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Post by Admin on Aug 31, 2023 11:56:37 GMT -5
The Legacy of Faith (11:1-12:29)
The Hebrews writer believed that persevering faith was the answer to every challenge
confronting his readers. They shared many hardships and afflictions in common, while each one
also faced his own internal and external struggles. But whatever threatened them and their wellbeing, the one remedy was to hold tightly to the One they’d come to believe in and embrace as
Israel’s Messiah. This wouldn’t deliver them from their difficulties; to the contrary, it almost
certainly would intensify them. On the other hand, departing from Jesus would relieve their
persecution and suffering, but it wouldn’t give them peace. For they’d be departing from their
God, not returning to Him as their Jewish countrymen were insisting.
Even more, they’d be renouncing their own heritage as Abraham’s covenant children. Leaving
Jesus wouldn’t return them to the household of Israel, but set them against it. For the true
children of Abraham were those Israelites who lived in the light of the covenant and its promises,
the promises that all looked to the Messiah and were now fulfilled in Jesus of Nazareth.
Abraham lived according to the righteousness of faith in the God who promised (ref. Genesis
15:1-6), and so it was with his offspring who could legitimately claim him as their father
(Romans 4:1-17). The faithful in Israel were the true children of the covenant, and so also the
children of the covenant God. And so it was for these Hebrews: If they really wanted to claim
their place alongside their forefathers as Abraham’s offspring, they needed to own Abraham’s
faith. Thus the writer punctuated his exhortation to persevere in faith by reminding his readers
that this path set them squarely in their heritage as Yahweh’s people; indeed, all those whom
they revered as Israel’s heroes had walked this same path before them.
A. The Cloud of Witnesses (11:1-40)
1. The writer prepared a sweeping summary of the faithful across Israel’s history, but before
he presented it he wanted to properly frame their faithfulness by clarifying the concept of
faith. For, without a right understanding of faith itself, his readers would surely misjudge
the faithfulness of their forefathers, and so assign to them a virtue and commendation
with God that is foreign to that which they actually enjoyed. His approach was threefold:
First, he provided a concise summary of faith’s nature and essential working (11:1);
second, he ascribed that sort of faith to the faithful of Israel’s past (11:2); finally, he
exemplified the operation of faith by showing how it appraises the created order (11:3).
a. The writer’s summary of faith consists of two parts. The first (11:1a) focuses on
the relationship between faith and God’s purposes. Specifically, faith draws the
future into the present. In the author’s words, faith gives substance to that which
is hoped for. That is to say, it effectively draws into the present what is to be
realized in the future. This underscores the crucial truth that faith pertains to what
God has ordained and promised, not a person’s own wishes and hopes. For this
reason, faith looks backward as well as forward: It binds itself to God’s integrity
and faithfulness to His purposes, so that what is to come stands on the foundation
of what He’s already accomplished. For Israel in the time of preparation, their
experience of God’s faithfulness in working all things according to His will
enabled them to embrace the messianic fulfillment as if it had already occurred.
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The second part, then, speaks to the relationship between faith and God’s veracity
(His integrity and truthfulness) (11:1b). Specifically, faith certifies – authenticates
as true and real – that which isn’t seen; that which isn’t available to the senses.
Faith looks beyond circumstance and appearance to the God who has spoken and
acted, and so lays hold of truth that transcends observation and experience. In this
way, faith operates as a new human faculty that functions beyond the natural
means of human knowledge, i.e., the mind’s processing of information obtained
from the five physical senses. Faith allows a person to perceive what he cannot
with his natural senses, and so affords new capacity of insight and understanding.
At the same time, faith doesn’t bypass or negate the natural faculties, but rather
enables them to accomplish the function for which God created them. Faith
enables sight (natural perception) to become insight, so that “seeing we see, and
perceiving we understand” (Matthew 13:10-16). The implication, then, is that
faith is fundamental to man as truly human – man as divine image-son who sees
with God’s eyes, thinks His thoughts, and judges with His judgment.
b. Put simply, faith enables a person to perceive the truth behind the information that
his physical senses collect and his mind processes. It doesn’t alter facts or the
realities of God’s creation, but it reaches beyond them to discern their meaning,
and therefore their truth. For truth is a matter of function rather than form: The
truth of a thing consists in its conformity to its intended purpose, not the fact of its
existence. From the Scripture’s perspective, truth exists when word and deed
coincide. So God’s words and deeds coincide to perfectly express His being: He is
who He shows Himself to be through what He says and does. Thus the full truth
of God is manifest in the living, speaking and acting person of Jesus the Messiah.
And what is true of God Himself is also true of everything He created. If one
would know the truth of the creation, he must discern the reason for its existence
(function) and not simply its features and properties (form). The Scripture itself
recognizes this, so that its account of creation focuses on God’s purpose in
creating, not the mechanics and processes behind the creation. The truth of the
creation is its why, not its what, when and how, but the “why” lies beyond the
reach of natural human inquiry; it is accessible only to faith, which understands
the creation in terms of God’s revealed purpose and His faithfulness to it.
The created order, then, provides an excellent case study in the relationship
between faith and truth, and the Hebrews writer drew on it in his argument to his
readers (11:3). In doing so, he underscored two particulars already mentioned in
the present treatment. First, faith begins with the God who Himself is truth, and
being the Creator, is the point of reference for discerning the truth of any created
thing. A thing is what God created it to be, highlighting again that truth pertains to
purpose and function. And not as men might perceive them, but as God intended
them. Second, truth is a matter of meaning, and meaning is determined by the
God who created and directs all things according to His purpose. So faith is the
divinely-imparted capacity to discern that meaning; to perceive as God perceives.
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So the writer noted that faith is the faculty by which we discern that “the ages
were prepared by the word of God.” Most English versions substitute worlds or
universe for the noun, ages, but this introduces a different connotation. Those
renderings emphasize the material substance of the creation, suggesting that the
writer’s point was simply that God created the material universe ex nihilo (out of
nothing) by speaking it into existence (v. 3b). This is certainly true, but the wider
context indicates that the writer was making a slightly different point: Again, his
focus wasn’t on how God created, but His purpose in creating. The noun he chose
(“the ages”) conveys this emphasis by connoting origin, development, direction
and destiny – that is, time and space as intentionally dynamic, rather than random
and static. Faith, then, recognizes, not merely the fact and content of the material
universe, but its meaning: where it came from and where it is going.
This, in turn, gives a different sense and significance to the concept of creation by
divine word. Again, where the focus is on the fact of the creation, faith simply
affirms that God created it by the power of His spoken word. But the writer was
saying more than this, evident in his verb choice: God prepared the ages. His
point wasn’t that God used words to create, but that His words made manifest His
intent and scheme for a created order that He would flood with His power, love,
wisdom, and goodness, and that through a particular created being (Genesis 1-2;
cf. the overall theme of Psalm 33; also Psalm 8, 148; Isaiah 42:1-12, 45:12-18).
And this emphasis on purpose shapes the way we understand the writer’s further
statement that “what is observed didn’t originate from what appears” (i.e., from
is apparent to our senses). His point was that observable reality has its source in
something not accessible to our senses. And because truth concerns meaning, and
meaning is found in intended purpose, observation cannot tell us the truth of the
creation. This is precisely the quandary of the “big bang” and the origin of the
universe. Observation traces the universe and its matter and energy back to a
singularity point in time and space, but it cannot reach behind that point to answer
the question of origination. This question is forefront for many people, but faith
recognizes that it isn’t the issue in arriving at truth. What ultimately matters isn’t
the how, or even the who, but the why. Again, this is the perspective on “origins”
assumed by the Genesis creation account, and the truth it endeavors to convey.
c. Faith, then, concerns the God who is, and who speaks and acts according to
purpose and promise. It is a human attribute in the truest sense, for it describes
human perception, understanding, and conviction as they correspond to their
divine counterparts. For this reason, faith has its full expression in the man, Jesus
of Nazareth, but then also in those whose faith is set upon Him as sharers in His
life and mind. Faith has thus attained its destiny in the present “fullness of the
times” (Galatians 3:23-29), but this implies that it was always moving toward this
goal. Faith has always been the mark of human authenticity, which is defined by
right relation with God, since man is image-bearer created to be image-son. Hence
the writer observed that faith attested the “men of old” (literally, the elders),
bearing witness of them in the sense of commending them to God.
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Faith commends human beings to God, not as an alternative to “works,” but
because it denotes human existence in conformity to God’s intent for His human
creature. Faith involves a heart, mind, and will bound over to the truth of the
living God disclosed in His words and deeds. It owns God as true: ever faithful to
His purposes, which have now become yes and amen in the incarnate Son. Jesus
embodies the truth of the God who is faithful, but also the truth of faithful man,
and this is the sense in which He declared that He is the truth.
The writer’s summary of faith is brief and general, and so easily passed over with little
thought or real consideration. But it is profound and critically important, not just to this
Hebrews context, but to every Christian’s understanding and practice as a follower of
Jesus. For many, faith is one of the two alternatives God provided for “getting saved,” but
this notion is a disfigured caricature. Faith isn’t a mechanism for achieving an outcome,
but the essence of what it means to be human. Hence some summary observations:
1) First and foremost, faith is a non-physical faculty that accords with man as divine
image-bearer. It doesn’t supplant the physical faculties of perception and
understanding, but makes them effective as God intends. Faith reaches beyond
data to meaning, and so enables people to discern truth and conform to it,
including the truth of themselves. And because God is the essence and source of
all truth, and He is fully revealed in His Son, faith has Jesus as its focal point.
2) Faith is theological and relational, and therefore christological. It binds a person
to the truth by binding him to the God who is the truth – the God who discloses
and imparts the truth of Himself in Jesus the Messiah. This means that faith is
neither belief in demonstrable truths, nor wishful thinking; both are operations of
the natural mind, and so have nothing to do with faith. Faith is agreement with
God – in mind, heart, and will – that He Himself effects by His Spirit. This has
always been the case, but with Jesus’ triumph, faith is now a christological
phenomenon; it is the pattern of human existence that marks those in Christ.
3) Faith, then, is a state of being, not an action or transactional mechanism.
Therefore, it endures forever as the way in which human beings exist, relate to
God, and fulfill their identity and calling as image-children. This is especially
important, given the common notion of faith as simply the appropriate response to
the fact of Jesus’ atoning death. Again, faith is typically contrasted with “works”
(self-effort toward “righteousness”) as the alternative way in which people can
meet God’s requirement for human beings entering heaven. They either meet that
demand themselves, or accept “by faith” Jesus’ fulfillment of that demand.
4) Finally, faith isn’t counter to reason and deference to facts. It isn’t “checking
one’s brain at the door,” as many people believe, though sadly many Christians
reinforce this idea by the way they relate biblical and extra-biblical truth. There is
a long tradition of using the Bible to vindicate every sort of notion and conviction
(scientific, cultural, etc.), whereas many today separate faith and reason, and so
disallow the Scriptures from speaking to issues pertaining to life in this world.
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Post by Admin on Aug 31, 2023 11:58:07 GMT -5
2. After providing a brief overview of what faith is and how it operates, the writer turned to
specific examples of faithful individuals throughout the salvation history leading up to
Messiah’s coming. And he began at the beginning, citing Abel as his first example,
followed by Enoch (11:4-6). Starting his “roll call” this way makes logical sense, but the
writer’s statement in verse 6 hints at a larger reason for this approach: It suggests his
intent to establish the foundational truth that faith pertains strictly to the living God who
actually is, not information, concepts, theories, or personal notions concerning Him.
Specifically, faith is the essence of an authentic relationship between the Creator God
and the human creatures who share His image and likeness. Starting with Abel and
Enoch, then, suggests several important truths:
1) First, it highlights that faith isn’t dependent on God’s full self-disclosure, a formal
covenant structure, or one’s exhaustive knowledge of Him. Though many argue
that God initiated a “covenant of grace” with Adam at the time of the fall, the
Scripture makes no such claim. God pledged a human “seed” to address the
creational curse (Genesis 3:15), but this is far from a formal covenant, and the text
nowhere refers to this pledge as a covenant. And, while Abel was not far removed
from the pre-fall world and the intimacy his father enjoyed with God, he was born
into the cursed world and the alienation and exile that now defined the
relationship between God and His image-bearers (Genesis 3:22-4:2).
2) Also, these initial examples of faith (Abel and Enoch) possessed no written
revelation of God. Though the exact mode is unclear, the Scripture indicates that
God communicated with Adam and Eve directly. Indeed, in their created state
they had no need of written revelation, because they communed with God
person-to-person. This sort of interaction continued after the Fall, but with a
remoteness and decreasing frequency. Soon, the divine-human relationship
became a matter of mediation through chosen representatives. Moses became
such a one on behalf of Abraham’s covenant offspring, but long before that, God
chose Abraham himself to mediate His relationship with the entire human race
(Genesis 12:1-3). The point, then, is that faith binds men to the living God,
regardless of the means or extent to which He communicates with them.
3) Starting with Abel and Enoch also underscores that faith has been constant and
unchanged from the beginning. This is implied by the fact that faith is the essence
of the divine-human relationship (even for the man Jesus), but the mention of
these two early humans shows that the writer regarded their faith as one and the
same with the faith to which he called his readers (ref. 10:35-39, 11:39-12:2). This
is not to imply, however, that the substance and content of faith hasn’t changed
through the ages; what is unchanged is faith’s essential nature and operation.
This is a crucial distinction that answers the errors regarding faith that exist in the
discontinuity of Dispensationalism and continuity of Covenantalism. It is the
reason why the writer could direct his readers (and himself) to strengthen and
nurture their own faith by drawing on the example of the faithful who preceded
them, even while Paul set “faith” in contrast with “law,” and insisted that faith
didn’t come until Jesus the Messiah came into the world (Galatians 3:23-25).
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4) Lastly, starting his “roll call” with Abel shows that faith has always been the basis
of acceptance with God. Again, this is implied in the fact that faith is the essence
of authentic human relationship with God, but the writer stated it directly by
insisting that “without faith it is impossible to please God” (11:6). What was true
in the first century (ref. again 10:35-39), was also true at the beginning of human
history and in every generation since (11:39-40); all who have gained approval
with God have done so through their faith.
And so the writer began by reminding his readers that the faith of which he has spoken –
the faith to which he has spurred them – is the faith expressed by their faithful fathers.
Though its content has expanded with the progress of revelation and redemptive history,
and its object is now the God who is known in Jesus the Messiah, it is the same faith in
terms of its essence, quality and operation. This faith has always bound men to God.
a. The author’s treatment of Abel’s faith is notably brief, spanning only one verse,
and yet, it is pregnant with meaning and significance. It’s constructed as one
sentence with three parts: the matter that demonstrated Abel’s faith; the
affirmation of his faith; the enduring testimony of his faith.
The matter the writer mentioned is the one the Scripture itself highlights, namely
the episode in which Cain and Abel each brought an offering to God (ref. Genesis
4:1-7). The fact that this episode is the sum total of the Scripture’s treatment of
the two brothers underscores that its significance lay not in the offerings as such
(one acceptable and the other not), but what they expressed about the men and
their respective “faith” toward God. It was this difference that generated the
hostility between them – the same hostility that, ever since, has partitioned the
human race into two opposing camps determined by the presence or absence of
faith. Thus this episode serves as the transition from the blessedness of Eden to
the “new” world of human existence outside it. In that way, it provides a basic
explanation and interpretation of the phenomena of division and hostility that
characterize every dimension of human existence, sacred as well as secular.
And so the author didn’t cite the episode in Genesis 4 because it was the only one
available to him to show Abel’s faith. Neither was he suggesting that Abel’s faith
consisted in his “right” offering in contrast to Cain’s “wrong” one. Rather, He
recognized it to be the appropriate starting point for his discussion of faith, just as
it is the starting point the Scripture itself established for telling its story that
reaches its climax with the man-child to whom faith looked all along.
Again, the writer’s assertion of Abel’s faith is very brief: “By faith Abel offered to
God a better sacrifice than Cain.” Considered at a glance, this statement might
seem to suggest what is here being argued against, which is that Abel’s faith
consisted in his proper (“better”) offering. This perspective has led to all sorts of
conclusions, a common one being that Abel’s offering was accepted because it
was a blood offering, whereas Cain brought only an offering from his crops.
