What Does Expect from You?
What Does God Expect from You? Lessons from Abraham's Journey
Walking through the pages of Genesis is like watching a slow sunrise—light gradually reveals more and more of the landscape. God doesn't unveil everything about Himself all at once. Instead, His character, plans, and purposes emerge progressively throughout Scripture. Perhaps this gradual revelation requires something from us: effort, attention, a deepening commitment to relationship rather than passive consumption of information.
Abraham stands as a central figure in this unfolding story, chosen by God to father a people who would reveal the Divine to all nations. Yet Abraham is no superhero. He's flawed, inconsistent, and sometimes frustratingly self-centered. He lies about Sarah being his wife—twice—to protect himself. He shows remarkable hospitality to strangers but sends his son Ishmael and Ishmael's mother into the desert with barely enough provisions. He's generous one moment, stingy the next.
So why did God choose Abraham? That remains God's mystery. What we do know is found in Genesis 18:19, where God explains that He made Himself known to Abraham so that Abraham would "command his sons and his household after him to keep the way of the Lord by doing righteousness and justice."
The Art of Seeing God in Ordinary Moments
Genesis 18 opens with a deceptively simple phrase: "When he lifted up his eyes to see, suddenly, three men were standing right by him." Abraham was sitting at his tent entrance during the heat of the day—nothing spectacular, just an ordinary afternoon. But when he looked up, he saw God.
How often does God try to get our attention in the mundane moments, and we miss Him because we're not looking up?
Throughout Scripture, God appears most frequently in everyday life. Moses was tending sheep when he encountered the burning bush. Peter and Andrew were fishing. Two disciples were walking along a dusty road to Emmaus. Yes, God uses miraculous events, but more often He waits for us to pause, look around, and notice Him in the ordinary.
In our noisy world—with television, social media, podcasts, and endless notifications—we've lost the ability to be bored. We've forgotten how to sit at the entrance of our tent and simply look up. Remember Martha and Mary? Martha was distracted with much serving while Mary sat at Yeshua's feet. Yeshua affirmed that Mary had chosen the better part.
The question isn't whether God is speaking. It's whether we're lifting our eyes to see Him.
A Heart for Others
When Abraham noticed the three visitors, he didn't offer minimal hospitality. He started by suggesting "a little water" and "a bit of bread," but quickly expanded his offering to include loaves of bread, milk, butter, and meat from a young ox. He went above and beyond.
This same generous heart appears later when Abraham intercedes for Sodom and Gomorrah. Standing before God, Abraham boldly challenges: "Will you really sweep away the righteous with the wicked?" He negotiates with God, asking if the cities would be spared for fifty righteous people, then forty-five, then forty, eventually getting down to ten.
Why stop at ten? Because transformation requires community. While fifty righteous people might have turned these cities around, fewer than ten would face an impossible task. Abraham understood that wickedness doesn't just affect individuals—it corrupts entire cultures.
The cities of Sodom and Gomorrah had become so morally corrupt that they couldn't distinguish good from evil. Isaiah warned about this: "Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; who put darkness for light, and light for darkness." Their consciences were seared, their moral compasses broken.
Yet Yeshua later said something striking: it would be more bearable for Sodom on judgment day than for Capernaum. Why? Because Capernaum had the Scriptures, a synagogue, and witnessed the Messiah firsthand. Sodom had none of these advantages. Judgment considers what people knew and what they had access to.
The Inconsistency Problem
Here's where Abraham's story becomes uncomfortable—and instructive.
After showing lavish hospitality to strangers and pleading for the lives of people in wicked cities, Abraham sends Hagar and Ishmael into the desert with just bread and a skin of water. The contrast is jarring. These weren't strangers—Ishmael was Abraham's son. Yet Abraham provided barely enough for survival.
Why the inconsistency? Scripture doesn't explicitly say, though Sarah's jealousy plays a role. Whatever the reason, none justify Abraham's stinginess toward his own child.
The water runs out. Hagar, unable to watch her son die, places him under a bush and sits at a distance, weeping. God hears the boy's cries and intervenes, providing water and promising to make Ishmael into a great nation.
