By faith Abraham, being called, obeyed to go out into the place which he was to receive for an inheritance, and went out, not knowing where he was going.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
By faith he sojourned as a stranger in the land of promise as a foreign country, having dwelt in tents with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with [him] of the same promise;
Hebrews 11 has just shown Abraham leaving home for a place he had never seen; verse 9 shows what he did once he arrived. The surprise is that arriving changed nothing on the outside. God had promised him this land, yet he lived in it like a foreigner, in a tent, alongside Isaac and Jacob.
Obedience brought Abraham to Canaan. Living there took something more:
If faith first obeys, faith also continues. Here is the steady, plodding life of faith. It is not a settling down among earthly comforts, but a pilgrim path, as Abraham's tent bore witness. Mere material, present advantage is no object at all for faith.
He lived there "as in a foreign land" — a guest, not an owner. And this was the very country God had given him:
He was a pilgrim, not a settler in the land. He was as much a pilgrim in the land as before he came there... God's promise of the land brought him out of his own land, out of what stands as a picture of the earth. But in Canaan God raised his eyes to heaven, instead of letting them rest on the world. And this is exactly what the letter to the Hebrews shows us. It shows not only the faith that brought him into the land, but the faith that kept him a stranger there.
You can fold a tent up and carry it away. It was the open confession of a man not yet home. Lot, Abraham's nephew, shows what happens when someone drops that confession:
Notice how verse 9 keeps up the pilgrim and stranger character: living in tents was the mark of a stranger and a pilgrim... Abraham lived in a tent. Lot did too at first, but he did not keep up the pilgrim character. First he pitched his tent towards Sodom, then sat in the gate, and had a house in Sodom. Abraham kept his tent, because he looked for a city. He knew there was such a city. And the Holy Spirit adds, "whose designer and builder is God."
The one piece of Canaan Abraham ever owned was a grave. That is the proof, not the exception:
When he got to this land of promise, what did he find there? He did not have so much as a foot of land he could call his own. It is very significant that the only part he ever owned was a tomb, a burial place. It reminded him that in life he had nothing, but it was also an anticipation of resurrection... His dwelling was in a form that suggested his home was not here.
The three of them shared one promise, and they were sure of it. That certainty showed itself in bold action:
Abraham lived in tents with Isaac and Jacob. That was indeed so. But then, they were heirs together of the promise. Of this they were, in the middle of their pilgrim days, fully persuaded. And so, on fitting occasions, they can act on that full persuasion. They take up the dignities and places the promise warranted, in a way that nothing but such persuasion can account for.
Jacob was the least consistent of the three, yet the verse counts him in:
It is very interesting to see Jacob included in this pilgrim life. Jacob lived only a small part of his life in the land of Canaan. Through his own waywardness, he spent much of it outside his own land. Yet what God sees here is his life of faith in a tent, as well as that of Abraham and Isaac.
Writers apply this to believers now, with one difference. The call today does not move you to another country:
In all this Abraham's history pictures the position of the believer today. It is full of instruction for us. We are not called to leave any particular city or country, nor to come out of our family circles. The heavenly calling that has reached us is more sweeping than this. It involves our being "delivered from the present evil age" (Galatians 1:4)... Our links with the present evil age must be cut. Yet we still live in the same place and the same circumstances as before our conversion.
- Faith continues. The same faith that obeyed the call kept Abraham going afterwards. It was a steady, plodding pilgrim path, not a settling down.
- Faith keeps you a stranger. He was a stranger before he arrived. The striking thing is that he stayed one inside the land God had given him.
- The tent confesses it. A folding home was the outward mark of the pilgrim. Lot traded his for a house in Sodom; Abraham never did.
- The grave holds the claim. The only ground Abraham owned was a burial plot. It proved he owned nothing in life, and it looked ahead to resurrection.
- The promise is shared. Isaac and Jacob were heirs with him and sure of it, free to act on that certainty — even Jacob, who spent much of his life away from the land.
for he waited for the city which has foundations, of which God is [the] artificer and constructor.
Genesis never tells us what was going on inside Abraham while he lived in a tent in the land God had promised him. Hebrews 11 does. He owned no house and no land, and this verse gives the reason: his eye was on a city that God Himself builds.
The verse opens with "for," so it explains what came before. One writer traces what faith did in Abraham once he reached the land.
Faith led him into the land, though it was unnamed and unknown to him. Once he was in it, faith looked to receive it from God another day, while he was content to be a foreigner who did not yet own a foot of it. But faith also learned to wait for a brighter and better scene. For the city here described stands in contrast with all that is earthly or can be shaken and removed. It is the scene of heavenly glory... The word he heard made him look up. He believed, so he did not rush, and he would not be put to shame.
Abraham lived among real cities with real walls. The word "foundations" is not about engineering.
Abraham spent his life outside the cities of men because he had in view the city of God that is yet to be — "a city which has foundations." The point seems plain: the cities of men lack foundations. Their physical foundations may be sound enough, but the right moral foundations are missing. Unless righteousness and love lie at the base, no city can last or endure. Sooner or later such cities decay, or violent upheavals from inside or outside sweep them away.
One writer shows how much hangs on a single word in the original.