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Such interpretations are problematic for various reasons, not least the fact that
they tend to be anachronistic, reading back into the Genesis account sacrificial
requirements that didn’t exist at that time. But the most significant problem is
arguably the perspective itself. First, it reinforces a confused relationship between
faith and obedience. But it does so based on a wrong understanding of the very
concepts of faith and obedience. This perspective rightly assumes that faith
manifests itself in obedience, but it construes obedience as conformity to a divine
standard, prescription or directive. Thus Abel demonstrated his faith by doing
what God prescribed (i.e., offering a blood sacrifice), whereas Cain disobeyed His
prescription, whether in terms of a blood sacrifice, or by not bringing the first and
best of his yield. Faith most certainly obeys, but in the sense that obedience is
faithfulness; it is conformity to the truth, not compliance with a requirement. Thus
faith is obedience, and obedience is faith, even as faithfulness is the life of faith.
Treating verse 4 in isolation can lead the reader down a wrong path, but the writer
wasn’t concerned about this with his audience. For they were Jewish believers,
and he knew they would interpret his words through the lens of the Genesis
account. From this vantage point, there was little danger of them locating Abel’s
faith in the appropriateness of his offering.
- First of all, the scriptural record gives no indication that either man was
required to offer his sacrifice. Rather, the Genesis text refers to the two
bringing their offering “in the course of time,” a phrase that denotes the
general passage of time rather than a particular or appointed time (cf. 1
Kings 17:7; Jeremiah 13:6). It is comparable to the familiar expression,
“once upon a time,” and indicates only that a day came when the brothers
each presented an offering to God.
- This phrase further suggests that their offerings were voluntary. The time
of the offering wasn’t prescribed by God, and neither was their form. The
language and context of the Genesis account, together with the Hebrews
writer’s overall intent in this section, argue that these offerings were
brought voluntarily as acts of worship apart from imposed obligation.
- The Genesis text further noted that Abel brought an offering from the
“firstlings of his flock and of their fat portions,” while Cain’s offering was
from “the fruit of the ground” (4:3-4). This language itself indicates that it
wasn’t the material of the offerings (animal vs. vegetable or blood vs. nonblood) that distinguished them in God’s sight, but the hearts of the
worshippers. The text describes Abel offering the very best of his animals
– the “firstlings” and “fat portions,” while being conspicuously silent
about the content and quality of Cain’s offering.
Abel’s sacrifice was “better,” not because it complied with divine prescription,
but because it reflected a “better” heart. It was an offering by faith, meaning that it
expressed Abel’s sincere and unqualified devotion to the living God.
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Post by Admin on Aug 31, 2023 12:01:33 GMT -5
b. Enoch is the writer’s second example of faith (11:5), which isn’t surprising given
his proximity to Abel in the Genesis narrative (5:20-24). Notably, this man was
one of two individuals with the same name, one a son of Cain (4:17-18), and the
other a descendent of Seth (5:6-18). The Scripture treats Seth as a replacement for
Abel (Genesis 4:25), so that he and Cain were the patriarchal heads of Adam’s
two primary lines of descent. Seth represented the faithful line that gave birth to
Noah and Abraham, whereas Cain represented the other human family – the part
of humanity given over to the unbelief, autonomy and hubris resulting from the
fall. All of Adam’s descendents lived in exile under the curse of alienation and
death, but Cain found refuge in this circumstance, building a city for himself and
naming it after his son Enoch. Whereas Seth’s faithful descendents sought God as
their dwelling place and refuge (cf. 4:26, 5:24), Cain and his offspring constructed
a human habitation – the City of Man – as their chosen dwelling (4:16-24).
Thus the two Enochs symbolized the two possible orientations for human beings
living under the curse (cf. Abel and Cain): The first Enoch accorded well with the
fallen world, symbolized by the city bearing his name and marked with the glory
of autonomous human ingenuity, achievement, and aesthetic, while the second
Enoch sought and found his lasting habitation in God’s heavenly city (4:17-5:24).
As figureheads for the antithetical human orientations (sometimes designated by
the terms, seed of the woman and seed of the serpent), these two men have huge
symbolic importance in the scriptural story. For that reason, it might seem odd
that the Scripture says virtually nothing about their personal lives. But that silence
is intentional and reflects their symbolic significance: The Genesis narrative treats
them this way because their contribution to its story resides in what they
represent, not their individual persons or life circumstance.
Both Enochs play an important role in the scriptural storyline, but the Hebrews
writer was obviously referring to the one descended from Seth (11:5). Again,
almost nothing is known about this man; all the writer had to make his case for
Enoch’s faithfulness is the scriptural claim that he “walked with God” (5:22, 24)
and then was “taken up” by God. But he saw in that claim the evidence of
Enoch’s faith and its divine affirmation. Whereas Abel demonstrated his faith in a
particular act of worship, and God attested it by receiving his offering, Enoch’s
faith was evident in a worshipful (faithful) life, which God attested by
supernaturally receiving him into His presence. Both men substantiated their faith
by their faithfulness, and God affirmed each one in appropriate fashion.
This is the sum and substance of the Hebrews writer’s claim, and he made no
effort to address or explain the mysterious phenomenon of Enoch’s exit from this
world. He clearly didn’t see this as necessary or even important to his argument;
what matters is that Enoch’s undying departure was God’s work – a supernatural
act that attested the veracity of Enoch’s faith and faithful communion with Him.
When God “took up” Enoch in this way, He was simply consummating the reality
of this man’s life lived in His presence. For the writer (as the Genesis account),
the particulars of the phenomenon itself were of no concern.
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But readers and scholars through the centuries haven’t necessarily shared that
perspective, and many pages of commentary have been devoted to examining
Enoch’s departure and how it ought to be understood. Some have claimed a
natural explanation by assigning a euphemistic sense to the Genesis language.
They argue that the text is simply highlighting Enoch’s premature death (Genesis
records that his lifespan was notably shorter than his forefathers and immediate
offspring), not indicating some sort of supernatural translation out of this life.
The Hebrew text of Genesis 5:24 conceivably allows for this interpretation, as it
simply states that Enoch was “no more” because God “took him.” But the writer
of Hebrews certainly didn’t interpret it that way. For he was explicit that Enoch
did not see death; the reason he could no longer be found is that God removed
him from the world, leaving no body or grave behind. The key textual issue here
is the verb that expresses this removal, and the Hebrews writer followed the
Septuagint rendering of Genesis 5:24 rather than the Hebrew text. That Greek
verb has the basic meaning of setting something in another place, and so can carry
the connotation of transference, transposition, transport, translation, etc. These
connotations are present in the various occurrences of the word in the Septuagint
and New Testament, but the Genesis context clearly suggests the idea of
supernatural translation, especially when read alongside Hebrews 11:5.
- Again, the Hebrews writer stated that Enoch did not experience death.
- So the account of Enoch and his forefathers and immediate descendents
(Genesis 5:1-31) explicitly notes the death of every one of those relatives
(“and he died”), while conspicuously omitting that epitaph with Enoch.
Hence the prevalent historical view that God supernaturally removed Enoch from
this life apart from death is well justified, even if it requires the reader to leave the
phenomenon itself in the realm of mystery. What can be said, however, is that this
translation must not be confused with the transformation of living believers at the
Parousia (ref. 1 Corinthians 15:51-52; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-17). For this latter
transformation pertains to the full christiformity – body and spirit – that living
Christians experience when Jesus returns. Enoch couldn’t experience this sort of
transformation, for it involves sharing in Jesus’ resurrection glory as consummate
Man, which wasn’t possible until Jesus was raised from the dead (ref. 11:39-40;
cf. also Romans 6:1-11, 8:9-10; 1 Corinthians 15:12-49; Philippians 3:20-21).
In the end, the significance of Enoch’s translation has nothing to do with how
God brought it about or how it affected Enoch himself, but why He did it. And the
Hebrews writer answered that it was His way of attesting and rewarding Enoch’s
faith – specifically, his faithfulness in walking with Him throughout his life: “he
obtained God’s witness that, before being taken up, he was pleasing to Him.”
Verse 5 clearly suggests that Enoch’s faith was the reason God was pleased with
Him, but verse 6 makes the point explicitly, albeit from the negative vantage
point: “without faith it is impossible to please God…”
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The writer’s statement in verse 6 flows out of his claim regarding Enoch, and it
serves as a sort of parenthetic underscoring the essential relation between faith
and God’s pleasure with men. In this way, it’s directly tied to verse 5, but it also
stands alongside verses 1-2 as the general lens for reading the entire chapter: All
of the named faithful individuals – and the multitude who aren’t named – are
united in sharing the blessing of God’s approval. Though their personal lives and
circumstances differed greatly, God was equally pleased with them because they
related to Him in faith. Indeed, there is no other way for human beings to obtain
God’s approval; without faith, it is impossible to please Him. The writer was
adamant in this, and so it’s important to understand why and how this is the case.
The doctrine of “salvation by grace alone through faith alone” that emerged from
the Reformation controversies has so dominated post-Reformation Protestantism
that the concept of faith is now largely understood from that perspective. That is,
faith is seen as one means of personal salvation in contrast to the alternative of
“works”: a person can strive to meet God’s righteous standard, or he can believe
that Jesus met that standard for him. From this vantage point, the Hebrews
writer’s assertion about faith pleasing God is readily understood as God being
pleased with us when we trust Jesus for our salvation rather than ourselves. It
follows, then, that the reason it’s impossible to please God without faith is that it’s
impossible for us to merit God’s acceptance and earn our salvation by our works.
The doctrine of salvation by faith is important (though often oversimplified or
misunderstood), but this isn’t what the writer was talking about. The very way he
described faith (11:1) shows that he wasn’t speaking of it as the soteriological
alternative to personal “works,” but as it is the essence of authentic human
existence. Faith is the conformity of God’s image-bearers – mind, heart, and will
– to the truth as it exists in Him and is revealed by Him; it is image-children
living in devoted, trusting intimacy with their Creator-Father, and through that
intimacy, fulfilling their created identity and vocation to His glory. This is what it
means that “the righteous will live by faith” (ref. again 10:35-39).
The epistle’s wider context supports this meaning, but the writer left no doubt of
it by his own commentary. Faith alone pleases God, not because it obtains the
imputation of the righteousness of Christ’s obedience to His law, but because it
takes hold of God in truth; it seeks and embraces Him as He actually is and for
who He is, not out of speculation and self-seeking. Faith owns the God of all
excellence, wisdom, goodness and grace who is fully revealed and fully known in
Jesus the Messiah. It owns Him as the One in whom is the truth of genuine human
existence; it owns the living God as He is man’s great reward (cf. Psalms 16, 73).
Enoch wasn’t granted to see the divine glory in the face of Christ, but he did
know the Creator-God who’d promised to restore all things, and he entrusted his
present and future to Him. Enoch lived his life gazing heavenward, and God
rewarded his longing. And having escaped the curse by deliverance from death,
Enoch affirms the resolve of all who live in hope of the resurrection of the dead.
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3. Noah is the next man in the writer’s list of faithful fathers (11:7). This accords with the
Genesis account and its tracing out of Seth’s line of faithful descendents. Genesis
introduces Noah as the climax of the “generations section” pertaining to Adam (5:1-32),
and it distinguishes him as the first man directly connected with God’s promise of a
restoring human seed (Genesis 3:15). That connection was through Noah’s role in the
flood episode, hence its central place in his own “generations section” (Genesis 6:9ff).
The fall resulted in a curse on the whole creation, such that God’s intended peace
(shalom) and rest (shabbat) were destroyed. Instead of creational harmony and
flourishing in which man, the image-son, administered God’s loving lordship, the
creation was now characterized by division, estrangement, hostility and disintegration.
No longer would the earth yield its provision eagerly and abundantly; henceforth it was
going to oppose the human image-lords (and itself) at every point, consuming their life
energy and eventually their lives and bodies (Genesis 3:17-19). The creation that
reflected the living God was now subjected to futility, alienation, and the agony of death.
Thus the promise of a restoring seed was the promise of the rest and peace God intended;
it was the promise of life out of death. The Genesis account explicitly connected Noah
with this promise and God’s abiding commitment to it, first by the name given to him
(derived from a Hebrew word meaning comfort or rest), and then by his father’s
prophetic commentary on it: “This one shall give us rest from our work and from the toil
of our hands arising from the ground which the Lord has cursed” (Genesis 5:29).
Like Abel and Enoch, Noah and his faith must be viewed through the lens of his ordained
place in and contribution to the unfolding salvation history as it moved inexorably toward
its climax in Jesus the Messiah. The Hebrews writer wasn’t simply compiling a random
list of faithful individuals drawn from Israel’s scriptures; rather, he was echoing the
Scripture’s own purpose, pattern, and direction in telling its story. This story is traced out
through the lives of faithful individuals – men and women who believed the God who
had promised, and so entrusted themselves and their lives to Him in sure hope of the day
when He’d arise and fulfill His good word. All of these died in faith without receiving
what was promised, but they saw it from a distance and held tightly to it (11:13, 39).
Genesis’ treatment of Noah’s life is much more extensive than its account of Abel and
Enoch (6:1-9:29). Yet it, too, focuses on one matter, namely Noah’s role in the flood
event by which God purged and renewed the earth. In this way, Noah represented a huge
step forward in God’s disclosure of His intent for the world: If the Protoevangelium
(Genesis 3:15) promised remedy for the curse, Noah’s life experience showed that this
remedy would involve the creation’s cleansing and renewal in connection with a great
work of deliverance. Noah, then, prefigured Eve’s promised seed, but in a way that
provided insight into how this offspring would accomplish the mission appointed for him.
As he did with Abel and Enoch, the Hebrews writer derived his understanding of Noah’s
faith from the scriptural record. But, while Genesis devotes four chapters to Noah, the
writer described him and his faith in only a single sentence (11:7). His statement is a
summary snapshot of the Genesis account, and so must be interpreted through the lens of
that account, but especially as it contributes to the larger Genesis story and its concerns.
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The writer highlighted the key aspects of the Genesis narrative: God’s warning to Noah
of impending destruction (6:11-13); His command to build an ark to preserve him and his
family (6:14-18); Noah’s devoted submission (“reverence”) in obeying God’s word
(6:22); the significance of Noah’s faithfulness for the world and for himself (7:1-9:29).
Noah’s inclusion in his list shows that the writer believed his faith was of the same sort as
that of Abel and Enoch. Yet, his depiction of Noah’s faith connects it more concretely
with his description of faith in verse 11:1. As faith gives present substance to what God
has promised but not yet brought to pass, so Noah believed God concerning “things not
seen.” It is the nature of faith to believe God for things that don’t presently exist; things
that He has spoken of and pledged. To believe God is to believe His vision and goal for
His world, and Noah shared this sort of trusting confidence with Abel and Enoch (and all
of the faithful after them). At the same time, the Hebrews writer distinguished Noah from
those two men by explicitly connecting his faith with the “assurance of things hoped for;
the conviction of things not seen.”
- The scriptural account of Abel and Enoch doesn’t correlate their faith with the
Hebrews writer’s description in 11:1; one must look back to the promise of
Genesis 3:15 to find any suggestion of how their faith believed God for “things
not seen.” The indication is that their faith held tightly to Him as He’d pledged to
remedy the curse and renew His creation through a triumphant human being.
- Noah shared this same confident faith in a future renewal, but with a more
concrete perception of it. For God had revealed to him His intent to renew the
corrupted world through an unprecedented, indeed unimaginable, work of
destruction, deliverance, and cleansing – a work that had Noah at its center.
If Abel and Enoch had faced a challenge in believing God regarding His promise of a
man who would single-handedly resolve the curse that had consumed the entire created
order, the challenge to Noah’s faith transcended theirs in two crucial respects: Noah had
to believe God that He was going to supernaturally deluge the entire earth with a massive,
all-destroying flood. But he also had to believe God that deliverance would come in the
form of a massive vessel – a covenant ark – that he himself would build and fill. Noah
was to be God’s instrument of condemnation and renewal, but through a seemingly
impossible task. With little help, he was required to construct a ship of unprecedented
scale, and not at a seaport, but far inland. And assuming he could accomplish that
monumental project, he then needed to gather the food and other resources for months of
supply for an innumerable host of animals that the Lord was going to gather to him.
Noah had to believe God for the unbelievable – not just the unimaginable cataclysm of
the flood, but his own crucial role in it. If it was difficult to believe that God would bring
such a deluge, that was nothing compared with believing that he could fulfill God’s
charge to him. How could such a thing be done? Even if he could acquire the materials
and find the strength to build the ark, how would he supply its host of inhabitants? And
could he convince his family that he hadn’t lost his mind? And how would he withstand
the continual scorn and ridicule of those who watched him build year after year?
