Abraham lives life en route.
He lives in between.
In between the encounters with the Lord.
In between the encounters with kings.
In between the promise of the son and the arrival of the son.
Life is mostly waiting in between.
His life is a travel journal. Always moving. Looking. Searching. Longing for a city, for the place of promise.
Just around the next corner. And the next. And the next. The holy city of God is always just out of reach. Just beyond humanity’s grasp.
He wanders and waits.
Eugen Rosenstock-Huessy once said of his time served in World War 1 that most people don’t realize the single greatest struggle of the soldier: boredom. In the war to end all wars, Huessy says vast amounts of time waiting. Waiting for orders. Waiting to move forward. Waiting.
What to do?
Remember back to the hot August summer days of childhood when the neighbors were gone on vacation. No one to play. A long hot day of waiting.
Life sometimes feels like that long hot day.
In the soul-sucking heat of that day, Abraham does what he has to do to survive. He builds altars and digs wells.
When life is stretched so very thin and human frailty becomes so very real, Abraham builds altars. He worships the One who took him from beyond the river. Worship is like breathing.
For the good God sustains his beloved people, and all we can do is lift up hands and offer thanksgiving.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Every breath is gift.
Breath in, breathe out.
The way may be unclear. The days may seem long and hot. The promise may seem long in coming. But the simple gift of breath continues.
Breathe in, breathe out.
In the waiting, in the long pause, Abraham worships. He becomes living song unto the One God who rescued him from the world that was collapsing under its own decadent blindness.
Abraham, the friend of God, believes, trusts, awaits the coming of the faithful One. While he waits, he digs wells.
Come and drink.
Beneath the desert runs a river of life. Abraham drinks the sweet water of that river and refreshes all those who live under his care.
Come and drink.
In the soul choking dryness of stark landscapes, water is life. So the people gather at the wells. The well becomes the center of the community.
Come and drink.
Long before his three guests, Father Abraham plays host to many a thirsty wayfaring one.
Come and drink
He wanders. He worships. He waters the dry land and the dry people.
We are Abraham’s children. We’ve been caught up into Christ. And yet, we still wander across fierce landscapes.
When the heat burns deep into our soul, let us not grow faint, but fall back into Love. Let us breathe the fresh air of praise and drink the sweet cup of communion.
April 15, 2011 at 11:09 am
Great stuff, Doug! I couldn’t help but think of Abraham as preparing fields which he would never harvest. It reminds me of John 4:37 Thus the saying ‘One sows and another reaps’ is true. 38 I sent you to reap what you have not worked for. Others have done the hard work, and you have reaped the benefits of their labor.” And again Deuteronomy 6: 10″And when the LORD your God brings you into the land that he swore to your fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give you—with great and good cities that you did not build, 11 and houses full of all good things that you did not fill, and cisterns that you did not dig, and vineyards and olive trees that you did not plant . . .
Most enjoyable!
April 15, 2011 at 1:28 pm
Well said Doug ! I am glad that you spelled out stuff that has been churning around in my gizzard for so long. It was giving me sweetheart burn. You turned it into sweet bubble up water.
April 15, 2011 at 1:31 pm
Champane flowing under the desert! I like that. Now—methinks that well is just over the hill, won’t you join me. We will find it together.