Genesis 11:27–12:20

Original Meaning

Covenant Offer (12:1–3)

THOUGH TERAH LEADS a portion of his clan to Haran, Yahweh makes the covenant initiative offer to Abram (12:1–3), in which he asks Abram to choose. He must decide whether to abandon his land in favor of the land Yahweh offers. He must decide whether to abandon what family he still has in favor of the family Yahweh promises (against all logic, given Sarai’s infertility). He must decide whether to set aside his blessing, his inheritance, for the inheritance Yahweh describes. The initiative offers much, but its cost is significant. Abram must trust Yahweh to deliver what he has offered in order to give up so much that Abram already has to gain.

The themes of the covenant are familiar to the context of Genesis 1–11. Of first significance is the blessing theme. Chapters 1 and 9 feature God’s blessing and establish the areas of blessing as the provision of offspring and food. Here it is no surprise that the blessing God offers concerns bringing Abram into a land (which will be a fertile land where they can grow their crops and prosper) and making an abundant family spring up from him. The other significance of offering Abram a land is that up until this time the relationship of people to land in the text has been centered on being driven out and wandering. Here God is going to settle them by giving them their own land.

There is also a double contrast to Babel. There the people settled and wanted to make a name for themselves. As was discussed in the last chapter, that was not so much offensive behavior as it was an indicator of what was important to them. Here God is aware of what will mean something to Abram and offers to settle him in a land and make his name great.

The issues of land and family also have significance here with regard to the role of deity. In the ancient world many deities were associated with land or with people groups (nations, tribes, clans, families). The gods were portrayed respectively as territorial deities or as patron deities. Thus, when Abram is asked to put his land and his family behind him, the request entails walking away from any territorial or patron gods. Though Abram is not specifically asked to set aside his other gods, his cutting ties with country, people, and household will create a divine void in the typical personal religious practice of the day. We will discuss the nature of Abram’s beliefs in greater detail in connection with our analysis of Genesis 15 (see p. 428).

We have already discussed the terminology for blessing and cursing (see p. 229). Blessing has to do with being in favor with God and under his protection and care. We have encountered two words for “curse.” The root ʾrr is used in 3:14, 17; 4:11; 5:29; and 9:25; the root qll is used in 8:21. Both are used in Yahweh’s statement in 12:3: “The one who qll you, I will ʾrr.” That is, the one who invokes words of power against Abram’s seed, God will remove from his protection and favor.

A final issue in the covenant statement concerns the form of the last verb in 12:3. It is a Niphal form, which is usually passive, and has therefore traditionally been translated, “all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.” This construes Abram’s family as a channel through which God’s blessing flows. Several interpreters, however, have noted that other statements of the blessing in Genesis (22:18; 26:4) use the Hithpael form (usually reflexive) instead of the Niphal (used also in 18:18 and 28:14). Assuming that these variations in verb form do not change the meaning, they argue that it is easier to see both Niphal and Hithpael as reflexive than to see both as simple passives. They therefore translate, “By you all the families of the earth shall bless themselves” (NRSV margin). This translation construes Abram’s family as an example of what happens when God blesses someone.

Interpretations represented by the NIV, however, render all five passages as passive (i.e., “be blessed”). The difference between these two renderings is highly significant in the implications that it has for exactly what the covenant is accomplishing through Abram’s family. It is therefore one of those cases that is extremely technical but of fundamental importance.

The fact that all five of the Genesis passages are covenant formulations does not necessitate that they should all be identically nuanced. Elements specific to each context may call for varying declarations to be made. I am therefore inclined to believe that the Niphal and Hithpael were intentionally used with different nuances in mind. It is more logical to assume a careful and informed author rather than one who uses the language haphazardly. In the two contexts that use the Hithpael forms, the blessing declaration is immediately preceded by clauses of domination over land/cities of their enemies (22:17; 26:4), and immediately followed by an acknowledgment that this condition will come about because of an act of obedience (22:18; 26:5). Those features make these two passages recognizably distinct from those using the Niphal.

When God blesses someone, he puts that person under his care and protection and in his favor. If someone seeks out a blessing for oneself (logically expressed by the Hithpael), one seeks to put oneself under the care and protection of God and to gain his favor (Isa. 65:16; Jer. 4:2).3 In these uses of the Hithpael, the preposition (b^e) following the verb “bless” indicates the one whose care, protection, and favor are desired and relied on. In Genesis 22:18 and 26:4, the Hithpael form is used and the preposition is on “your seed.” This suggests that in these two passages the nations are going to seek the protection and favor of Abram’s seed.