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The Genesis account is surprisingly silent regarding Noah’s thoughts and struggles in
carrying out his mission. Though volumes surely could be written about that long and
arduous episode, the narrative simply states that he did “according to all that God had
commanded him” (Genesis 6:22). However, it does hint at how Noah would have
handled his myriad challenges by describing the sort of man he was: Noah was a
“righteous man, blameless in his generation, a man who walked with God.” As such, he
was a man who “found favor in the eyes of the Lord” (Genesis 6:8-9).
Again, it’s critically important to interpret these statements properly: Faith and
righteousness imply one another in that the person who is right with God relates to Him,
to himself, and to all things according to the truth as it exists in God and is manifest in
His creation. Faith is owning and living out the truth of human existence as God’s imageson; it is the “righteousness” of intimate sonship. This is the sense in which faithful
individuals “walk with God,” and Noah’s “walk” was on display for all to see over many
long years of laboring in a seemingly absurd cause. But by his faithfulness, mocked and
scorned as insanity by those who watched him, Noah condemned them as the insane ones.
All of the individuals noted in chapter 11 were characterized by this sort of “reverent”
faith, but Noah also enjoyed a further distinction: He was the first explicit prefiguration
of the “seed” promised to Eve. God pledged a human descendent who would overthrow
the serpent and the curse that resulted from his deception, and He furthered this
revelation through Noah and his mission. Noah is presented as unique in his time, a
righteous man in the midst of a human race in which “every inclination of the thoughts of
their heart was only evil continually,” a race of alienated and perverse image-children
that grieved their Creator-Father and provoked Him to destroy them (Genesis 6:5-7). But
God’s intent in this wasn’t to annihilate His good creation, but to purge and renew it with
a view to His design for it. Thus He didn’t seek the destruction of mankind, but a new
human race born out of a new “Adam” – a new human community inhabiting a renewed
earth covenanted to Him through the devoted obedience of a righteous, faithful deliverer.
This is the lens for properly perceiving Noah’s distinction as a righteous man who
uniquely enjoyed God’s favor. He, too, was a son of Adam born under the curse, and in
that way Noah stood in solidarity with his generation (Genesis 9:20-28). But, unlike
them, he walked with God, and yet his primary distinction was his typological status. The
text doesn’t describe Noah as uniquely “blameless” and “righteous” to persuade the
reader that he was without sin, but to connect him explicitly with the coming deliverer.
The Genesis narrative wants the reader to see in Noah a prototype of Eve’s promised son
and his restorative work, and thus describes him and his relationship with God in these
absolute terms. Treating Noah in this way is essential to the typological correspondence.
The Hebrews writer understood this, as reflected in his summary of Noah, which surely
would have turned his readers’ minds to the object of their faith: Noah, by his faith and
the means of a covenant ark, was God’s instrument of condemnation, deliverance, and
renewal. And by this unwavering faith, he indicted the world as false and obtained the
inheritance that belongs to all of the true image-children – those who preceded him, but,
even more, those who would follow after him as coming from him as God’s new Adam
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4. Though Seth’s faithful line in the renewed creation continued with Shem (Genesis 9), the
Hebrews writer moved beyond him and his immediate descendents to the man who was
the climactic focus of Seth’s lineage, namely Abraham (11:8-19; ref. Genesis 11:14-26).
Abraham was the last in a long line of faithful men, but as the apex of that line. Abraham
was the climax of the salvation history to that point, and its foundation going forward.
- He is the premise that informs and directs the balance of Israel’s scriptures, and so
the one through whom the Messiah Himself is interpreted (ref. Isaiah 51-55; etc.).
- Hence Abraham is also the foundation and a key premise of the New Testament
writings, whose purpose is to disclose the meaning and import of Israel’s
scriptures in the light of Jesus’ person and work (ref. Matthew 1:1, 3:1-11, 8:5-13;
Luke 1:39-79; John 8:31-58; Acts 3:1-26, 6:8-7:56; Romans 4; Galatians 3; etc.).
Once he is introduced in the Genesis narrative, Abraham never disappears from it, even
after his death. Indeed, he is ever-present throughout the scriptural record, living on in the
perpetual covenant God made with him and his descendents after him. From the
Scripture’s vantage point, Abraham was the substance of Israel’s identity, vocation and
future hope as covenant son, all of which was to converge in the messianic “seed” (cf.
Exodus 1-3; Leviticus 26; Deuteronomy 30; Psalm 47, 105; Isaiah 63; Jeremiah 30-33;
Micah 7). Beyond that role, but consistent with it, Genesis treats Abraham as the focal
point of Seth’s faithful line and its post-flood continuation in Shem, such that he is the
man of faith par excellence. And yet, this status is most unexpected: Abraham, the person
the Scriptures most associate with faith in the true God, was an idol worshipper living in
Ur in Nimrod’s kingdom of ancient Chaldea (cf. Genesis 10:6-9, 11:1-28; Joshua 24:1-2).
a. Though a descendent of Shem, Abram didn’t know or worship Shem’s God
(Genesis 9:26), but followed the Mesopotamian gods of his relatives and
countrymen in Ur. He was 75 years old when God called him, and there’s no
indication that he had any prior knowledge of Him, though he was descended
from Shem. This raises the question of how he heard God’s call and knew who
was speaking to him, but the Genesis account isn’t concerned with this. It simply
remarks that Yahweh (God’s covenant name by which He would be known to
Abraham’s descendents – Exodus 6:2-3) spoke to Abram and told him to leave his
homeland and go to a place that He would show him (Genesis 12:1).
According to Stephen (Acts 7:1ff), God spoke to Abram while he was living in
Ur, telling him to leave Chaldea and go to an undisclosed place. Abram left with
his father, nephew and wife and traveled as far as Haran, where they settled,
perhaps because Terah could travel no further (Genesis 11:30-31). When Terah
died, God directed Abram to continue his journey, and He brought him and his
family and household to Canaan. Genesis mentions only that Abram heeded
God’s instruction (12:4), but the Hebrews writer emphasized the immediacy of his
obedience: He determined to depart Haran even as God was speaking to him.
Without question or hesitation, Abram packed up his family and all that he had
acquired in Haran and set out under the Lord’s leading (Genesis 12:5).
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Thus Genesis presents Abram as a man of faith from the very outset; the first
thing it reveals about him is his unquestioning response to God’s word. Again, the
text gives no insight into the nature and form of the divine call, or how Abram
discerned this call as the word of the living God – a God he didn’t know – and
processed it in his own mind. What matters is that he heard God speak and
believed Him for what He promised. The significance of Abram’s faith can be
missed in a casual reading, but it becomes evident in a closer consideration:
- First of all, Abram had no idea where he was going and what awaited him
and his family going forward. More than that, this word of promise came
to him from a heavenly voice, not a person standing before him. It seems
that the Lord identified Himself to Abram, but, even so, He was unknown
to this pagan man who had spent his life following the gods of Chaldea.
Who was this being whose voice he heard, and how could he could trust
this voice? Was he being deceived, perhaps by his own imagination?
- Second, this voice promised to make him a great nation (Genesis 12:2),
which was the pledge of descendents. But Abram was 75 years old, with a
declining body (ref. Hebrews 11:12). More importantly, his wife Sarai was
barren. She’d never been able to conceive a child, and now she was well
past child-bearing age. Nonetheless, the text indicates that Abram believed
God for His promise of descendents, but as the years went by without any
offspring, he and Sarai both concluded that God was going to fulfill His
pledge through a different mother (cf. Genesis 15:1-6, 16:1-3).
- God did lead Abram and his family to Canaan, and He identified it as the
land that He was giving him as his inheritance (Genesis 13:12-15), but
Abram never possessed Canaan in that way. So far from receiving it as an
inheritance, he lived in the land as a transient sojourner, and never owned
any part of it until he purchased a field at Machpelah to have a burial site
for Sarah (Genesis 23). Indeed, God made known to Abram when He
ratified His covenant with him that he would never personally obtain the
inheritance of Canaan. He would inherit the land through his descendents;
for his part, Abram would die in faith, trusting the faithfulness of his God.
All of these things underscore that the focal testimony to Abram’s faith was his
enduring confidence in God’s promises, though virtually everything in his
experience seemed to argue against them. Speaking about the structure of the
Genesis narrative, Bruce Waltke observes: “The plot is driven by Abraham’s
struggle to trust God in the face of a series of conflicts testing his faith. His faith
develops as he trusts God in spite of a childless wife, famine in the Promised
Land, exile in a hostile land, the kidnapping of his wife in pagan kings’ harems,
an ungrateful nephew who seizes land for himself, war against mighty kings,
family strife between rival wives and their children, his withering body, and death
itself with the promise unfulfilled. In addition, Abraham’s God is mysterious,
asking Abraham to sacrifice the child in whom his offspring will be reckoned.”
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b. The Hebrews writer treated Abraham’s faith in terms of its three primary
dimensions: God’s call and the promised inheritance of Canaan (11:8-10); the
core promise of a covenant seed (11:11-12); God’s command to sacrifice Isaac
(11:17-19). He summarized each one briefly, and added his own commentary to
highlight the emphases he intended for the sake of his readers’ faith (11:13-16).
Continuing to follow the Genesis narrative, the writer began at the beginning with
God’s call to Abram, and highlighted his faith in terms of his unquestioning
obedience (v. 8). Abram responded out of trust in the God who had spoken,
without any information or knowledge beyond His bare promise. He had no basis
for his action other than his confidence in God; he acted by faith and not by sight.
Abram followed God’s call and leading, which eventually led him and his family
to Canaan. Famine later drove them to Egypt, but when they returned and Lot
separated from him, God expressly promised all of Canaan to Abram as his
inheritance. The Lord then had him walk through its expanse to symbolize his
sure possession of it (Genesis 12:4-13:18). Abram continued to dwell in Canaan,
but God later revealed to him that his descendents would be the ones to inherit the
land; Abram would continue to live there as a transient sojourner, even as would
his covenant son and grandson, who were the immediate heirs of the promise.
Indeed, Jacob would spend many years outside of the promised land, eventually
dying in Egypt and only returning to Canaan to be buried in the piece of land that
Abraham purchased at Machpelah (11:9; cf. Genesis 15, 21-50).
The Hebrews writer summarized the Genesis account of Abraham’s history in the
land of Canaan, but he also provided insight that Genesis only hints at: Abraham
embraced his sojourner status in Canaan, not with a confident eye to its eventual
possession by his descendents (Genesis 15:13-21), but with the understanding
that Canaan only symbolized the actual inheritance God promised to him (11:10).
The Genesis narrative nowhere ascribes to Abraham this larger vision of a
“better” inheritance, but the nature and scope of God’s covenant with him
suggested that his destiny in God’s designs involved far more than possession of a
piece of land. For that covenant – as the covenants with Noah and the creation
following the flood – reflected the Edenic promise to resolve the curse through
Eve’s “seed,” which the subsequent flood episode showed would involve the
earth’s purging and renewal. Even more, God’s covenant with Abraham indicated
that this restoring “seed” would be one of his descendents, so that the man who
would liberate the creation from the curse would also be the instrument of the
Lord’s blessing going out to all the earth’s families. Hence Paul spoke of the
earth being Abraham’s inheritance (Romans 4:13), as also the covenant promises
being ultimately bound up in one particular son (Galatians 3:16; cf. Psalm 72).
The children of Israel, as the Abrahamic “seed,” inherited the land God pledged to
their forefather, and yet they, too, died without receiving the promise. They, too,
died in hope of the coming One in whom their own destiny and inheritance would
be realized – the One in whom all of Abraham’s children would be perfected.
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c. The second matter the writer cited as evidence of Abraham’s faith is God’s
promise and provision of a covenant heir (11:11-12). He specifically mentioned
Sarah and her faith, but the circumstance at hand, together with the surrounding
context, shows that he hadn’t moved on from his consideration of Abraham. Yes,
Isaac’s conception and birth implicated Sarah’s faith, but all the more so
Abraham’s. For Isaac was foundational to God’s covenant with him and the
promises attached to it; indeed, the covenant itself and its veracity depended on a
covenant heir. If Abram died childless, how could he become a great nation,
understood in terms of vastness, royalty and dominion (Genesis 17)? And how
could his descendents inherit Canaan if there were none (ref. Genesis 15:12-21,
17:1-8). Even more, how could all the earth’s families be blessed through him if
he had no offspring? What would be the mechanism of blessing? And what would
be the point of God changing his name to Abraham (father of many peoples)?
Abraham’s faith was bound up in God’s promise of a covenant heir (Genesis
15:1-6), but here the writer mentioned Sarah and her part in the fulfillment of the
promise, with a view particularly to her old age and barrenness (v. 11). This
passage (vv. 11-12) is challenging, first because it has numerous variants in the
existing Greek manuscripts. While many of those don’t alter the fundamental
sense, some do shift its perspective and exact meaning. In general, the readings
associated with later manuscripts (as with the Majority Text) seem to reflect the
awkwardness of the passage and the copyists’ desire to focus and clarify it.
At bottom, there are two basic ways to render and interpret verse 11, the primary
difference being the subject of the sentence. These two readings are reflected in
the various English versions, with some taking Sarah as the subject (KJV, ESV,
NAS), and others Abraham (NIV, NAB). The first option makes Sarah’s faith the
issue, and thus shifts the emphasis away from Abraham, only to return to him in
verse 12. On the other hand, the second option preserves the contextual focus on
Abraham, and treats the mention of Sarah as a parenthesis that elaborates on the
remarkable circumstance of Isaac’s conception and birth.
The Greek conceivably allows for both readings, but the language and context
support the one reflected in the NAB and NIV. Apart from the questionability of
Sarah’s faith regarding God’s promise of a child (Genesis 18:9-15), the phrase in
verse 11 rendered conceive refers to the deposition of “seed,” and therefore the
male dimension of conception rather than the female one. Beyond that, verse 12
shows that the writer was concerned with Abraham’s faith in God’s promise of a
covenant heir and his obtainment of that heir (cf. Genesis 15:1-6; also Paul in
Romans 4:13-22). Yes, that remarkable fulfillment involved Sarah’s barrenness
and old age, but the focus is on Abraham’s body that was “as good as dead.”
Another important support for this reading is the writer’s dependence on the
Genesis narrative, which focuses throughout on Abraham and his faith. This is not
to suggest that Sarah and her faith were irrelevant, but Genesis treats her as the
matriarch through whom Abraham received the covenant heir pledged to him.
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Thus Genesis traces out the development of this promise and Abraham’s faith
regarding it. God implied future descendents for Abram in His first encounter
with him and His pledge to make him a great nation (Genesis 12:1-3). Later, when
Abram had arrived in Canaan, God stated this explicitly (Genesis 13:14-16), and
then reaffirmed the promise of descendents when He ratified His covenant with
him (Genesis 15). At that time, Abram understood that God was going to give him
countless descendents, but he looked at his own body and Sarah’s circumstance
and concluded that this could not involve biological offspring (15:1-3). But God
told him that his descendents would be just that; Abram would become a great
nation through a covenant heir who was a son from his own body (15:4-5). Most
importantly, this was the specific promise that the Scripture associates with
Abram’s faith (15:6; cf. Galatians 3:1-9); indeed, his faith isn’t mentioned
anywhere else in the entire Genesis account.
Abram believed God for a son from his aged and failing body, but who would be
the child’s mother? Sarai also was well beyond child-bearing age, and she’d been
barren throughout her life (Genesis 11:30). Abram must have hoped that she
would give birth to the heir, but a decade passed and Sarai’s womb remained
empty. Sarai herself had no confidence that she would bear this child, and God
hadn’t said that she would; He’d only promised that Abram would be the father.
As time went on she became convinced that God intended a different mother, and
so encouraged Abram to take her Egyptian maid Hagar as his wife (Genesis
16:1ff). Sarai persuaded her husband, and Hagar did indeed bear a son for Abram,
but God made it clear that this son, Ishmael, was not the covenant heir. He, too
would become a great nation as Abram’s offspring, but Sarai would give birth to
the heir. Hence God changed her name to Sarah (princess) at the same time He
changed Abram’s name to Abraham (“father of many peoples”). Though old and
barren, and in the face of her skeptical astonishment, Sarah was to be the covenant
matriarch, and so the progenitor of a great and regal nation (Genesis 17:1-21).
God kept His word, and Sarah did indeed conceive and give birth to a son. And,
as a perpetual reminder that nothing is impossible for Him, God directed them to
name the child Isaac (“he laughs”). Both of them had laughed when God
promised this heir from their bodies (Genesis 17:15-17, 18:9-15) – perhaps with a
touch of skepticism mixed in with their amazement and delight, and now their
joyful wonder would be rekindled every time they called Isaac’s name.
