Lectionary Commentaries for August 10, 2025
Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

One of the gifts of the lectionary is that it can introduce us to images or metaphors for God in Scripture that we tend to overlook or underemphasize. Of course, metaphorical language for God in Scripture and elsewhere must not be absolutized, since it tends to both highlight and hide aspects of the mystery of the triune God. Still, in today’s lectionary passage from the Gospel of Luke, we find at least three different ways God or Jesus is described that call the people of God to live so as to be attentive and alert to the priority of God’s reign.

In Luke’s narrative, the passage is part of a larger unit where Jesus is teaching his disciples amid a “crowd gathered by the thousands” (Luke 12:1). While connected to the broader narrative context, the lectionary reading can be roughly divided into three sections: verses 32–34, 35–38, 39–40. Preachers may find it helpful to consider one or more of the images of God in these sections and their implications for vigilant discipleship in our world today.

God as generous parent

“Do not be afraid, little flock,” Jesus says (12:32). These words follow Luke’s description of Jesus’ teaching on God’s care and provision in 12:22–31. The notion of the disciples as the flock of Jesus implies that he is the shepherd—a common description of God in the Christian Scriptures (see also Psalms 23; 78:52; 80:1; 100:3; Ezekiel 34:11–16; John 10:1–18). However, the more explicit image of God in this section comes at the end of verse 32. Jesus challenges his disciples to embrace life without fear because it is their heavenly “Father’s good pleasure to give [them] the kingdom” (Luke 12:32). In other words, God is a generous parent who deeply delights in inviting the children of God into the reign of God.

For Luke, the reign of God is offered and available now—even as it is anticipated in its fullness in the world to come (see also Luke 10:9). Preachers will want to note that the giving of this kingdom is not simply about self-fulfillment. Rather, God’s generosity leads us to participate in the subversive economy of the kingdom. For Luke, this involves selling possessions, giving alms, and storing treasure in heaven—which he later depicts among the early Christ-followers (12:33; Acts 2:44–45; 4:32–37). We need not worry about our treasures being stolen by a “thief” or sullied by a “moth” when they are secure in God’s reign (12:33). As a result, we can freely redistribute our material resources in alignment with the priority of the reign of God—a priority that Luke notes again and again includes acute attention to the poor and the oppressed (see also 4:18).

Amid the dominance of fear in our modern world, Jesus’ words can sound like an impossibility. However, recognizing the false narratives and unjust systems that often seek to perpetuate a belief in scarcity, preachers may challenge listeners to consider the cost of fear in their life. Howard Thurman suggests that while fear can serve as “a kind of protective mechanism” for the disinherited, ultimately, it can lead to “death for the self.”¹ Reflecting on Luke 12:32 alongside other passages, he suggests that rather than living in fear, we ought to live in the fundamental reality that each one of us is “a child of God, the God of life that sustains all of nature.”² Preachers may consider how trusting in the “Father’s good pleasure” as children of God liberates us to contribute to our own and others’ flourishing (12:32).

God as servant master

In Luke 12:35–38, the image shifts from God as a generous parent to God as the master or lord of a Roman household. As a descendant of enslaved African Americans, I often struggle with depictions of God as master—even as I recognize the differences between master-slave relationships in the antebellum period in the US and in the Roman society of the first century. While Jesus is not always meant to be understood as the subject of an analogy or comparison, it does seem to be the case in our text—though below, we’ll see that Jesus subverts social expectations as a master.

In the text, the servants—the disciples—are called to be ready as they await the return of the master—Jesus—from “a wedding banquet” (12:36). In the Hebrew Scriptures, wedding banquets often signal the eschatological hope of the people of God (see also Isaiah 25:6–8; 55:1–2; 65:13–14). In the New Testament, this hope is refigured around Jesus (Luke 5:34–35; Revelation 19:7–9). Something of this hope is present in this passage. The story of God is bigger than our present, and we are called to be people who engage in “active waiting” for Christ’s return.³ However, as this passage makes clear, Jesus’ coming is not an invitation into otherworldly retreat but into this-worldly readiness.

At least three images of readiness are offered in light of the master’s imminent return. First, the servants are to “be dressed for action” which translates as “let your waist be girded up” (12:35). While these words echo the Israelites’ preparation for deliverance in Exodus 12:11, in this context as in others, it likely simply signifies a call to be prepared.

