Between Promise and Fulfillment

Abram’s Journey of Faith

After these things the word of the LORD came to Abram in a vision, “Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.” (Genesis 15:1)

Why Abram? The question lingers whenever I reflect on the Genesis 15 text—the Old Testament lesson for this Sunday, the Second Sunday in Lent, Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18 [RCL, Year C]. Why would YHWH choose a childless, aging nomad to become the father of nations? To be sure, throughout Scripture, YHWH’s choices often confound human wisdom—the youngest son [David—1 Samuel 16:11-13); the forgotten shepherd [Moses—Exodus 3:1-10]; barren women [Sarah—Genesis 18:1-15; Hannah—1 Samuel 1; Elizabeth—Luke 1:5-25]; and marginalized outsiders [e.g., Ruth the Moabite—Ruth chs. 1-4]. The choice of Abram is another such divine mystery.

This Sunday’s text invites us into a pivotal moment in the unfolding relationship between Creator and creature. Abram has received promises before, but here, we witness an extraordinary formalization of God’s covenant with the created order. What stands out in this passage is not only the promise but the interplay of faith and doubt, trust and questioning, that shapes Abram’s response.

Faith and Doubt as Companions

The narrative offers a striking insight in verse 6: “And he believed YHWH; and YHWH reckoned it to him as righteousness.” This verse has shaped theological discussions of faith for millennia, particularly in Paul’s writings on justification [Romans 4:3-5; Galatians 3:6-9]. Yet what often goes unnoticed is Abram’s immediate response just two verses later: “O Lord GOD, how am I to know that I shall possess it?” [Genesis 15:8].

Abram’s belief does not eliminate his need for reassurance, and his questioning does not negate his faith. We see this same dynamic when Mary responds to Gabriel’s announcement with both acceptance and the question, “How can this be?” (Luke 1:34). Faith and uncertainty are not opposites; they are companions. Abram’s example reassures us that authentic faith makes room for honest questioning.

Counting the Uncountable Stars

When Abram expresses concern about remaining childless, God responds not with abstract reassurances but with a breathtaking visual command: “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them …. So shall your descendants be” [Genesis 15:5].

The ancient night sky, unmarred by artificial light, would have been astonishingly vast—an overwhelming canopy of stars. God doesn’t simply tell Abram about his future; He shows him something beyond human comprehension. The stars become both promise and metaphor, conveying divine intention while also exceeding the limits of human calculation. In a world obsessed with metrics and certainty, this moment reminds us that faith means trusting what we cannot quantify.

The Strange and Overlooked Covenant Ceremony

One of the most overlooked aspects of this passage is the ritual that follows Abram’s question. God instructs Abram to prepare a set of animals, cutting them in half and arranging the pieces so as to create a path between them. As darkness falls, “a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch” [15:17] pass between the divided pieces.

In the ancient Near East, covenant partners typically walked between the pieces together, symbolically saying: “May I be like these animals if I break faith.” But here, only YHWH—represented by fire—passes through. This moment is extraordinary. YHWH takes on the full weight of the covenant, making a one-sided commitment to Abram. By doing so, YHWH binds divine faithfulness to human history in an astonishing act of vulnerability. This self-limiting act foreshadows the cross—where God again chooses relationship over power, covenant over control.

Righteousness Through Relationship, Not Achievement

When Scripture tells us that Abram’s belief was “reckoned to him as righteousness” [15:6], it speaks of something deeper than moral bookkeeping. My commentaries note that In Hebrew thought, “righteousness” (צְדָקָה, tsedaqah) is fundamentally relational rather than transactional. To be righteous is not about merit but about right relationship.

This insight reshapes how we understand faith. When Abram trusts God, he isn’t earning righteousness—he’s entering into relationship. Paul later builds on this foundation, arguing that justification comes through faith, not works. In a world often obsessed with measuring worth, this passage reminds us that faith is not about what we achieve but whom we trust.

Living Between Promise and Fulfillment

Most poignantly, this passage captures Abram in the painful middle space—after receiving the promise but long before its fulfillment. The countless descendants represented by those stars would not materialize within his lifetime. The land promised in verse 18 would not be securely possessed for generations. Abram would live and die in the tension between divine promise and historical fulfillment.

This middle space is where most of us dwell—between baptismal promise and eschatological fulfillment, between divine assurance and visible evidence, between the already and the not yet. Abram becomes our guide for living faithfully in this in-between time.

During Lent, this in-between space takes on special significance. We journey with Jesus toward Jerusalem, knowing what lies ahead—both the cross and the empty tomb—while also acknowledging that the full redemption promised through Christ’s resurrection remains partially unrealized in our world of suffering and injustice.

Deep Sleep and Divine Communication

There’s another easily overlooked detail in this passage. Verse 12 tells us that “a deep sleep fell upon Abram” as the sun was going down. The Hebrew term here (תַּרְדֵּמָה, tardemah), again from my commentaries, is the same word used when God causes a deep sleep to fall on Adam before creating Eve. It suggests not ordinary sleep but a divinely induced receptive state.

In this liminal space between waking and sleeping, Abram experiences one of YHWH’s most profound revelations. This reminds us that YHWH sometimes speaks most clearly when our rational defenses are lowered—when we’re most vulnerable, when we’ve exhausted our own resources and calculations. Faith often emerges not from certainty but from twilight spaces where we must trust what we cannot fully see.

The Courage to Question and Believe

Genesis 15 does not sanitize faith into simple certainty. It honors both Abram’s belief and his doubts. When Abram asks, “How will I know?”, God does not rebuke him. Instead, God provides further revelation, meeting faith’s questions with promise and presence.

During Lent, this passage reminds us that we are called to believe—even while asking how. We are invited to trust divine promises, even when their fulfillment lies beyond our lifetime. We live by counting stars we cannot count, trusting horizons we cannot yet see.

The God who chose the unlikely Abram continues to choose unlikely people like you and me. The God who walked between divided animals later walked another path—the Via Dolorosa—to the cross. And the God who promised descendants as numerous as stars still works beyond our calculations to bring hope and redemption to the world.

In this Lenten season, may we have the courage to stand beneath the stars, voicing both belief and uncertainty, trusting the God who binds divine purposes to our human story.