We’ve been talking about the faith of Abram, a faith that first obeyed and then endured, even though Abram had to wait many years for a child and didn’t receive the promise of the land during his lifetime.
8 By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going. 9 By faith he went to live in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, living in tents with Isaac and Jacob, heirs with him of the same promise. 10 For he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God.
Wait. . . didn’t Abraham make it to the Promised Land? Didn’t Sarah have her promised child, Isaac? Yes, but what they experienced in this life was merely a foretaste, a shadow of things to come. Abraham didn’t receive the full promise, just a down payment. Abraham and Sarah had only one child–the promise was for descendants “innumerable as the sand which is by the seashore” (11:12). The land in which he sojourned was indeed the Promised Land, but he, Sarah, Isaac, and all their household lived there as “strangers and exiles on the earth” (11:13; cf. 1 Pt 2:11). (Charles R. Swindoll, Swindoll’s Living Insights: Hebrews, 177)
Now, Abram understood that the land of the Canaanites was a foreshadowing of something infinitely greater. We saw hints of this back in chapter 4 when the author of Hebrews said, “there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God” (Heb. 4:9). A rest that was available to those Hebrews in the first century and is available to us today.
Abram was confident that this thin piece of geography would one day belong to his people. But he had come to view that land in the same way that we view the sacraments of the Lord’s Table—that it points to something greater beyond it. Abram discerned in the promise of God something far greater than this strip of geography.
The author of Hebrews is saying that when Abraham went out from his father’s country to Canaan, he was not just counting on God’s promise for that piece of real estate. He was looking beyond it to the promise of heaven. God promised the land of Canaan to Abraham’s descendants (Gen. 17:8) and He later gave them that land (Josh. 23:13-14). But the land was never the final or full realization of the promise. It was only an earthly picture of the full promise, which is the eternal city that God has prepared for His people (11:16). Abraham viewed himself as a stranger and sojourner in the land of Canaan (Gen. 23:4). His focus was on heaven, and so should ours be.
That is why he endured so long. That is why he lived as a nomad for all those years. He understood that God’s promise involved something more valuable than all the land of Canaan.
10 For he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God.
The third thing we notice about Abram’s faith in this passage is that it is a faith that anticipates a greater reward. It obeys (v. 8), endures (v. 9) and anticipates future reward (v. 10). What made Abram a “happy camper” even though he waited his whole life to receive God’s promise, is that “he was looking forward to the city that has foundations” —the idea being that he was looking for the only city with enduring foundations. Although he had lived in likely the largest and most magnificent city of the time, Ur, this was an even bigger and better city.
Abram “was looking forward” reveals a continuous act of looking toward something that was not yet visible. It occupied his mind and gripped his heart. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.
More important than anything else about this city is that “its designer and builder is God.” It owes nothing to an inferior builder. It showcases better than the earth’s best builders could ever design and build. God is the designer and builder.
What Abram was seeing was heaven, possibly the new Jerusalem. Abram saw in God’s promise that which the land prefigured. From now on, it will be a consistent theme of this letter. For example, later in Hebrews 11:16 he will speak of “a better country, that is, a heavenly one” and in Hebrews 12:22 he refers to “Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem” and finally in 13:14 he speaks of “the city that is to come.” Revelation 21-22 describe the glories of that heavenly city. And in John 14 Jesus tells us that he is “preparing a place” for us in the Father’s house.
Although there are certain things about the worldly city that is anti-God, God is not specifically against the city. It is the ultimate destiny of God’s people. No more “strangers and aliens,” no more camping, no more nomadic life. We will be settled there. A city with foundations offered a permanent, established home, in contrast to the transient existence of a tent-encampment.
“To cultured men in the first century, the city was the highest form of civilized existence” (Leon Morris, p. 118).
A city, in the Old Testament, was a place of security. That is why the broken down walls of Jerusalem was such a heartbreaking thought for Nehemiah. It was unable to defend itself. Ancient walled cities were protected by gates secured with bars, and the psalmist in Psalm 147:12 uses this imagery to describe the security God provides.