The second image of readiness that is offered is “having your lamps lit” (12:35). Unlike our modern era, in the ancient world, to have light in a house involved work. For instance, oil needed to be replenished in a lamp for it to stay lit. This is a call to ongoing attentiveness.⁴

The final image of readiness offered in the passage is that of the servants standing by the door, awaiting their master’s return home. The text suggests that servants should be eagerly on the lookout so “they may open the door for [the master] as soon as he comes and knocks” (12:35). In our distracted age, preachers may want to draw attention to the fierce focus of discipleship to Jesus that is suggested in the passage. What practices can help us stay spiritually alert amid the many distractions around us?

There is a blessing for those servants whom “the master finds alert when he comes” (12:37). Rather than the servants serving the master, the master will “fasten his belt” in readiness and serve the servants (12:37). Luke’s Gospel is full of reversals (see Luke 1:46–56), and this is yet another. Jesus is the servant master who waits on his disciples (see also Luke 22:27). While Jesus worked within the social structures of his times, he also subversively challenged them. This parable offers a glimpse of his subversion. It may be helpful in a sermon to consider how this text invites us to consider the reordering of power as we await Christ’s return.

God as unexpected thief

The final portion of the lectionary passage, 12:38–40, includes a brief parable that calls for eschatological readiness. In this section, Luke introduces us to the owner of a house that is burglarized by a “thief” (12:39). Some scholars suggest that Jesus does not need to be identified as the burglar of the house for the parable to make sense.⁵ In some ways, I agree. Still, the text rather directly suggests that like an unanticipated thief, the “Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect” (12:40).

In the New Testament, among other things Jesus is often referred to as “the Son of Man” or “the Human One” (Common English Bible) in reference to his coming judgment (Luke 12:8–10; Matthew 24; see also Daniel 7:14). The coming of the Son of Man alters our life here and now. The disciples are called once again to be spiritually alert in the present as they anticipate Christ’s coming in the future.

However, unlike the thief introduced earlier, in 12:33, Jesus comes not to steal from us. Without pressing the metaphor too far, we might simply say that Jesus unexpectedly breaks into our lives. Preachers may invite the community to reflect on signs of God’s unexpected entry into their lives. How might we be receptive rather than resistant to Jesus’ coming into our life as we grow as vigilant disciples?

Notes

1. Howard Thurman, Jesus and the Disinherited (Beacon, 1949), 40.
2. Thurman, 49.
3. Diane G. Chen, Luke: A New Covenant Commentary (Cascade, 2017,) 186.
4. Justo L. González, Luke: A Theological Commentary on the Bible (Westminster John Knox, 2010), 164.
5. See Joel B. Green, The Gospel of Luke (Eerdmans, 1997), 428.

Under ideal conditions—no clouds, moon, or light pollution, and a full sky view—the naked human eye can see light from just around 3000 stars. Yet using our own galaxy, the Milky Way, as the model, astrophysicists calculate that a typical galaxy contains at least 100 billion stars. Estimates are that there are around 10 trillion galaxies! This means that in the vastness of space, the universe contains upwards of one-septillion stars—or a “1” with 24 zeros after it! That’s more than 133,000 stars for every grain of sand on earth!¹ No wonder God tells Abram to count the stars … “if you can.”

Promise in peril

In Genesis 12:1–3, God promises Abram land, blessing, and descendants. By the time we reach Genesis 15:1–6, Abram has become wealthy and shown a unique trust in God. But with the passage of time, he and Sarai’s confidence in the promise of becoming a “great nation” (Genesis 12:2) begins to wane. At its original utterance, Abram was 75 years old (12:4), and Sarai was 65 (Genesis 12:4; 17:17), well beyond their child-producing years. Paul even describes Abram’s aged body as “already as good as dead” (Romans 4:19). Further complicating matters, Sarai is barren (Genesis 11:30).

Later in Genesis, Abram and Sarai will laugh at the absurdity of this promise in the face of their aging bodies (Genesis 17:17; 18:12). God’s original promise seemed hard enough to believe; it is almost certainly physically impossible now! The promise does not match their reality. So Abram takes his questions directly to God. At issue is less Abram and Sarai’s progeny and more God’s fidelity. Will God keep the promise, even in impossible circumstances? Can God?