In the original it is not "he looked for a city," just some city. It is "he looked for the city" — the well-known one, and there is only one such city. He looked for the city that had the foundations, because they are well-known foundations. There could be only one kind of foundation for a city like that. In Revelation you find it in precious stones, which speak of God glorified in Christ. Christ Himself is the foundation of that heavenly city. His atoning work is the basis on which it rests, as everything else does.
Another writer sets the same point against the tents of verse 9:
As to Hebrews 11:10 — I take the "city" to be very general in contrast with tents (v. 9) — a stranger in the land. But the only city is the heavenly Jerusalem — itself a figure. It is not "a city," but "the city."
The verse gives God two titles. They cover two stages of one work.
He looked for a city that has foundations, and its Architect and Builder is God. He devised the plan, and He carries it out... The mention of "the foundations" brings before us the very city of Revelation, with its twelve jewelled foundations, like the high priest's breastplate. They are the glorious lights and perfections of God's character. A city built on these must last for ever.
Genesis never records God telling Abraham about a city.
This goes beyond anything the Old Testament records about Abraham's expectations. It shows that faith looked further than what God had openly revealed at the time. No one had ever mentioned the heavenly city then. But faith could see that the God who cannot decay would provide what cannot decay, something above everything a person can take in by the senses... So faith wants nothing less than what is wholly God's own work. It will not be disappointed.
The verse is not only about the future. It explains a way of living.
Abraham wanted no place in this world. With his tent and his altar he waited for the city that has foundations, the city God designs and builds. His tent marked him out as a pilgrim and stranger before people. His altar spoke of him as a worshipper before God. Our tent and altar must go together.
- Looked — the verse explains the tent. Abraham stayed a stranger because his eye was on a city that nothing can shake or remove.
- Foundations — men's cities may be well built. Without righteousness and love at the base, they decay or collapse.
- The city — not "a city" but "the city," the only one of its kind. It rests on Christ and His atoning work.
- God — He is both architect and builder: He drew the plan and He carries it out, so the result is entirely His workmanship.
- Waited — faith reached past what God had openly revealed, and it will not be disappointed. Meanwhile tent and altar go together: pilgrim before people, worshipper before God.
By faith also Sarah herself received strength for [the] conception of seed, and [that] beyond a seasonable age; since she counted him faithful who promised.
Hebrews 11:11 lifts Sarah out of the book of Genesis and places her among the heroes of faith. When God promised her a son, the story says she laughed. It ties three things together: a body past childbearing, strength that comes anyway, and one reason for it all. She counted God faithful.
Read the Old Testament account of Sarah and you find no obvious faith at all. One writer draws attention to how unlikely a candidate she was for this list:
It is only in this chapter that we find any mention of Sarah's faith. You look in vain in the Old Testament story for evidence of faith on her part. How good it is to remember that God's eye can detect what we cannot! ... She laughed; and when the Lord spoke to her, she denied it. So the two things that marked her at that time were unbelief and untruthfulness. This seems the least promising soil for any plant of faith to grow in. Yet God could see there the elements of a faith that in His sight was of great price.
Scripture does not just pass over her failures. It leaves them out, and that omission says something about God:
All this makes the grace of God stand out, and it cheers us. God has forgotten her early failures. He records only the later triumph here. What clearer proof could there be that He loves to speak well of His own!
Something changed between the laugh and the birth. Commentators trace the turn to the moment God exposed her — the rebuke did not crush her faith; it started it.
A rebuke of her unbelief had to awaken her faith (Gen. 18). The Lord reproved her. She was afraid in the presence of the One who searched her thoughts. Out of that fear grew a confidence that trusted God to be true to His name. Faith cannot act until the heart first sets aside its own reasoning. ... Sarah judged Him faithful who had promised, once her heart was emptied of self.
What changed her was not an experience but a word God spoke. Another writer puts it plainly:
The plain word of God given to her changed her unbelief into genuine faith, and that faith bore fruit. To take God's word deeply to heart is the very essence of faith.
Notice what the verse says faith obtained: not insight, not courage, but strength. That matters for anyone who has tried to obey God with no strength left:
Faith here connects with the receiving of strength. A step of obedience to God is admirable. A life of steady continuance is better still. But without the supply of God's power, neither is possible. Faith finds this too. It completes a series of seven beautiful products of faith, basic to all godly character: 1. Wisdom (v. 3); 2. Worship (v. 4); 3. Walk (v. 5); 4. Work (v. 7); 5. Obedience (v. 8); 6. Continuance (v. 9); 7. Strength (v. 11).
Sarah's case goes past hard circumstances into the plainly impossible. That is the point.
In Sarah we learn more. Faith looks to God when difficulties press hard. It also trusts God when nature makes a thing impossible. She did not look at the ordinary way of having a son. She did not ask, "How can this be?" Her confidence was in God. He would keep His own word in His own way. ... He brings strength out of weakness and life out of death.
The verse gives its own explanation. It rests on the character of the One who spoke, not on the odds.
This is a fine reason to exercise faith. With her the question was not, "Can it be?" but, "He has said it, so it shall be." She rested on this alone — the word of her God. For who before her had become a mother at ninety?
