Faith

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Living Faith
By Carl Mefford

What is faith? Not the faith defined in so sterile a way by the common bookshelf dictionary, nor the fleeting, futile faith of the pagan religions which surround us; but the truly sublime faith of the one and only Word of God. That transformational, living faith of origins Divine which not only serves us as the impassioned basis for our belief, but as the precious life-blood coursing through the veins of our eternal salvation, as well. This is certainly one of the most fundamentally substantial theological inquiries to be made regarding the Christian creed we share: What is faith?

Various leaders within the innately diverse and wretchedly disjointed church community have endeavored throughout the bloody, war-torn course of the past two millennia to formulate a universally acceptable response to this question. Within the post-apostolic circles of the tragically paganized church body, the ruling reaction to the faith question ultimately required a near total, traditionalist dependence upon the conceited ceremonies of ages past in the practice of the Christian religion – often resorting to the exorcise of swift and fiery judgment upon those who would not partake of the cup of their corruption. In the centuries to follow, and subsequent to the period of Christian protest now known to history as the Reformation, our interpretation of faith would mercifully begin to advance past this fruitless dependence upon vain traditions. Ultimately, however, the protest would devolve into a widespread acceptance of a popularized view of Gospel faith as irreligiously and slothfully void of works or moral accountability of any kind – inviting corruption of a distinct yet equally corrosive nature within the church1.

In the end, we have together learned to view faith little differently than the austere manner in which we view belief itself. Faith, within the confined and simplified tenets of this near pandemic interpretation, has become of little more essence than a dutifully unquestioned acceptance of the unseen; the unverifiable; the improbable. Corrie Ten Boom adeptly communicates this aspect in our understanding of faith when she says, “Faith is like radar that sees through the fog – the reality of things at a distance that the human eye cannot see.” Far be it from us to contend against the accuracy of such beautifully articulated and ingenuous belief in the Almighty God as an undeniably vital component to a truly redemptive Christian faith; if not the very root of faith itself. After all, the Apostle Paul himself mirrors the crux of this understanding of faith when he inspirationally writes, “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”2 If we are to contend, however, that the truly functional, living faith of providence is comprised of a more collectively rewarding and dynamic design than a simplified interchangeability with overtly uncomplicated belief would allow; then what, must we ask, is the substance of faith – a question we will answer by beginning at the beginning:

And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being. — Genesis 2:7

As the patriarchal firstborn of created mankind and supreme caretaker of a then unblemished earth, Adam carried the fates and futures of no mere familial lineage; but the crushing weight of the destiny for an entire race upon his shoulders. Mercifully counterbalancing this arguably overwhelming responsibility with the Lord’s inarguably infinite capacity to bless the objects of His love, Adam was permitted to walk with God and talk with God in a fashion not dissimilar to the relationship shared between a father and his son. This unequivocally exalted disposition between Adam and the Almighty – a disposition both physical as well as spiritual in nature – is nigh on impossible for post-fallen man to even remotely envision or comprehend. The idea that the inevitable faithlessness of Adam equated to an insanely irrational disbelief in the literal existence of his Maker – after having so frequently seen the form of God throughout the course of his pre-eminently honored station – is an idea which cannot conceivably be accepted.

Rather than narrowly questioning the palpable existence of God, Adam began to doubt the sincerity and honesty within the very Words of his Creator and his Friend. Fertilized by the refuse of an unholy hand, this seed of suspicion would take root and grow; ultimately becoming an all-consuming vine of corruption and ambition within the heart of our once immortal patriarch. It was thus that Adam, with a debased mind and an outstretched arm, would become the father of sin and human rebellion upon the earth. Beginning as a duplicitous mistrust of the Divine, it was only upon the fateful plucking of the forbidden fruit that the faithlessness of Adam became complete in the fullness of its iniquity. By reason of this singularly impudent action, the world groaned in the pangs of its descent; and so the faith of Adam died:

Then to Adam He said, “Because you…have eaten from the tree of which I commanded you, saying, ‘You shall not eat of it’: Cursed is the ground for your sake…Both thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you…till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for dust you are, and to dust you shall return. — Genesis 3:17-19

Many were the wounds and woes of mankind in consequence of the fall from grace by that first, hapless, and ill-fated couple. Indifferent to gender, age, or status; death and despair rapidly overcame our Adamic race. Murder, strife, and self-worship narcissistically saturated the hearts and minds of men – irreparably marring and corrupting the once good creation of its betrayed Creator. Throughout the wretched course of its procession from ravenous irreverence to the floods of judgment and beyond, humanity enthusiastically and obstinately waged an incessant, carnal rebellion upon the God of its deceived father. Ultimately, it seemed as though the faith of mankind, like the faith of Adam before it, had succumbed entirely to the dark, dire machinations of sin’s nefarious and serpentine author. Truly, a tale of greater bitterness in its telling or of a more calamitous result could scarcely be imagined than the tale of Adam’s infamous fall.