Then comes Genesis 22—the binding of Isaac. God commands Abraham to sacrifice his son, his only son whom he loves. Abraham obeys, placing wood on Isaac's shoulders, building an altar, binding his son, and raising the knife before an angel stops him.
Notice the parallels: Wood placed on Isaac's shoulders, just as provisions were placed on Hagar's. Both situations involve Abraham's sons facing potential death. Both require divine intervention.
Could it be that Abraham needed to stand in Hagar's shoes? To feel the desperation of watching a son—an only son—face death? To understand the pain his lack of generosity had caused?
Righteousness, Justice, and Mercy
The placement of these stories side by side invites comparison. Abraham knew how to show hospitality and compassion—he'd done it before. But he failed with Hagar and Ishmael. God, in His wisdom, allowed Abraham to experience similar circumstances so he could develop the empathy necessary for true righteousness and justice.
This is crucial because God had chosen Abraham to teach future generations. Without empathy, righteousness becomes mere rule-following. Without walking in another's shoes, justice becomes abstract theory.
The prophet Micah later captured this beautifully: "He has told you, humanity, what is good, and what the Lord is seeking from you: Only to practice justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God."
Practice justice. Love mercy. Walk humbly.
Not just know about justice or occasionally show mercy, but practice and love these things consistently. And do it all while walking humbly with God—looking up, noticing His presence, listening for His voice in the ordinary moments.
What Does God Expect?
Abraham's story reveals that God doesn't expect perfection. He chose a flawed, inconsistent man to father His people. What God does expect is availability, willingness to grow, and openness to correction.
God expects us to lift our eyes and see Him in everyday moments. To extend hospitality and compassion not just when it's convenient, but consistently. To develop empathy by sometimes experiencing what others experience. To intercede for others, even those caught in wickedness. To teach the next generation about righteousness and justice through our lived example.
Most importantly, God expects relationship—the kind where we can stand before Him, ask hard questions, and listen for His answers with open hearts.
The question isn't whether we'll be inconsistent. We will be—we're human. The question is whether we'll allow God to shape us through our inconsistencies, transforming us into people who truly practice justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with Him. People who strive to repent and turn back to Him. People who know Messiah Yeshua as our savior and king.
Walking through the pages of Genesis is like watching a slow sunrise—light gradually reveals more and more of the landscape. God doesn't unveil everything about Himself all at once. Instead, His character, plans, and purposes emerge progressively throughout Scripture. Perhaps this gradual revelation requires something from us: effort, attention, a deepening commitment to relationship rather than passive consumption of information.
Abraham stands as a central figure in this unfolding story, chosen by God to father a people who would reveal the Divine to all nations. Yet Abraham is no superhero. He's flawed, inconsistent, and sometimes frustratingly self-centered. He lies about Sarah being his wife—twice—to protect himself. He shows remarkable hospitality to strangers but sends his son Ishmael and Ishmael's mother into the desert with barely enough provisions. He's generous one moment, stingy the next.
So why did God choose Abraham? That remains God's mystery. What we do know is found in Genesis 18:19, where God explains that He made Himself known to Abraham so that Abraham would "command his sons and his household after him to keep the way of the Lord by doing righteousness and justice."
The Art of Seeing God in Ordinary Moments
Genesis 18 opens with a deceptively simple phrase: "When he lifted up his eyes to see, suddenly, three men were standing right by him." Abraham was sitting at his tent entrance during the heat of the day—nothing spectacular, just an ordinary afternoon. But when he looked up, he saw God.
How often does God try to get our attention in the mundane moments, and we miss Him because we're not looking up?
Throughout Scripture, God appears most frequently in everyday life. Moses was tending sheep when he encountered the burning bush. Peter and Andrew were fishing. Two disciples were walking along a dusty road to Emmaus. Yes, God uses miraculous events, but more often He waits for us to pause, look around, and notice Him in the ordinary.
In our noisy world—with television, social media, podcasts, and endless notifications—we've lost the ability to be bored. We've forgotten how to sit at the entrance of our tent and simply look up. Remember Martha and Mary? Martha was distracted with much serving while Mary sat at Yeshua's feet. Yeshua affirmed that Mary had chosen the better part.
The question isn't whether God is speaking. It's whether we're lifting our eyes to see Him.