One writer measures the outcome against what Sarah herself expected:
Here is fruit beyond counting, far past the limits of Sarah's own hopes. Natural hope was dead, so that long before this she had given up any such expectation. ... The fruit of faith's submission is far greater than it appears at the time, or for years afterward. Only eternity will reveal it.
Ridout turns it on the reader:
If God rewarded Sarah's feeble faith, why not yours?
- Seen — God saw faith in Sarah where the story records only unbelief and a denial. He notices what no reader could.
- Emptied — His rebuke exposed her, and out of that fear grew confidence. Faith acts only after the heart sets its own reasoning aside.
- Strengthened — faith's gift here is power. Obedience and endurance are impossible without God's supply.
- Impossible — she did not ask how God would do it. She trusted Him to keep His word His own way. He brings life out of death.
- Multiplied — the fruit ran far past anything she hoped for, and most of it only eternity will show.
Wherefore also there have been born of one, and that of one become dead, even as the stars of heaven in multitude, and as the countless sand which [is] by the sea shore.
This verse closes Abraham and Sarah's story: one man, past all hope of children, became the head of a family beyond counting. It raises two questions — do God's promises depend on human ability at all, and who are the stars and the sand?
The verse describes the father in a way that makes a family seem impossible. One writer sees in this God's usual way of working:
God secures a great company of people according to His purpose, but does so in His own way, from one "as good as dead". As so often in the ways of God, He carries out His plans by vessels of weakness in circumstances that seem hopeless. He brings strength out of weakness, food out of the eater, and life out of death. And from one as good as dead He brings a people "as many as the stars of heaven." "Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord."
The wording piles the difficulty on both sides, and age makes it worse:
Here faith wins a fresh victory. It overcame utter weakness, made worse by the passing of years far beyond the natural age. The weakness lay on both sides. Scripture names the mother first, and then describes the father in a way that heightens the wonder of such an overflowing family from one as good as dead.
If the man was as good as dead, the numbers had to come from somewhere else. One writer sets what Abraham could have looked at beside what he did look at:
Suppose Abraham had looked up into the sky, sprinkled with countless stars. Then suppose he looked at "his own body, which was as good as dead." How could he ever grasp the idea of a family as many as those stars? Impossible. But he did not look at his own body; he looked at the resurrection power of God. That was the power which would produce the family. So we can see that the stars of heaven and the sand on the seashore are only feeble pictures. What natural object could show the effect of a power that raises the dead?
The verse gives two comparisons, not one. Writers read them as two lines of blessing:
His children were to be as the stars — that is, the heavenly family, those who inherit his faith, as shown in Romans 4:16, which includes every believer. They were also to be as the sand on the seashore — that is, the earthly family. The sea (the Gentile world) may beat upon them, throw up mire and dirt on them, and cover them for a time. But it can never dissolve them or absorb them.
Commentators differ over the sand. Some read it of Israel, others of Israel together with the nations. On the stars they agree, and one writer applies that side to Christians:
Believers in Christ, as children of Abraham, get the heavenly side of the promise — "stars of the heavens"; Israel (and with them the nations) get the earthly side — "sand of the seashore" (Heb. 11:12).
The family began by promise, not by natural strength. Its survival has run the same way:
If ever a people passed through difficulties and dangers, distresses and destructions planned to defeat the promise of God, it was the Jews. That holds even on the smaller question of their numbers. Everyone knows how nations great and small, near and far, have set their policy against them. Again and again through the ages they have tried to cut them off from being a people. Rome took away their place and scattered them as captives over the earth. Even so, it could not put an end to their nation... Yet scattered in this strange way, they are perhaps as numerous as ever.
The words "as good as dead" are not left in the past. One writer turns them on the reader:
Long ago, Abraham received the promised son by God's intervention alone. In himself, Abraham was "as good as dead". In the same way, a sinner can no more justify himself from guilt before God by his own efforts than a dead man could. As far as doing anything to justify ourselves, we are "as good as dead." We are left with nothing but the work of Another — the work of Christ.
- From one. The whole countless family traces back to one man, as good as dead. The numbers prove the source was not in him.
- From death. Abraham measured the promise by God's power to raise the dead, not by his own body. Next to that power, stars and sand are weak pictures.
- From weakness. God works this way again and again: strength out of weakness, life out of death, a great company out of a hopeless case.
- Into two families. The stars picture the heavenly side of the promise, the sand the earthly. Commentators differ on whether the sand means Israel alone, or Israel with the nations.
- Onto you. When it comes to justifying yourself, you are as good as dead too. So the blessing must come from Another, just as it did for Abraham.
All these died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them from afar off and embraced [them], and confessed that they were strangers and sojourners on the earth.
Hebrews 11 pauses its roll-call to sum up how the patriarchs finished: they died still waiting. So how can a life count as a success when the promise never arrived?
Death here is not faith's defeat but its final act. Commentators point out that the wording is closer to "died according to faith."
Even when Abraham reached Canaan he had not reached the object of faith. He was as much a pilgrim in the land as he was on the journey to it. His whole life was a pilgrimage. He never owned what God had promised him... "These all died in faith," or, as the word is, "died according to faith." They died in line with what faith had laid hold of. By faith they saw the promises connected with the inheritance, but they did not receive them. Nature grew feeble. Its powers decayed, and they were laid in the grave. But they died in faith, clinging to the promises still far off — convinced of them, so that there was no uncertainty.