The word TENTS is to be set against the word CITY. In a city the houses and buildings are constructed on foundations. That is, they are permanent structures. Tents, on the other hand, are temporary dwellings held by pegs in the sand. The writer is using the tent vs city comparison to contrast the temporariness of life on earth with the permanent character of God’s invisible city. By faith, Abraham SAW the eternal city, the permanent home of the believer. To him that was the real world. From then on nothing earthly could satisfy him. While his body wandered about in the promised land, his soul longed for the eternal dwelling of the family of God. (C. S. Lovett, Lovett’s Lights on Hebrews, 255)
Tents have only pegs which are pulled up and moved. Earthly cities have walls which stand longer and yet crumble. But this city stands forever. And we should look forward to and long for this city like Abram did.
It is a dangerous thing when a Christian begins to feel permanently settled in this world. (R. Kent Hughes, Preaching the Word: Hebrews, vol. 2, 98) This is not our permanent home; heaven is.
A city is also a place of social life. Bishop Westcott observed, “The object of his desire was social and not personal only” (Brooke Foss Westcott, The Epistle to the Hebrews (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1967), p. 360). There, he would not only see God, but he would dwell with believers in harmony rather than dissonance (cf. 12:22–24).
Now, it’s important that we realize that the city to which the writer of Hebrews is referring is not Jerusalem, but the New Jerusalem. First off, the old Jerusalem was not built by God. It was a Canaanite city. It was originally built by Canaanites.
We know from Hebrews 11:16 that it is a “heavenly one,” the “heavenly Jerusalem” (Heb. 12:22), “the city that is to come” (Heb. 13:14).
If it is the old Jerusalem, it would have been encouragement to return to the law of Moses and the sacrificial system, just as some of them were already tempted to do to escape persecution and return to what was familiar to them.
The writer of Hebrews wanted his first century audience to continue looking forward, to a new and better city than Jerusalem.
We continue to look for a city. It is a city in which we hold our citizenship (Philippians 3:20). We are currently nomads living in a foreign country. Our citizenship is in heaven. And on this earth, we are ambassadors for Christ.
Our reward is in the world to come. If I live now as if God’s reward is owed to me now I will be disappointed. Our reward is not primarily in this world (oh, there will be some), but mostly in the world to come.
Parents, you will never convince your children to give up this world and go to some malaria infested jungles if there is nothing about your life that suggests you are one day leaving this world and clinging to the city of God! If you hang on to this world instead of the world to come, you betray that belief.
Simply going to church once a week won’t cut it! Your children must see you give away your money because you believe in a heavenly reward that “neither moth nor rust destroys” (Matt. 6:20). Your children need to see you spending your time sacrificially because you believe that God does not “overlook your work and the love that you have shown for his name in serving the saints” (Heb. 6:10) and will one day reward it (1 Cor. 3:10-15; 2 Cor. 5:10). They need to see you opening up your home, turning down promotions, doing what they world would say is crazy, because you believe in a greater, heavenly reward.
Do you believe what you sing when you say, “nothing compares to the promise I have in you”? Really? What does your checkbook reveal? What does your parenting reveal? What does your schedule say?
After 40 years of hard, hard work missionary to Africa Henry Morrison came home. Sailing into New York City, he happened to be on the same ship with then President Theodore Roosevelt, who at that time was wildly popular with the public.
As they entered the harbor the president was greeted with enormous fanfare. As Morrison and his wife stepped off the boat, however, not a single person was there to greet them. Morrison was discouraged and dejected. After all, four decades of service to the Lord!
Over the next few weeks, Henry tried, but failed to put the incident behind him. He was sinking deeper into depression when one evening, he said to his wife, “This is all wrong. This man comes back from a hunting trip and everybody throws a big party. We give our lives in faithful service to God for all these many years, but no one seems to care.”