Isaac was, in every respect, God’s covenant provision – the one in whom His
purposes and vows to Abraham were certified as “yes and amen.” God gave him
to Abraham and Sarah against all odds and nature itself; Isaac was living proof
that the living God is able to bring life out of death. Even more, Isaac’s birth
underscored that this principle of life out of death was intrinsic to God’s covenant
with Abraham, and so also His design for His creation. What He had hinted at in
Eden (Genesis 3:13-20), God evidenced in Seth as Abel’s replacement, and then
in the flood episode. So He called Abram out of the death of alienation into living
relationship with Him, that, through him, life would come to all mankind.
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Everything about Abraham’s covenant relationship with God echoed the theme of
life out of death, and that theme reached its climactic expression (at least to this
point in the narrative) in the covenant son brought forth from two reproductively
dead bodies. The Hebrews writer recognized this pattern, and so made it the focal
point of his treatment of Abraham’s faith in relation to God’s promise of
descendents: By faith, and Sarah herself barren, Abraham was given the ability to
produce an offspring, even though he was past that time of life. And if one
maintains that the writer was referring to Sarah’s faith rather than Abraham’s, the
same emphasis still holds: By faith, Sarah, who had always been barren, was
made able to produce an offspring, even beyond the proper time of life.
Either way, the point is that Abraham and Sarah believed that God was faithful;
He would indeed fulfill His promise of a covenant heir, even in a circumstance
that rendered that fulfillment humanly and naturally impossible; God would bring
life out of death (v. 12). What is most important here is that the Hebrews writer
associated this faith with confidence in the God who had promised, not the
promise itself. Abraham (and Sarah) didn’t believe because they saw a way that
God could give them a son; from their vantage point, this outcome was
impossible. The reason they believed is that they knew God to be faithful. If He
pledged something, He would do it; the question of how was irrelevant and had no
effect on their unflappable conviction. Their faith didn’t depend on tracing out the
movement of God’s hand, but simply the knowledge that it was His hand. Their
responsibility was to believe Him for what He’d pledged, and order their lives
accordingly. Their faith in the God who is faithful needed to express itself in their
own faithfulness. In this instance, that meant Abraham and Sarah continuing to
give themselves sexually to one another, trusting that God would both enable their
intimacy and make it fruitful. At their age and in their condition, that was itself a
great act of faith, and one which they had to undertake in loving solidarity.
This, then, is how Abraham’s (and Sarah’s) faith enabled their ability to conceive.
The writer wasn’t suggesting that their obtainment of an heir depended absolutely
on their faith. It wasn’t that the power to conceive a child came from their faith;
much less did their faith move God to act and overcome the deadness of their
bodies. Faith wasn’t the direct cause of Isaac’s conception, but the instrumental
cause. It was their faith that led Abraham and Sarah to pursue an intimacy that
must have seemed strange and awkward, but they did so knowing that it was
critical to God’s promise of a child from both of their bodies (Genesis 21:1-2).
This, then, underscores a principle of God’s working that is often minimized or
overlooked altogether. And that is that the God who can do all things, for whom
nothing is impossible, and who always fulfills His designs, rarely acts in
isolation. He is capable of the miraculous, acting outside of natural laws and
processes, but He chooses in most instances to act within them. He even chooses
to reveal Himself through the lips and lives of men, preeminently in the man
Jesus. So it is here: God had determined and pledged to bring life out of death, but
that unnatural outcome wouldn’t occur miraculously; it would come through faith
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d. The Scripture presents Abraham as the “father” of all the faithful, and the Genesis
narrative explicitly associates his faith with God’s promise of descendents (ref.
15:1-6; cf. again Romans 4:1-12). The Hebrews writer followed this same pattern,
emphasizing Abraham’s faith that God would indeed give him a multitude of
descendents. But he also recognized the significance of this endowment, namely
that these offspring would share Abraham’s covenant relation with God. It wasn’t
simply that Abraham believed God for countless descendents; rather, he
understood that this promised heritage pertained to God’s pledge to bless all
mankind through him. God was going to make him a great nation, but with the
goal that he should be Abraham – the father of many nations, all united by their
mutual share in the blessing God pledged to him.
The point, then, is that this universal fatherhood concerned covenant status and
relationship, not biological descent (Genesis 17:1-8). God promised Abraham a
son from his own body and descendents through him, but a son who would be a
covenant heir, not merely a male offspring. Hence God’s promise – the promise
that Abraham believed – pertained to his son Isaac, not Ishmael or any of his other
children (Genesis 25:1-6). Isaac alone inherited Abraham’s covenant status and
calling (cf. Genesis 17:15-19, 22:1-18, 26:1-5), and he then passed that status and
calling to his son Jacob (Genesis 28:10-16; cf. 25:19-26). Isaac and Jacob
inherited all of what the covenant endowed (11:9), with the heart of the covenant
being the grant of a unique relationship with the living God: “I will be your God
and you will be my people” (cf. Genesis 17:7 with 26:2-3, 23-25, 28:10-22; cf.
also Exodus 2:23-3:17, 6:1-8 with Deuteronomy 29:9-13).
This is the lens through which the covenant vocation of global blessing must be
viewed: The promise of universal fatherhood (“I will make you the father of a
multitude of nations”) was the promise of universal blessing (“in you all the
families of the earth will be blessed”) – blessing that consists in sharing in
Abraham’s covenant relationship with God.
And viewed against the backdrop of the fall and man’s exile from God’s gardenhabitation, this covenant relationship involves reconciliation and ingathering. The
promise of descendents, then, was the promise that Abram was God’s chosen
instrument for recovering the human race. This recovery would end mankind’s
exile and see all of the earth’s families brought back to their Creator-Father such
that they would be His people and Him their God, dwelling with Him in the place
of His habitation. This was the promise Abram gave his amen to, and it was this
“belief” – this genuine ownership of God’s purpose for the world and his place in
it – that God accounted as “righteous.”
This is the narrative that Genesis constructs, and that all of Israel’s scriptures
reaffirm and recount as the story plays out in the life of the Abrahamic nation. So
it is the story that the Hebrews writer had in mind when he stepped aside from
Abraham to comment on his descendents and their relationship to the covenant
and its promises (11:13-16).
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The first thing to consider is the referent of the phrase, “all these” (v. 13). The
obvious referents are Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Sarah, who are all explicitly
mentioned in this context. And it is true that all four of them (as also Abel and
Noah) “died in faith, without receiving the promises.” But the immediate referent
is the full assembly of Abraham’s faithful descendents; verse 13 comments on
verse 12. Thus the Hebrews writer was making a larger point than might at first
appear. Yes, the patriarchs lived and died in faith of covenant promises that they
themselves didn’t receive, but this was the case for all of their faithful offspring,
and that is the issue the writer was bringing to the forefront.
One might wish to dispute this interpretation, noting that the promise of Canaan
was fundamental to the Abrahamic covenant, and Jacob’s offspring (the twelve
tribes of Israel) did indeed obtain this inheritance. So also God’s pledge to make
Abraham a great nation was fulfilled in the Israelite people and theocracy, which
reached its pinnacle of greatness and power under David and his son Solomon.
From this perspective, it can’t be said of all of Abraham’s covenant descendents
that they did not receive the covenant promises; Israel did indeed receive many of
them (ref. Joshua 21:43-45; also 1 Kings 4:20-21). But the writer’s commentary
shows that Israel’s obtainment of these things is separate from the point he was
making – the point he wished his readers to apply to their own circumstance.
- He knew full well that Israel inherited the land of Canaan and became a
great nation ruling over a kingdom from the Euphrates west to the
Mediterranean and south to the Nile River in Egypt (cf. Genesis 15:18;
Deuteronomy 11:24-25; Joshua 1:1-6), and yet he recognized that this
land inheritance and national glory didn’t fulfill God’s covenant promise.
- The writer already observed that the enduring promise of rest proves that
Joshua’s conquest of Canaan didn’t accomplish that (4:8), and here he
noted that the “all these” who “died in faith without receiving the
promises” acknowledged themselves to be “foreigners and temporary
residents on the earth.” That is, they understood that God’s promise of a
covenant inheritance pledged an inhabitation that transcends Canaan, and
indeed the physical earth itself. It was from this perspective, and with this
hope, that they “saw the promises and embraced them from a distance.”
This interpretation becomes all the more clear with the writer’s assertion in verses
15-16: If these individuals had their hearts and hopes set on the place from which
they went out, they would have had opportunity to return to it. But as it is, they
weren’t interested in returning to that land, but desired a better country – a
heavenly city that God has prepared for all those who know Him as their God.
Those who believe that the writer had the patriarchs in mind naturally interpret his
statements through that lens. Thus they point to Abraham leaving his home in
Haran and not thinking to return to it, though he could have. So also Jacob, when
he left Haran with his family after serving Laban for twenty years (Genesis 31).
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This reading might seem reasonable at a glance, but it has two notable problems:
it states the obvious, and it argues against the very point the writer was making.
- First of all, the patriarchs obviously didn’t seek to return to their homes
outside of Canaan, for they regarded Canaan, which God pledged to them,
as their homeland. Indeed, Isaac and Jacob were born in that land, and
Isaac never lived long outside of it.
- But much more importantly, this reading makes no sense in context. For
the writer’s point was precisely that these who died in faith – including
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob – never saw Canaan as the inhabitation
promised to them. It wasn’t that the patriarchs never looked back toward
Mesopotamia because they saw Canaan as their home; rather, they lived as
foreigners and transients in that land. And not because they had no choice,
but because their gaze was fixed on a different “country” that they
welcomed as their true inheritance: a “city with foundations designed and
built by their God”; a city that is a “heavenly habitation” (11:9-10, 13-14).
No, the author’s point was precisely that all of Abraham’s covenant descendents
died without receiving what God promised, even though multitudes of them lived
and died in the promised land – many during the glory days of the Israelite
kingdom under David and Solomon. Whether in Canaan or outside of it, all of the
faithful consciously lived as aliens and sojourners who saw their true homeland at
a distance and welcomed it, not as present, but with the assurance of faith.
But this raises the question of how the writer justified his argument in his own
mind. What was it in Israel’s history and experience that gave him this insight and
enabled him to make such a confident claim? How could he know that the faithful
in Israel were looking for a “heavenly” inheritance beyond Canaan? This is a
question that defies a simple answer, for the writer didn’t derive his understanding
from a particular set of doctrines or scriptural passages, but from the entire fabric
and sweep of the salvation history as recorded in Israel’s scriptures. A full
treatment, then, is beyond the scope of this present consideration, but a few
general observations should suffice to answer the question.
1) The first thing to consider is the significance of Canaan in Israel’s
existence as the covenant household. God did indeed promise the land of
Canaan to Abraham and his “seed,” but what made it the “promised land”
was the fact that it was God’s own habitation. The significance of Canaan
in the covenant wasn’t Yahweh’s desire for Abraham and his offspring to
have a land to call their own, but that they should be His people and He
should be their God. The covenant was concerned with relationship, and
Canaan represented the joint habitation of covenant Father and sons;
Canaan was Yahweh’s dwelling place, and His pledge to give it to
Abraham and his descendents was His pledge to cohabit with them – to
gather them to Himself and dwell with them (Exodus 15:17, 25:1-8).
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2) This understanding, then, shows the significance of Israel’s tumultuous
relationship with the land of Canaan. Internal strife and division showed
that Canaan was never truly a place of “rest” for Israel, and this perpetual
unrest betrayed the underlying alienation between the covenant Father and
son. Israel’s cohabitation with God was chaotic and strained and marred
by unbelief and unfaithfulness (Psalm 78), so that He eventually departed
from them, abandoning them to desolation, exile, and subjugation.
3) God abandoned His sanctuary land and left it desolate and virtually
without inhabitant. But after giving the land its “rest,” He opened the door
for the exiles to return to Judah and rebuild His sanctuary and their
dwellings (Ezra 1-3). Many did return, but many more chose to remain in
the places to which they’d been exiled (ref. the book of Esther). This
diaspora gave rise to Israel’s synagogue life and continued right up to 70
A.D. and the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple by the Romans.
4) Many Israelites returned to Judea following the Babylonian captivity, and
the temple and city of Jerusalem were eventually rebuilt. These children of
Abraham were back in the land promised to him, but they actually
continued in exile with their displaced Israelite brethren. They may have
been living in Canaan, but Canaan was no longer the “promised land”
because Yahweh no longer resided there. The land was ichabod, devoid of
the One who was its glory (Ezekiel 10-11), but God had also stripped it of
the glory of the kingdom and dominion promised to Abraham.
5) That palpable emptiness continued through the succeeding centuries, but
with Yahweh’s promise that He would one day return. Then, at last, He
would fulfill all of His promises to Abraham. For, in that day He would
truly take a people for Himself – a family of image-children who know
him in truth and conform to His life and mind. Then He would establish
His everlasting sanctuary and gather His children into it to dwell together
with Him in the harmony, peace and rest He ordained from the beginning
(11:16; ref. also 8:7-12). In that day, and evermore, the earth would be
filled with His presence and glory as the waters cover the sea.
These considerations show how it was that the faithful in Israel regarded
themselves as sojourners in the land of Canaan. They believed God for His
promises, and their collective experience and the utterances of their prophets told
them that their God had not forgotten or forsaken His covenant oaths to Abraham;
He would yet fulfill them, but in connection with a unique son of Abraham – the
son first promised to Eve, and then later pledged to David. Thus the faithful in
Israel looked beyond Canaan to a glorious, everlasting habitation that God
Himself would build through the Abrahamic “seed.” That day had now come, and
the Hebrews readers lived in its light, dwelling with their God in His sanctuary as
sons in the Son (12:22ff; cf. Ephesians 2). But they, too, had to live in faith, fixing
their gaze on the completion of that habitation in the new heavens and new earth.
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Post by Admin on Aug 31, 2023 12:08:49 GMT -5
Excursus: Looking for a Better Country
The writer’s parenthesis (vv. 13-16) focuses on the forward-looking nature of faith, especially as
it recognizes, embraces, and lives in view of the inheritance God appointed for His people.
Because an inheritance is a future commodity, it is necessarily embraced as a matter of hope
(Romans 8:24-25). This is true of any sort of inheritance, even one established by legally binding
agreements; until the terms are met by which an heir obtains his inheritance, he must own it “at a
distance,” holding it with hopeful expectancy. This is not to suggest that an heir patiently waiting
for his natural inheritance is an instance of faith in the biblical sense. This is clearly not the case,
since faith has God as its object, not any particular thing one expects or hopes to obtain. Faith
presupposes and expresses a true and vital relational knowledge of the living God, and so doesn’t
apply to those who don’t know Him in this way. Such people might manifest certain qualities
associated with faith (hopefulness, expectation, etc.), but they do not possess faith.
A natural heir doesn’t necessarily possess faith, but he does live with a sense of confident
expectancy regarding the inheritance that has been pledged to him. And to the extent that he
actually believes he will one day obtain it, that inheritance affects the way the heir views and
orders his present life. He lives his life in the present with an eye toward the future that he
believes awaits him. This dynamic is fundamental to the writer’s parenthesis, which focuses on
the way God’s faithful people relate to the inheritance He has promised them.
Again, this parenthesis occurs in the middle of the writer’s treatment of Abraham and his faith,
and there is no doubt that he was including the three patriarchs (Abraham, Isaac and Jacob) in his
opening statement, “All these died in faith, without receiving the promises…” As well, in
context, the primary “promise” the writer was drawing on was God’s covenant pledge of a land
inheritance – the land of Canaan. For this reason, and pointing out that their descendents did
inherit this land, many have sought to limit the writer’s referent (“all these”) to the patriarchs.
But, as noted, the immediate context suggests that the author had in mind, not just Abraham,
Isaac and Jacob, but all of their faithful descendents. This is indicated by verse 12, but more
importantly by the very argument the writer was making, which is that Canaan wasn’t the
inheritance God actually promised to Abraham and his covenant descendents.
- The patriarchs themselves understood this, evident in their contentment to live as
foreigners and transients in the “promised land” (11:9).
- And so it was with their Israelite descendents, who came to possess the land, kingdom
and dominion promised to Abraham, and yet never enjoyed the rest and intimacy with
God that those things represented (ref. 11:39-40; cf. also 4:6-8 with Joshua 21:43-45).
Canaan didn’t provide Israel with the rest and peace the covenant promised, precisely because it
didn’t resolve the exile that left mankind expelled from God’s garden-sanctuary. Every covenant
child of Abraham remained in essential exile from God, regardless of whether he lived in Canaan
or not, and regardless of the presence of Jerusalem and its temple. Canaan was the “promised
land” to the extent that it was Yahweh’s habitation where He dwelt with His people, but the
relationship represented by this mutual habitation was never realized. Even when His shekinah
was present in the Holy of Holies, God remained distant and estranged from His covenant “son.”