Their care over graves in Canaan was not sentiment. It was a claim on land God had promised them but they never owned.
The history strikingly illustrates this. They valued their dead bodies and the burial places that held them. While they lived, they were content to live in Canaan without owning so much as a foot of it. But "they died in faith." God's promise had given that land, that very land, to them, though they themselves would be gathered to their fathers (Gen. 15). This was the warrant for their dying in faith, in the sure and certain hope of a resurrection to enjoy it.
The verse moves through four steps of faith, and the last one is public.
Faith sees death as only a necessary step toward the fulfilment of the promise, so the patriarchs stayed calm and quiet in the face of death. First in our verse we see faith's long sight. Second, its firm, unshaken persuasion. Third, its embracing with the whole soul the preciousness of the truth of God. Fourth, its unhesitating confession before the world that earth is only a foreign land of pilgrimage. How full, real, and precious such a character is! Who would trade it for all the wealth, pleasure, power and popularity the world may offer for a brief span of years?
Some translations read "embraced" where the ESV has "greeted." The word points to affection, not just agreement. Bellett then asks what made these people strangers in the first place.
The first thing to do with a promise is to take hold of it — then to exercise faith about it — and then to receive it by the heart. They "embraced" them. Their hearts hugged them. How far has my heart hugged the promises?... But surely the closer we hug them the more blessed we will be as we consent to be strangers and pilgrims in this world. Did they speak of being strangers because they had left Mesopotamia? No; but because they had not reached heaven.
The ESV has "strangers and exiles"; the writers below quote the verse as "strangers and pilgrims." The pair is not repetition. Each word says something different about where a believer stands.
A fugitive is a man who has fled from home. A vagabond is a man who has no home. A stranger is a man who is absent from home. A pilgrim is a man who is on his way home.
Abraham's daily habits showed both words in action:
In Haran, where Abraham was delayed for a time, we read he "dwelt there." But once he arrived in the land, we read he "pitched his tent," as one who had no fixed dwelling place. What is more, we read that he "passed through the land." As a stranger he had only a tent in this world. As a pilgrim he was passing through to another world.
Commentators differ over the clause "and were persuaded of them." The ESV leaves it out. Some writers rest weight on it; others treat it as a later addition.
And so these all died in accordance with faith, just as they had lived. They looked forward to Messiah's day, when the promises would be made good. The addition of "and were persuaded" in the Received Text has very little support, and that support counts for nothing... It really weakens the truth. But the practical result is as weighty as it is undeniable: they confessed that they were strangers and sojourners on the earth.
- Saw — faith's long sight looked past what was visible and took in promises still far off. Death did not interrupt that sight.
- Welcomed — from far off they greeted the promises, still looking ahead to Messiah's day.
- Embraced — they did not just believe the promise; they loved it. Hearts that hugged it held the world loosely.
- Confessed — a stranger is away from home, a pilgrim is heading home; tents and burial plots said both out loud.
- Died — they died as they had lived, according to faith. They still owned nothing, and were still sure of a resurrection to enjoy it.
For they who say such things shew clearly that they seek [their] country.
Hebrews 11 has just described people who died still waiting for what God promised, and who called themselves foreigners on the earth. Verse 14 draws the conclusion: talk like that tells the world you are looking for a home somewhere else.
Older translations read "declare plainly" here, where the ESV has "make it clear." The declaration is not mainly a speech. One writer reads the phrase as the whole shape of a life, and points to Christ as the clearest example.
Notice that expression, "they declare it plainly." It is not that they always talked about it. The pilgrim's dress is our best witness. Not the clothes we wear, of course, but the whole pilgrim character. Did anyone ever question that the Lord Jesus was a stranger here? that He was not seeking wealth or a place here?... People can tell when a man is heavenly. They sense it when his character, his conversation, his whole life breathes an air that does not belong to earth... This is not something you can get by imitation. It comes by keeping company in spirit with Christ.
This is why the verse treats such people as evidence. Accepting the place of a stranger is what turns a believer into a public witness.
When we accept the path of the stranger, we will become witnesses for God on the earth... The man who declares plainly as a witness for God is the man who answers the call of God.
Older translations say they "seek a country." The homeland they wanted was not even the land God had promised them.
Even the land of promise was not their home. Still less was Chaldea, the country Abraham left at God's word. They looked higher — to heaven. Life and death alike bore witness that they were at home nowhere on earth. They lived in tents as pilgrims. They were strangers in the land of promise, a land not their own — yet theirs in a hope that puts no one to shame. All along they declared plainly that they were looking for a fatherland on high.
Abraham left his home country, reached the land God had promised him, and still would not settle in it. The tent he lived in said what his words said.
He set out "not knowing where he was going." He reached the land at last, the land "which he was to receive as an inheritance." Yet he lived there "as in a foreign land, living in tents with Isaac and Jacob, heirs with him of the same promise" (Heb. 11:8-10). In these words the Spirit points out that he left the glories of Ur for the land of promise, and then never enjoyed what he set out to have. He gave up any immediate or personal hold on it. As Genesis shows, he was content with a tent and an altar. So he declared himself still to be seeking a country.