If we were trying to express this concept in modern English, we would say that the Hithpael is used to express people’s attempts or desire to ingratiate themselves to God/king/Abram’s seed. Since Abram’s seed will be in a politically dominating position, nations will seek to ingratiate themselves to them. Israel’s position of dominance and the subsequent ingratiation of the nations come as a result of Abram’s obedience in the two Genesis passages. In this sense, the Hithpael usage does not represent Abram’s family as simply an example of God’s blessing, but as those whose favor is sought out just as God’s favor will be sought out. This in turn provides an additional means by which God’s blessing can flow to the nations through Abram and his family.

In contrast, the blessing (expressed by the Niphal) that will come through the channel of Abram and his family without people’s attempts to ingratiate themselves is not conditioned on obedience and does not come as a result of domination. Thus, I conclude that the author is careful in his choice between the Niphal and Hithpael forms and that each carries its own nuance. Furthermore, the Hithpael is used consistently with the occurrences outside of Genesis. In 12:3, the passive translation should then be preferred.4 We will discuss in Bridging Contexts what it means for all the nations to be blessed through Abram. For now it is enough to recognize that it is spiritual or theological, not political.

Bridging Contexts

AS WE HAVE come to understand the genealogies, they are indications of the perpetuity of the blessing (people continue being fruitful and multiplying). The comment in 11:30, “Now Sarai was barren,” brings everything to a screeching halt. This is not to suggest that she was the first barren woman in the history of the world; it is just something that at the moment appears as a notable disruption of the narrator’s typical emphasis. We do not have to go much further in the narrative, however, to discover that this comment is important to prepare the reader for the offering of the covenant and the faith it takes for Abram to follow God’s direction.

General elements in Genesis 12. Before we move to the discussion of the covenant, it is necessary to address briefly the other elements of chapter 12. As we go through the book we intend to identify the contribution that each element has to make to the author’s purpose. Nearly everything he chooses to discuss from here on connects back in some way to the provisions of the covenant. Generally, these connections come in two varieties: They either report an advance in the covenant promises and blessings, or they present obstacles to the promises and blessings.

The building of the altars in the places where Abram settles are advances. God is bringing him to the land, establishing him in the land, and renewing the promise of the land (e.g., 12:7).

The second part of the chapter constitutes jeopardy on several counts. The famine itself is an obstacle because it argues against God’s care (= blessing) for Abram. Going to Egypt and thus leaving the land have the potential of putting the land in jeopardy. The family also comes into jeopardy when Abram’s wife is taken from him and added to Pharaoh’s harem. As Abram sits alone and vulnerable in his tent in Egypt, the promises are in shambles; the covenant dangles from a frayed thread: no land, no family, nothing that looks even remotely like blessing. In this way, chapter 12 sets the tone for the next ten chapters as advance and jeopardy are intertwined. God will demonstrate again and again his ability to overcome obstacles and resolve jeopardy as he fulfills promises and provides what is necessary for the covenant to move forward.

In this way we can again see that the author’s purpose is focused on God, not on using Abram for a role model. The text offers no moralizing lesson from Abram’s action of identifying Sarai as his sister. It does not say why he does it, nor does it condemn or approve. The Bible is not trying to teach us how to act or how not to act by Abram’s example. The events are presented in a straightforward manner, without comment, to demonstrate how God overcame the obstacle that seemed ready to dismantle the covenant piece by piece.

The biblical place of the covenant.

The covenant and Genesis 1–11. The first eleven chapters of Genesis have been tracking the advance of sin and the working out of the blessing. Sin takes a devious turn in the Tower of Babel account as the people demonstrate their adoption of the view that the gods have needs. The blessing is now going to take a turn in reaction to that development. The blessing established in Genesis 1 granted reproduction and food acquisition. In its post-Fall shape, it was directed toward producing a family and producing food (Gen. 3). From Genesis 3 we discover, however, that both reproduction and food production will be fraught with anxiety and hampered by ongoing problems.