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The patriarchs were content to live as foreign sojourners in Canaan because they knew that this
“promised land” was only a symbol for the true habitation in which God would fulfill His pledge
to be God to Abraham’s offspring such that they would be His people in truth. This is the sense
in which they were looking for a “better country” – a dwelling place “designed and constructed
by God.” They understood that God was promising a habitation where He and His imagechildren would dwell together in perfect intimacy. And given the extent and scope of man’s fall,
only God’s will and hand could see such a habitation actually realized (ref. Deuteronomy 30:1-6;
Jeremiah 24:1-7, 31:31-34; Ezekiel 34:1-31; 36:22-38; Zechariah 8:1-8; etc.). Abraham’s
descendents eventually possessed the land he only traversed as a sojourner, but they too, looked
beyond its goodness and glory – even the glory of David’s kingdom in its fullness – to the
heavenly habitation they understood by faith to be their true inheritance (11:16, 39).
This much is clear from this context, but what exactly is the “better country” – the “heavenly
city” – that the writer was referring to, and that is the inheritance of the faithful? Multitudes of
Christians instinctively associate this imagery with the conventional notion of heaven, and so
take from this passage affirmation that God’s people have always recognized eternity in heaven
as their inheritance. Not just believers in Jesus in the Christian era, but the faithful in every age
have set their vision on the “heavenly city” whose gates they enter when they die. This is perhaps
the predominant view among Christians since at least the Middle Ages, and yet the Scripture
recognizes no such hope or inheritance. The notion that God’s faithful are promised “eternal life”
in an other-worldly realm called “heaven” would have been utterly foreign and preposterous to
the people of Israel, for no such teaching exists in their scriptures. Indeed, Christians who
examine the New Testament carefully also find no such inheritance pledged to the saints.
The human destiny set out in Israel’s scriptures, beginning with the creation account and through
all the Law, Prophets and Writings, is the consummating of human identity and vocation in
relation to God and His creation. This human destiny is connected with the creation’s renewal,
but it’s also fundamental and essential to that renewal. Thus Paul asserted that the creation,
which also languishes under the curse, awaits the full manifestation of the “sons of God,”
knowing that that manifestation will herald its own deliverance and renewal (Romans 8:12-23).
This was Paul’s eschatological vision, but he derived it from Israel’s scriptures, not from some
new or extra-biblical insight. Paul was an Israelite who believed precisely what God had always
promised in Israel’s sacred writings; it’s just that now, he’d come to understand those promises
and their fulfillment in terms of Jesus the Messiah and His death and resurrection.
Like his devout countrymen, Paul had been looking for the Olam Ha Ba – the “coming age” of
Yahweh’s consummate kingdom marked by His return, triumphal judgment and reign over all
the earth through His messianic Servant and Davidic King. This was the inheritance God
promised through His prophets, and every covenant child of Abraham longed to be part of the
faithful (“righteous”) throng that would inherit this kingdom and its glory. Most importantly, this
inheritance was perceived to be an earthly one. Yes, it was to be “heavenly,” but because it
would see the heavenly and earthly realms conjoined, not because it would exclude or be
separate from the earth and the natural creation. The faith and hope of Israel’s faithful were
directed toward the God whom they believed would prove faithful by fulfilling His promise to
renew all things and flood the earth with His presence and glory and a true and living knowledge
of Him, just as the waters cover the sea (cf. Isaiah 11:1-9; Habakkuk 2:14; Zechariah 14:8-11).
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The inheritance God has promised to His children is very much an earthly one, and this truth
rebukes the widespread notion that “heaven” is the Christian’s destiny. But it does more than
provide a doctrinal corrective; this understanding of the human inheritance has profound
practical significance. So much so, that, without it, it is impossible for a person to live a faithful
life. How can one be faithful when his faith and hope are directed toward something that God
neither intends nor promised? Faithfulness involves owning what God Himself owns; it is
binding one’s perspective, priorities and practice to the God who has spoken, acted and
promised. Faithfulness involves owning the God who is “yes and amen” in Jesus the Messiah.
Faithfulness, then, involves co-laboring with God according to His purposes and the work He is
doing. Anything else, however pious, conscientious, or commendable, is actually unbelief set at
cross-purposes to God; it is working with a vision and goal other than His own. This means that
Christian faithfulness necessarily involves a certain kind of earthly-mindedness. Drawing on the
Hebrews writer’s imagery, having one’s gaze fixed on the inheritance of a “better country”
involves living an engaged and purposeful life in this world, not looking beyond it to “heaven.”
Thus faithfulness is a profoundly ironic enterprise: It is radically and entirely theocentric
(specifically, Christ-centered), and yet very much concerned with this world and our lives in it.
The reason, again, is that faithfulness is conformity to God’s will and purpose, and His will is to
renew His good creation and bind it to Himself in Christ Jesus (Ephesians 1:9-10). Christian
faithfulness, then, is faithfulness to the Christian vocation, which is to co-labor with God, in the
power and leading of the Spirit, in His project of creational renewal. This involves proclaiming
and living out the reality of new creation in Jesus, with one’s labors directed toward its fullness.
This understanding exposes the error – indeed, the unfaithfulness – of retreating from the world
until we can “go to heaven,” or of devoting one’s energies toward “soul-winning.” Christians
already inhabit the heavenly realm by sharing in Jesus’ resurrection. He is the beginning and
essential substance of the merging of heaven and earth, and those who share in Him embody that
reality, which is the very marrow of God’s “good news.” Christians proclaim the gospel when
they testify to the creation’s renewal in Jesus and His transformative lordship over it, not when
they explain to people how they can go to heaven when they die. So also they err when they treat
this world as ichabod and appointed for destruction. The “fire” God has laid in store for the earth
will achieve its complete cleansing, not its annihilation. (So 2 Peter 3:10: The day of the Lord
will come as a thief, in which the present heavens will come to their end (i.e., attain their
destiny), and the elemental things (the elemental principles and patterns of the present world)
will be consumed in the fire of God’s final judgment, and the earth and its works will be fully
disclosed and dealt with. Thus the hope of “new heavens and new earth” – 2 Peter 3:11-13.)
If we would be faithful, we must devote ourselves to testifying – in all things and at all times – to
the reality of new creation in Jesus and God’s intent to renew all things in Him. This testimony
goes beyond religion, morality and ethics, since these are part of human life in the “old creation.”
It is the testimony of a new kind of human existence within a new human community – an
existence that confounds and challenges the prevailing order because it involves a new
perspective and orientation in engaging the world. This is what it means to “take up one’s cross”
(i.e., own for oneself Jesus’ condemnation and execution of Adamic humanness) and “put on the
new man.” This is what it means to be faithful (Matthew 16:24-25; Ephesians 4-5; Colossians 3).
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Post by Admin on Aug 31, 2023 12:09:57 GMT -5
e. Abraham’s offering of Isaac is the final example the Hebrews writer provided of
his faith (11:17-19). Like the previous two, this circumstance was grounded in
God’s covenant promises, underscoring again that faith is directed toward the God
who has spoken, not one’s own imaginings or expectations. So it was with Abel,
Enoch and Noah, and so it was with Abraham: He believed God for what He’d
pledged to him as a matter of covenant grant, and at the center of those covenant
promises was the promise of a covenant heir. This was the premise of the land
inheritance (11:8-9; Genesis 13:14-15, 15:18-21), but also of the episode
mentioned here. And as the pledge of an heir was the focal point of God’s
covenant with Abraham, so it was the focal point of his faith. Abraham believed
God for all that He’d promised him, but the fulfillment of all of those promises
depended on him having an heir. This is why the Genesis account mentions
Abraham’s faith only in relation to this particular promise (15:1-6). It wasn’t that
his faith was limited to it, but the promise of an heir was the foundation for
everything else God pledged. When Abraham believed God for an heir from his
own body, he was believing Him for everything that flowed from that outcome.
God’s covenant with Abraham utterly depended on an heir, and this meant that
the fate of God’s creation depended on this individual. For God’s covenant with
Abraham stood on the foundation of His pledge in Eden; His intent in “electing”
Abraham was that he should be His instrument for restoring the world to Himself:
“In you (and in your seed) all the families of the earth will be blessed.” The
reason this is so important is that it provides the proper context for considering the
episode of Isaac’s sacrifice on Mount Moriah and how it attested Abraham’s faith.
(Note that James cited this episode as evidence for his thesis that faith without
works is dead (James 2:20-26). Abraham’s offering of Isaac, as Rahab’s
protection of Israel’s spies, demonstrates how it is that faith works.)
It’s also important to note that the Hebrews writer followed the Genesis account
in treating this episode as God’s test of Abraham’s faith (cf. 11:17; Genesis 22:1),
but in a crucial respect that is often missed: God didn’t devise this test so that He
could see whether Abraham would “obey” by doing what he was told; rather, His
intent was that this test would require Abraham to grapple with and manifest his
faith in a supreme challenge to it, and not for God’s sake, but his own. As a result,
he would be absolutely certain of and firmly established in his election and
vocation as God’s covenant instrument for His renewing purpose for the world.
Isaac was the heir God pledged to Abraham, the offspring in whom all of His
covenant promises were bound up, and therefore the unique person who embodied
God’s veracity and faithfulness. Isaac was God’s proof that He is faithful and
true, and that Abraham could be assured of the inheritance promised to him.
Isaac’s conception and birth reinforced Abraham’s assurance, but it ultimately
depended on the boy growing up and having his own children. For God promised
Abraham that he would be the father, not of one child, but of a great nation. If
Isaac, then, was indeed the promised heir, it followed that he himself was
appointed to be the father of a vast multitude of descendents.
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This is why Abraham’s offering of Isaac was the preeminent expression of his
faith, as well as the greatest proof of it. The Hebrews writer didn’t explain all of
this, but as a Jew, he undoubtedly understood these truths and assumed them in
his statements, evident in the way he constructed them. The first thing that stands
out is his grammatical shift when speaking about the sacrificial act itself. Most
English versions don’t capture the nuance of this shift, but it’s clear in the original
Greek, which can be rendered as follows: Being tested, Abraham – the one who
had received the promises, having offered up Isaac by faith, came to the point of
offering up the only-begotten. The writer employed the same verb twice (“offer
up,” referring to a sacrificial offering), which makes the statement somewhat
awkward, but his conspicuous shift in grammar indicates his reason for doing so.
He was underscoring the fact that Abraham’s act of taking his knife to slay his
son was simply the expression of the work of faith that was already in place.
Having believed God and His word to him, Abraham had, in principle, already
offered up his son long before he laid him on the altar. That final act was simply
the climax of Abraham’s enacted faith (Genesis 22:1-4). He had given over the
covenant heir to his covenant God long before he arrived at Mount Moriah. Yes,
God stopped Abraham from slaying Isaac at the last moment, but that didn’t alter
the fact of Abraham’s obedient faith; in his own mind and heart, he was fully
engaged in this act of worship.
A second thing to note is the way the writer depicted Abraham and Isaac. He
described Abraham as “having received the promises,” and Isaac as the “onlybegotten.” This is significant, for it highlights the covenant relationship between
Abraham and Isaac; more than simply father and son, Isaac was the covenant heir,
and so the focal point of God’s covenant promises to Abraham. Isaac was the
“only-begotten” son, not in the sense that he was Abraham’s only son (he wasn’t),
or even that he was Sarah’s son, but that he was the unique son – the child God
promised to Abraham and Sarah; the one child appointed to inherit the covenant
and its promises (Genesis 17:15-21; note that the apostle John used the same term
for Jesus – John 1:14-18, 3:16-18; 1 John 4:9). The promise of a covenant heir
was absolutely crucial to the covenant’s integrity, continuance and fulfillment;
without such an heir, Abraham would never be the father the covenant pledged,
no matter how many children he happened to conceive.
And so, when Abraham determined to do what God asked him, he wasn’t merely
committing to the unthinkable act of killing his own child; he was agreeing to an
act that would slay the covenant itself. Sacrificing Isaac would prove that God
Himself is unfaithful and untrustworthy, for He had commanded an act that
contradicted His covenant and its promises and would actually destroy them.
God’s directive to slay Isaac was a test of Abraham’s faith, not of His
compliance. The challenge to Abraham wasn’t whether he would obey a divine
command and kill his precious son, but whether he would continue to believe that
God is true and faithful when He Himself called that into question. Could he
believe God for the promises when He commanded that they be put to death?
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God’s dual word to Abraham – Isaac’s status as monogenes and the command to
sacrifice him – set up an impossibility that showed Him to be false and
untrustworthy on one count or the other; both “words” couldn’t be true. If God
was serious about sacrificing Isaac, then he couldn’t be the covenant heir; on the
other hand, if he was the heir, then he couldn’t die. The writer underscored this
dynamic by noting explicitly that Isaac was the elect offspring through whom
Abraham would become the father of a multitude of descendents (v. 18) – a fact
that Abraham knew full well (ref. again Genesis 17:18-21). The integrity of the
covenant was bound up in Isaac as the monogenes, but as God ordained him to be
the father of the “seed” promised to Abraham. But having issued this oath, the
covenant God was now calling for Isaac’s death, while as yet he had no children.
The challenge to Abraham was the challenge of faith – to believe that God is true
in the face of impossibility. To pass the test, Abraham had to believe God for both
of His “words”: that Isaac was indeed the covenant heir, and that God intended
him to be slain as a sacrifice of worship. The Hebrews writer explained how
Abraham reasoned this out: He reasoned that God is able to raise the dead (v.
19). Hadn’t He effectively done this when He brought forth a child from two dead
bodies (v. 11)? Isaac was living proof that God brings life out of death. And if He
did this miraculous work once when Isaac was conceived and born into the world,
could He not do it again by raising him from the dead? The Genesis account
shows that this was Abraham’s thinking (22:4-8), and that account was evidently
the source of the Hebrews writer’s insight. Abraham’s faith in his God meant that
he would not hesitate to slay his son, and so worship God as He directed. But this
same faith assured him that he would receive his son back; the God who’d
pronounced Isaac the monogenes would provide the sacrifice He demanded. And
so Abraham was fully convinced that his God would indeed prove faithful. By His
own power and wisdom, He’d resolve the impossibility He created.
God did provide a different sacrifice (Genesis 22:13-14), and the writer explained
that Abraham received Isaac back “in a figure.” This expression points to the fact
that Isaac wasn’t literally raised from the dead, and yet he was brought back from
death in the sense that Abraham had already sacrificed him in his own mind and
determination. When God stayed his hand, Abraham received back the son he’d
delivered over to death. This much is clear, but there is also some suggestion that
the Hebrews writer viewed this circumstance typologically as well as figuratively.
That is, he saw in this “resurrection” of the covenant heir out of sacrificial death a
prefiguration of the same phenomenon involving the ultimate heir of whom Isaac
was the prototype (Galatians 3:16). Could this be what Jesus had in mind when
He insisted that Abraham saw His day and rejoiced (John 8:56)?
Most important here, though, is that this episode was the climactic demonstration
of Abraham’s faith, and God rewarded it with His affirmation that He would
indeed uphold and fulfill His covenant with him. Most notably, God advanced the
promise of global blessing from Abraham to his “seed” (Genesis 22:15-18). His
intent for the world would be realized through resurrection of the covenant heir.
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Post by Admin on Aug 31, 2023 12:11:27 GMT -5
f. From Abraham, the writer shifted his attention to Isaac and Jacob, Abraham’s son
and grandson (11:20-21). This is a natural transition, and not simply because Isaac
has already been mentioned, but because of the writer’s focus on the covenant
with Abraham as fundamental to his faith and faithfulness. If faith is directed
toward God’s revealed purposes and promises – and it is, then it is also
covenantally-oriented. The reason is that, from the time of Noah, God has situated
all such revelation within covenant structures and relationships.
Abraham’s faith was set within God’s covenant with him, and Isaac was the
centerpiece of the covenant and its promises. He was the heir through whom all of
the covenant’s particulars would be realized. This being the case, it is perhaps
surprising that Isaac has such a small role in the Genesis record. His life spans
fifteen chapters in the text (Genesis 21-35), but the last seven of those speak
almost nothing of him personally. Once Isaac bestowed his blessing on Jacob
(Genesis 27-28), the narrative moves him into the background and Jacob assumes
center stage. Isaac had served his role in the covenant and the salvation history,
and so little more needed to be added except to note his death (Genesis 35).