Such a declaration could sound like a complaint about the present. One writer says the feeling pointed forward, not back.
Their sense of being strangers on earth did not come from regrets, but from hopes. They were dissatisfied with the present thing, not because of what was past but because of what was to come. The scene around them was a wilderness because of the power over them of the scene ahead, not of the one behind them.
Everyone admits in the end that life on earth is short. The difference is when a person admits it, and whether he says it freely.
Those who freely call themselves pilgrims show plainly that they are done with earth (verse 14). People admit late, only when they are forced to die, that human life is nothing but a journey full of change. They own up to a shared emptiness, and they do it unwillingly. But God's anointed ones never settled on the earth. They wandered all their days. They knew that flesh and blood could never enter the place where their hopes rested.
One writer turns the same confession into a test for the believer today.
The believer is "not of the world." His home and citizenship are in heaven. His walk down here on the earth should show a clear awareness, and a clear confession, that he "seeks a country" (Heb. 11:14). This is of the greatest importance.
- Confess — Calling yourself a stranger on earth is more than admitting that life is short. It is a claim to belong somewhere else.
- Declare — You make most of this claim without words. Your character, your conversation and your whole way of living carry the message.
- Seek — They wanted a homeland, and even the promised land was not it. Abraham and his family looked higher, to heaven.
- Renounce — Abraham's tent was his sermon. He reached the land and still refused to own it, and that refusal declared him a seeker.
- Hope — The pilgrim looks forward in desire, not backward in regret. He is done with earth by choice, not because death forced it out of him.
And if they had called to mind that from whence they went out, they had had opportunity to have returned;
Hebrews 11 describes people of faith who lived as strangers, looking for a homeland. So why did they never go back to the country they had left, when the way home lay open?
Nothing forced these travellers to stay. The way back was open.
Had those saints of old been mindful of the country they had left, says the apostle, they might have returned. There was no constraint or necessity laid upon them. Abraham could have gone back to Mesopotamia, or to Haran, where he had stayed for a time. He could have even continued in the land of Egypt, where, in unbelief, he went for a season. But the faith that had caused him to hear the word of God made him continue looking for a better country.
Nor was there any hostility barring the journey. Neighbours would have welcomed the decision.
He was the stranger to the end. He might have returned to Mesopotamia. He had not forgotten the road, as we noticed before; and the constant respect and friendliness of all his neighbours proved that there was no enemy to hinder the journey. But the call of God had fixed his heart, and he looked only where it led him.
The ESV says "thinking of that land"; older translations say "mindful." Either way, the danger starts in the mind, long before it reaches the road.
The record in Hebrews 11 does not hide from us that the old land of Mesopotamia had attractions. They might well have pulled hard at Abraham. If he had let his mind keep dwelling on the old place he came from, its fascination might have grown. Then his heart would have turned that way, and his feet might soon have followed. It would have been easy: he "would have had opportunity to return."
God leaves the way back unguarded on purpose. The open door is the test.
The enemy always has a side road open to the man of faith. He had an Egypt for Abraham, and now he has the world, in all its varied forms, for us... It is the opportunity to return that proves the genuine fixedness of purpose to go forward. The Lord leaves His people free, in order that they may "declare plainly that they seek a country." This is what glorifies God. It would count for nothing if we were forced, as with bit and bridle, to go from earth to heaven. But when, through grace, we freely give up the things of earth to seek the things above, that is to the glory of God. It shows that what He has to give is far more attractive than this present world.
One writer turns the question on the reader.
"They would have had opportunity to return": that is, where faith is exercised and put to the test. You who have known the Lord some time have had opportunity to return — how has it been with you? A stone left on the ground gradually sinks in. Present things constantly tend to press down the affections — not open sin, but duties. Nothing is a greater snare than duties. We have one duty, that is to serve Christ.
Why are believers left waiting here on earth? There is a purpose in it.
He does not put us actually into heaven, but leaves us here to try our affections. He puts us to the test. The Lord must have a heavenly people, as well as a heavenly place for them. He exercises our hearts, but does not yet put us in actual possession of the heavenly things... Satan tries to settle us where God has made us strangers. The world has rejected Christ, and Satan wants us to be satisfied with it for our portion.
What kept them going was not disappointment with the past.
Their sense of being strangers on earth did not arise from regrets, but from hopes. They were dissatisfied with the present thing, not because of what was past but because of what was to come. The scene around them was a wilderness because of the power of the scene ahead of them, not the scene behind them.
The same open door also exposes faith that was only talk. One writer sees this in the story of Ruth, where Naomi tells her two daughters-in-law to go back home.
Both Ruth and Orpah make a profession of devotedness to Naomi... But, as ever, profession is put to the test. Naomi says, "Go, each return to her mother's house." They are given opportunity to return. This will bring to light whether the thought of their minds agrees with their outward profession. If they are "mindful" of that country from which they came out, they have opportunity to return (Heb. 11:15). At once the mind of Orpah is revealed. Her heart clings to the land of her birth. Ruth, as we shall see, desires "a better country."
Applied to the gospel, the same test stands.
One who professes faith in Christ, if he prefers his former sins to a path of faith and the truth of God's Word, may return to his folly again; but this would only prove that he had never in actual faith embraced the promises of God.