A Heart for Others
When Abraham noticed the three visitors, he didn't offer minimal hospitality. He started by suggesting "a little water" and "a bit of bread," but quickly expanded his offering to include loaves of bread, milk, butter, and meat from a young ox. He went above and beyond.
This same generous heart appears later when Abraham intercedes for Sodom and Gomorrah. Standing before God, Abraham boldly challenges: "Will you really sweep away the righteous with the wicked?" He negotiates with God, asking if the cities would be spared for fifty righteous people, then forty-five, then forty, eventually getting down to ten.
Why stop at ten? Because transformation requires community. While fifty righteous people might have turned these cities around, fewer than ten would face an impossible task. Abraham understood that wickedness doesn't just affect individuals—it corrupts entire cultures.
The cities of Sodom and Gomorrah had become so morally corrupt that they couldn't distinguish good from evil. Isaiah warned about this: "Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; who put darkness for light, and light for darkness." Their consciences were seared, their moral compasses broken.
Yet Yeshua later said something striking: it would be more bearable for Sodom on judgment day than for Capernaum. Why? Because Capernaum had the Scriptures, a synagogue, and witnessed the Messiah firsthand. Sodom had none of these advantages. Judgment considers what people knew and what they had access to.
The Inconsistency Problem
Here's where Abraham's story becomes uncomfortable—and instructive.
After showing lavish hospitality to strangers and pleading for the lives of people in wicked cities, Abraham sends Hagar and Ishmael into the desert with just bread and a skin of water. The contrast is jarring. These weren't strangers—Ishmael was Abraham's son. Yet Abraham provided barely enough for survival.
Why the inconsistency? Scripture doesn't explicitly say, though Sarah's jealousy plays a role. Whatever the reason, none justify Abraham's stinginess toward his own child.
The water runs out. Hagar, unable to watch her son die, places him under a bush and sits at a distance, weeping. God hears the boy's cries and intervenes, providing water and promising to make Ishmael into a great nation.
Then comes Genesis 22—the binding of Isaac. God commands Abraham to sacrifice his son, his only son whom he loves. Abraham obeys, placing wood on Isaac's shoulders, building an altar, binding his son, and raising the knife before an angel stops him.
Notice the parallels: Wood placed on Isaac's shoulders, just as provisions were placed on Hagar's. Both situations involve Abraham's sons facing potential death. Both require divine intervention.
Could it be that Abraham needed to stand in Hagar's shoes? To feel the desperation of watching a son—an only son—face death? To understand the pain his lack of generosity had caused?
Righteousness, Justice, and Mercy
The placement of these stories side by side invites comparison. Abraham knew how to show hospitality and compassion—he'd done it before. But he failed with Hagar and Ishmael. God, in His wisdom, allowed Abraham to experience similar circumstances so he could develop the empathy necessary for true righteousness and justice.
This is crucial because God had chosen Abraham to teach future generations. Without empathy, righteousness becomes mere rule-following. Without walking in another's shoes, justice becomes abstract theory.
The prophet Micah later captured this beautifully: "He has told you, humanity, what is good, and what the Lord is seeking from you: Only to practice justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God."
Practice justice. Love mercy. Walk humbly.
Not just know about justice or occasionally show mercy, but practice and love these things consistently. And do it all while walking humbly with God—looking up, noticing His presence, listening for His voice in the ordinary moments.
What Does God Expect?
Abraham's story reveals that God doesn't expect perfection. He chose a flawed, inconsistent man to father His people. What God does expect is availability, willingness to grow, and openness to correction.
God expects us to lift our eyes and see Him in everyday moments. To extend hospitality and compassion not just when it's convenient, but consistently. To develop empathy by sometimes experiencing what others experience. To intercede for others, even those caught in wickedness. To teach the next generation about righteousness and justice through our lived example.
Most importantly, God expects relationship—the kind where we can stand before Him, ask hard questions, and listen for His answers with open hearts.
The question isn't whether we'll be inconsistent. We will be—we're human. The question is whether we'll allow God to shape us through our inconsistencies, transforming us into people who truly practice justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with Him. People who strive to repent and turn back to Him. People who know Messiah Yeshua as our savior and king.
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