And yet Isaac is important as a man of faith. Like his father before him, he had
many shortcomings, and some of his challenges and failures of faith closely
paralleled those of Abraham (cf. Genesis 12:10-20, 20:1-18 and 26:6-11). These
parallels suggest that Isaac shared his father’s weaknesses and flaws, but the
Genesis narrative wants the reader to see in them the covenant connection
between the two men. The God of Abraham had now become the God of Isaac
(cf. Genesis 17:15-19 with 26:1-5, 24; cf. also 21:22-33 with 26:23-33).
The Hebrews writer focused on the covenant in his consideration of Abraham’s
faith, and so it was with Isaac. One might argue that there were many things in
Isaac’s life that attested his faith, but the writer chose to mention only one: his act
of blessing his sons Jacob and Esau. It was customary in the ancient Near East for
fathers to bestow their blessing on their sons, so this act doesn’t in itself
demonstrate faith in God. But it did in the case of the patriarchs, for their blessing
involved their ownership of their own place in God’s covenant and His intent to
continue the covenant in a chosen offspring. Isaac knew his father’s God; he was
old enough at Moriah to understand and recall what had happened there, and
afterward his father surely instructed him in his place in the covenant and its
fulfillment. Now, sensing that his life was drawing to its close, Isaac was anxious
to impart his blessing to the next covenant heir.
Genesis 27:1ff recounts this episode, and it focuses on the fact that Jacob received
the blessing counter to what Isaac believed and intended. Isaac sought to bless
Esau, the firstborn (though Esau had long since sold his birthright to Jacob), but
God had chosen Jacob to inherit the covenant, and He saw to it that the younger
son received the blessing. It came about through ignorance, conspiracy, deception,
and unbelief, but God’s will prevailed. Jacob was the covenant heir, but Esau also
obtained his father’s blessing (11:20), albeit not the one he desired (27:38-40).
217
Again, the writer was drawing from Genesis 27, and the first thing that jumps out
from this account is that Isaac’s blessing of his sons doesn’t seem in any way to
have been an act of faith. Quite the opposite, Isaac’s intent to bless Esau – and his
belief that he’d done so – suggests his unfaithfulness, given the prophetic word
given to Rebekah before the twins were born (Genesis 25:21-23). Of course, it’s
possible that Rebekah never shared that word with Isaac, in which case his intent
makes sense. For Esau was the first-born, and therefore the rightful heir of his
father’s house, even though his birth preceded Jacob by only a few moments. But
whether or not Isaac was aware of God’s choice (or the fact that Esau had sold his
birthright), his blessing still doesn’t appear to be an act of faith. Faith owns God’s
purposes, and Isaac was committed to bestowing the blessing on Esau; Jacob
obtained it only because he deceived his father. Yes, God saw to it that His
decision of covenant election stood and the covenant blessing fell to Jacob. But
Isaac’s part was one of ignorance (if not unbelief) and contrary intention, not
faith. What, then, from the Genesis account convinced the Hebrews writer that
Isaac had acted in faith? Two observations perhaps help to answer that question:
The first is the fact that Isaac didn’t retract his blessing after he learned that it had
been obtained by deceit. This indicates that he believed his covenant blessing,
once bestowed, couldn’t be recalled, and would indeed bring to fruition that
which it proclaimed and pronounced. Thus he declared to Esau, “Yes, and he
shall be blessed,” apparently before he even knew who had received the blessing
(Genesis 27:30-33). The suggestion, then, is that Isaac saw God’s hand in this
particular outcome. Yes, it resulted from sin and deceit, but it was the outcome
God intended, however it came about.
The second observation is more general, which is that this episode of blessing was
the culmination of Isaac’s life of faith. Since that day on Mount Moriah when he
was just a youth, Isaac had walked before Yahweh as the covenant heir. Like his
father Abraham, Isaac’s faith and faithfulness fell short in various ways, but he
clung tightly to his God and His covenant. Now, in his old age, that persistent
faith compelled him to pass the covenant inheritance to the next heir. Yes, Isaac
believed Esau was that heir, but he nonetheless issued his blessing in faith. So that
same faith led Isaac to conclude that God had insured that the blessing went to the
right person, regardless of what he may have believed.
It was from this vantage point of faith that Isaac responded to the objections of his
eldest son and bestowed his blessing on him (Genesis 27:34-40). Whatever he
believed before that moment, Isaac now understood what God had disclosed to
Rebekah while the twins wrestled inside her womb: By His own determination for
His own reasons, and contrary to human convention, the older would serve the
younger. But just as with Ishmael before him, Esau, too, would become a great
and royal nation, and God would give him and his descendents the whole region
of Edom around Mount Seir (cf. Genesis 36; Deuteronomy 2:1-6). But the
covenant and its promises belonged to Jacob; it was his seed through whom God’s
blessing would flow to all the nations of the earth (Genesis 28:10-15).
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This covenant distinction is crucially important, not least because it is the context for
understanding God’s disposition of love toward Jacob and hatred toward Esau (ref.
Malachi 1:1-3). The natural tendency is to treat these dispositions in a personal and
ethical sense. That is, God’s love for Jacob and hatred toward Esau expressed something
about the men themselves. Indeed, the Hebrews writer himself seems to reinforce this
perspective (ref. 12:15-17). But to view God’s love and hatred that way is to miss their
true significance: These antithetical dispositions toward the two brothers concerned His
covenant intent for them, not His moral assessment of them or sentiment toward them as
human beings. Paul made this clear when he insisted that God’s love and hatred preceded
the twins’ birth, and so had nothing to do with them as individuals (Romans 9:10-13).
Rather, these opposing dispositions reflected His covenant election (not election unto
“salvation” as commonly understood). That is, God’s election of Jacob was His sovereign
determination of Jacob’s place in His intention for the world as bound up in His covenant
with Abraham. With respect to the covenant, He was the God of Abraham, Isaac and
Jacob. This is the interpretive lens for Hebrews 12:15-17; God’s hatred of Esau neither
resulted from nor provoked his godlessness respecting the birthright. Yes, Esau’s actions
served God’s design and determination, but they were entirely his own.
Thus God’s hatred of Esau must not be understood in personal terms, much less as
biblical support for the Calvinistic doctrine of reprobation. Indeed, God’s “hatred” of
Esau took account of his Abrahamic heritage (ref. again Deuteronomy 2:1-6; cf. Joshua
24:1-4), and God included Esau’s descendents in His design to gather to Himself people
from all nations and tribes (cf. Amos 9:11-12 with Acts 15:7-18). Esau’s offspring, just
like the rest of the Gentiles, had a share in God’s promise that Abraham would one day
become the father of a multitude of nations. Abraham’s non-covenant descendents could
also become his true children, because this status results from union with the Seed
promised in the covenant (Galatians 3). But for this same reason, Abraham’s covenant
descendents aren’t automatically his true children; they, too, can find themselves outside
of the covenant household, having Abraham as their father only according to the flesh (cf.
Galatians 3:15-29 with Romans 2:28-29, 9:1-33; ref. also Luke 13:22-30; John 8:31-56).
A future ingrafting for Esau’s descendents (in this way, Esau’s being included in the
covenant household) wasn’t evident in the blessing Isaac gave to him, but it’s quite
possible that the Hebrews writer had it in mind when he spoke of the blessing pertaining
to “things to come.” But whether or not this was the case, he perceived that Isaac
bestowed his respective blessings “by faith,” speaking the words of blessing as prophetic
utterances that drew on the covenant, Isaac’s share in it, and God’s intent to pass the
inheritance and its vocation on to the next generation.
God’s eternal purposes, which He determined to accomplish by means of a sovereign
covenant with Abram, the Chaldean, would not fail. At each step, His electing
determination would preserve and advance His designs. He was the God of Abraham,
Isaac and Jacob, whom He ordained to be Israel, the father of the Abrahamic nation.
And, at the appointed time, Israel would become Israel indeed in the Seed at the heart of
the covenant. In that day, Ishmael and Esau would see their father’s blessing come to
their households, together with all the households of mankind (Isaiah 11:1-12, 49:1-7).
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Post by Admin on Aug 31, 2023 12:12:38 GMT -5
b. The Hebrews writer moved quickly from Isaac to Jacob (11:21). Jacob was
Abraham’s grandson, and the heir of the covenant in his own generation. But
more than that, he was the central figure in the emergence of the nation of Israel,
which nation is the focal point of the balance of the Old Testament scriptures. For
this reason, it’s not surprising that Jacob’s life dominates the Genesis record,
spanning more than half of its fifty chapters. Abraham was the nation’s first
forefather, and Isaac its second, but it was Jacob who became the man Israel, and
it was his twelve sons who became the heads of Israel’s twelve tribes. God had
promised innumerable descendents to Abraham, and He reiterated that promise to
Isaac, but it was Jacob who began to see that promised realized as God gave him
twelve sons through whom the covenant household became a great nation as vast
as the stars of the heavens and the sand of the seashore (cf. Genesis 15:6, 22:15-
17, 26:1-4, 28:10-14, 32:9-12 with 1 Kings 4:20-21).
God had seen to it that Jacob received his father’s covenant blessing, which
reflected the fact that He’d had chosen him, rather than Esau, to be the progenitor
of the Israelite nation. Henceforth, Yahweh identified Himself as the God of
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Exodus 2:23-4:5, 6:1-8; etc.). Thus Jacob, like his
father before him, sought to bless his own sons as he, too, approached the end of
his life. This blessing is recorded in Genesis 49, but the Hebrews writer focused
on the blessing that Jacob bestowed on his grandsons, Ephraim and Manasseh
(Genesis 48). This focus on Joseph’s sons seems strange at first glance, especially
given Judah’s preeminence among Jacob’s sons. Judah was the son chosen by
God to be the forefather of the promised messianic seed (Genesis 49:8-10); surely
that made him a more appropriate choice for the Hebrews writer in showing
Jacob’s faith by his blessing of his covenant offspring.
But a closer look at this blessing and its significance and eventual outcome shows
why the writer made it the issue in his treatment of Jacob’s faith.
1) First, Jacob blessed Ephraim and Manasseh as his own sons (Genesis
48:1-5). He blessed them just as he did his twelve sons; indeed, Ephraim
and Manasseh enjoyed a kind of preeminence in that Jacob blessed them
before he blessed his natural sons. The Chronicler later observed that this
action amounted to Jacob bestowing on Joseph’s sons the status and rights
of the first-born. The Genesis account suggests this by mentioning Reuben
and Simeon (Jacob’s first two sons), but the Chronicler was explicit:
Joseph’s sons supplanted Reuben as first-born (1 Chronicles 5:1-2).
2) Thus Joseph obtained both the birthright and a double portion in the
covenant inheritance (Genesis 48:22). Unlike his brothers, he enjoyed two
places among Jacob’s twelve sons who would become the twelve tribes of
Israel. (The way this worked is that God took Levi and his offspring to be
His priests. As such, Levi’s household was entirely set aside to God, and
so had no tribal inheritance like the other brothers.) Thus the nation of
Israel was reckoned under Ephraim and Manasseh, not Levi and Joseph.
220
Faith involves perceiving as real and present what doesn’t yet exist (11:1). And
the more remote and less likely that future outcome, the greater the faith. Indeed,
faith is at its greatest when it believes God for what is seemingly impossible. This
was the faith of Abraham when he believed God for both the fruitfulness of his
covenant heir and the obligation to slay him as a sacrifice of worship, and this was
the faith of Abraham’s descendents when they believed God for His promise to
restore David’s regal house, even after He had cursed it and cut it off (cf.
Jeremiah 22:24-30 with 1 Samuel 7; Amos 9:11-15; Ezekiel 34, 37; etc.).
So Jacob’s blessing of Ephraim and Manasseh attested a vision that transcended
natural order and expectations. These sons of Joseph were henceforth no longer
grandsons of the covenant patriarch, but sons. And not merely sons, but first-born
sons. Though last in Jacob’s line (at that point), Ephraim and Manasseh were now
first in it. Even more, Manasseh’s natural status as Joseph’s first-born was
overturned as Jacob bestowed that status and right on Ephraim, just as Isaac had
done with Jacob many decades earlier (Genesis 48:8-20).
But there are two even more profound dimensions to Jacob’s faith as it expressed
itself in blessing Ephraim and Manasseh.
1) First, the two tribes descended from them would eventually rebel against
Yahweh and His chosen king. Indeed, Ephraim was preeminent among the
ten tribes that formed the northern kingdom of Israel, so much so that this
ten-tribe alliance is frequently referred to under the name Ephraim (cf.
Isaiah 7:1-9, 11:11-13; Ezekiel 37:15-19; Hosea 5:1-15; etc.). Thus
Ephraim, along with the whole house of Israel in the north, was eventually
consigned to God’s judgment and retribution at the hands of the Assyrian
forces (2 Kings 17:1ff; cf. Hosea 4-5, 9:1-3, 10:1-7; etc.)
Yet God’s purpose looked beyond that judgment and desolation to
reconciliation, restoration and ingathering – all to be accomplished in
connection with the messianic Servant promised by His prophets (cf.
Hosea 11:1-11 with Isaiah 11:1-13; Jeremiah 31-33; Ezekiel 37:15-28).
Yes, Ephraim would become a recalcitrant covenant-breaker, but Yahweh
would yet bring to pass the blessing He ordained for Ephraim – the
blessing Jacob spoke to as his own faith in the God who is faithful.
2) But even more than the future unfaithfulness and rebellion that would
mark their descendents, these boys were sons of an Egyptian mother
(Genesis 41:50-52). And not only was their mother Egyptian, she was the
daughter of an Egyptian priest who apparently presided as high priest over
the worship in the temple at On, one of the great cities in Lower Egypt.
Many believe On refers to the city of Heliopolis (“the city of the sun”
mentioned in Jeremiah 43:13), because it was an important sacred site for
the worship of the sun-god Ra (later, Amun-Ra), who many believe was
the chief deity in the Egyptian pantheon.
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Whatever the specific nature of Potiphera’s priesthood, Ephraim and Manasseh
possessed a pedigree that was antithetical to the covenant heritage of their father
and uncles. And now Jacob was bestowing on them the status of first-born among
Yahweh’s covenant household. He was supplanting the first son of his own wife –
the Abrahamic covenant matriarch – with the offspring of an Egyptian daughter
of a pagan high priest. Could a less likely and more outrageous circumstance be
imagined? Certainly not by Joseph’s eleven brothers.
Almost certainly Jacob didn’t himself fully grasp the ultimate significance of his
actions, but the Hebrews writer left no doubt that he acted in faith. In some
measure, God had enabled Jacob to glimpse His design for the future – the future
that had the Abrahamic household at its center – and the patriarch must have
sensed that his blessing of Joseph’s sons played a key role in that design.
- For many centuries to come (and even in the immediate future – Exodus
1-2), Egypt would continue to oppose God and His covenant people, even
to the point of becoming synonymous with such opposition (ref. Psalm
89:10; Isaiah 51:9-14; Revelation 11:1-8).
- Yet that hostile, pagan nation, too, would finally succumb to God’s intent
to make Abraham the father of many nations and peoples (ref. Isaiah
19:19-25; cf. Psalm 68:31-32; Zechariah 9:9-10).
In what must have seemed a great irony, Jacob found himself ending his life, not
in the promised land, but a distant, pagan one. Even so, he believed the God who
had promised, and he affirmed his faith by his prophetic blessing on Joseph’s sons
(48:3-5). As he had previously charged Joseph, Jacob now, on his deathbed,
charged all of his sons to return his body to the land Yahweh had pledged to him,
just as He pledged it to Abraham and Isaac before him (cf. Genesis 47:27-31,
49:28-33 with 28:10-15). Dying in his bed, Jacob recognized that he was
appointed to die in Egypt, in a place and circumstance far removed from the
expectation he had derived from Yahweh’s covenant oath to him. But as he had
blessed Ephraim and Manasseh (and his other sons) in faith, so he drew his last
breath still holding tightly to the same faith. The eyes that were closing in death
worshipped his God, seeing what was not yet seen; Jacob knew that he would not
live to see it, but he was fully assured that Yahweh would prove faithful. One day,
He would fulfill His promise of universal blessing through Abraham’s seed.