- Open — nothing forced the pilgrims to stay; the road back was there whenever they wanted it.
- Mindful — the return begins in the mind that dwells on the old place; the heart turns next, and the feet last.
- Tested — God leaves the exit unlocked, so that staying is a choice, and a choice that glorifies Him.
- Delayed — He does not place us in heaven at once. He leaves us here to try our affections, and to form a heavenly people for a heavenly place.
- Revealed — the open road exposes an Orpah and confirms a Ruth. What holds the pilgrim is not regret behind, but hope ahead.
but now they seek a better, that is, a heavenly; wherefore God is not ashamed of them, to be called their God; for he has prepared for them a city.
Hebrews 11 has just said that Abraham and his family could have gone back to the country they left, and did not. Verse 16 explains why they stayed on the road. They wanted something better, and God answered that desire with a title and a city.
Nothing in Genesis promised them heaven. Their longing reached past what God had publicly promised.
God kept Abraham and others in the path of faith and pilgrimage, because they had set their hearts on something better than all they had left. They desired "a better country, that is, a heavenly one." This is a remarkable statement. As far as Genesis is concerned, the record is that God called him to a place on earth: it was "to the land that I will show you" (Gen. 12:1)... God's public call to Abraham was an earthly one. Yet he became aware that God had heavenly things in reserve, and on those things he set his heart.
The verse hinges on the word "therefore." It points back to something specific.
"Therefore," we read; "therefore God is not ashamed." And when we turn to the context to find what it points back to, we find it is the faith which led Abraham and others to the pilgrim life. They had set their desires on the heavenly city that was yet to come. They gave up present and earthly things in view of the coming things of heaven. God is not ashamed to be known as the God of such men as these.
Their failures are not hidden here. They are simply not what decided the matter.
Of men whose lives show these marks we read, "God is not ashamed to be called their God." In the details of their lives there were many failures, and much they were no doubt ashamed of. But the great governing principles of their lives, which moved them and gave character to their walk, were such that God was not ashamed to own them and to be called their God.
When God calls Himself "the God of Abraham," He lets His reputation rest on a man. One writer weighs that against the case of Lot.
He identifies Himself with them, as the apostle shows us, because of the practical faith they had in Him. That faith showed itself in a life of pilgrimage, in obedience to His call. God is not ashamed to link Himself with those whose faith in Him gave Him so good a character. If He had called Himself the God of Lot, what would Lot's conduct have led men to suppose God to be? But God shows His own character by calling Himself the God of Abraham, despite Abraham's failures.
Their desire matched God's own mind. That agreement is what drew Him close.
They are strangers in the land of promise, and they do not enjoy the fulfilment of promises here below. So they wait for more excellent things — things which God prepares on high for those who love Him. They are in unison with God in His own thoughts. Their desires, through grace, answer to the things He takes delight in. So they are the objects of His special regard. He is not ashamed to be called their God.
The verse ends with what God did about their desire.
For such God has prepared a city, and in that city all that was of God in their lives will have a glorious answer.
Was the city Abraham waited for the Christian church? One writer says no.
It could not be the New Testament Church that Abraham looked for, because that was as yet entirely hidden in God (Eph. 3:9).
The verse ends up examining the reader rather than the patriarchs.
How do matters stand with us? Of how many of us would God be ashamed, if He were called our God? These are searching questions. God has indeed provided some better thing for us; that is the fruit of His sovereign choice and action. Then comes the question of our responsibility to answer to the grace given. How well Abraham responded in faith to the lesser grace given to him. How poorly do we respond to the greater grace given to us. Let us stir ourselves up, so that in days to come we do not find that God was ashamed of us, though He was not ashamed of Abraham.
- Desire — They wanted a better, heavenly country. God's public call had named only a piece of land.
- Therefore — That desire is why God is not ashamed of them. They let go of present things for coming ones.
- Character — Their lives held many failures. God owned the governing principles of their walk.
- Name — God's title carries His reputation. He is called the God of Abraham, never the God of Lot.
- City — Their desires answered to His own delight, so He prepared a city where all that was of God in their lives will get its glorious answer.
By faith Abraham, [when] tried, offered up Isaac, and he who had received to himself the promises offered up his only begotten [son],
In Genesis 22 God asked Abraham to hand back Isaac — the one son who carried every promise God had made him. Hebrews calls this a test of faith, and the scene tells us much about God, about the son older translations call "only begotten," and about the Father who did not spare His own Son.
Commentators note that God did not test Abraham with something cheap. He reached for the one point where obedience would cost most.
It is worth seeing that God gives us a great honour when He tests our hearts this way. We never read that "the Lord tested Lot." No — Sodom tempted Lot... God knew well that Abraham loved Him far better than Sodom. But He would make it clear that Abraham loved Him better than anyone or anything. So He laid His hand on the nearest and dearest object: "Take your son, your only son Isaac." Yes, Isaac — the child of promise. Isaac, the hope Abraham had waited so long for, the object of a parent's love, and the one in whom all the families of the earth were to be blessed.
The trial was not only emotional. Obeying appeared to destroy the very future God had guaranteed.