Abra(ha)m as a model of faith

The New Testament upholds Abra(ha)m as a model of faith (Romans 4; Galatians 3; James 2:21–23; Hebrews 11:8–22). We might rightly consider, then, what this faith looks like.

In Genesis 15, God reminds Abram, “Your reward shall be very great,” seemingly calling to Abram’s mind the “great nation” God had promised. Abram pointedly asks, “O Lord GOD, what will you give me, for I continue childless, and the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus? … You have given me no offspring, so a slave born in my house is to be my heir” (15:2–3). Abram has already trusted God enough to leave the comforts of his family and homeland; how is God now keeping the divine part of the deal?

Some might want to chastise Abram here for being short on trust and heavy on criticism of God. Rather, I suggest this marks Abram as an example of faithfulness. He is honest about things that do not make sense to him. Instead of silently stewing or letting concerns gnaw at his faith, he brings his complaint before God. He dares to hold God accountable. You don’t bring a problem to God if you don’t believe—trust—that God can do something about it.

This is the stuff of faithful lament: reminding God of past promises and deeds, and using that to persuade God to intervene in the current dilemma. And there is a rich, underappreciated biblical tradition of lament that is vital for the honest life of faith (see Psalms 13 and 89; Lamentations; Job; Jeremiah 11:18–23; 12:1–6; 15:10–21; 17:14–18; 18:18–23; 20:7–18).² We might hear Abram’s cry in the opening words of Psalm 13, a classic lament psalm: “How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?”

If you are able …

And notice God’s response. In a tender scene, God directs Abram’s gaze upward to the night sky: “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them. … So shall your descendants be” (Genesis 15:5).

God does not punish Abram for his perceived lack of trust. God has not abandoned, and does not abandon, the promise. Instead, God has heard Abram’s lament, and God does something counterintuitive: God ups the stakes! If Abram is concerned about having a single heir at his ripe old age and with his barren wife, how about as many descendants as there are stars in the sky? God gives Abraham a stunning and ever-present visual aid to remind him, every night, of the promise and of God’s fidelity to it. When we’re stuck and struggling to trust, God shows up and makes the promise even better. Just look at all those stars!

Who credits what to whom now?

There are few Old Testament verses more important to the New Testament than Genesis 15:6 (Romans 4:3; Galatians 3:6; James 2:23; Hebrews 11:8–11). It has become central in Protestant sola fide theology. Unfortunately, this verse also has a reputation of being incredibly pesky; the Hebrew is at best ambiguous, plausibly being understood as either the Lord crediting Abram as righteous, or Abram crediting the starry-night encounter with God as righteousness—that is, Abram now trusts God to deliver on the promise, despite all signs pointing to its apparent impossibility.

Just count the stars

Regardless of how one understands this verse, the takeaway is clear: Abram’s trust that God will make of him and Sarai a great nation is renewed. The promise is written in the stars.

While the dominant voice in the Psalms is lament, supporting Abram’s questioning of God, the Psalms also beautifully sing of God’s heavenly handiwork. The stars are called “the work of [God’s] fingers … which [God has] set in place” (Psalm 8:3); they were created by God “to rule over the night” (Psalm 136:9). It is God who “determines the number of the stars; he gives to all of them their names” (Psalm 147:4; see also Isaiah 40:26). And the vast heavens, including the stars, offer praise: “Praise him, sun and moon; praise him, all you shining stars!” (Psalm 148:3).

A ”great nation” would indeed issue from Abram and Sarai. Abram himself will have eight biological sons to his name. His grandson Jacob will be renamed “Israel” (Genesis 32:28) and his wives will birth 12 sons, who become the namesakes for the 12 tribes of Israel. At the start of the book of Exodus, it is said that “the Israelites were fruitful and prolific; they multiplied and grew exceedingly strong, so that the land was filled with them” (Exodus 1:7).

In the New Testament, “children of Abraham” becomes a theological rather than a biological marker, expanding to include Gentiles, anchored around faith rather than bloodline (Matthew 3:9; Luke 3:8; Romans 9:7–8; Galatians 3:7, 29). Preachers should be aware that this reframing can become dangerous, evidenced by texts like John 8:39–59, where Jesus castigates a Jewish group claiming “Abraham is our father” (8:39), saying to them, “You are from your father the devil, and you choose to do your father’s desires” (8:44). Any attempt to exclude Israel/Jews today using these (or other) words must be unequivocally rejected (see especially Romans 9–11).