In Genesis 12 the promises offered to Abram have an obvious association with the original blessing to all people. They differ, however, in the way that they indicate the ability to appropriate the blessing successfully. God does not just offer the blessing, be fruitful and multiply; he says that Abram will indeed be fruitful and multiply with the result that he will become a great nation. God does not just give permission to eat food; he promises a land that will provide bountifully for them. God intends to be more than one who grants privileges; he is going to assure success and personally impart the benefits to Abram and his family.

The covenant and Abram. God does not ask Abram to give up anything he is not going to replace. (1) He is asked to leave his land, and God promises to take him to a new land. After he arrives there, God says he will give him that land.

(2) Abram is asked to leave his kinship group. This means giving up the protection and security that a kinship group provides. He is leaving his roots and putting aside all that is familiar to him. In return he is offered a family that will become a great nation. Eventually he is told that his descendants will be as numerous as the stars.

(3) Abram must also leave behind his “father’s household.” I identify this as his inheritance. In the ancient Near East, household gods were passed down from generation to generation. There were ancestors to make offerings to and to care for. Most important was the care for elderly parents and eventually their burial. The inheritance one received included not only material possessions and ownership of land, but also taking one’s place in the family line and appropriating the blessings that had been passed down through the family line. As Abram puts all of this behind him, God offers a threefold blessing for Abram: God will bless him, he will be a blessing, and he will be a channel of blessing. The first means that Abram will come under God’s care, protection, and favor. This will bring him safety and prosperity. The second means that Abram will provide care and protection to those in favor with him. Lot is an example in chapter 14. The third means that God will bring blessing to other people through Abram and his family. We will explain this more fully below after a glance at Moses’ direct audience.

The covenant and Israel. The people of Israel, the descendants of Abram, are ready to inherit the covenant promises as they stand arrayed at the foot of Mount Sinai. Centuries in Egypt have made them into a great nation. Moses is prepared to take them to the land promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Genesis is telling them their own story. God had long ago chosen Abram and made the covenant with him. At that time he had taken upon himself the role of being the “God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.” More recently he told them that he would take them as his own people (Ex. 6:7). Their destiny has now been set by their election—they were God’s chosen people. Moses recounts for them through the book of Genesis how God had established this covenant and all of the obstacles that had been overcome. Certainly he would be able to overcome their obstacles as well. But why is he doing all of this?

The covenant and God. The two previous sections have both left us with questions that we will now seek to answer:

• Why did God make a covenant with Abram and his family?

• How will God bring a blessing to other people through Abram and his family?

(1) In answer to the first question, we need to ask: What is the purpose of the covenant? Two common answers are typically given in response to that question: (a) relationship and (b) redemption. The first takes its lead from an understanding of the form the covenant eventually takes. In this approach, the covenant is likened to a suzerainty treaty, the means by which a lord formalizes his relationship with his vassals. In this view the purpose of the covenant is to form a relationship. Yahweh promises protection and blessing; Israel promises obedience and loyalty. Note that some suzerainty treaties included land grants, just as God promises the land to Abram.

There is no doubt that the covenant shares a formal similarity with such treaties and that the land grants bring important illumination to some elements of the covenant. But the relationships that were often formalized by these treaties were less than ideal.

Vassals, for example, did not “love” those who conquered, subdued, and dominated them—there is abundant evidence for this in the history of Israel and of the ancient Near East—and the very language of intimate and familial relationships employed in the treaties reflects the political, strategic, and economically motivated endeavor of suzerains to maintain, with the least amount of trouble, the subservience of those whom they had conquered and regarded as subject to them. To tell the Israelites that Yahweh “loves” them in the same way as a suzerain (e.g., Ashurbanipal or Nebuchadnezzar) “loves” his vassals, and that they are to “love” Yahweh as vassals “love” their suzerains, would surely have been a bizarre depiction of Yahweh’s love of, and commitment to, his people, and of the love and commitment with which they were called upon to respond.10

While this concept of relationship through suzerain-vassal treaty should not be discarded altogether, it cannot carry the covenant purpose alone.

(2) Redemption suggests that the purpose of the covenant is to give the promise of a Messiah or to lay out God’s plan of salvation. It is difficult to see, however, in what way the covenant purpose can be construed in these terms. God does not need to make a covenant to make promises or to show that he can keep them. Another problem is that the Old Testament shows little evidence that the covenant is related to the Messiah or salvation, yet certainly the Israelites of the Old Testament period understood a purpose for the covenant.

