“When Faith is About Letting Go” [Following God in Real Life Summer Series #5] - Fr. Pete's Sermon for July 5th, the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67

I’ve heard several stories recently from folks here about flight problems. For instance, one family had a vacation, everything had been carefully arranged. Flights were booked, connections were set, the itinerary seemed straightforward enough. Then reality ensued. Right off the bat, their flight out of Honolulu was delayed from taking off for four hours. By the time they finally got airborne, they’d already missed their connecting flight. That led to more delays, more waiting, and all the frustrations familiar to anyone who has spent time in airports.

And we’re glad that Betty Smith is back from her sojourn in her beloved Virginia, although her return flight also was delayed, forcing her to spend a night in Detroit!

Most of us know something about that sort of experience. Maybe not in an airport, but certainly in life. We make plans. We imagine how life will unfold. Then something changes. A move happens. A door opens. A door closes. We lose a loved one, or we gain one. Suddenly the journey looks very different from the one we thought we were taking.

This Fourth of July weekend, as our nation marks the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, I suspect many Americans are feeling something similar. We celebrate our remarkable ideals (like “All men are created equal”) and freedoms (“life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”). We gather for fireworks (they better be legal!), parades, and inspiring music (including our Jazzikapila after worship today!)

Even so, many of us also carry concerns about the future of our country. We see deep divisions, anger, distrust, and a level of polarization that can feel discouraging. We love our country, but we worry about it. It feels like our carefully arranged plans have gone awry.

​Loving something does not mean pretending it is perfect. Sometimes love means continuing to hope even when the journey is not unfolding the way we expected. Which brings us to today’s story from Genesis….

Our summertime road trip through Genesis now shifts from Abraham’s generation to the next. During June we traveled with Abraham and Sarah. Now we begin moving toward Jacob and Joseph. But before we meet Jacob himself, we encounter a remarkable woman named Rebekah. Abraham’s servant is seeking a wife from Abe’s kinsmen for Isaac, and meets Laban, Rebekah’s brother. The servant tells him how Rebekah was surely the answer to his prayers for a wife for Isaac.

And Rebekah’s story turns on one question: “Will you go with this man?” And with surprising simplicity, Rebekah answers, “I will.”

As I was reading this story this week, I found myself thinking, “Haven’t I preached on this before?” Oh yeah, a few weeks ago, at the beginning of our Summer Sermon Road Trip, we heard God say to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.” And Abram said, “I will.”

Now here we are again. Different person. Different generation. Different circumstances. Yet somehow the invitation is very familiar. Will you leave what is familiar? Will you trust what you cannot yet see? Will you go into an unknown future? And Rebekah, says “I will.”

At some point, you begin to wonder, is God trying to tell me something? Well, I’ve found that the spiritual life often involves having to learn the same lesson over and over again, each time at a deeper level.

We learn to trust when we are young. Then we learn it again after disappointment or loss. We learn it again when life changes and the future becomes uncertain. Apparently God is patient enough to keep teaching it.

Beloved, most of life consists of ordinary people making faithful decisions without knowing exactly where those decisions will lead. And that is what Rebekah does. Her faith is not flashy. It’s not accompanied by thunder or miracles. It is simply a willingness to trust God enough to take the next step. And there’s that lesson again.

This may be one of the most overlooked truths in the spiritual life. Faith is often less about certainty than availability. Not “I understand everything.” Not “I know exactly how this will turn out.” But simply, “I am willing.” That may be why this story feels so relevant now.
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Because we live in a culture that prizes certainty. We want data, guarantees, plans, and measurable outcomes. We want to know where we’re headed before we agree to leave where we are. Yet life stubbornly refuses to cooperate with our desire for control.

We cannot control elections, as much as we’d like to. We cannot control the economy or international events or natural disasters. We cannot control what other people say or do, it seems, including our political leaders. Most of us have discovered that we cannot even control the people we love most.

What we can offer is our response. We can choose whether we will live in fear or hope. We can choose whether we will become cynical or remain open to possibility. We can choose whether we will cling tightly to our own plans or remain willing to follow where God may be leading. And that willingness matters more than we realize.

Rebekah has no idea what her decision will mean. She does not know she will become one of the great matriarchs of Israel. She doesn’t know she’ll become the mother of Jacob and Esau. She doesn’t know people like us will still be telling her story thousands of years later. She simply says yes to the next step. And God does the rest.

​Beloved, that is often how God’s work unfolds in the world. Rarely through grand gestures. More often through ordinary acts of faithfulness: a parent showing up for a child, a volunteer serving meals, a teacher encouraging a struggling student, a friend making a phone call, a congregation choosing generosity, a citizen choosing hope instead of cynicism.

Most of the time, God’s kingdom advances through people who are simply willing. Like the 14 Sailors here at HPH for Rimpac who came to St. Tim’s on Tuesday to volunteer at Outreach and clean up some spaces!...

Well, at the end of today’s story, Rebekah arrives, and Isaac sees her approaching across the field. Scripture says: “She became his wife, and he loved her.” A new chapter begins. Neither of them knows what lies ahead. If you have read the rest of Genesis, you know there will be family conflict, misunderstandings, disappointments, and heartbreaks.

But there will also be blessing, growth, and grace they cannot yet imagine. For now, the journey simply continues.

Which brings me back to our friends who have been traveling by airplane. Eventually they arrived. Maybe not on the schedule they expected. Not by the route they had planned. Not without frustration and unexpected detours. But they got there. And isn’t that often how life works?

Like Rebekah, we may not know exactly where the road leads.

We may not understand what lies ahead for our families, our church, our nation, or ourselves.

But we know who travels with us. And that, dear ones, is enough.
Amen.