Stuck In Hebrews Eleven

This week I’ve been stuck in Hebrew chapter eleven, faith’s hall of fame. It’s one of my favorite chapters in the Bible. All these great people lived out their lives trusting God. They make me feel like a wimp. At the same time they call me higher. I’ve also finished reading When Hope Wins, by Marli Spieker, which is full of stories of women who faced unbelievable circumstances and overcame by the grace of God.

            So here I am in my rather ordinary life wondering how I live this life of faith while dragging my wheelbarrow of earthly challenges, temptations, disappointments, and discouragements. I never get very far away from that question. As haunting as it is, I prefer the question to hang over me. It’s the essence of the Christian life, and I want to figure it out, at least better than I’ve gotten it so far.

            Faith—without it it’s impossible to please God. Bedrock to my life is this spiritual quality that embarrassingly enough eludes me more often that I’d like to admit. The Apostle Thomas is a person with whom I can identify.  Just call me Thomasina.  Before you chuckle too loudly, or I blush too much, let’s remember that Jesus sought out Thomas for a special invitation to believe, even though he might have needed to see the scarred hands of his Lord.

            Where I got stuck this time in reading Hebrews eleven was on what the characters believed. Noah was told to build an ark and Abraham was told to leave his country. I understand that. Sure, they believed and did something. God said it; they did it. Makes perfect sense to me. Build an ark when it never rained? Moving away with no plans about where? Scratch that part about making sense—from an earthly perspective it makes no sense. Yet these incidents involved God telling each person something specific to do.

            Where is my event? That’s what I wanted to know. What about disciples that don’t build arks or pack up the house? What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to live?

            Then I found Enoch. He didn’t seem to have a big event of faith, which isn’t to say he didn’t experience God. But we don’t connect him to anything monumental except the way he left this world. He was simply gone—no one could find him. Makes me shiver. We know, though, that he pleased God, otherwise he wouldn’t have departed in this way.

            So what did he do? He believed God. Whatever God revealed to Enoch about Himself, Enoch believed. Yep, so do I. No, wait a minute, not always. Not when I keep praying about something in the same old way.  Not really at all. That’s what I thought when I read and pondered and got deeply stuck in Hebrews chapter eleven. And I don’t want to get unstuck for a while.

            How do I live like Enoch? I’m working on it. This week I’ve changed how I pray for a couple of people who have been on my list for years.  If I believe God cares enough to hear, would he not care enough to transform? So my continuing prayers are of celebration for what He is doing and going to do.

            I know people have said to thank God for what he’s going to do, (That’s probably when I mentally said, “Ho-hum, another formula.”) But, for me, this week considering Enoch’s life has been like an explosion of truth, faith, and worship. God moved these things deeper into my soul. I get it better. Just a little bit better.

            That’s why I’m stuck in Hebrews eleven. And I’m not in a hurry to get out.