“They will not hurt or destroy in all My holy mountain, for the earth will be full of the
knowledge of Yahweh as the waters cover the sea. Then it will come about in that day that
the nations will resort to the root of Jesse, who will stand as a signal for the peoples; and
His resting place will be glorious. Then it will happen on that day that the Lord will again
recover the second time with His hand the remnant of His people, and He will lift up a
standard for the nations, and will assemble the banished ones of Israel… Then the jealousy
of Ephraim will depart, and those who harass Judah will be cut off; Ephraim will not be
jealous of Judah, and Judah will not harass Ephraim.” (Isaiah 11:9-13)
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Post by Admin on Aug 31, 2023 12:13:37 GMT -5
6. The Hebrews writer lastly turned his attention to Joseph in closing out his consideration
of the patriarchs (11:22). This isn’t the least surprising, given that he cited Jacob’s
blessing of Joseph – in the persons of his two sons (ref. again Genesis 48:8-16) – as
demonstrating his faith. Joseph enjoyed a certain preeminence in Jacob’s blessing, and so
it was appropriate for the writer to include him in his catalog of Israel’s faithful. And all
the more as faith looks to the future realization of what God has promised, and Joseph
was a key figure in the Abrahamic promises and their outworking in the life of
Abraham’s descendents. Joseph was God’s instrument for preserving the covenant
household (Genesis 50:15-21), but such that it would inherit the promised land in the
manner God determined: as the result of a great work of deliverance and ingathering (cf.
Genesis 15:12-21; Exodus 3:1-10, 6:1-8, 15:1-18).
As he did with Isaac and Jacob, the writer noted Joseph’s faith by means of one brief
observation, but one that underscores both his role in God’s purposes and his awareness
of it. As Joseph approached the time of his own death, he, too, looked to the future with
all confidence in the faithfulness of his God; Yahweh would indeed give His covenant
people the inheritance He’d pledged to them. And when that day came, Joseph wanted to
be part of the great assembly that made its way to the promised land (11:22).
a. In the writer’s words, Joseph “made mention of the exodus of the sons of Israel,”
and his language indicates, not a passing comment on Joseph’s part, but Joseph
giving voice to a matter that he always held in the forefront of his conscious hope
and longing. That matter was the future day when God would fulfill His oath to
Abraham to give him and his descendents the land of Canaan for their inheritance.
Almost certainly Joseph had known of that promise since his childhood, for it was
his family’s great hope. But what made him connect it with his family’s
circumstance in Egypt?
It’s impossible to know what expectation had been passed down from Abraham
through Isaac and Jacob, but, for its part, the Genesis account doesn’t mention
Egypt in connection with God’s promise of deliverance from bondage (ref.
15:14). So also, it’s not entirely clear that Joseph connected his own hope with
that specific promise. But he did know of God’s promise concerning Canaan, and
that alone told him that his family would not remain in Egypt forever. God’s
faithfulness meant that one day there would be an exodus from Egypt; one day his
family would indeed inherit the promised land.
One other thing worth noting is that Joseph’s hope of departing from Egypt
wasn’t tied to an expectation of future suffering; he died without knowing what
lay ahead for his family. It wasn’t until sometime later, after the death of the
pharaoh he served, that things began to change and the favor his family had
enjoyed in Egypt turned to hatred and oppression (Exodus 1:8-14). No, Joseph
had no supernatural insight into the future and what awaited his descendents in
Egypt. He only knew what God had promised, and he was fully convinced that He
would fulfill His word. Joseph’s expectation and longing derived from his faith in
the God who faithful, not his knowledge of what the future had in store.
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b. The writer affirmed Joseph’s faith in two particulars associated with the time of
his death: first, his reminder to his family that God’s promise and faithfulness
assured them of a coming day when they would leave Egypt; and second, his
instruction to them concerning his own remains. Just as he expected them to hold
fast to God’s promise, so he had the expectation for himself. He, too, clung to the
assurance of the future inheritance of Canaan, and he was determined to
participate in Israel’s departure from Egypt and inheritance of the promised land.
Joseph knew that he wouldn’t live to see God fulfill His promise to Abraham,
Isaac and Jacob, but he was absolutely certain that day would come, and he was
committed to being part of it, even if only in his bones (Genesis 50:24-26).
Joseph’s life is the centerpiece of the last fourteen chapters of Genesis, and that
account presents all sorts of evidence for his faith. And yet the writer, as he did
with Jacob, chose to demonstrate Joseph’s faith by how it expressed itself at the
end of his life. But he distinguished the two men by using a different verb for
Joseph’s death, one that is relatively uncommon in the New Testament writings.
Indeed, this is the only time the Hebrews writer used it in his entire epistle.
This verb also denotes the act of dying (cf. Matthew 2:19, 9:18; Luke 7:2; John
11:39; Acts 2:29, 7:15; etc.), but it carries the connotation of death as a
completing event – death as bringing life to its end. Thus it emphasizes the
significance of death more than the mere fact of it. One can only speculate why
the writer chose to use this verb in speaking of Joseph, and not of Jacob. (The
verb he used in verse 21 emphasizes death as expiration, that is, the cessation of
biological life, as suggested by the expression, “breathed his last.”) Joseph’s
covenant forefathers also “ran their race” in their own generation, and so fulfilled
the calling God appointed for them. Their deaths, as much as Joseph’s,
represented the completion of their lives.
But one clue is the writer’s different emphasis in his treatment of Jacob and
Joseph. The faith of both men looked to the future as they neared the time of their
death, but Jacob’s was directed toward Joseph’s future bound up in his two sons.
On the other hand, Joseph’s faith involved his own share in the future God had
pledged. It seems, then, that the writer was emphasizing that the completion of
Joseph’s life in death was only apparent; his life – and the purpose for it – would
actually be completed in his personal share in the realized promise.
This forward-looking perspective moved Joseph to remind his kinsmen to rest in the
faithfulness of their God and set their hope on the inheritance pledged to them. But it also
provoked him to charge them to include him in their joyous procession to Canaan when
the day finally came. He evidently sensed that that day remained a long way off, for he
spoke only of carrying his bones with them. And Joseph’s family honored his petition;
when he died they embalmed his body per Egyptian practice and laid it in a sarcophagus.
But they didn’t entomb it; rather, it continued as a perpetual reminder that God would yet
arise and fulfill His word. This is the note of confident faith that ends the Genesis
account; the note that the book of Exodus picks up with the birth of the deliverer
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Post by Admin on Aug 31, 2023 12:15:29 GMT -5
7. The writer showed how Joseph’s faith looked to the future day of exodus and return that
God’s covenant oath to Abraham pledged. If the patriarch’s descendents were to inherit
the land promised to him, they could not remain in Egypt forever; one day they would
depart that land and make their way toward Canaan. Yahweh had indeed appointed that
day, but as a day of divine deliverance, and not mere departure. God was going to deliver
His people, but through a human agent. That person, along with the circumstances of his
birth, life, and work, comprise the Hebrews writer’s next examples of faith (11:23-28).
a. The Scriptures identify Moses as that human deliverer, and the writer followed
the flow of the scriptural narrative by first speaking to the faith of Moses’ parents.
As with all of his other examples, he affirmed their faith, not by explaining to his
readers what they believed (he made no mention of that), but what they did. Faith
that actually exists – faith that is real – will always manifest itself. This is because
faith owns God’s purposes, promises, and work, and so conforms to them (cf.
James 2:1-26). So it was with Moses’ parents, and the act of faith the author
mentioned was their shielding their new baby from the pharaoh’s edict (11:23).
Once again, the author provided only a brief summary, but his readers would have
known that he was referring to the episode recorded in Exodus 1:1-2:2.
The context for this action was the horrific circumstance in which Jacob’s
descendents found themselves after the death of Joseph and the pharaoh he
served. As time went on, the memory of Joseph and his exploits on behalf of
Egypt faded from the Egyptians’ national memory, so that what remained was
only a growing concern about the strange, separatist Hebrews living among them.
The Egyptian rulers shared this concern, especially as they watched the Hebrew
community swell to well over a million individuals (ref. Exodus 12:37). Such a
multitude posed a serious threat, not only by their sheer numbers, but especially if
they chose to align themselves with any of Egypt’s enemies. Eventually it was
decided that the best way to mitigate the threat was to subject the Hebrews to
harsh labor. This would serve several purposes: first, an exhausted, starving, and
broken people aren’t much of an adversary. But hard labor would also
significantly reduce the Hebrews’ numbers, even as Egypt enjoyed the benefit of
a massive slave workforce (Exodus 1:8-11).
But, just as the Egyptians’ fears were not realized (the Hebrews didn’t raise an
insurrection or ally with their enemies), neither were their aims: The more they
sought to reduce the Hebrews’ numbers, the more they increased. Such things
don’t happen, and this strange outcome provoked fear among the Egyptians, to the
point that the pharaoh commanded the Hebrew midwives to kill every male child
born to Israelite couples. Almost certainly some of them complied, but the
narrative characterized these midwives as “fearing God” and refusing to obey this
directive. Their explanation to the pharaoh was that the vigor of Hebrew women
enabled them to give birth before a midwife could arrive (1:11-21). Whether or
not he believed this, he decided that he needed to entrust the task to his own
people. Thus he commanded all Egyptians to take note of Hebrew births and see
to it that the male offspring were seized and drowned in the Nile (1:22).
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The pharaoh obviously understood that this course of action would eventually
result in the Hebrews’ extermination, and thus the elimination of his valuable
slave labor. This alone indicates how concerned and fearful he had become; he
was all too willing to forfeit abundant free labor for the sake of insuring his own
well-being and the well-being of his kingdom.
It was during this time that Moses was born to a man and woman of the tribe of
Levi, and they were careful to hide his birth from those who would honor the
pharaoh’s command. It’s hard to imagine any parent not taking that action under
such circumstances, but, in their case, the Exodus account specifically attributed it
to them finding their baby to be a beautiful child (2:1-2). The Hebrews writer
noted this same motivation, and associated it with the parents’ faith. For this
reason it’s especially important to understand this “beauty” and its significance.
- This Greek adjective (“beautiful”) is uncommon in the Septuagint and
occurs just twice in the New Testament, which makes it more challenging
to determine the writer’s meaning. The other occurrence is in Stephen’s
discourse, when he was speaking of the very same events (Acts 7:20). The
Septuagint reading of Exodus 2:2 uses it, which is the likely reason the
Hebrews author used it. (He tended to use the Septuagint in his citations.)
In general terms, the adjective connotes splendor, majesty or elegance.
Used of people, it can refer to outward beauty or the essential “splendor”
of dignity, nobility or pedigree. Here it seems to suggest that Moses’
parents detected in him some kind of notable distinction that they
interpreted as the peculiar working of God’s hand. Indeed, this is how
Stephen interpreted this verse: “Moses was beautiful in the sight of God.”
- This, then, is the lens for interpreting Moses’ parents’ faith in hiding him:
Whatever they concluded about this baby’s distinction, they were
convinced that he must not be allowed to die. The God who had
distinguished him in his appearance surely had a unique purpose for him.
And so Moses’ parents hid him, not because he was a pretty baby, or even
because of natural parental instincts, but as a act of faith; an act that
expressed their sure confidence in God’s faithfulness. This doesn’t imply
that they saw their son as God did – as the deliverer appointed to lead
Israel out of Egypt and to the inheritance promised to the patriarchs. This
is certainly possible, but merely believing that God had a purpose for their
son within His purposes for Israel rendered their action an act of faith.
It’s impossible to know what exactly Amram and Jochebed believed about their
baby boy, but they obviously saw something that told them God had ordained him
for some notable purpose. They couldn’t know what He had planned, and He
didn’t reveal His plans to them. It was enough for them to know that Israel’s God
would prove faithful to His covenant promises to the fathers. With that faith, they
secured their son within their home, not fearing the king’s edict.
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But as the baby grew it became increasingly difficult to conceal him, and soon
Moses’ parents reasoned that their best hope for saving him from death in the Nile
was to deliver him into it – not through Egyptian hands, but into God’s hands.
They would protect their son from the river the Egyptians believed to be the
manifest power of their god Hapi – the god of Egypt’s life and well-being – by
giving him to the God who created the river. Thus, in a marvelous irony, Moses’
parents did what the pharaoh had commanded, relinquishing their baby to the
waters of the Nile (Exodus 2:3-4). The writer didn’t speak to this part of the story,
but he obviously had it in mind when he noted that Moses’ parents concealed him
for three months. So he doubtless regarded this action, as much as their hiding
their infant boy, as an act of faith. For they had no way of knowing what fate
awaited their baby when they left him helpless in his little ark among the reeds
lining the riverbank. Setting him there and walking away, they were entrusting
him to the care of their God. Yes, their daughter could watch and see what
happened and try to influence the outcome, but she had no control over it.
When Amram and Jochebed made the decision to leave their baby in the reeds
along the Nile riverbank, they had every reason to expect him to die. He was only
three months old and wouldn’t survive long on his own out in the elements. He
would likely die in less than a day if no one heard his cries and rescued him. And
if someone did discover him, there was a strong possibility that he would end up
enduring the very fate pharaoh intended for him.
- If the person finding the baby was Egyptian and believed him to be a
Hebrew child, he would most likely either leave him to die or throw him
into the river as pharaoh had commanded.
- And even if another Hebrew found him, would that person be willing to
risk his own life by helping a Hebrew baby boy, when the pharaoh had
commanded that they all be killed? Beyond that, it was unlikely that a
Hebrew would be willing to take someone else’s baby into his home and
bear the burden of feeding and caring for him, when every Hebrew family
was already suffering to the point of starvation. And if an Israelite
discovered what he perceived to be an Egyptian baby, was there any
chance at all that he would do anything to help that infant?
Every reasonable outcome seemed to indicate that their son would soon be dead,
and yet Moses’ parents, convinced that their God – the God of Abraham, Isaac,
and Jacob – had a purpose for him, willingly entrusted their baby to Him. The
One who had given them this unique child would surely take care of him and see
to it that he would survive to fulfill his calling. There was no way to know or
predict what awaited their baby, either in the short term or the long term. But
what Amram and Jochebed were fully assured of was that their God would prove
faithful. He would accomplish in and through Abraham’s descendents what He’d
determined and decreed, and their son would most certainly fulfill his own
ordained role in that grand, all-encompassing plan.
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Post by Admin on Aug 31, 2023 12:16:38 GMT -5
b. From Moses’ birth, the Hebrews writer jumped to his adulthood – specifically, the
time of decision when he had to come to grips with his Hebrew identity and its
implications for him and the life he was going to lead. Other than his treatment of
Abraham, the writer devoted the most narrative space to Moses, and yet he
provided only a snapshot of a few highlights of Moses’ life. But that was more
than sufficient, for his Jewish readers were well familiar with Moses and his
story; indeed, Moses is arguably the most important figure in Judaism and Israel’s
history, national identity and covenant relationship with God.
- God chose him to lead out His captive people toward the inheritance He
had promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Exodus 3:7-10).
- So God made Moses His mediating instrument in the Sinai Covenant that
confirmed Abraham’s descendents as His covenant people. Israel’s
covenant relationship with God – the relationship He first established in
His covenant with Abraham – was defined and administered through the
Torah that came to be known as the Law of Moses (Exodus 20-31).
- Moses was God’s chosen mediator, but also His ruler, prophet and judge
throughout the years of Israel’s wandering in the wilderness. Of Moses
alone it was said that God knew him face-to-face (Deuteronomy 34:10).
- Moses’ greatness and central place within historic Judaism was such that
the teachers of the Law in the first century considered themselves to be his
disciples (John 9:28). So the place of teaching authority and judgment in
the synagogues was known as the “chair of Moses” (Matthew 23:2).
Moses’ central place in Israel’s history made him and his faith a profound point of
exhortation to the epistle’s Jewish audience. This man so revered in Jewish
culture and tradition had endured the same sorts of trials and difficulties as the
readers themselves were enduring: defamation, opposition, and threats of harm
and death from his countrymen. He, too, knew what it meant to suffer and
persevere in faithfulness as seeing Him who is unseen (11:27). Israel had pressed
Moses to the breaking point, even as the readers were being pressed to return to
the Judaism they’d left to follow Jesus as their Messiah. Their fellow Jews were
doubtless challenging them in the same way their forefathers had confronted the
blind man in Jesus’ day: “We know that God has spoken to Moses; but as for this
man, we do not know where He is from” (John 9:29). No one’s faith and
faithfulness were better suited to encourage these Jewish Christians than Moses.
The Hebrews author was well aware of his readers’ high esteem of Moses; as a
fellow Jew, he shared that esteem. But he also understood that Moses’ greatness
lay in his role in God’s purposes, now fulfilled in Jesus the Messiah, and he
wanted his readers to share his conviction. Even Moses himself, though lacking
the insight afforded by the fullness of the times, viewed his own circumstance and
obligation of faith in terms of “the reproach of God’s Anointed” (11:26).