Despite humanity’s apparent hopelessness in the face of a dismal descent, however, hope remained infrequently and elusively visible upon the horizon of restoration within the hearts and lives of a peerless, faithful few. From the ingenuous sacrifice of Abel3 to the intrepid carpentry of Noah4, a measure of faith within the heart of a wayward race – like a glimmering oasis amid a lifeless and barren desert – was providentially preserved throughout the centuries of insurrection awaiting the arbiter of its redemption. That auspicious reclamation of a perfect, living faith among men would ultimately be accomplished within the humble heart of the patriarch to those of us that believe: Abraham.

Now the Lord had said to Abra[ham]: “Get out from your country, from your family and from your father’s house, to a land that I will show you. I will make you a great nation; I will bless you and make your name great…” So Abra[ham] departed as the Lord had spoken to him… — Genesis 12:1-2, 4

In order for us to properly understand the uniquely redemptive quality of the faith exhibited by Abraham in the passage cited above, we must first learn to appreciate the spiritual setting behind his particular placement upon the chronological advancement of the human race. Occupying an age of print and a nation of unprecedented religious liberties which have combined to afford the masses with a Bible at every bookstore and a church on every corner, it has become regrettably habitual to take for granted the ease with which citizens of our modern western society may attain to a knowledgeable and intimate relationship with the Divine. Abraham, on the other hand, lived in an aimlessly pre-Revelation age in which due reverence and understanding of the Lord God was virtually non-existent – a world in which mankind’s effortlessness in worshiping the creation of their own hands was matched only by their willful adeptness in the worship of their own selves. So inexorably conquered by Satan’s communicable irreverence toward the Great I AM was the world of Abraham that to dismiss this citation as little more than a thoroughly uncomplicated matter of righteous and unquestioned obedience to the voice of an Almighty and an irrefutable God would be an exorcise in blind, undiscerning absurdity to say the least.

Imagine, for a moment, your own father and mother; your siblings, your most cherished friends, and everything in the world that you hold dear. Now imagine, further, an era in which the written Revelation of the One True God has yet to be inspirationally penned or propagated – a world in which the silent, graven gods of your ancestors and upbringing are the only gods you know. Suddenly and without warning, the resounding and nigh inarguable voice of a new God breaks itself into the chaos of your lost and unsaved mind: “Leave your land, your loved ones, and all that you revere; leave your parents, leave your family, leave your friends and I will bless you.” This was precisely the scenario in which Abraham, with very little more than a hope and a promise, implicitly obeyed the ambiguous command of a strange God to embark upon a seemingly chance journey to an equally strange land. It was this near incomprehensible expedition in uniquely perfect trust that would ultimately lead to the greatest act of living faith the world had ever known, nor would ever know again:

Now it came to pass…that God tested Abraham, and said to him, “Abraham!…Take now your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you.” So Abraham rose early in the morning and saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and Isaac his son; and he split the wood for the burnt offering, and arose and went to the place of which God had told him…And Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey; the lad and I will go yonder and worship, and we will come back to you.”…Then they came to the place of which God had told him. And Abraham built an altar there and placed the wood in order; and he bound Isaac his son and laid him on the altar, upon the wood. And Abraham stretched out his hand and took the knife to slay his son. But the Angel of the Lord called to him from heaven and said, “Abraham, Abraham!…Do not lay your hand on the lad, or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from Me.” — Genesis 22:1-3, 5, 9-12

Of all the things to be mercilessly required by God, man, or chance alike; without challenge, the most inconceivably formidable would be the sacrifice on one’s own son or daughter. It borders on impossible for the majority of us to even begin to comprehend the near insurmountable emotional dilemma here confronted by Abraham. On the one hand was his immeasurable love and affection for his most cherished son Isaac – a son of impossible birth and irreplaceable worth. On the other hand, however, was the insatiable faith and devotion felt for his most trusted Lord God. Ultimately, it would be precisely this irrepressible trust in the Sovereign King of all kings that would prove to be the key reconciliation between these two competing interests in a heart divided to its core – a reconciliation within one regrettably obscure line contained: “…the lad and I will go yonder…and we will come back to you.”