I believe that the text leads us in another direction. When God created people, he created them in relationship to him. When sin disrupted that relationship, God determined to restore it and embarked on a course of action to eventually accomplish reclamation, redemption, and reconciliation. Here are the relationship and redemption elements referred to above. While God’s ultimate goal is relationship through redemption, there may be many objectives that work toward that goal, not all of which are directly involved with restoring relationship. I propose that the covenant is not directly tied to the redemption/relationship goal, but comprises one of the secondary objectives. That is, the covenant does not announce salvation or provide salvation. It is not a mechanism for any part of the redemption program. It establishes a relationship with Israel, but only a relationship in the human realm; it does not solve the sin problem and restore the relationship broken by sin.

I propose that before God resolved the Eden problem (sin), he determined to resolve the Babel problem (deity falsely construed). Calvary resolves the Eden problem, but the covenant resolves the Babel problem. It does so by revealing what God is truly like. In this way the covenant fills the gap that stretches between Babel and Calvary. On the Babel side, the problem is that people had a corrupt concept of God. On the Calvary side, God has provided a way to redeem humanity and bring them back into relationship with himself. The covenant is God’s revelatory program. People cannot enter into a relationship with a God they do not know. The needy gods of the ancient world were not the sort that people wanted to be in relationship with. The objective of revelation was a necessary step to reach the goal of relationship.

Since the beginning of the church, the answer to the second question, identifying the blessing that comes through Abram, has seemed obvious. God brought blessing to the world through Abraham and his family by means of the child born in the Bethlehem manger, the God-man who hung on the cross and then left a tomb empty on the third day (Gal. 3:8–9). Surely everything else pales before this blessing above all blessings. But though this is surely the climax of all of God’s blessings, we must doggedly investigate whether the life and work of Christ is the sum total of the blessing that was to come through Abram’s family. I propose that it is not. We can start this investigation by inquiring about the range of blessings brought through Christ. Was salvation the only blessing he brought (certainly it would be enough if it were the only one, but we do not want to neglect other important aspects)?

We must also consider the blessing Christ provided to individuals as he healed them. As we think about his ministry, we must expand his blessing to the way he taught about God and his kingdom. Indeed, there is no place to stop, and we begin to realize what a blessing it was for Jesus to come and live. As important as his death was, his life was also a blessing. When we pause to think about it, we discover that all nations of the earth were blessed in Christ not just by the salvation he brought, but by the revelation he brought. Through him we know the Father and have a model for living. Through him we became aware of what God’s kingdom is like and how its citizens ought to conduct themselves.

Was Christ the beginning of that revelation? Not at all; he was the culmination of it. As we consider the Law, the Prophets, and the long process of revelation, we realize that all of God’s blessing of special revelation came through Abraham and his family. We find passages such as Joshua 4:21–24, where the Israelites are told that the parting of the Jordan and the Red Sea were done “so that all the peoples of the earth might know that the hand of the LORD is powerful.” Again in Isaiah 49:26 the Lord speaks of the victory over enemies that he will bring so that “all mankind will know that I, the LORD, am your Savior, your Redeemer, the Mighty One of Jacob.” In Ezekiel 36:23 the nations receive revelation through the punishment that comes on Israel: “Then the nations will know that I am the LORD . . . when I show myself holy through you before their eyes.” And in 37:28, “Then the nations will know that I the LORD make Israel holy, when my sanctuary is among them forever.”

I propose that the nature of the blessing on the nations is that God has revealed himself through Abram’s family. The law was given through them; the prophets were from among their number; Scripture was written by them; and their history became a public record of God’s attributes in action. Then to climax it all, his own Son came through them and revealed the Father and the kingdom through his life and a plan of salvation for the world through his death. In Abram all the nations of the earth were blessed as they were shown what God was like and as the means were provided for them to become justified, reconciled to God, and forgiven of their sins.

The answers to both questions, then, converge into one answer. God’s purpose in making the covenant is to use the covenant as a mechanism of revelation. Through the instrument of elect Israel, he reveals himself to the world.11 The blessing that comes through Abram and his family is that “through you, they will know that I am the LORD.” Israel will be a light to the nations (Isa. 60:1–3), and through them will come the oracles of God (Rom. 3:1–2).

