Over the past few years, I’ve begun following a number of visual artists and creators on Instagram. It’s been really enjoyable to figure out what styles bring me joy (abstract landscapes, loose florals, and rainbow palettes), and to display them in our home. Recently, I purchased my third piece from one particular artist, who often posts her available artwork in her Instagram stories. After she updated the listing to indicate to others that it had been sold and was no longer available, I was taken aback to read her caption, which said something like, “So thankful for my collectors!”
Me? An art collector? Certainly only wealthy people are art collectors, right? The more I thought about it, though, the more the title grew on me. Her work was art, and I had more than one piece, so it made sense that she’d refer to me as a collector. Maybe, actually, I was a collector, or at the very least on my way to becoming one.
There’s something powerful about the process of becoming, of “living into”, of claiming a name or description for ourselves even when we’re not quite there yet. In today’s reading from Genesis, we hear about Abram and Sarai and how God changes their names to reflect their own process of becoming, of living into the covenant God has made with them.
In many Bible stories, names are given with great intention; their meanings tell us something about a particular quality or aspect of the place or the individual. Abram, which means “exalted father” is given the name Abraham, “father of many”, and Sarai becomes Sarah. These new names serve as signs of the covenant God made with them, and here renews: that their descendants will number more than the stars in the sky.
Their names may have changed, but at this point in the narrative, their circumstances have not. The couple who will be the ancestors of many still do not have even one descendant. No child, and no logical prospects. They’re both old - really old. Abram is 99, and Sarai is 90.
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| Photo by Hedgehog Digital on Unsplash |
Twenty-five years have passed since God first called them to leave their home and journey to the land of Canaan, to the place where God will “make of them a great nation”. Thirteen years have passed since Abram and Sarai tried to enact the covenant themselves, by forcing the enslaved woman Hagar to bear Abram’s son, Ishmael.
Now, all these years later, the covenant has been renewed, and expanded. For the first time, Sarah is included. Though Ishmael, too, will receive a blessing, it is through Sarah’s son, yet unborn, that nations and rulers shall come.
And yet, even as the covenant is renewed, Abraham and Sarah still seem no closer to seeing it enacted. Perhaps the purpose of this name change, then, is to remind them of God’s promises, and to accompany them in the ongoing journey of becoming. Perhaps the way they now embody the promise - with their new names, and with circumcision (which is another sign of the covenant, found in the verses from Genesis we skipped over this morning) - perhaps this embodiment makes tangible the words of blessing and promise God has spoken to them. Perhaps their new names give them strength and encouragement as they wait.
The life of faith has many, many instances where we find ourselves living in the dual realities of “already” and “not yet”.
Jesus has already destroyed the power of death in his own dying and rising, but death will still come to each of us.
We have already been cleansed and forgiven in the waters of baptism, but we are not yet free from sin, which remains an inextricable part of our human nature.
We are already made members of the body of Christ, but we are not yet fully united, separated as we are by doctrine and denomination.
We have already received the bread of heaven, but it is as yet only a foretaste of the feast to come.
The seed of faith is already planted in us, but it is not yet in full bloom, nestled as it is alongside questions and doubts, griefs and uncertainties.
In this in-between space, on this journey of becoming, we too have the assurance of God’s presence and God’s faithfulness. We have a God who has already welcomed us, and who has given us a new name: child of God. This name is not about perfection, or being without sin. Instead, “child of God” is a name that reminds us of God’s claim on us. It is a name that promises us that we are held even when we can’t hold on.
It is not easy to be in in-between spaces, and the journey of becoming is rarely without detours. Through it all, we put our trust in the one who is faithful, in the one who promises to be our God.
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