06/07/2026
Message June 7, 2026 Abraham & the Wheelbarrow
First Reading Genesis 12: 1-4 New Living Translation
Second Reading Romans 4: 13-25 New Living Translation
Listen again to Genesis 12. “The Lord said to Abraham, ‘Leave your native country, your relatives, and your father's family, and go to the land that I will show you. I will make you into a great nation. I will bless you and make you famous, and you will be a blessing to others. I will bless those who bless you and curse those who treat you with contempt. All the families on earth will be blessed through you.' So Abraham departed as the Lord had instructed." And then — and I don't want you to miss this last line — "Abraham was seventy-five years old when he left." Seventy-five years old. Now I want you to think about that for a moment. Not seventy-five in the abstract. Seventy-five in the real. He had a home. He had a community. He had roots, routines, relationships built over decades. He had a life that made sense. And God shows up and says, leave it. All of it. Pack your bags, say your goodbyes, and go. Where? Well — and here is the part that should stop us cold — God doesn't actually tell him. He says, go to the land that I will show you. Future tense. I'll tell you when you get there. There's no map, no GPS, no detailed itinerary. There's just a word from God and a direction to walk. And here's what the text says Abraham did. It says he departed. Just like that. No record of debate. No record of negotiation. No long conversation with God where Abram says, "Now hold on a minute, let me think this through." The text just says he went. That is a man who trusted God. Not a man who thought about trusting God. Not a man who admired the idea of trusting God. A man who actually, physically, packed up his belongings and walked out the door. Now hold that picture in your mind, because we're going to come back to it. But first, I want to take you somewhere else entirely — to the edge of Niagara Falls.
In the summer of 1859, a French acrobat by the name of Charles Blondin stretched a tightrope across Niagara Falls. Not a narrow little stream — Niagara Falls. One thousand one hundred feet of rope, suspended over one of the most powerful waterfalls on earth, with the mist rising and the roar of the water below. And he walked across it. And then he walked back. And then he did it again — this time blindfolded. Then on stilts. Then carrying a stove, stopping in the middle to cook himself an egg. The crowds that gathered on the banks were enormous. Thousands of people showing up day after day, watching this man do the impossible. One day, Blondin turned to the crowd and asked them a question. "How many of you believe I can push a man across this tightrope in a wheelbarrow?" The crowd went wild. Yes! We believe it! You can do it! They had watched him. They had seen it with their own eyes. Of course he could do it. The cheering was deafening. And then Blondin pointed into the crowd and said, "Wonderful. Who wants to get in?" Silence. Nobody moved. Not one person stepped forward. Because here is what that crowd discovered in that moment — there is a massive difference between believing something is true and actually trusting your life to it. They believed in Blondin. They just didn't trust Blondin. And you cannot call it real faith until you're willing to climb in the wheelbarrow. That crowd is not a curiosity from history. That crowd is us. That crowd is the church. We say we believe God is faithful. We say we believe He can do the impossible. We sing about it, we pray about it, we nod our heads when the preacher talks about it. But when God turns and says, "All right — who wants to get in?" — we get very quiet and we start looking at our shoes. And we have our reasons. Oh, we have our reasons.
I know this congregation. I love this congregation. And because I love you, I'm going to name the excuse out loud, because I've heard it, and if I'm honest, I think some of you have made peace with it in a way that concerns me. The excuse sounds like this: "What can we possibly do? We're small. We're older. Our best days are behind us. We don't have the resources, the energy, or the numbers to make much of a difference. Maybe God can use big churches with big budgets and lots of young people — but us? What can we possibly do?" Let me say this as gently and as directly as I know how. That excuse didn't work for Abraham, and it doesn't work for you or me. Abraham was seventy-five years old. Seventy-five. He and his wife Sarah were well past the age when anything new or significant was supposed to happen in their lives. By every human calculation, their story was winding down, not ramping up. And yet God chose that moment — that specific, unlikely, past-his-prime moment — to call Abraham into the greatest adventure of his life. The adventure that would eventually bless every single family on the face of the earth.
I am not comparing myself to Abraham, I am just saying that I am 79 years old. I did not plan to serve another congregation. I thought I was retired. But the Holy Spirit led me here to St. John’s Congregational Church. And you folks welcomed me into your congregation, and so the adventure began. I don’t believe that any of us could have visioned what God was going to do with us. But here we are. We got up and we followed in that wheelbarrow. And that is what I am asking you to do today. Not a specific project, not a specific program. I’m asking something much bigger than that. I am asking you to decide this week, that you are done saying you believe in God’s faithfulness while quietly living as if it doesn’t apply to this congregation, in this season, at this age, with these limitations. I am asking you to open your hands. To say, God, I don’t exactly know what you are asking, but I am willing. I’m available. I am not going to let the size of this congregation or the number of years on my birth certificate convince me that You’re finished with us. Let’s trust Him enough to actually go where He’s calling us to go. That’s the step. That’s the challenge.
We will continue with part 2 of this message next Sunday as we examine the call of Matthew, the tax collector. An unlikely follower of Jesus.