The revelatory program of the covenant stretches from Abraham to Christ. There is nothing conditional about this revelatory program: God is determined to reveal himself through the covenant and through Israel regardless of whether they are cooperative or faithful. But the formulation in Genesis 12 shows that there are two sides to the covenant. Abram’s family has something to gain by being cooperative, thus the promises of land and family. These covenant benefits can be jeopardized by unfaithfulness. They can lose the land; they can be decimated as a nation. But even in those extremities, God’s revelation will continue to take place. It is not only through their prosperity that the nations will know that Yahweh is God, it is also through their punishment that the world will come to know Yahweh (Ex. 10:2; Ezek. 39:21–22; Joel 3:14–17). This can be understood relative to the three levels of blessing mentioned in Genesis 12:1–3:

1. God will bless Abram and his family—when they are faithful to him.

2. Abram and his family will be a blessing—because of their position of favor with God.

3. Through Abram and his family all the people will receive blessing from God—this is the unconditional part. The benefits are conditional; God’s revelatory program cannot be deterred.

The course of the revelatory program can be traced through the Bible in a number of recognizable phases, each one featuring a new point of election and a new point of revelation. The covenant at Sinai expanded the election from Abram to Israel (Ex. 6:7). The new revelation was the law, which was designed to reveal God’s character to Israel and the world through Israel. This is clear in passages like Deuteronomy 4:33, 35 and Leviticus 19:2. God continued to reveal his attributes and his character both through Israel’s successes (Joshua) and failures (Judges). In the latter period, Israel often lost her benefits to some degree as God “sold them into the hands of their enemy.”

The next phase of the revelatory program comes in the Davidic covenant. The new election featured in this phase of the covenant is, of course, David and his dynasty. The new revelation concerns God’s kingship. Again God continues to reveal himself (his attributes, particularly his sovereignty over history and the nations) both through good kings and bad kings. Eventually their failures lead to their loss of freedom and land, and the Davidic dynasty loses its seat on the throne. But though benefits are lost, God’s revelation of his kingship continues as he works through foreign kings (e.g., Cyrus, Isa. 44:24–45:7) to show his sovereign control of the nations.

The final phase of the revelatory program comes in what is called “the new covenant.” Here the new election is of those who accept the work of Christ for the forgiveness of their sins. The new revelation is of the mechanism of salvation, the provision of forgiveness of sins and all that is entailed; it is the culmination of his plan of revelation and opens the way to relationship. This election is open to all, not just to ethnic Israel. But it is not election to the revelatory program; it is election to a soteriological program. Through Christ in the new-covenant phase, the elect are given salvation from their sins. In the earlier phases, ethnic Israel was the elect, but not to salvation—they were elect for revelation.12 We can say, then, that Israel was the revelatory people of God, while the church is the soteriological people of God.

Christ is the fulfillment of all of the phases of the covenant. He reveals the character of God in his role as the Son of God because he is God incarnate. In this he provides a better way than the law to know what God is like. He reveals the kingship of God in his role as Messiah—God’s ultimate king from the line of David. He reveals the salvation of God in his role as Savior, offering the sacrifice for the remission of sins. As the fulfillment of the covenant, we see Christ as the culmination of the revelatory program. All of God’s revelation of himself comes to a climax in Christ.

The covenant, therefore, should not be seen as directly redemptive but as leading up to the provision of redemption by its revelatory role. The covenant is characteristically redemptive (in the sense that God’s redemptive attributes are part of what is being revealed), formulated along the lines of ancient treaties, and ultimately soteric (i.e., eventuating in a program of salvation); but in its essence and purpose, it is revelatory. It offers resolution to the Babel problem and leads to the work on Calvary.

Coming back to Genesis, when Abram responds to the covenant offer, he leaves a life behind as he embraces the promises of God. In doing so, he steps into a role as a dispenser of grace, specifically, but not in any sense limited to, the grace of God through his revelation. These are the elements that can be drawn out in Contemporary Significance.

Contemporary Significance

LEAVING. In his 1999 novel, Testament, John Grisham tells the story of a billionaire’s inheritance that is left to an illegitimate daughter, Rachel Lane, whom he has never really known. When the law firm tries to find her, they discover that she has become a missionary in the remote jungle villages of Brazil. Rachel has left everything in pursuit of her missionary commitment. One of the suspense lines running through the novel is the question of how firmly her resolve will hold when matchless wealth seeks to draw her back. Her calm resistance leaves the lawyer, Nate O’Riley, baffled. He cannot imagine someone being that unaffected when so much wealth is within her grasp.

