Yesterday in Chile, the earth on which everything and everyone stood began to heave and buckle. The quake would lasted only seconds, but its aftermath will of course be felt for generations. Now I realize there are some believers who would say, and some who in the case of Haiti did say, something about it "just being their time for God’s judgment,” that the Lord decided to smite a wayward nation and the earthquake was simply His improvised instrument. But I sincerely hope that families of two UMCOR executives, Sam Dixon and Clint Rabb, that no other family member of the more than 225,000 people who died in Haiti will overhear such platitudes of wrath. Right now, far more of us would say that we Christians need not to judge, but to stand in the breach as the anguished and the grief-stricken ask the timeless question: WHY?

As it turns out, even in the days of Jesus people were asking that question: Lord, why? Those Galileans who somehow crossed King Herod, those poor folks in Jerusalem on whom the tower of Siloam collapsed - why them? Evidently then, as now, at least some folks were answering: well, because they must have deserved it. But it has never seemed to me that our Father is glorified by our heaping the blame on God for every single accident and disaster, every flood in Portugal or air crash in Buffalo.

So I admit I'm thankful Jesus directly addressed this matter, this cry of "Why?" He warned his listeners about the irresponsibility of attributing all human misfortune to God's vengeance, as if his Father in Heaven were some heartless tyrant, plucking us randomly out of an ant farm for destruction. Jesus also warned that due to our sinful nature, and the severing of relationship that sin has caused between us and God, we all face the threat of death. This is the urgency of repentance, which is the cornerstone of Lent: we need to be saved! Without the power to rescue ourselves, we need Someone to save us, because we live in a fragile world of collapsing towers and buckling concrete. The awful truth is, without a Savior none of us are going to make it out of here alive.

Whether or not our faith is ever tested by the earth shuddering beneath our feet, there are other crises, other no less powerful tests for those who believe in a God Who is merciful and loving. We see this in our story from Genesis. God has called Abram to abandon his home and to set out for an unknown destination. In turn, God promises good land for Abram's offspring, and that the blessing given to the great nation he will father will (in time) become a blessing to all others. Though quite old, Abram trusts in God's faithfulness, packs his things, and hits the road.

But that was then, back in Chapter 12. When we meet up with him today, in Genesis 15, Abram has reached the Promised Land and settled in. Time has gone by. God delivered on the land alright, but the best of the promises just hasn't come to pass. We can imagine Sarai lamenting, "Remind me again, Abram, just what did the Lord say to you: 'all the land that you see I will give to you and your offspring forever. I will make your offspring as plentiful as the dust of the earth... ?’” (Gen 13:16). But after all these years, no offspring. Perhaps Abram misunderstood? Was God speaking poetically? Had it all been nothing more than an old man's dream that brought them to this new life of monthly disappointment and dashed hopes?

Even more painful, even more faith-shaking than an earthquake can be the thousand small blows of disappointment which threaten to kill your dream. Abram has done what God asked, but now it seems that he and his wife are living a failed dream. God has brought them this far, has upheld them in struggles as they established their claim to the promised land - but now the whole enterprise is in question. Abram looks like what he is: an old man whose Syrian servant stands to inherit everything. Promise interrupted?

Abram's faith crisis is understandable, I think: how do you keep the faith, how do you keep on believing when the life you're dealt is not the one you thought God had in store for you? More than a few of us have been there; perhaps right now you are there. I once heard from a Presbyterian colleague of mine, Craig Barnes, the story of Doug, the son of a respected businessman and pillar of the church. When Doug graduated college, he diligently went to work for his father in the family construction business. His dad was a tough boss, whose idea of a pep talk was “don’t mess this up, Douglas!” Doug worked hard to reward his father’s trust - and boy, did he ever succeed! Under Doug’s expanding leadership, the firm prospered; by the time of his father’s death, Doug had built a multi-million dollar company with a private plane and skyscrapers going up in multiple cities. Through it all, Doug faithfully went to church, gave generously, and was the first to say that God had blessed them with success. He even joined a prayer group, and took time to pray each day, asking God to show him how to take his life in a new direction.

