Texts: Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4; 2 Timothy 1:1-14; Luke 17:5-10
One of the more bizarre stories that has gripped our news media in the last few days concerns the young man from Hastings (or Napier or wherever) who mysteriously disappeared after going out for takeaways or a spare part for his computer, depending on which particular version you believe. The bit of the story that interested me was the reaction of his father and of his partner (or ex-partner, presumably). Both were quite adamant that something terrible had happened to him. Could he have simply done a runner? No, no – they were quite sure he wouldn't do a thing like that.
In other words, they thought they knew him, and on the basis of that they trusted him. They relied on his integrity and honesty; he just wasn't the sort of person who would put his loved ones through such hell. They had faith in him, based on their previous experience of him. They believed in him.
And because they believed in him in that way, they were bewildered by what was going on. Nothing made sense. He was a good son, a faithful friend, and a car buff. Why then would he desert his father and his partner, burn out his car, and take off? Their faith in him told them that that just didn't make sense.
And it's that sort of belief or faith in someone that is the prime meaning of faith in the Christian understanding. We sometimes make life harder for ourselves by using the word in a number of different senses. We talk of the Christian faith, and if pushed we might explain certain articles or propositions that we believe to be true. 'We believe in God' may simply mean we believe that God exists. We might say that Christians believe that God is Trinity, or that Jesus of Nazareth was God incarnate, or that at Pentecost the Holy Spirit was poured into the hearts of the believers.
All those things are true – they are all essential parts of the Christian faith. And we might talk of coming to faith, or having faith, as if it is something almost solid, something we can acquire, or receive, or be given, rather like a birthday present. Again, there is truth in that sort of understanding of the word 'faith'.
But the primary sense of the word 'faith' in the Christian context is the one displayed (mistakenly, as it now appears to have turned out) by the anxious father and partner of that young man. When we say as Christians that we believe in God (or in Jesus Christ) we mean much more than we believe in his existence. We mean we trust him. We rely on him. We mean that we know him to some extent, and based on that knowledge we have some idea of his nature and character. Our past experiences of him have led us to feel that he is faithful and trustworthy.
So that when something goes wrong we are bewildered. This doesn't fit with our previous experience of God. That's why people of faith often suffer most when something terrible happens. We can't understand it. We can't understand how God could let this happen. We have questions and doubts, not because we have a weak faith, but precisely because we have a strong faith. If we didn't truly believe in God, we would still regret what's happened, we might curse our luck or whatever, but at least we would be spared the sort of anguish Habakkuk shows us this morning.
Habakkuk is a faithful Jew, a man of deep faith. But everything has turned to custard and he can't make head or tail of it. He is as bewildered as the father and the partner have been. He's been praying and praying, and all to no avail; so now we get this heartfelt plea. He cries out to God for an answer, for an explanation. What is going on? That's the first part of our reading this morning, a wonderfully bold and honest prayer, almost demanding to be heard.
And then he is heard. For some reason a bit of splicing of the tape is going on here. The Lectionary gives us Habakkuk's first complaint, then jumps to the Lord's answer to his second complaint; but it's all much of a muchness. There is no soft, reassuring words – no assurance that all will be well. The Lord tells him to wait: all will be revealed. And if we want to know what is to be revealed we can read on. But in the meantime, until whatever is to come, comes, "the righteous will live by their faith".
And there's that key point about faith. Habakkuk is not to go on believing on the basis of some promised future; he and all righteous people are to have faith in God, regardless of what God is planning. We don't trust in God because he has promised us something: we trust in God, we have faith in him, because he is trustworthy. Habakkuk's anguished prayer is answered, but his world remains in a mess – and, in fact, things are going to get a whole lot worse.
In our second reading, we can see both senses of the word "faith". St Paul is writing to his young protégé, Timothy, who is finding parish ministry in the young church at Ephesus hard going. Once more there is no attempt to paint a rosy picture, no attempt at false cheer. How could there be when St Paul himself is writing from a prison cell, probably already under sentence of death? So St Paul urges Timothy to hang on to the faith, meaning here the gospel, the teaching that has been handed down to Timothy by his faithful grandmother and mother, and, of course, supremely by St Paul himself. Remember what we believe, young Timothy, and hold fast to the truth of the teaching regardless of what others may say or do to you. Hold on to the Christian faith, as we might put it.
But St Paul is also very clear that our Christian faith means relying on and trusting in Jesus. "I know whom I have believed", he says. And then he puts these two concepts of faith together when he urges Timothy, " What you heard from me, keep as the pattern of sound teaching, with faith and love in Jesus Christ." Hold on to the Faith – keep your faith in Jesus.
But how do we first acquire that sort of faith? Where does it come from and how do we "hang on to it"? As it happens, for my own spiritual reading recently, I have gone back to one of the old classic works from the early 1950's. It's by the then Dean of Wells, Dr F.P. Harton, and it's called The Principles of Ascetic Theology. In some ways it's as dry as its title and appearance suggests; and much of its terminology is rather antiquated. But it's a good summary of some basic principles of Christian practice and belief.
And he says some helpful things about faith. After reminding us that faith is, in classical terms, one of the "Three Theological Virtues" (along with hope and charity/love", he goes on to insist, in another old-fashioned term, that each of those Virtues are "infused". That means it is not part of our natural make-up – we're not born with it. It is, if you like, supernatural; it is a gift of God. It is part of the gift we receive through the Holy Spirit at baptism. But, and here's the next important point he makes, the Theological Virtues are given to us to be exercised regularly. If they are not exercised regularly they can wither and die, or at least become dormant. As I read all this, an obvious analogy came to mind. These Virtues are like the muscles of the soul. They need to be exercised if they are to grow strong.
And that seems to be a way into this rather strange teaching we have about faith in the gospel reading this morning. In this version Jesus says it doesn't matter how small our faith is – it can be as small as a mustard seed – yet if we tell a mulberry bush (famously deep-rooted) to move it will go. That's a bit of teacher's hyperbole, of course, but it seems to mean that we should not sit around speculating on the size of our faith, we should get up and exercise it and (so to speak) take it from there.
And we should do so not for any specific result. We don't exercise our faith so that something will happen. - perhaps that's why he used a ridiculous example – we exercise our faith in God (in Christ) so that it will grow and we become ever more faithful, ever more willing to rely on him. The faithful servant is the one who is growing in faith, not the one who is trying to please his master so that his master will reward him. We do not have to earn anything from God. We have to learn to have faith in him, to hope in him, and to love him
And to learn from experience that he is utterly faithful to us no matter what circumstances we find ourselves in. To run out on us is simply not in his nature.
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