It is within this seemingly insignificant and thoroughly underappreciated statement within which we tangibly ascertain the substance of a truly perfect, living, and incorruptible faith. Not in an unchallenged acceptance of a Divinely ordained form of filicide, nor in the unfathomable act of wielding the blade of sacrifice upon the son of promise. Rather, the definitively patriarchal faith of beloved Abraham was intrinsic upon a belief and a trust in the Lord of hosts to physically restore young Isaac from death. Thus, his strikingly unquestioned assertion: “…we will come back to you.”

By faith Abraham, when God tested him, offered Isaac as a sacrifice. He who had received the promises was about to sacrifice his one and only son, even though God had said to him, “It is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned.” Abraham reasoned that God could raise the dead, and figuratively speaking, he did receive Isaac back from death. — Hebrews 11:17-19 (NIV)

Was not Abraham our father justified by works when he offered Isaac his son on the altar? Do you see that faith was working together with his works, and by works faith was made perfect? And the Scripture was fulfilled which says, “Abraham believed God and it was accounted to him for righteousness.” And he was called the friend of God. — James 2:21-23

At the beginning we asked a simply worded yet philosophically arduous question: What is faith? In answering this question, we have labored to go beyond strictly inarticulate assertions and severely inconclusive dogmatic beliefs in striking at the heart of a quantitatively redemptive and living faith. As aptly demonstrated by the everlastingly abiding precedent laid forth by Abraham in the examples provided, we have discovered three supporting pillars within the construct of a perfect, living faith: belief, trust, and action. Belief in the literal existence of the Almighty Unseen, unconditional trust in His inimitable power and immaculate intentions to do what is right, and profitably acting upon that belief and trust with absolute conviction to the glory of God and to the advancement of His holy kingdom – a three-link chain in which the vitality of each piece is of transcendental importance in bearing the burden of our salvation.

Adam, for instance, literally believed in the actuality of God; having so tangibly and incomparably seen. He did not, however, place his complete trust in the virtuous intentions of his Creator and, as a result, the calculated actions of his hands were ultimately found to be in direct opposition to the perfect will of the Almighty. Although only one of three links was initially weakened, the faith chain was inevitably severed and the weight it bore came crashing downward. It was in this way that faith departed from the heart of God’s first corporeal son; and with it his place in paradise.

Abraham, on the other hand – clearly not content with a faith contingent upon no more than a hollow and a fruitlessly isolated belief in the Almighty – properly coupled his confidence with an inherent, boundless trust in the honesty of God’s Words and the uprightness of His intentions. Consummating this faith by accordingly acting upon his pious exhibition in uniquely altruistic trust, Abraham intrepidly took upon himself the dagger, rope, and wood; duly departing with his son. Atop that lonely mount of Moriah, with beloved Isaac upon the brink, a perfectly redemptive faith within the heart of mankind was born. It was in this way that peace with God – made manifest by the living, active faith of Abraham – was restored; and with it our place in paradise.

Ultimately, our contemporary interpretation of the living faith portrayed throughout the Gospel paradigm has left it in a poorly understood state of equivalency with austerely defined belief alone. Although the demand of an unquestioned belief and an unwavering trust in the Lord God at the pulpit remains largely unshaken, it has become a frequently recurring theme within this current age of Christian thought to diminish or deny the fundamental necessity of charitable deeds, commendable actions, and virtuous principles in the proper practice of a truly redemptive Abrahamic faith. So self-absorbed and spiritually indifferent have we collectively become that our faith, much like the faith of Adam before us, has become comatose and crippled. James, the brother by birth of Christ Jesus Himself, tells us succinctly and without the slightest hint of pity, “What does it profit, my brethren, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can faith save him? If a brother or sister is naked and destitute of daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Depart in peace, be warmed and filled,‘ but you do not give them the things which are needed for the body, what does it profit? Thus also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.“5 Therefore, rather than dubiously following in the avenue of fallen Adam, let us together pledge to ardently follow in the footsteps of righteous Abraham by renewing, reviving, and revitalizing our hearts, our minds, and our world through the unblemished and selfless practice of our faith – that perfect, active, and living faith!





1 Incursions of post-modernism, American liberalism, ‘once saved, always saved’ theology, and moral relativism within churches across a wide range of denominations all owe at least a measure of thanks to a widely accepted denial of the role played by moral and charitable deeds in the practice of the Christian faith.

2 Hebrews 11:1

3 Genesis 4

4 Genesis 6-9

5 James 2:14-17

Unless otherwise noted, Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1979, 1980, 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

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