Sunday, August 10, 2025 – Genesis 15:1-6, Psalm 33:12-22, Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16, Luke 12:32-40
There’s a phrase we often use in conversation. We might say to a friend, “Are you coming to my party?” And they might answer, “You can count on me to be there!” Even nonprofits will sometimes say, “We’re counting on you to help us.” Counting on someone means we can trust them to show up.
Who do we count on when things look really bleak? When nothing is as we’d hoped it would be? We’ve all been there. Maybe it’s a diagnosis we never wanted, a relationship that’s crumbling, a job that won’t materialize, or a dream we’ve carried for years that just isn’t happening. Those are the moments that test us—when our faith feels stretched thin, when hope seems far away.
In those moments, if we lean on our sacred texts, we see that just as Abram could count on the stars in the sky to understand God’s promises, we can count on God in our lives today. Our readings give us a threefold process to understand this:
- Do not be afraid.
- Look to heaven for the bigger picture—seek God’s vision.
- Choose to trust, knowing you are held in every moment, no matter what happens.
In Genesis, God comes to Abram in a vision and says, “Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.” Abram and Sarah were well past childbearing years. The dream of a child had faded. Even Paul writes that Abram “was as good as dead.”
Yet here is God saying, “Don’t be afraid.”
I wonder if Abram’s first reaction was, “Easy for you to say, God.” But fear is usually the first barrier between us and the life God is inviting us into. Fear narrows our vision. It keeps us focused only on the problem in front of us.
That’s why in Luke, Jesus tells his followers the same thing: “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” He’s not promising wealth or power, but something better—God’s own life, mercy, and grace flowing into us. Fear keeps us from seeing that, so the first step is to release that fear, or to feel the fear, hold it in compassion, and take the next step anyway.
After telling Abram not to be afraid, God says, “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them… So shall your descendants be.” Abram’s reality was two old people with no children. God’s reality was countless generations to come.
Sometimes we need to lift our eyes from what’s right in front of us and take in the bigger picture. God’s vision is always more expansive than ours.
Hebrews puts it this way: “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Conviction is more than belief. Belief can be agreeing to a set of ideas—“Yes, I believe Jesus is Lord.” But conviction is lived. It’s standing in the middle of a storm and saying, “God is with me, even in this.”
This is why looking to heaven matters. Not so we can escape reality, but so we can gain the wider perspective to see reality more fully. The bleak picture in front of us is not the whole story.
When we lift our gaze, we can catch a glimpse of God’s story.
I’ve often said that faith has less to do with belief and more to do with trust. But here’s the hard part: Trust isn’t something that just happens to us. It’s a choice. It’s an act of will. Sometimes we have to decide to trust even when every circumstance tells us otherwise.
We can do that because, as Bruce Epperly writes,
faith opens us to a ‘deeper reality,’ in which God’s presence makes a way when there is no way.”
For all intents and purposes, there was no way for Abram and Sarah to have many descendants. But they did. Yet, Abram never saw the fulfillment of God’s promise with his own eyes. But he moved forward anyway. He trusted the One who made the promise. That’s faith—not having all the answers, not knowing how it will all work out, but opening your heart in the middle of uncertainty and leaning into God’s presence.
We experience God not in our heads, not in a list of doctrines we can recite, but in those moments when we fully step into our lives as they are—messy, uncertain, and yet holy—and trust that God is holding us.
In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus tells us to be ready—ready to drop what we’re doing and welcome new life at any moment. That kind of readiness is only possible when we live in trust. Otherwise, fear or cynicism will keep us clinging to what we know instead of embracing the life God is offering.
So, when the days feel bleak, when the dream feels dead, when the way forward is foggy, remember Abram. Remember the starlit sky. Hear God’s voice saying to you:
Do not be afraid. Look up. See the bigger picture.
Choose to trust and move forward, knowing that you are held in every moment.
And maybe tonight, or sometime soon, you’ll step outside and look up at the stars. Let them be your reminder: The God who called them into being knows you by name. The God who promised Abram descendants beyond number has promises for you, too—promises that may unfold in ways you can’t yet see.
We can count on God. Not to give us the specific outcome that we desire, but to give us God’s constant presence no matter what the outcome is.
Faith is living as if those promises are already in motion. Faith is daring to hope when the night is long. Faith is knowing that God’s vision is always wider than ours, and that we are never outside the embrace of that love.
Let’s be a people who refuse to be ruled by fear. Let’s be a people who lift our eyes to heaven. Let’s be a people who choose—again and again—to trust that God is with us, now and always.
And when the night feels especially dark, remember this: The stars are still there, even when the clouds hide them. And so is God. Amen.