The preacher may remind the congregation of the old Sunday school song: “Father Abraham had many sons, many sons had father Abraham. I am one of them, and so are you, so let’s all praise the Lord!” The preacher may also invite the congregation into the wonder of this scene, considering that out of this amazing, unfathomable number of stars that decorate the heavens and span galaxies known and unknown, there is a star hung and named for each of us. Perhaps it is a star that Abram and God gazed at, together, when Abram tried to count the stars, and trusted God.

So how does Abram, and how do we, know we can trust God, when what God is promising seems impossible? According to God, you count the stars. And suddenly, what seems impossible appears trustworthy in the hands of the One who made all those stars—too many to count, a number beyond human comprehension. Abram trusts the God who created, named, and hung every star in its place. Because if God can make more stars than there are grains of sand, what can’t God do? This God can be trusted, and will prove trustworthy as Abram’s story continues.

Notes

1. “Star Basics,” NASA, accessed May 30, 2025, https://tinyurl.com/mry92tht; Miles Hatfield and Vanessa Thomas, “Rocket Team to Discern If Our Star Count Should Go Way Up,” NASA, June 3, 2021, https://tinyurl.com/bdeddfzb; Ailsa Harvey and Elizabeth Howell, “How Many Stars Are in the Universe?” Space.com, February 11, 2022, https://tinyurl.com/78wz2ruc.
2. See especially Walter Brueggemann, “The Costly Loss of Lament,” JSOT 36 (1986): 57–71.

The use of the term “vision” followed by an indication of seeing at the outset of a prophetic book might induce expectations of coming material worthy of crystal balls, trance-inducing smoke, or mystical decks of cards. For Isaiah, and the overwhelming majority of the Old Testament prophets, however, such items do not characterize prophetic writings.¹ Instead, to say that a biblical prophet sees something and has a vision essentially means that the prophet has eyes to see (and ears to hear) situations and happenings in the world around them.

Based, then, on what they see and hear and experience, biblical prophets engage in the Spirit-led discipline of speaking the word of the Lord into those circumstances. The prophets speak to the future, but in a manner that is firmly rooted in the goings-on of the present.² The specific mention of Judah and Jerusalem and the kings during whose reigns Isaiah was active further suggests that the coming words of Isaiah will be firmly rooted in the concreteness of the present.

Isaiah reveals what he sees in verses 2–9 of his first chapter.³ When looking at the people of Jerusalem and Judah, the prophet sees children who were reared by God, but who have rebelled against God. Though animals know their owner and their “master’s crib,” these children do not know their God. They do not understand. They are a sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, who do evil, who have forsaken the Lord and despised the Holy One of Israel. As a result, they are completely estranged from God. Isaiah also sees cities that have been burned with fire, and aliens devouring the land, a land that has become desolate (verses 2–4, 7–8).

In these verses, Isaiah implies a connection between the observed actions and characteristics of the people and the desolation that has come upon the land at the hands of the Assyrian invasion under Sennacherib in 701 BCE. Isaiah emphasizes the need to consider the connection by presenting his observations in the form of a covenant lawsuit, indicated by the call for the heavens and earth to hear what is going to be presented regarding a rupture in the relationship. With the heavens and earth as witnesses, which party is at fault (guilty) for the desolation experienced by the land—God, or the people?

An overly generalized perception of God’s action in the Old Testament is one that emphasizes God’s acts of judgment, seeing them primarily as punitive and even vengeful.⁴ Indeed, in these verses, Isaiah will twice mention the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah—cities that were utterly destroyed by God with fire from heaven. However, Isaiah seems to present a nuanced view of God’s judgment.

Verse 5 poses rhetorical questions to the people, asking why they seek further beating and continue to rebel, while their head is already sick and their heart faint. Verse 6 continues to describe a battered and bruised people. Isaiah does not seem to view these circumstances, including Sennacherib’s invasion, exclusively as an external act of God. Instead, the behavior of the people outlined earlier has led them down a path that resulted in the current state of affairs.