This was putting the father of the faithful to the severest test imaginable. He had to give up his only son and heir to the altar, and sacrifice him with his own hand. To all appearances it also put the promises at risk — the promises about his descendants, and through them blessing for all the families of the earth. God's word about Isaac had raised both natural love and religious hope very high and very wide. Now, to human reason, such a command seemed to sweep both away — at a whim, painfully, and for good... Yet he hesitated in unbelief no more at the surrender, painful as its form was to him, than he had at the promise years earlier, unlikely as that had seemed.
Abraham had other children, so the phrase in the verse is not a count of sons.
The passage in Hebrews refers to Abraham. The expression "only-begotten" is not used here to state how many sons he fathered. It does not stress the begetting at all, for he fathered other children. It shows instead that Isaac, as the child of promise, held a UNIQUE place. He ALONE was the one God recognised, and Abraham's faith recognised, as the heir of the promises. Do we not feel, as we read it, the strain on Abraham's affection? This trial of his faith touched the very one, and the only one, on whom all his God-given hopes rested.
The verse calls Abraham the man who had received the promises at the very moment he gives up the heir.
About that remarkable phrase, "he who had received the promises": God asked Abraham to offer up Isaac, the one in whom all the promises rested. Yet faith had given Abraham such inward strength that he laid hold of the One who made those wonderful promises. He had taken those promises as his own. And he held on, even though right then it looked as if they were being taken back on a whim.
Abraham's confidence rested on what God can do on the far side of death.
To man, death is the end of hope. To God it is only the occasion to use the power of resurrection. Abraham trusted without a waver that God would use that power for Isaac... The proof was complete. Faith could go no further. Abraham counted on God to make good in resurrection the seed he had given up to die at God's word — and the promises bound up in that seed. What fresh gain for Abraham! And what gain for all who do God's will, give up what is dearest to nature, and receive everything back better in resurrection!
The scene is a picture of a greater gift, and one difference at the altar decides everything.
God Himself saw in that solemn scene a picture of His own gift of the only-begotten Son of God, whom He did not spare but delivered up for us all. For Him there was no substitute, and there could be none, if our sins were to be judged and borne and blotted out... In His case the death was as real as the resurrection.
- Tested — God laid His hand on the nearest and dearest thing, not on something cheap. He honours us when He tests our hearts this way.
- Unique — "Only begotten" marks Isaac's place, not Abraham's family size. God, and Abraham's faith, knew him alone as heir of the promises.
- Surrendered — Abraham let go of the gift and held on to the Giver, even when the promises seemed to be taken back.
- Raised — Man sees death as the end of hope. Faith counts on resurrection, and receives back what it gave up, better than before.
- Fulfilled — Isaac had a substitute. The Son of God had none, because our sins had to be borne. His death was as real as His resurrection.
as to whom it had been said, In Isaac shall thy seed be called
God had already tied every promise to one child, and verse 18 recalls that word at the very moment God asked Abraham to give the child back. The promise had named Isaac; now the command asked for him — and the writers quoted below follow an older wording of that line, "In Isaac shall your seed be called."
If the promise ran by natural birth, Abraham's other son Ishmael would have a claim on it too.
If the promise must fall to Abraham's descendants simply because they are his descendants, then Ishmael's line must be let in as well. No Jew would allow that, so he must give up his principle. This is a matter of promise. It does not rest on physical descent, but on His own sovereignty: He had limited the call to Isaac. "In Isaac shall your seed be called."
Abraham had other sons, yet Hebrews calls Isaac his only begotten. The word marks a place, not a count.
Isaac is called Abraham's "only" son, and Hebrews puts this as "his only begotten son" (Heb. 11:17). This makes it very clear that Isaac was a type of our Lord, and it also throws light on what the words "Only begotten" mean when they are used of Him. Ishmael did come from Abraham, but he was born in the natural way, so he did not count in God's reckoning; Isaac was altogether unique. So our Lord Jesus Christ was Son of God in a completely unique sense.
Commentators differ on how far to press the comparison. One writer warns that Isaac's case must not water down the term when it describes Christ:
Let us not lessen the force of the word "Only Begotten" by saying that it could just as well be translated "Only", or that it means no more than unique or uniquely precious. It means far more than that. It means that He is the only Son according to His divine nature.
The promise hung on this son, so obeying looked like destroying the promise. One writer traces the reasoning that could have talked Abraham out of it.
There would be a conflict between Abraham's natural feelings and the word of God. There would also be an apparent contradiction between the command and the earlier promise. So nature had room to ask whether his obedience could be right in such a case. Had he heard the command correctly, and understood it? God had promised that his offspring through Isaac would be countless and would hold the leading place on earth. Did that promise not mean that sacrificing Isaac would defeat God's purpose for him and for the world, and would be like throwing away His promise?
Only one thing could hold the promise and the command together, and Abraham had no precedent for it.
In truth there was only one way to bring the promise and the command together, and he took it, wonderful and unheard of as it was. It was the way of resurrection. Abraham counted on it that God was able to raise Isaac from the dead. He had never heard of such a thing before, that anyone should rise from the dead. He may have heard how Enoch was taken away without dying; God could prevent death. But to bring someone through death was unknown, and now it had to happen, because the command could not be taken back.
The letter sets Abraham before readers who faced a change of their own.
