“Yahweh, you promised me!” Abram was mad, so mad he was almost yelling. His gray beard was dark from sweat. “You told me to leave my city and my family and come here, and I obeyed you, Lord. I listened to you, and I followed without ever complaining. Not once! And you promised me that you’d give me a son.” Abram balled his hand into a fist and shook it at the roof of his tent. “Well, where is he? I have no children, Yahweh, and I’m too old to even think of having kids now. I’ve been patient and trusting you, but I just can’t see how this is going to work.”
Abram dropped to the cushions on the floor of the tent, hopeless and exhuasted. He wiped his hand over his face, frowning and shaking his head. In the flickering light of the candles, he felt his emotions calming down. He took a deep breath and sighed heavily.
Abram, God’s quiet voice broke the stillness of Abram’s thoughts. Don’t be afraid; I am here, and I am faithful.
“Yahweh, I know,” Abram felt a mix of emotions running through his heart, hope that God still considered Abram a friend, joy that God had not given up his promise, discouragement that God spoke the same thing yesterday and nothing had changed, hope that things might change tomorrow… He felt tears well up in his eyes as he continued, “Yahweh, you’ve said that many times, but still I don’t have an heir. When I die, my servant Eliezer will end up with all I have, and with everything that you give me. God, I’m old, and I don’t have much time left…”
In the stillness of the tent, Abram heard God’s all-familiar response: I will give you a son, Abram. Eliezer will not be your heir.
Come outside, Abram.
That was new. Abram was certain, though, that he had heard God say it. His curiosity aroused, he stood, hearing his joints crack as he rose from the pillows. His old bones weren’t what they used to be. As he approached the tent door, Abram’s hand reached for the oil lamp , but at the last minute he decided not to take it with him.
Outside, the cold desert air snapped his senses awake. It was dark, with no moon, and quiet. Abram stood just outside his tent door, his heart beginning to beat faster. There was something in the atmosphere that made the stillness feel almost otherworldly, like he was on an entirely different plane of existence. It was as if he was in the very presence of God. Abram slowly walked forward through the dark, being careful not to disturb the silence.
Look at the stars.
Abram wasn’t sure if the thought had been his or God’s, but he looked up anyhow. The entire sky was blanketed with stars from horizon to horizon. No clouds covered their light, and no moon hid their splendor. Abram’s eyes walked back and forth, moving from one familiar star formation to another, recalling names as he did so. There was the Hunter, the Great Serpent, the Three Sisters… In the darkness, as his eyes grew accustomed to the light, more stars began to appear as if from nowhere. Unfamiliar stars came into his sight, stars that he was certain he had never before noticed in all his years of gazing on the night sky. Some stars flickered a faint yellow, others were almost red, and still others appeared as blue pin pricks of fire.
Your descendants will outnumber these stars.
His heart skipped a beat.
Try to count them, if you can.
In the stillness of the night, in the quietness of his own heart, Abram suddenly stopped worrying and wondering. He found himself instead simply trusting.
In the silence he slowly breathed out a long sigh of relief.
Tags: Abraham, Abram, faith, faithfulness, Genesis, Old Testament, worry