In fact, if there is an external, path-altering act of God to be highlighted in all this, it comes in verse 9. It is the Lord of hosts⁵ who is responsible for the people not being entirely annihilated as were Sodom and Gomorrah. Indeed, although Sennacherib boasts in his annals of having King Hezekiah surrounded in Jerusalem like a bird in a cage, the Assyrian general did not take the city. In fact, what we know of the siege indicates that a certain degree of mystery surrounds why Sennacherib suddenly withdrew.⁶

As we move from verses 2–9 to those included in the lectionary, there is a shift in tone.⁷ From the previous indictment motif of a lawsuit, the following verses transition more to instruction⁸—a move also indicative of the purpose of God’s judgment. Just because the material is instructional, however, that doesn’t mean it will be easy to hear. After again likening the people and their rulers to Sodom and Gomorrah—this time with an emphasis on the iniquity of those destroyed cities—Isaiah launches into a brutal assessment of temple worship in Jerusalem. God has had it with the people’s worship. Offerings are futile, incense an abomination. God hates the appointed festivals, experiencing them only as a burden. Further, God will hide God’s eyes from these things and will not listen to prayers.

The reason these scathing words are not only further indictment, but also teaching, is that God here does not make a sweeping and wholesale condemnation of worship. Worship in and of itself is not bad. The problem is worship “with iniquity” (verse 13).⁹ Here, Isaiah teaches us something critical about worship. Worship is not just ritual. It is not going through motions for the sake of going through motions. Furthermore, worship is not to be viewed or experienced as exclusively, or even predominantly, transactional.

This is to say, worship is not something we do to appease an ill-tempered, vengeful God.¹⁰ Rather than being transactional, worship is to be transformative. It should influence who we are, what we do, and how we do it. Thus, after calling out the untransformative worship of the people, Isaiah lays out what should be the outgrowth of worship—not rebellion against God and iniquity and estrangement as described in verses 2–4, but instead, ceasing to do evil, learning to do good, seeking justice, rescuing the oppressed, defending the orphan, and pleading for the widow (verses 16–17).¹¹

Much as it turns out that transformation is key to understanding the purpose of worship, it is also essential to understand the dynamics of God’s judgment. Verse 9 already highlighted a saving act of God in the midst of Judah’s desolation. After the prior verses presented examples of transformation that should sprout from worship, verse 18 indicates God’s desire for such transformation to also be the outcome of indictment: “Come now, let us argue it out, says the LORD.”

In other words, God is inviting the people to be transformed—to work with God on the process of becoming new. It is not a free pass, no pixie dust or abracadabra—the people will have to be willing and obedient. But neither is this a scene of unmitigated fire and sulfur from heaven. The overarching thing that Isaiah sees in all this is a God who, true to God’s own self-description as merciful, gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love (Exodus 34:6), far prefers and desires to save the people from their sins rather than destroy them because of such behavior.

Notes

1. Ecstatic prophetic experiences are by no means absent from the Old Testament, the book of Ezekiel being the prime example. This mystical expression of the prophetic experience, however, represents more the exception than the rule.
2. Stated another way, the biblical prophets are far more “forthtellers” than they are foretellers.
3. Although not part of the appointed lection, the preacher (or teacher) should consider including these verses for a fuller exegesis of verses 10–20.
4. I recall a comic sketch from years ago that had God as the stereotypical bearded old man, sitting at a computer, finger poised and waiting to hit the “smite” button on the keyboard when the unsuspecting individual on the screen, who was walking down a sidewalk, passed under a piano being lowered by movers from a balcony above.
5. A militaristic image of God (literally “the Lord of armies”) reminiscent of the exodus, in which God fights for God’s people.
6. See also Isaiah 36–37 and 2 Kings 18–19
7. Gene M. Tucker, “The Book of Isaiah 1–39: Introduction, Commentary, and Reflections,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible, vol. 6 (Nashville: Abingdon, 1994), 55.
8. For example: “Hear the word of the LORD. … Listen to the teaching of our God” (Isaiah 1:10).
9. This is the same thing the people were said to be laden with in verse 4. The prophet Amos made a similar assessment of worship (Amos 5:21–23).
10. This view often overtakes perceptions of Old Testament sacrificial worship. Studied closely, however, worship in the Old Testament is primarily a means of drawing God’s people closer to God and healing any rifts or wounds in the relationship. (Thus the apt understanding of atonement as “at-one-ment.”)
11. Amos makes a similar case for the connection between these things and worship (Amos 5:14–15, 24) as does Micah (6:6–8).