His wife cautioned him that he should not feel this way. Henry replied “I know, but I just can’t help it. It just isn’t right.”
His wife then said, “Henry, you know God doesn’t mind if we honestly question Him. You need to tell this to the Lord and get this settled now. You’ll be useless in His ministry until you do.”
Henry Morrison then went to his bedroom, got down on his knees and, shades of Habakkuk, began pouring out his heart to the Lord. “Lord, you know our situation and what’s troubling me. We gladly served you faithfully for years without complaining. But now God, I just can’t get this incident out of my mind…”
After about ten minutes of fervent prayer, Henry returned to the living room with a peaceful look on his face. His wife said “It looks like you’ve resolved the matter. What happened?”
Henry replied, “The Lord settled it for me. I told Him how bitter I was that the President received this tremendous homecoming, but no one even met us as we returned home. When I finished, it seemed as though the Lord put His hand on my shoulder and simply said, ‘But Henry, you are not home yet!’”
And we, today, must live as if we are not home yet. We must live as if the reward of that country is better than anything this world could offer, that the praise of our heavenly father far outweighs any praise we receive now, that anything we give up for Christ in this life will be rewarded a hundred times over in the next.
As Paul has written, “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him…”
We must keep our attention and affections on heaven (Col. 3:1-3), as C. S. Lewis says in Mere Christianity:
Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water. … If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthy pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing. … I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that other country and help others to do the same.
We are “strangers and aliens,” Peter tells us. Our “citizenship is in heaven,” Paul says. This is the kind of faith that grace produces—a faith that obeys, a faith that endures, a faith that anticipates a greater reward.
Is that the kind of faith you have?
Abram never would have left Ur until he decided that he loved the “many sons” in a far-off land and a city whose designer and builder was God more than he loved the familiar way of life in Sumer. He had to trade one love for another.
The boomer who came to Jesus asking about eternal life may have been sincere. But when Jesus forced him to face the fierce competition between his love for his possessions and his love for Christ, ultimately he couldn’t abandon his love for possessions. He couldn’t leave.
Ultimately, mid-course corrections and the life of adventure start by facing the question Peter had to face: “do you truly love me more than these?” (John 21:15).
As we shall see, this was Abram’s dilemma throughout his life: “Do you love me more than life in Ur? Do you love me more than trying to save your tail in Egypt? Do you love me more than your frantic attempts to obtain a surrogate son? And the big one: do you love me more than Isaac?”
And this is what God is asking you and me: Do you love me more than you love this world?
The apostle John warns us, “Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world–the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride in possessions–is not from the Father but is from the world. And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever” (1 John 2:15-17)
“I’m but a stranger here, Heav’n is my home,” we love to sing, but in life’s reality it’s often so different. Eyes that should be raised heavenward are riveted on earth. Feet that should be tramping toward Canaan’s shores are mired in earth’s swamps. Hands that should be reaching for eternal treasures are wrapped around gaudy marbles. Backs that should be straining in kingdom effort are bent over in valueless pursuit. (Richard E. Lauersdorf, The People’s Bible: Hebrews, 137)
“This is why a continual desire for worldly pleasures often signifies that all is not well. Some of this world’s pleasures, even in moderation, will undermine a Christian’s spiritual life. If a married man wants to flirt with other girls, even in moderation, one assumes that there is something wrong with his marriage—or if not, that there soon will be! So it is when a Christian flirts with worldliness. The command is clear and uncompromising:
Come out from them, and be separate from them, says the Lord, and touch not nothing unclean; then I will welcome you. (2 Cor 6:17)
We are to abstain from every form of evil (2 Thess 5:22).” (Kenneth Prior; The Way of Holiness, 144)
And how do we do that? By tasting and seeing that the Lord is good, by developing a sweet tooth for God rather than the delights of this world. According to Francis de Sales, these “foretastes of heavenly delight” are used by God to withdraw us from “earthly pleasures” and encourage us in the “pursuit of divine love.”
Grace Still Amazes 