228
The writer omitted the episode of Moses’ parents leaving their baby in the reeds
along the Nile riverbank, and he also skipped over what came next. That account
is provided in Exodus 2:5-10, which records the astonishing providence of
pharaoh’s daughter discovering the baby in his ark when she came to the river to
bathe. Even more astonishing was the fact that she, the daughter of Egypt’s
supreme ruler and fully aware that this infant was a Hebrew child, determined to
save him in defiance of her father’s direct command to his subjects.
This meant finding someone to nurse the baby, since he was too young to be
weaned. Immediately, Moses’ sister approached pharaoh’s daughter and offered
to find a Hebrew woman to nurse him. She agreed, and the girl ran and retrieved
her mother, who agreed to care for the child until he was weaned. Thus Moses
was returned to his own mother and family and allowed to live as a Hebrew boy
until he was well past his toddler years (probably around four years old).
Evidently pharaoh’s daughter regarded Moses as her own child throughout that
time, because once he was weaned she took him into the palace as her own son. It
was at that time that she named him Moses, which is from an Egyptian root that
means, “brought forth” or “drawn out.” The text doesn’t say how she managed
this feat, but she somehow convinced her father, the pharaoh, to embrace the boy
as her son, which obviously involved hiding his Hebrew identity.
This series of extraordinary providences secured Moses’ life, but they also gave
him a new identity. This child of Hebrew slaves was now a prince of Egypt,
raised as Egyptian royalty with all of the benefits and endowments that exalted
status afforded (cf. 11:26 with Acts 7:22). Moses’ parents must have done what
they could to keep apprised of their son’s development, and they surely rejoiced
that God had seen fit to deliver him from the agony of pharaoh’s mud pits, even
though it meant losing him from their family and home. But though Moses was
raised from young childhood as an Egyptian prince, the text’s account of his
interaction with his Hebrew brethren when he was a grown man seems to suggest
that he was aware of his own Hebrew identity at that time (Exodus 2:11-14).
Of course, this passage can be interpreted simply as Moses showing natural
human concern for the plight of the enslaved foreigners who served his adoptive
grandfather. But a couple of factors point in a different direction. First, the text
nowhere indicates that Moses came to realize his Hebrew identity at a later time;
if that was indeed the case, the Scripture is silent about it. On the other hand,
Stephen’s treatment of this context shows clearly his own belief that Moses was
aware of his Hebrew lineage at that time. More than that, Stephen argued that
Moses was aware of his ordination by God to be His deliverer (Acts 7:23-25).
This great dichotomy – enslaved son of Abraham and exalted son of Egypt – and
its predicament of self-understanding, allegiance and preference that provided the
context for Moses’ first test of faith and faithful response, and it was to that
challenge of faith that the Hebrews writer first turned his attention (11:24-26).
229
Again, the writer omitted the backstory, but his Jewish readers knew it well. They
understood what it meant that Moses, “when he had become great, refused to be
called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter,” choosing instead to openly embrace his
Hebrew identity at the cost of every privilege and comfort afforded to him by his
status as pharaoh’s grandson. Even more than that, Moses’ allegiance to his
Hebrew countrymen turned his grandfather’s heart against him, such that he
became an adversary determined to destroy him (Exodus 2:11-15).
Moses may have responded in the moment when he intervened and killed the
Egyptian who was beating a Hebrew slave, but he didn’t act hastily or without
thought. He was fully aware that his action meant setting aside his identity and
status as a prince of Egypt; by standing with his fellow Hebrew, he was standing
against Egypt’s authority and rule. He wasn’t merely taking a man’s life, he was
acting against his grandfather and the people whose favor and endowments had
allowed him to become one of the greatest men in Egypt, if not in the ancient
Near East. When Moses raised his hand against the Egyptian, he’d already
weighed that decision against his own status, wealth and power – indeed, even
against the value of his own life. In the writer’s words, he “chose to endure illtreatment with the people of God, rather than enjoy the passing pleasures of sin.”
Some have viewed this statement in terms of Moses choosing unjust suffering and
hardship over comfort, ease, and sinful self-indulgence. He was willing to labor as
a slave in the mud pits with his Hebrew countrymen rather than continue to live a
life of luxury in pharaoh’s palace. But that understanding completely misses the
point; perhaps worse, it reinforces the common human notion that faithfulness
requires austerity and self-imposed hardship – that godliness is an ethic of
subtraction. But if this was the writer’s point, then why would he distinguish
Joseph as a man of faith? Joseph’s status, wealth and power in Egypt certainly
rivaled Moses’, and he never walked away from them until the day he died.
No, the issue of “sin” and its “pleasures” had nothing to do with Moses’ material
wealth and his lifestyle in pharaoh’s house. Rather, they concerned his
relationship with the “people of God,” and that phrase is the key to understanding
the writer’s meaning. The choice that confronted Moses was faith or unbelief: He
could choose to pursue his calling on behalf of God’s covenant household, or he
could choose to ignore or deny it, and thus sin by deviating from the truth. Joseph
had proven faithful to his vocation in God’s purposes, and Moses was obliged to
do the same. Joseph’s calling required that he embrace his status as prince over
Egypt; Moses’ calling required that he renounce his.
Thus the Hebrews writer saw more in Moses’ action than a man for whom loyalty
to family and heritage transcended material well-being. And he wasn’t simply a
person governed by a compelling sense of justice and fair play. No, the writer
discerned in Moses’ decision a profound act of faith; Moses was a man whose
gaze was fixed on God’s promise and the reward it held out – a reward that the
author associated with the riches bound up in the “reproach of Christ” (11:26).
230
This statement has puzzled readers through the centuries, and scholars and
commentators have posed various interpretations. Some have argued that the
writer was claiming for Moses supernatural insight into the future Messiah and his
own connection with Him. Others have concluded that the writer wasn’t referring
to Jesus at all, but to Moses. For, though the Hebrew term messiah (and its Greek
equivalent christ) eventually became a title specifically ascribed to Jesus, the
noun itself simply means “anointed one.”
- Thus the Scriptures apply the designation “messiah” to Israel’s priests,
prophets, rulers, and even the nation itself as God’s elect (anointed)
covenant household (cf. Leviticus 4:1-17; 1 Samuel 2:10, 12:1-5, 16:1-7,
26:5-9; 2 Samuel 23:1-2; 1 Chronicles 16:22; Psalm 18:50, 28:6-9, 84:8-9,
89:19-51, 105:8-15, 132:8-18; Habakkuk 3:13; etc.).
- So God Himself even assigned that title to Cyrus, the pagan king of Persia,
whom He raised up and “anointed” to restore His people to Judea and
rebuild His sanctuary in Jerusalem (ref. Isaiah 44:28-45:4; cf. Ezra 1:1-4).
- Indeed, the wide-ranging use of this designation is profoundly significant,
for it provides the context for understanding Jesus as the singular Messiah
– Yahweh’s Anointed who embodies in Himself all of the messianic
figures and representations before Him (Psalm 2:1-3; Daniel 9:25-26).
The claim, then, is that the writer was saying that Moses bore the reproach that
resulted from his faithfulness to his anointing as Yahweh’s chosen deliverer. This
is possible, but the author almost certainly had Jesus in mind. But this doesn’t
imply that he believed Moses had insight into Jesus’ reproach and saw himself
sharing that same censure and rejection. However, Moses does seem to have had
some sense of his unique calling by the time he intervened with his countrymen
and killed the Egyptian; certainly Stephen believed that to be the case. And if
Moses understood that Yahweh had chosen him as His “messiah” – His anointed
servant to deliver Abraham’s children from Egypt, he must have associated that
deliverance with God’s covenant promise to Abraham, not only to give his
descendents the land of Canaan, but to bless all the earth’s families through them.
In that sense, Moses’ awareness of his own calling as Yahweh’s “messiah”
looked to the future messianic person and work. Like Abraham, Moses perceived
Messiah’s “day” and rejoiced in it (ref. John 8:56; Deuteronomy 18:15-19).
The writer’s point, then, seems to have been that Moses viewed himself in terms
of his unique role in God’s fulfillment of His intent for the world, a work that
would reach its climax in Jesus of Nazareth. Like so many others before him, and
many more yet to come, Moses understood that he was God’s anointed vessel,
chosen to advance His purposes until the day when all would be fulfilled in a
unique Anointed One – the promised son of Eve and Abraham. All prior
messianic figures anticipated Him, and all who fulfilled their calling in faith
endured His reproach, locking their gaze, as He did, on the reward (12:1-3).
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Post by Admin on Aug 31, 2023 12:17:37 GMT -5
c. Moses spent nearly all his first forty years of life as a prince of Egypt, enjoying all
of the privilege and luxury that such status afforded him. But God had set him
apart for greater things, and Moses himself seems to have had some sense of his
calling on behalf of Abraham’s descendents. The Exodus narrative suggests that,
at the very least, he was aware of his Hebrew heritage, and that knowledge led
him to the providential interaction with his brethren that resulted in his complete
separation from his Egyptian family and home. But Luke’s account of Stephen’s
stoning goes further, stating that Moses acted with the knowledge that God had
appointed him to deliver the Hebrew people from their bondage.
Assuming that Moses had that awareness, it raises the question of what he was
thinking when he fled from Egypt under the threat of death. He obviously
couldn’t help his Hebrew brethren from a place of refuge outside of Egypt, and so
he must have had some confidence that God was going to bring him back there.
Even more, why would Moses flee in the first place? If God had indeed set him
apart to be His deliverer, wouldn’t He keep him safe from those who sought his
life? These sorts of questions become all the more significant in light of the
Hebrews writer’s assertion that Moses’ flight from Egypt was an act of faith
(11:27). If anything, he seems to have acted out of fear (note Exodus 2:13-15), not
faithful regard for his calling. And yet this is the very thing the writer denied: “By
faith he left Egypt, not fearing the wrath of the king.”
Some have answered this dilemma by concluding that the author was referring to
Moses’ second departure from Egypt – the occasion when he led the Hebrew
nation out into the wilderness. This resolves the question of Moses’ fear, but it
introduces a chronological problem: It has the writer speaking of the Exodus
before the Passover episode (vv. 27-28). This isn’t a problem in itself, but there
are several considerations that argue against it.
1) First, the author has followed the historical and scriptural chronology
throughout the entire context, and he doesn’t give any hint here that he had
a reason for deviating from that pattern in this particular instance.
2) Secondly, the Exodus episode was a matter of corporate faith, and not
simply Moses’ faith. Indeed, the writer noted that with his next statement
that the Hebrew nation passed through the Red Sea “by faith” (v. 29). That
being the case, why single out Moses in the matter of leaving Egypt?
3) As well, the author associated this departure with Moses’ endurance
provoked by the faith of “seeing Him who is unseen.” This depiction
could describe the Exodus and wilderness period, but it fits more naturally
with the forty years that Moses spent in the land of Midian (Exodus
2:15ff). For those long years were indeed a time of endurance, as Moses
patiently waited for the day when Yahweh would call him to his appointed
task. He fled Egypt with the conviction that God had chosen him to deliver
His people, and no span of silent years would change that ordination.
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These considerations (and others as well) strongly suggest that the author was
here referring to Moses’ flight after he killed the Egyptian taskmaster, not the
Exodus that came some forty years later. But this leaves unresolved the seeming
contradiction between the Exodus account and the Hebrews writer’s claim.
There’s no doubt that he knew the scriptural account of this episode, and he’d
closely adhered to the scriptural text in all of his treatment to this point (vv. 4-25).
It makes no sense, then, that he would here contradict the Scriptures by insisting
that Moses’ acted out of faith rather than fear. There has to be a different
explanation, and a closer consideration shows what it is.
The first thing to note is that the Exodus text associates Moses’ fear with the fact
that he’d been seen slaying the Egyptian. He hadn’t acted out of fear, but
solidarity with his Hebrew brethren, and with the full knowledge of the grave,
life-changing consequences of his action. Moses knew there was no going back
once he raised his hand against an Egyptian, and yet he did so without fear or
doubt. Even more, the indication is that Moses intervened with the clear sense of
his calling to deliver the whole Hebrew nation from their Egyptian masters.
For his part, the Hebrews writer linked Moses’ fear specifically to the Pharaoh
and his retribution: “By faith he left Egypt, not fearing the king’s wrath…” One
might well argue that this is merely a distinction without a difference, in that
Moses’ fear when he realized that his action was known to others was precisely
his fear of the king’s wrath. For it was Pharaoh’s authority and power that would
see Moses punished, and indeed this is precisely what the Exodus account records
(2:15). And so the dilemma remains: Was Moses afraid for himself as Exodus
says, or unafraid as the Hebrews writer insists?
In the end, the dilemma is resolved by discerning how both are true – how it was
that Moses was afraid, and yet marked by faith as he departed from Egypt. Some
accomplish this by arguing that Moses was afraid of the possibility that he might
die before fulfilling his task of delivering his Hebrew brethren. He was scared
when he learned that his deed was known to others, because he realized that,
however good his intention, he may have sabotaged God’s purpose for him. And
so he fled Egypt, not because he was afraid of the king, but in order to survive to
fulfill his calling. While this interpretation is plausible, a closer look at the
writer’s statement suggests that he was actually making a different point.
The essence of his claim was that Moses’ departure from Egypt was a matter of
faith rather than fear of Pharaoh’s wrath. But how was that the case? Again, many
have answered that Moses’ faith told him that he needed to survive; he fled Egypt
because he believed he was God’s chosen deliverer. But there is a better answer –
one that better suits the second part of the statement. And that is that the writer
wasn’t speaking about Moses’ flight from Egypt as such, but the circumstance
that followed from it. He had left his brethren behind, and Pharaoh would almost
certainly punish them for his offense. But Moses’ faith enabled him to not fear the
king’s wrath – not with respect to himself, but his Hebrew countrymen.
233
And so the issue in Moses’ leaving wasn’t the action itself, but what it
represented. It was by faith that he renounced Egypt (vv. 24-26), and it was by
faith that he abandoned it altogether when he fled to Midian. But forsaking Egypt
meant forfeiting all opportunity to help his brethren. He had left them behind, and
yet he knew they weren’t abandoned. For his faith was set upon the God who is
faithful; the God who would not forget His covenant and oath to Abraham, Isaac
and Jacob. Moses had been forced to flee, but he did so with full confidence that
the Lord who is King over all kings would constrain the wrath of the Egyptian
ruler and insure His people’s survival. The God who’d made them a great nation
against all odds (Exodus 1:8-20) would surely deliver them from their bondage
and gather them to Himself in the land He promised to their fathers.
Moses had renounced Egypt forever, but not his Hebrew countrymen; he
remained fully committed to them, even in his exile. He would never again be an
Egyptian prince, but he would return as Yahweh’s deliverer. It seems that Moses
was sure of this outcome, but he had no way of knowing when or how it would
happen. Thus the faith that the writer here highlighted had two basic dimensions:
First, Moses’ faith involved his patient endurance in Midian as he trusted
Yahweh’s purpose and timing and waited for His hand to lead him back to Egypt
to fulfill his calling on behalf of his brethren. But Moses also trusted that his
faithful God would watch over and preserve His people in their subjugation.
When the day came for him to return to Egypt as Yahweh’s deliverer, he was
fully confident that he would encounter a great nation awaiting their deliverance.
Moses’ faith expressed itself in patient endurance as he fixed his gaze on the God
who, though unseen and silent, is ever-faithful. And this endurance wasn’t to be a
brief interlude. Most anyone can persevere in faith for a few weeks or months, but
God required Moses to endure for forty years; he spent as long in Midian tending
sheep and waiting for Yahweh’s call as he did as a prince of Egypt. And this was
no coincidence, for forty is the number of testing, and Moses’ life consisted of
three distinct periods of testing: forty years in Pharaoh’s house as a prince of
Egypt, forty years of patient waiting as a shepherd of Midian, and forty years
leading Abraham’s descendents through the travails of its wilderness wandering.
In each of those eras, Moses was tested precisely at the point of his faith:
Would he order his life and govern his decisions on the basis of his
circumstances, experiences, and expectations, or according to his confidence and
trust in the God who is faithful to His purposes and promises? Would he endure
as holding onto what is seen, or as seeing Him who is unseen?
Thus Moses passed his years in Midian, waiting and working in patient faith,
unsure of what the future held and how his life would play out. But he knew two
things: God is faithful, and his destiny lay in Egypt, so that his brethren’s plight
and his own calling were never far from his mind. For forty years he shepherded
his family’s sheep, until the day finally came when Yahweh sent him back to
Egypt to shepherd His people Israel.
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