Preaching Psalm 33 is likely to be a challenge for any preacher who has an American flag in the sanctuary.¹

This psalm is a call to worship, a hymn of praise for Yahweh who is the one and only sovereign creator over all nations, all humankind, and all creation. Lynn Jost states the thesis of this psalm:

Because Yahweh rules with righteousness, justice, and unfailing love, we must worship Yahweh with songs of praise and by rejecting all false sources of salvation.²

God sees all

Our lectionary pericope for this Sunday begins in verse 12, at the conclusion of a stanza that began in verse 10. It is a stanza that sets in scale the happiness of “the nation whose God is the Lord.” For this nation is not the only nation God cares for. Verses 1–9 describe the creation story in song, a reminder to Israel and all nations that one God, one Creator, fashioned all of humanity. Only one ruler is sovereign in such a way that by speaking, “it came to be … and stood firm” (verse 9).

So, this is the message in our next stanza (verses 13–15): Yahweh watches over all of the earth from the throne. And what does Yahweh search for?  What is the measure Yahweh uses when looking down to observe humanity’s deeds (verse 15)? The measure was mentioned earlier in our psalm, back in verse 5: righteousness and justice. This is the expected behavior for Israel, or any nation that claims to worship and/or be chosen by Yahweh.

Yet in the story of Israel, the cry of the prophets, we know the conditionality of being chosen, and how Yahweh will punish even this chosen people when they no longer reflect Yahweh’s heart for righteousness and justice. If indeed King David wrote this psalm, he himself could speak to what it is to be chosen and anointed by Yahweh but punished for not practicing righteousness and justice (2 Samuel 12).

The danger of vain hope

Scholars debate whether or not this psalm, found in Book One of the collection, is pre- or postexilic;³ whether it is truly a psalm of David or a song that emerged out of a nation that learned the frailty of placing its hope in kings or military might.⁴ Does this contrast between Yahweh’s empire and the nation’s empire foreshadow the fall of the United Kingdom, or is it a liturgical reminder from a postexilic time that trust in nationhood was not enough to save Israel from destruction? Is it a call back to Yahweh’s warning to Samuel when the elders of Israel demanded he ask Yahweh for a king (1 Samuel 8:7)? This history of Israel is one of undermining the kingly rule of Yahweh with the frail rule of humankind.⁵

In whatever context in Israel’s history this psalm was composed, we see in these two verses the theological core. In wilderness wandering, in the oppression of slavery, in times of persecution, the psalmist calls on the assembly to remember: no nation, no government will save you and feed you; only Yahweh can deliver, only Yahweh can keep you alive. The psalmist cautions against the conflation of Yahweh’s strength with a nation’s military strength. And yet, the propensity of humanity to link the two in pursuit of greater power over perceived threats to that power is a myth as old as time.

The promise of hesed hope

Investment in war horses and armies for defensive strategies is the result of a fatal heart condition in a nation—fearfulness. In this condition, the heart that fears ________ (fill in the blank with all sources other than God) hopes in defense mechanisms to keep bad out and good in. It’s a losing battle if indeed all of humanity has hearts fashioned by the same creator (verse 15). It’s a losing battle if indeed the measure of goodness according to Yahweh is righteousness and justice (verse 5).

The way to victory begins in a different heart condition—fearfulness, yes, but fear of Yahweh only. In other words, trust in Yahweh, remembering Yahweh’s steadfast, unfailing love throughout our lives and history. Do not put your trust in anyone or anything else. So, we are back to the summons in verse 8 of the psalm: “Let all the earth fear the LORD; let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of him.” Now our hearts are glad and expectant. Now “the eye of the LORD” is on us, a far more intimate expression of God’s looking than was described in verse 13.

Summary

Preaching into your context this week, what do you see? Is your nation proclaiming its divine chosenness in words but in every single action placing trust (money, resources, praise) in war horses, a president, or any other “vain hope for victory” that cannot save us from ourselves (verse 17)? Or is your nation revealing its kinship with Yahweh in its acts of righteousness and justice for those who are most vulnerable in the land? Psalm 33 should humble a nation with its sweeping scale of the cosmos and its reminder that, ultimately, no one nation is the hope of creation.