This positive picture of a faith resolve finds its polar opposite in the 1998 novel, The Poisonwood Bible, by Barbara Kingsolver. Nathan Price is an evangelical Baptist missionary to the Belgian Congo, with his wife and four daughters. Seen through the eyes of the women, Price is a jumble of contradictions. He has pursued his “call” without the endorsement of the mission board of his denomination and without raising any financial or spiritual support. This is his idea of faith. His “faith resolve” is so colored by selfishness, personal foibles, theological shallowness, and cultural superiority and imperialism that he has lost any right to claim God’s leading and has left his family and all those around him confused about his motives. As Nathan Price illustrates, leaving all to serve God can easily be a self-serving delusion. When it is not, as Rachel Lane illustrates, that which is left behind has a way of catching up to us and pressing its claims anew.

Abram is more easily likened to Rachel Lane than to Nathan Price, but in the end, Genesis 12 is not a call to missions. It is a misuse of the passage to frame it as a call to leave your culture and career behind in order to pursue a missionary call. That is not what Abram is doing; even if it were, Abram’s call is a unique call, unlike the missionary’s in many ways. What the novels mentioned above illustrate and what Abram, missionaries, and all disciples of Christ have in common is that they all leave something behind to embrace the claims of God on their lives. We need to examine the God side of the equation more than the Abram side.

As he did with Abram, God sometimes asks people to leave one situation so that he can bring them to another, better situation. Sometimes God gives back to us far more than we left behind. The “sometimes” is important in both of these formulations. Certainly we must be willing to leave everything behind for Christ. One of Jesus’ hardest sayings is that “anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me” (Matt. 10:37). He also assures his disciples that “no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—and with them, persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life” (Mark 10:29–30).

Jesus does not ask us all to leave that which we love, but when he does, our resolve must remain firm. Different people may be asked to leave different things. The rich young ruler was told that he must sell all that he had and give it to the poor if he was to become a disciple (Luke 18:18–25). Discipleship does not ask that of everyone, but to become disciples we must be willing to leave anything we are asked to leave. That is what we learn of God. And though God promises that no sacrifice will be made in vain, we must not allow ourselves to think of material reward as an incentive for leaving. Instead, we do well to remember the haunting words from Jim Elliot’s journal that echo through the ages: “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.”

Revelation grace. Growing up in the church, I had learned to think of “law” and “grace” at opposite ends of a spectrum. Such a dichotomy may be accurate when we are talking about how one is saved, but too often, to our great loss, we extend the dichotomy beyond the bounds of soteriology. As I became more and more familiar with the Old Testament, I noticed that the Israelites, as hard as they struggled to keep the law, did not seem to view the law as a burden. In fact, the opposite was true—they confessed love for the law, desire for the law, gratitude for the law, a yearning for the law. How could this be?

The pieces began to fall into place when I started to see the interrelationship between revelation, covenant, and law. If the law was part of the covenant and the covenant was God’s revelatory program, then law is God’s revelation of himself and revelation is an act of grace.13 Yes, if we reduce that long equation to its simplest form, law is grace. It is grace because it is revelation. There are two different aspects of this for us to explore: We need to understand our role as recipients of grace and as dispensers of grace.

Recipients. When we think of ourselves as recipients of grace, we inevitably think of salvation. The grace of God’s sending his Son who died for us so that we can experience forgiveness of sins and spend eternity with him shines so brightly in our spiritual experience that everything else pales—stars washed out by the rising sun. Genesis gives us a chance to explore the brightly shining stars in the dawn of the theology of grace. What shines brighter than anything else is the grace shown by God as he reveals himself to and through his people. And though we are not wrong to be in constant awe of the grace of our salvation, we cannot afford to lose our awe of the grace of revelation.

In order to try to recapture that sense of awe, let us attempt to step briefly into a world without revelation by joining Babylonians Ayyab and Rab-ilu in the mid-second millennium B.C.

Ayyab sees Rab-ilu approaching the crossroads, so he stands to the side and lets others pass while he waits for his friend. Perhaps some conversation will help pass the time. So Ayyab asks Rab-ilu, “Come now, my friend, why so glum? This is feast day, and the great city awaits our arrival. How can one look so sad with the gleam of the temple of Shamash already practically in sight?”

“Perhaps joy comes easily to you, Rab-ilu; your seed coffers are filled and your patch of ground bursting with Shamash’s favor. Your family is well also?”

