So, already we are a third of the way through Lent; it is amazing how much more quickly it passes when I am actively involved in marking its passage!

Today's readings:

Psalm 105:1-11, 37-45
Genesis 22:1-19
Hebrews 11:1-3, 13-19

Today we conclude our time with the Abraham story, with the bizarre account of the near human sacrifice of Isaac, and its echoes in the catalogue of faith that is Hebrews 11.

The Genesis is rather long, so I won't reproduce it here.  I have heard countless sermons on it, and not a few Bible studies, some paralleling it with the grim tale of Jephthah and his daughter, others marvelling at God's provision of the unfortunate ram, who probably spent its last moments wishing it had not investigating the thicket!

It is Hebrews 11:13 that really stands out for me:

It was in faith that all these persons died. They did not receive the things God had promised, but from a long way off they saw them and welcomed them, and admitted openly that they were foreigners and refugees on earth.  (Heb 11:13 GNB)

If you drive along the M1 in the English Midlands, you will see signs that say National Forest, but there is scant evidence of woodland, let alone the majestic trees of a forest.  For me, the National Forest is a parable of Hebrews 11:13a.  There is a vision to re-forest this area of England, linking up existing woodland with new planting.  When I moved to Leicestershire, most of the new trees were tiny, little saplings, vulnerable and wrapped in the tubing that seems to grow out of the ground along so many major roads.   It will be many decades before the vision is fulfilled, and many if not most of those who dreamed will have died without seeing it.  Yet they believe.  Yet they dream.  Yet they act.

In our lifetime we may not see everything we hope for come to pass, yet we glimpse, if only in our imaginations, what they may be.  This, in some sense, runs counter the popular culture of 'bucket lists' of 'ten things I must do before I die' and instead allows us to accept that not everything will happen in our lifetime, we will not fulfil all our hopes and dreams.  It feels, for me anyway, somewhat liberating.  None of us knows how long we will live, though some may have a better idea than others, but we can all choose how to live.  Frenetically trying to pack it all into one lifetime, or accepting that we may never see the full grown tree or sit under its shade, but that's OK.  For me, the challenge is to live like the latter, without losing sight of what can be done here and now.

God of promise

Too easily we slip into the selfish expectation

That all promsies will find fulfilment

In our life time

Too easily we plant artificial flowers and trees

Creating an illusion of a garden

In an instant

Give us instead the capacity to dream of a real forest

Mighty trees offering shelter to squirrels, birds and bugs

Tiny flowers, ferns and fungi, nuts and berries

One day

When our bodies have returned to dust

Our molecules recycled once more

And our lives returned to you

Grant us faith beyond perceiving

Grant us courage to live in the present moment

And to dream beyond our own demise

God of the impossible

Hear our prayer.