son he had promised. “I’ve
already got it covered,” Abraham said, “Here’s my boy Ishmael: he’ll be a man soon.” But the Lord told him, “No, not him. Your wife Sarah will bear you a child. He’s the one through whom I fulfill the
promise I made to you. Remember? This is my work, not yours. You are to trust in what I say and in not
what you do.” This time
Abraham fell down laughing. He thought
it was a big joke. He couldn’t imagine
how the Lord planned to make him a father at 99 years of age. Sarah, now 89, also laughed when she heard
the news. They just couldn’t believe
it. But it was one year later that they
were laughing again – this time not in unbelief and scorn, but for joy in what
God had done for them. They even named
the child Isaac, which means “he laughs” – and I can’t help but think the
reference is to God who laughs both at the foolishness of his people, and for
joy in what he does for them. But all is not well in Abraham’s
home. There’s growing tension between
Sarah and Hagar and their respective sons – the fruit of the two trees, as it
were. Abraham is trying to live at peace
with both under the same roof; but it just won’t work. It comes to a head at the festival
celebrating Isaac’s weaning, which in that culture would have taken place
somewhere between his second and third year.
So by now, Ishmael is about seventeen.
He’s just reaching the strength of manhood—and he is incredibly jealous
of his toddler half brother who seems to be getting all the attention that was
once his. We’re told that he mocked
Isaac – and the idea there is that he’s belittling him and showing contempt for
what he thinks of his rival. And what
we’ve got going on here is the child or fruit of the Law laughing at the fruit
of the Gospel that seems so small and insignificant by comparison. It’s the hundred million dollars making fun
of the two dollars and change. Sarah
(the Gospel) sees this and realizes that it can’t be allowed to go on. She tells Abraham that it’s time to send
Hagar and her son packing – they can be no part of the inheritance God has
planned for Isaac and those who like him are given birth by the Lord according
to his promise. This breaks Abraham’s heart. He loves Ishmael. He’s his son – and what’s more (and
theologically significant for us) he’s the living symbol of Abraham’s own
strength and manhood. He is the fruit of
Abraham’s best intentions and efforts to please God by his own power. He’s so proud of him. He doesn’t want to let him go. But the Lord tells Abraham to listen to his
wife. She’s right: the Law and its fruit, even the best works of
man, can never be part of the inheritance the Lord has planned for his faithful
people. That comes only by the Lord’s
work – the fruit of the Gospel – which ultimately is Jesus Christ and him
crucified. The inheritance goes to not
to those who work; but to those who with simple faith trust in him. Abraham can’t have it both ways. And the point of the story is that neither
can we. The Law has its place: it’s to serve the Gospel of Jesus Christ by
leading us to it – and there its work ends.
If due to our impatience or lack of faith it is used improperly or for
other purposes it will get out of hand.
And if that happens, the only solution will be to cast it out along with
its very pleasing but deadly fruit. May
our gracious Father impress this lesson upon us, that we may be faithful to him
and trust in his promises until, in his good time and pleasure, he may bring
them all to fulfillment through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. Soli Deo
Gloria! |