“Indeed, my downcast friend, the gods do smile on me. Galatu has presented me with another fine son this year, and the others have grown since we last spoke. I do believe my gifts to the gods have been gratefully received.” Rab-ilu’s smile stretched from ear to ear as he reminded himself of the many pleasures of life.

Rab-ilu is startled when Ayyab suddenly exclaims, “The gods! Pah!! I despise them! My gifts to the gods have been no less generous than yours, Rab-ilu! I have been no stranger to the temple. I have poured out my libations daily and offered my prayers. What complaint, then, do the gods have against me that my harvest these past two years together has not equaled even one harvest of the previous years? And my children, Rab-ilu. Why do they take my children from me? What do they want, these gods? What does it take to earn their favor? Surely you must know, Rab-ilu; do not hide it from me.”

Rab-ilu allowed the question to hang dangerously in the air as the two trudged on toward the city, caught up in the milling crowd of festive pilgrims. What did he know? He knew what the priests told him, that the gods demanded care. The people of the city and the surrounding villages had the privilege of providing food and a splendid temple for Shamash. In turn, they expected that his favor would shine on them. But how much was enough? How did the priests know what food the gods enjoyed? How did they know what rituals calmed their hearts? What could anyone do to assure that the gods would not strike them? Yet all knew that there were no guarantees. “Then why do you go to temple today, Ayyab, if the gods have earned only your spite?”

“Alas, Rab-ilu, as cruel as the gods have been, it would be folly to ignore them. Better to set fire to my own fields and murder my children in their sleep. The gods would do that and more. No, I come with a gift to ask an oracle of the priests. Perhaps they can instruct me concerning some little detail that I have missed. I want to please the gods; I must find a way to please the gods. We will starve next winter if the late harvest does not improve.”

As they pass through the gateway and on into the temple complex, Ayyab and Rab-ilu stand gazing at the gold-gilded temple reflecting the splendor of the sun god, Shamash. They both think of how little they knew of the gods despite the high price they pay to them. Then they each go their separate ways: Rab-ilu to offer his sacrifice of thanks for the gracious blessing of the gods, and Ayyab to join the long line of petitioners seeking anything that might offer them hope. “Till next year, Rab-ilu.”

Hope is a commodity in short supply in a world without revelation. In the ancient world there were few atheists. Their primitive understanding of the natural world allowed no option such as naturalism to fill the gaps left if deity were eliminated from the picture. Everything was attributed to the favor or anger of the gods. With no revelation, however, there was no way to know what pleased and what angered them.

In a well-known Assyrian prayer entitled “A Prayer to Every God,” the worshiper seeks to appease a deity from his anger over an offense that the worshiper has committed. There are only two problems: He doesn’t know which god is angry, and he doesn’t know of anything he has done wrong. He therefore addresses each confession he makes to “the god I know or do not know, the goddess I know or do not know.” He is ready to confess ignorantly eating forbidden food or invading sacred space—anything to appease. His frustration overwhelms us with sympathy as he expresses his hopelessness:

Although I am constantly looking for help, no one takes me by the hand;

When I weep, they do not come to my side.

I utter laments, but no one hears me;

I am troubled; I am overwhelmed; I cannot see. . . .

Man is dumb; he knows nothing;

Mankind, everyone that exists—what does he know?

Whether he is committing sin or doing good, he does not even know.14

This is the plight of those who live in a world without revelation. That is why the covenant is so important to us and why the law was such a treasure to Israel. God had spoken. In grace, he condescended to communicate concerning what pleases him and what angers him. We don’t have to guess. He has opened to us his character, his attributes, his heart. How sad it is that the reality of revelation has become so commonplace to us. What a tragedy that we take it for granted. Though we have every reason to revel in the thrill of our eternal destiny, we would be terribly remiss if we failed to realize that greater than the privilege of living forever is that of knowing God because, in the end, our faith is about God, not about us.

We need be wary, however, for in today’s world there are many who seek to neutralize the revelation that we take for granted. From critical scholars who consider the Bible no different from any other ancient literature to the pluralistic demagogues who tell us that one religious book is as good as another, many discount the Bible’s status as God’s revelation. We cannot afford to lose sight of the fact that without the Bible, we would know nothing about God.15 It is only through his Word that we learn the extent and nuances of his holiness, his sovereignty, his justice, his faithfulness, his grace, and his love.