Meanwhile faith is tested. Abraham had to sacrifice the very one on whom the promises rested, so that he would hold them from God alone. This example had great power for the Hebrew readers, because they too had to follow Abraham: they had to leave a Jewish Christ in order to receive a risen and heavenly Christ.
The son named in the promise was spared. God's own Son was not.
I need not say much about what is so precious to us: how this is a type of God giving up His only begotten Son. God would not ask Abraham to do what He Himself later had to do. The wood was laid on Isaac, as Jesus carried the cross. Isaac was bound to the altar, as our Lord was nailed to the cross. But when divine Justice lifted up its hand, no voice called out to stop it. The Son was given up to death.
The same writer turns the scene on the reader and asks what is left when God takes what we love most.
There on Mount Moriah, with his only son on the altar, what did Abraham have left? The living God! You may have lost your home, your money, your health, people dear to you, the friendship of those you loved. But tell me, do you have the living God? Then He will make good to you in resurrection everything you have lost for His glory.
- Promise named — God's own choice, not natural descent, tied the blessing to Isaac.
- Promise loved — "only begotten" marks Isaac's unique place. It is not a count of Abraham's sons.
- Promise threatened — the command to sacrifice Isaac seemed to cancel the word that named him.
- Promise held — Abraham held both together in the only way open to him. He counted on a God who raises the dead.
- Promise fulfilled — Isaac was spared, but God's own Son was not. Faith now rests on a risen Christ.
counting that God [was] able to raise [him] even from among [the] dead, whence also he received him in a figure.
Abraham stood with the knife in his hand and his son bound on the altar. This verse tells us what was going on inside him. It was not blind obedience but a calculation — a piece of reasoning about what God is able to do.
The word "considered" points to something Abraham worked out. One writer sets his trust against the way people usually see death:
Nowhere in the Old Testament do we find such complete trust in God. Here the father proved willing to sacrifice his only son — the son who carried all God's promises and all his own hopes. To man, death is the end of hope. To God it is only the occasion to use the power of resurrection. Abraham was sure of that power for Isaac, and he trusted without wavering.
Abraham had evidence for this in his own household. Isaac's own birth came from parents past the age of having children.
Isaac was a child of resurrection even in his natural birth. After this event he became one twice over. Yet the faith was Abraham's own. He reasoned that the God who could bring a living child into the world from parents who were physically dead could and would raise him from the dead.
The difficulty was not only a father's love. God's instruction appeared to cancel God's own word, which had tied every promise to this one boy.
There was not only a conflict between Abraham's natural feelings and the word of God. There was also a seeming contradiction between the command and the earlier promise. So nature had room to ask whether obeying could be right in such a case. Did he hear and understand the command rightly? God had promised that his offspring through Isaac would be a countless multitude and would rule the earth. Did that promise not imply that sacrificing Isaac would defeat God's purpose for him and for the world, and would be like giving up His promise?
Notice the exact wording. Abraham reckoned on what God was able to do. The verse does not say he had a promise that Isaac would rise.
Abraham did not know that God would raise Isaac up. But he knew that God was able to do it. And he surely judged that this was the only way God could fulfil His promise about Isaac.
Many readers of Genesis 22 stop at the ram and the picture of a substitute dying. The closing clause of this verse goes one step further:
Most, we know, are apt to be content with less. They see the love of God set forth in the sacrifice provided; they see the substitution of the ram answering to Him who died for our sins. And there they stop; but the New Testament does not. In Hebrews 11 the apostle Paul clearly gives us another step... That is, Genesis 22 gives us a shadow not only of the death of Christ, but also of His resurrection.
The word "figuratively" keeps the two apart, and one writer draws out why that distinction matters for the promises:
Abraham receives Isaac back from the dead only "in a figure" (Heb. 11:19). Christ was raised in reality, and the promises belong to Him. It is Christ raised from the dead who is the source of blessing to all the families of the earth.
This example spoke to readers who had to let go of something precious themselves.
Meanwhile God tests faith. Abraham had to sacrifice the one on whom God had placed the promises, so that he held them from God alone. This example set before the Hebrews has much power, for they too were to follow Abraham. They were to leave the Jewish Christ and receive a risen and heavenly Christ.
The same writer points out that God did not only take from Abraham. God also gave him something he had not known before:
God tests the heart, so that all confidence in the flesh is destroyed. But He also knows that the heart needs holding up under the trial. So He holds it up by a new revelation, and that revelation lets it triumph. This is what we see in Hebrews 11:19. When God asked Abraham for this sacrifice, Abraham received a revelation about resurrection — something hardly known at that time. This is how God, in His infinite mercy, causes us to gain in Himself what we lose in the flesh.
- Reckoned — Abraham's faith was a calculation, not a feeling. The God who gave him a living son through parents past childbearing could give that son back through death.
- Able — he knew God was able, not that God would. Faith can rest on God's power even without a promise about the outcome.
- Tested — the command seemed to contradict the promise. Abraham trusted God at exactly that point.
- Figure — Abraham received Isaac back only as a picture. God raised Christ in reality, and blessing for all nations flows from Him.
- Gained — God answers what the trial takes with a fresh revelation of Himself. We gain in Him what we lose in the flesh.