Great Big Faith

A sermon for the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 14
August 10, 2025, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Genesis 15:1-6; Psalm 33:12-22; Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16; Luke 12:32-40

I was accused of thinking too small. I was gathered around a table with a group of pastors from different denominations. The question of faith had come up while discussing a church building project. “All I need is $1 million,” a pastor friend had said. Yeah, I’ve thought that, too. He went on, “I have faith that God will make it happen.” He was naming it, throwing it out in the universe, and he was claiming it as his own. He was asking us to have faith with him. Surely if we all did this together, like some incantation, God would have to bring it about–and quickly. The problem for me was I don’t think that’s how faith works. Maybe I was thinking too small. I was told I needed a great big faith. 

Our readings today are about faith. It’s a favorite word in religious circles. Sometimes, like at that pastors’ meeting, faith is boiled down to a name-it-claim-it sort of theology, where our belief in something can actually force God’s hand. It’s a sort of magical idea. It reminds me of growing up in the Pentecostal Church. If I just had enough faith, I was told, and if everyone around me had enough faith, the surgeries would stop. It’s not so true anymore, but you used to be able to turn on the TV and there would be the faith healers. If you had enough faith, and if you gave the right amount in the plate, they would zap you–you would fall out before they even touched you. A few magic words and the miracle would come. For many, that’s faith. 

Now, to be clear: I do believe in healing. I do believe that God works for the good in our world. I do believe that God desires us to flourish, and sometimes, at the right moment, God will send along just what we need–maybe even $1 million for a building project, but also maybe (and perhaps more likely) something else we didn’t know we actually needed. I believe all of that. But none of this is what we actually mean when we say faith. Faith does not mean name it, claim it. 

Hebrews tells us that “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” I was reminded of that at that meeting. After all, none of us could see $1 million–except by faith, we said. But if we keep reading in Hebrews, we see that the author has something different in mind. He goes on to give examples of faith, or faithfulness, from the Hebrew scriptures. (And for what it’s worth, faith and faithfulness are the same word in Hebrew.) The author talks of the faithfulness of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. We didn’t read this part today, but he also talks about the faithfulness of Noah, of Abel, of Moses, of the prophets. All of these heroes of the faith followed and dared to trust in the promise of God. Hebrews says they greeted the promise from a distance, for that promise was fulfilled at last in Jesus Christ. And the promise is that we have a home with God. We have a place in that city prepared by God’s own Self. The promise is that we belong to God, and God never lets us go but calls us to himself through and by Jesus Christ. Faith is holding on to that promise, no matter what comes, even when it all seems impossible. Faith is following our Lord, to that better country, that distant shore, that heavenly home. 

In the end, to have faith means to trust that God is bringing us home, that is, to himself, to communion, to a restored relationship. It’s as simple as that. Come what may, we trust in God. We hold on to God. We believe in God. And even when, like Abraham, things don’t seem to be going in the right direction, we keep the faith. We keep on keeping on. We keep believing. Because God has promised. And when God promises, God cannot lie. As Jesus says in the gospel of John: “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?” We can depend on God. 

And this is where the gospel reading comes in. Jesus is telling us to live right now in a radical dependence on God. Such radical dependence on God is precisely what faith is for Jesus, and it is such dependence that makes us whole at our deepest level. If we trust God, if we have faith in God, if we know that God is bringing us to himself, we can stop trying to build dwelling places for ourselves. For our dwelling place is with God. Instead of worrying, instead of being fearful, instead of being defensive, instead of trying to find just $1 million more, we can choose to trust in God. And when we trust in God, we find that we begin to live like Jesus. We live in love; we live in peace; we live in generosity; and we are not afraid; for we know that God is giving us the kingdom even now. Our home is not just found on the distant heavenly shore; our home can also be found in the present moment, as the Holy Spirit makes a dwelling in our hearts. 

This is a long way from a name-it-claim-it kind of faith, for that kind of faith ultimately seeks to put us and our own desires in the driver’s seat. Instead, this kind of faith that Jesus is talking about puts God in the driver’s seat of our life. And even when the storms come, even when healing is not on the docket, even when we must go to the cross, we trust that our ever-present, all-loving, only-good God is taking us home, even to himself. Because we belong to God forever. 

I left the pastors’ meeting that day and went to a local food bank. A group of my parishioners were volunteering. We spent a couple of hours packing up modest bags of groceries for those in need. As we were leaving that day, I stood under a giant live oak tree with one of the ladies from my church. Not too long before, she had walked through the hell of childhood cancer, death, and grief. Through tears, she told me about her grandchild, and she said she was just trying to trust God. She said she was going to keep on showing up to things like this food bank, because she had to give of herself. She asked, isn’t that what Jesus told us to do? She said she was trying to be faithful in prayer and worship, even though it was hard. It was hard because her granddaughter had loved the church so much, and there were so many memories there. But, she asked, isn’t that what Jesus told us to do? She said she knew she would see her granddaughter again. Isn’t that what Jesus said? 

Now that’s faith, a day-by-day racial dependence on God kind of faith. There’s nothing at all small about it. It’s the faith of Abraham and Sarah. It’s the faith of Jesus himself. It’s a difficult, hopeful, and great big faith.