Abram stood at the entrance to his tent and looked out over the land. This was his home, and God had told him to leave it. But how could he? He had followed his father here years ago, and they had built a life for themselves. They had built houses, gathered their flocks, tilled the ground. They had settled, and now God was telling him to go? What madness was this?
And yet God had spoken. “Go,” he had said, “from your country and your kindred and your father’s house.” Didn’t God realize this was his home? Didn’t God know how long he had worked to get to where he was? He was happy! He was content! Why would God tell him to go?
Yet God had spoken. And it wasn’t as if the going was an empty promise. God had said he would show Abram where to go. He had promised to make him a great nation, to make him a blessing. Oh, it had all seemed so simple when he heard the voice. But now…now he wasn’t so sure. The time between the deciding and the going was always the hardest.
He turned back and looked at his dwelling. He saw Sarai his wife making bread. He saw Lot his nephew working as the children danced around him. Beyond the home was his father’s grave. How could he leave this place?
His faith in God trembled, and he wavered. What if God didn’t come through?
No. He knew what God had done in the past. He knew how God had saved Noah. He knew that God was faithful. And God had promised to bless him.
If God said it would be so, then he believed.
So Abram went, as the Lord had told him.