Pastor Jeremy Stephens

Have you ever read the Genesis account of Isaac’s life?  If you’ve ever tried to read through your Bible in a year, then you may have read it a few times before giving up somewhere late in Exodus.  One verse I find interesting is in Chapter 26:

Isaac reopened the wells that had been dug in the time of his father Abraham, which the Philistines had stopped up after Abraham died, and he gave them the same names his father had given them.   (Genesis 26:18 NIV)

This is the spiritual high place of Isaac’s life.  He re-opened the wells his father dug.

In my hasty reading of the passage, I always think, “oh, that’s nice, he’s returning to his roots” and move on.

Lately, however, I am giving this passage some new consideration.

There’s no mistaking the fact that the Evangelical church is in a state of transition.  It probably first entered this state of change a little over 20 years ago when places like Willow Creek and Saddleback ushered in a new movement.  Baby Boomers became pastors, the worship wars began, and now the children of the Boomers (myself included) have become pastors.  We’re reading about churches emerging and debating what exactly makes someone a hipster, and whether or not that’s a good thing.  All the while, feeling the tension of communicating an ancient faith in a current language.

In the 60’s, a prominent author named Martin Lloyd Jones wrote a book called Revival.  It had been 100 years since the Third Great Awakening, and he was convinced that the church needed to return and be as it once was.  His hero was Isaac, who returned to his roots and unearthed the old wells of his father.  Jones believed that we needed to get back to our roots and do as we once did.

The problem is, when taken into the account of the rest of the Genesis narrative, Isaac is a pretty weak character.  He really doesn’t do anything except re-dig a few wells.  There is no adventure, no searching, no real walk with God.  He stayed at home while a servant adventured out to find his wife.  After Abraham dies, he lives happily on the wealth his father accumulated.  His hope is to hand over his kingdom to Esau, who he knows will walk in those same comfy shoes.  God has to trick him into blessing his other son, Jacob.

Jacob is a risky character.  His values are different than his father’s values.  His lifestyle is strange, his tastes are radical, his risks are bold.  He goes on adventures, he’s taken advantage of, he gains wisdom from experience.  Most importantly, he wrestles with God, and God names His chosen people after him.  They aren’t the Abrahamites or the Isaccs.  They are the Israelites, after the new name for Jacob, given to him by God.

Jacob isn’t interested in the ways of the past, but he intimately knows the God who is ancient.

The church is in a state of transition, in the middle of a world that is in upheaval.  In times like this, it is tempting to go back and redo what we’ve always done, just make it nicer.  For those who have been in leadership, its tempting to discover people like Esau, who, while they are imperfect, will at least try to keep things going the way they are.  It is a far greater risk to hand the reigns over to the Jacobs.

The Jacobs are adventurers like their grandfather Abraham; they march to the beat of a different drummer like their ancestor Noah; they hunger to know God like their originator Adam.  They are flawed because they are related to these men, but they have the opportunity to have a lasting impact on the kingdom.

In this time of transition, the church has the opportunity to morph into something that will have a profound influence on human history.  We have a long line of people who have gone before us who walked faithfully with God, but we must decide what we will become.  Will we hold fast to the traditions of our fathers, or will we set out on new adventures?