But I wonder if this psalm has something to say also to any congregation or denomination that boasts in its chosenness. While not investing in war horses per se, perhaps it is investing in the latest technology or maintaining a crumbling building or using missions money to clean up a parking lot … more common ways in which a church might be paying to cheat death, placing energy in a “vain hope for victory” that cannot save a church. The psalm asks the congregation: In whom do we trust? For whom do we wait for direction?

Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for August 11, 2019.
2. Lynn Jost, “Psalm 33, America, and Empire,” in Direction 35, no. 1 (2006): 73.
3. Most of the psalms in Book One of the Psalter have superscriptions that attribute the psalm to David. There are exceptions (See Psalms 1, 2, and 10). According to J. Clinton McCann, Psalm 33 may actually be a continuation of Psalm 32, a penitential psalm associated with David. See McCann, “Psalms,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible, vol. 4, ed. David L. Peterson (Nashville: Abingdon, 1994), 809.
4. Jost, 71.
5. Jost, 76.

In Hebrews 10:39, while interpreting Habakkuk 2:4, the author says, “But we are not among those who shrink back and so are lost, but among those who have faith and so are saved.” Then the author begins to answer the question of what it means to have this faith: “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” This translation understands the Greek words hypostasis (“assurance”) and elenchos (“conviction”) to describe subjective realities. This interpretation could be paraphrased: “Faith is the assurance [for me] of things hoped for, [providing] a conviction [for me] of things not seen.” Though the dominant interpretation represented by translations, this is not the dominant interpretation in commentaries on Hebrews.

Most understand those Greek terms to describe objective realities because, for both of these words, that is a more common and natural interpretation. My translation is: “Now faith is the foundation for things being hoped for, proof for things we do not see.” Faith is the reason they hope for things, trusting that God will fulfill his promises, and faith provides proof (in a manner of speaking) that unseen things exist. This explanation or definition of faith is operative throughout the rest of the chapter. The author says this first in order that every time a reader encounters “by faith,” they will have this definition in view.

This becomes clearer in 11:2, where the author says that it is because of this, because of faith, that the ancestors received approval. Before explaining all the faithful acts of the ancestors, the author begins with a surprising act of faith—ours. He says, “By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible” (11:3). At its most basic level, this means that “we” are commended because we trust that God created the universe from unseen things. This likely contains an allusion to Genesis 1, where God creates through speech acts (“Let there be light!”).¹

After recounting what Abel, Enoch, and Noah did “by faith,” the author spends a considerable amount of time talking about Abraham. First, alluding to Genesis 12:1–3, the author commends Abraham for leaving his homeland to travel to an unknown place when God called upon him (11:8). This led to Abraham and his offspring living in tents—in a state of transience (11:9). The reason he did not settle, the author says, is because he “looked forward to the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God” (11:10). The mention of foundations almost certainly introduces a contrast with the ancestors’ tents. This city is permanent, and the city planner is God.

The next set of narratives from Abraham’s life that come into focus are those around the birth of Isaac. The author notes that Abraham received the power to “sow seed” (literally), or procreate, though he was past the normal childbearing age, as was Sarah (11:11).

This verse is challenging to interpret because the author introduces Sarah, and she appears to be the subject of this verse (in other words, the one given power to sow seed). This makes the most sense for the initial clause, but 11:12 clearly refers to a masculine figure when it says, “Therefore from one person,” because the word translated “one person” is masculine in Greek. The author may intend for the comment about Sarah to be an aside or may simply switch back to Abraham quickly without warning. The latter is more likely since a male and a female figure are in view, and this switch would be easy for native speakers to follow. Either way, it is Abraham who is said to have innumerable descendants.

Although the author will return to Abraham, yet again some summary comments appear. The author says that all the people mentioned already in the list (and, presumably, those yet to be mentioned) died “in faith.” They died without receiving what was promised but still trusting that God would provide (11:13). They continued living as migrants, not settling anywhere, because they were looking forward to a true homeland (11:14). The author makes clear that they are not homesick for the lands they had left; they desired something better—something heavenly (11:15–16).

The city God has prepared for them will appear again in Hebrews 12:22. They will “come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem.” This suggests that the heavenly homeland is a reality they will experience more fully in the future.

Notes

1. The author may also make a christological claim. See Madison N. Pierce, “The World Spoken Through the Son: Divine Speech and Creation in the Epistle to the Hebrews,” JSNT 46, no. 1 (2023): 37–58.