But then a change in tax laws, combined with a national downturn in construction, placed Doug’s heavily-extended business at risk. That same year, his vacation home in Canada burned to the ground, and then, before Christmas, Doug learned that his oldest son was addicted to drugs. Doug grappled with loss, fought endless legal battles and tried to manage the sale of unprofitable assets to stave off creditors. Hard as he fought, the tide was relentless - until finally it was all gone: the house next to the governor’s mansion, the plane, the high-rise office building, all sold off in bankruptcy. Doug had failed, along with the company his father had founded. Even as he resolved to do whatever it took to build it all back, Doug felt a deep sense of spiritual anguish: had he misunderstood God? Why was all this happening? Had he somehow displeased God?

Without a doubt, some of us here today have been there, in that shadow-season, a time of wondering about God. Sometimes we pray and it seems that God doesn’t show up. Our health does not improve, our job doesn't get better, or perhaps a job does not come through at all. Sometimes we are tempted to wonder if God still appears to people the way God appeared to Abram. When do we receive the blessing God has in store for us? Like Doug, we learn to struggle with the bitterness of disappointment. It can be hard to hold onto confidence in a God whom Jesus says treasures us, has blessings in store for us. Like Doug, we may even conclude that if God won’t deliver on the life we envisioned for ourselves, we may just have to strike out and go it alone.

That is in fact what Abram and Sarai ultimately decided to do. Waiting on God to deliver the promise of offspring proved too much. So they hatched a plan to go ahead and have a child by a surrogate mother. Maybe they figured they were just helping God along, or that ‘the Lord helps those that help themselves.' Most probably, though, they were played out, worn out from waiting on God.

Remember Doug? It turns out his road with God had some more winding curves. He began attending Al-Anon meetings, a place he never imagined going, with people he likely would never have met. This community, a support group for family members of those with addictions, began to show Doug that however much he tried, he could not fix his son, could not resurrect his business, and could not manage God. After a great deal of heartache and hard work, Doug’s son attained sobriety and got free from his addiction. But this mystified Doug as much as all his prior heartbreak had: why had his son recovered when so many other children of those he’d met in the Group had not? Why had his business failed? Doug replayed the decisions he’d made on an endless loop. It made no sense.

In the midst of all of this, Doug continued to get up early, search the Scriptures and pray with his small group. He never did receive the answer he most wanted: why the life he’d built up so completely collapsed around him. But he did learn to value his relationship to a God he does not fully understand. He’d be the first to tell you that.

You know, in the language of Abram and Jesus, there are actually several words that meant “blessing." One of them was the word ashar, which connotes the happiness that comes to a person because they are walking on the right path. The conviction of Lent, sisters and brothers, is that walking the right path for each of us means finding God’s path for each of us. Sometimes that path can seem shadowy. In fact, I am fairly sure that at times we are going to be convinced it's not the path we'd have chosen for ourselves. On the other hand, maybe that's a sign that we need someone to walk it with us.

One last word about Doug: today he runs a small property management company. His former peers and friends do not call much anymore; that still saddens him sometimes. But at some point over the last ten years, Doug lost the image of a God who blesses faithful servants with success and rescues them from pain. Doug also let go of the driving belief he needed always to strive harder to please his father. This happened when he came to see that he never did and never will have to prove his worth to his Eternal Father. I understand that Doug considers that a very great blessing. I also hear he is closer to his children now than ever before.

As for Abram and Sarai, you know the rest of the story: in God's time, a son was born to them. Of course, a child born to elderly nomads is mighty strange. But here's the strangest part: after that long, long wait, Abram came to see that the greatest blessing was not the birth of Isaac. The greatest blessing was living with a God Who always remains faithful, even when we do not.

Thanks be to God.