Dispensers. Philip Yancey’s book What’s So Amazing About Grace? stands as a powerful call for Christians to view themselves not just as beneficiaries of grace but as agents of grace, dispensers not collectors.16 We were not designed to be cisterns but aqueducts. The covenant not only made Abram and his family recipients of revelation and grace but set them up as agents of revelation and grace. Through them all the nations of the earth will be blessed. Revelation is not unlike other acts of grace in this regard. The grace that God brings into our lives is a grace that should be evident in us as we live lives of grace. As Yancey points out, this means that we should stand ready to forgive as we have been forgiven, to be charitable in our attitudes toward those we disagree with, to exude grace to everyone around us. Unfortunately, most of us would have to agree with him that such grace is often not associated with Christianity.

Mark Twain used to talk about people who were “good in the worst sense of the word,” a phrase that, for many, captures the reputation of Christians today. Recently, I have been asking questions of strangers—for example, seatmates on an airplane—when I strike up a conversation. “When I say the words ‘evangelical Christian’ what comes to mind?” In reply, mostly I hear political descriptions: of strident pro-life activists, or gay-rights opponents, or proposals for censoring the Internet. I hear references to the Moral Majority, an organization disbanded years ago. Not once—not once—have I heard a description redolent of grace. Apparently that is not the aroma Christians give off in the world.17

It is too easy for us to flow through life with a Great Commission vigor, winning the world to the grace of God but never letting that grace show in how we act. As a result, many find the church an uncomfortable place to be, the last place to come for comfort and acceptance. I remember the little ditty that Ray Stedman put in his book Body Life, a big seller in its day:

To live above with the saints we love, O that will be glory;

To live below with the saints we know, well, that’s a different story.

But our God is a God of grace. If we desire to be like him, we need to go beyond being people who are saved by grace to be people who are characterized by grace. Then we will make an impact on our world, and through us all the nations of the world will be blessed. “The world thirsts for grace. When grace descends, the world falls silent before it.”18

Original Meaning

Abram’s Itinerary and Offerings (12:4–9)

THE TRIP FROM Haran to Canaan is about five hundred miles and takes the better part of a month even if Abram travels at normal caravan pace (about twenty miles per day). The stops indicated by the text, Shechem and Bethel, both become major sacred sites in later Israelite history. At each one Abram builds an altar. What function do these altars serve? It is of interest that the text makes no specific reference to offering a sacrifice at either site (though that may be implied in his calling on the name of Yahweh in 12:8). Would someone build an altar without offering a sacrifice on it?

A. Pagolu observes that the notes in the text associated with the building of altars do not consistently indicate theophany, moving his tent, or sacrifice. He accepts the suggestion of R. Albertz that the building of the altars was a way of establishing a claim on the land.5 We may ask whether this was a way of claiming land for Abram or a way of claiming land for Yahweh. But perhaps we have presumed too much already. Is it not possible that the altar is simply built so that the clan can conduct their worship during the time they remain there? There is no reason to assume that Abram’s itinerary represents constant or regular movement. He may have remained at Shechem or Bethel for some time before moving on. When he builds the altar at Hebron in 13:18, its purpose seems simply to service his worship needs while he is there.

Shechem and Bethel are both located in the central hill country. The site of Shechem has been identified with Tell Balatah, just east of modern Nablus and thirty-five miles north of Jerusalem. Perhaps because of its proximity to two nearby peaks, Mount Gerizim and Mount Ebal, it has had a long history as a sacred site. The strategic position of Shechem, at the east entrance to the pass between these mountains, also made it an important trading center. Nearly continuous occupation is evidenced through the second and first millennia. As early as the Middle Bronze I Period, Shechem is mentioned in the Egyptian texts of Pharaoh Sesostris III (1880–1840 B.C.). Excavations have revealed an apparently unwalled settlement in Middle Bronze IIA (about 1900 B.C.) with the development of fortifications in Middle Bronze IIB, about 1750.

Bethel is usually identified with Beitin just over ten miles north of Jerusalem, about a mile and a half west of et-Tell, the traditional site of Ai. There was a major fortified city on the site during the Middle Bronze Age that was destroyed in the mid-sixteenth century. It was grandly rebuilt in the Late Bronze Age, and there is evidence of two destructions during that period (1550–1200 B.C.). Some contest whether Beitin is Bethel because it has been difficult to find a satisfactory adjoining site for Ai. The main alternative is Bireh, a mile or two south of Beitin.